Caroline rolled over in the comfy queen-sized bed and stared at the clock through bleary eyes. Why couldn't it be 4:30 instead of 5:45, so she could sleep for another half hour or so, before having to make her phone call? She rubbed her eyes, wishing they didn't feel like they were crusted with sand. She also wished she'd gone to bed at a reasonable hour, instead of talking with Gracie until 3:30. But she couldn't change any of that now. She needed to make her phone call.

A few hours from now, she'd make another call-to the real estate agent. Even though she was half asleep, she managed to smile. It was going to be a great day.

She grabbed her cell phone from the nightstand, scrunched down in the bed, fluffing her pillow under her head, and punched the b.u.t.ton that would automatically dial George.

George subscribed to the theory that the early bird catches the worm. He rarely-in fact, almost never-rose later than four thirty in the morning. He did fifty sit-ups, drank a tall gla.s.s of freshly squeezed orange juice, ate a piece of toast slathered with chunky peanut b.u.t.ter, grabbed a tall cup of plain black coffee on his way to work, and was in the office by five thirty. George built custom yachts and had a lot of customers in Europe.

He should be drinking his second or third cup of coffee right about now, Caroline thought, as she heard the ring of the phone at the other end. She liked the sound of his voice in the morning and smiled when he answered with his usual, "Hi, hon." He'd called her "hon" for years; it was simply a familiar habit he'd fallen into. Gracie might not understand that a man and woman who were just friends could call each other by an endearing term, but it worked for George. He loved her; she loved him-but not in an in-love kind of way.

"Morning."

"You sound awful."

"Late night," Caroline said, her voice a bit rough. "Gracie and I were up talking till, oh, just a couple of hours ago."

"Then why call so early? You're on vacation. You're supposed to sleep late."

"I could easily sleep until noon." Caroline stifled a yawn. "But I wanted to catch you before your day gets too busy."

"Everything okay?" She could hear a touch of worry in George's voice. "Did you tell Gracie and Sam you're moving back to the States?"

"Yes, although I don't think Gracie believes me. She's sure I'll change my mind."

George was silent a moment. She heard him sigh. "Can you blame her?"

"No, I suppose I can't. If Briar Rose was for sale, I'd snap it up in a second and not even think about moving back to the States. I'd ask Sam and Gracie to come visit me, instead of the other way around. But it's not for sale, it never will be for sale, and I am moving back here. In fact, that's what I want to talk to you about."

"The Mary Claire's sitting in the harbor waiting for you. Eighty-nine feet with a sky lounge and a galley that's the perfect size for someone who doesn't like to cook. There's enough storage for your wardrobe. It's roomy and comfortable and-"

"You know I wouldn't mind living on a boat. It's bound to be far more comfortable than some of the hostels I've stayed in. But I've found somewhere else to live . . . maybe."

"Maybe?"

She could so easily imagine George's right eyebrow raise, the way it so often did when he questioned one of her schemes. The Misty Harbor was rather a sudden urge, but it had stuck with her for days now. She simply wanted George's blessing.

"Oh, George, you have to see this place. It's absolutely magical. From the first moment I saw it, it seemed to wrap its arms around me and made me feel all warm inside."

He was silent again. Pensive. Always thinking. Never rushing into anything. "I take it this place is in Nantucket?"

"On the west side of the island, on a bluff overlooking the ocean. I haven't yet seen the sunset from the back porch, but I can only imagine how beautiful it is, bright red and orange, like a wildfire streaking across the sky. And the garden's just as glorious, or it will be, once a gardener's gotten his or her hands on it and gets it under control."

"Hold it, Caroline. Why isn't the garden under control?"

"Well . . . ," she dragged out the word. "Actually, it's an inn-the Misty Harbor, and it's been closed for a few years."

"Why?" The skepticism in his voice deepened.

"Any number of reasons. One set of owners got in over their heads and couldn't afford the place. The current owners had numerous fights over the historical preservation regulations."

"How old is this inn?"

"A hundred and sixty years. Maybe a little older."

George nearly groaned out a sigh. "Have you had it inspected? Are there termites? What's the wiring like? The plumbing?"

"No, I haven't had an inspection yet, but I haven't made an offer. In fact, I haven't been inside it since the sixties. My sisters and I went there with our mom when we were kids but-"

"Please don't tell me you want me to put my stamp of approval on this idea of yours?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"You know I can't do that without seeing the place."

"But if you see it, you might tell me I'm crazy. Gracie thinks I've lost my mind. But, you know I've done crazy things before and I've come out totally unscathed."

"Most of the time-not always."

"This feels right, George. I don't know why. It was my mom who always dreamed of owning a bed-and-breakfast. Doing something like that never entered my mind. Not once, until the day we arrived on the island and I saw it again . . . and I just sort of fell in love."

There was that silence again. She could hear George breathing. She thought she heard him take a sip of coffee. A phone rang in the background. He cleared his throat. "I can't get away for a few days, but as soon as I can, I'll be there."

"I knew I could count on you."

Caroline could envision George's smile at the other end of the phone. "Just do me a favor, hon."

"Anything. Just name it."

"Don't make an offer until I've seen it."

"I won't, unless someone comes along and tries to s.n.a.t.c.h it out from under me."

"Ninety-two, ninety-three, ninety-four. At last!" Gracie spun around breathlessly when she reached the top of the Unitarian church's tower, taking in the incredible view. Every speck of pain she'd felt in her knees and all of the strain in each and every muscle in her legs had been worth it.

"Oh my." Sam's cheeks were pink, she was breathing hard, but her bright-eyed gaze showed her awe. "It's beautiful."

They had a full view of Nantucket in every direction. The sky was a bright azure, and a few puffy white clouds floated about in the gentle breeze. Off in the distance, Gracie could see the dark reddish tint of cranberry bogs, long stretches of sandy beach, an endless number of expansive homes, and a handful of smaller, quaint cottages. Over the canopy of lush green trees, she could see steeples rising all around town.

"There's the Old Mill," Caroline said, pointing south. "And that's Nantucket Sound off to the north."

"You're sure?" Sam asked, snapping one picture after another.

"Positive. I may have a lot of faults," Caroline said, "but I know how to read a map and tell north from south."

Gracie watched Caroline as she pointed out many of the landmarks she'd read about in the tour books and some they'd pa.s.sed on their walks. Out in the harbor, they saw sailing ships and motor yachts. Some were elegant and streamlined and obviously belonged to the wealthier islanders or visitors, and some were smaller and had no doubt been plying these waters for many years. There were old out-of-service Coast Guard cutters that had been turned into floating homes, small sailboats bobbing on the water, and hundreds upon hundreds of seagulls floating on the air current, keeping a keen eye out for sc.r.a.ps.

"That's Madaket Way, way out there in the west. Can you see it?" Caroline asked. "They say some of the prettiest sunsets in the world can be seen from there."

"Actually, Madaket's right about there," a man's voice came from the steps. Gracie jumped. The man was dressed in a T-shirt, gym shorts, and running shoes. He wiped sweat from his brow and then pointed a little bit southwest.

"Sorry if I startled you," he said. "I try to run up and down the tower twice a week. It's good exercise. Gets the heart pumping. But I'm getting the distinct feeling that I've got your hearts pumping too, for all the wrong reasons." He ran a hand through his s.h.a.ggy gray hair. "If you'd like, I'll run back down right now and leave the three of you to point out all the tourist destinations, even though you're pointing in all the wrong directions."

Gracie couldn't help herself. She chuckled. He seemed nice enough, and the blue eyes that peered out from behind his wire-rimmed gla.s.ses looked kind. Truth be told, he was kind of handsome.

"No, no, don't run back down on our account, not yet anyway," Gracie said. "We'll just go back to checking out the sights, and you can catch your breath."

"What kind of born-and-bred Nantucketer would I be if I didn't give you the 360-degree tour?" he said, stepping up and in between Gracie and Caroline. "Over there, that white Greek Revival building with the columns, is our library, the Atheneum. Some people might tell you we've spelled it wrong, but we haven't. If a Nantucket islander leaves out a letter or two, that's just the way it is. Anyway, that's the best and also the only library on the island. And over there"-he pointed off to what Gracie now could see was the north-"is the Brant Point Lighthouse. Not the first one, of course. This one's number nine. First one was actually a bonfire set on a hogshead. That's not what you think, of course. It's really just a big old barrel. That was in used back in 1700. The lighthouse is white now, but it was painted black until 1895."

"You don't by any chance know all there is to know about Nantucket, do you?" Caroline asked.

The man laughed. "Not quite. But I'm getting there."

Gracie could tell where Caroline was going with this, but she forced herself to not react. She needed to support Caroline, even if her interest was bordering on obsessive.

"I'm interested in the history of the Misty Harbor Inn," Caroline said.

"I like to pride myself on knowing a little bit about a lot of things, but all I know about the Misty Harbor is that it's been sitting empty for far too long." The man rested his hands on the railing and smiled at Caroline. "Of course, when I was a kid, my mom insisted on taking my sister and me there for tea. She was trying to teach us manners and provide us with some of the culture we were lacking." He grinned, his smile a touch lopsided but somehow familiar to Gracie. "I'm afraid the inn hasn't been that upscale in a very long time."

"It's on the verge of falling down," Gracie said. "It probably has wood rot and-"

"It's not that bad," Caroline interrupted. "It simply needs a little loving care, which I fully intend to give it."

The gray-haired man scratched his head. "You're buying it?"

"She thinks she is," Gracie said.

"Well, in that case"-he reached into his well-worn wallet and pulled out a card, handing it to Caroline-"I'm one of Nantucket's many odd-job specialists, which pays the rent when my artwork doesn't." He smiled. "If you're seriously thinking about buying the Misty Harbor, give me a call. I'm also a licensed and bonded building inspector. I'd be happy to give you an unbiased opinion on whether or not it'll stand for another hundred and fifty years."

"Thank you so much." Caroline stuck out her hand. "I'm Caroline Marris and these are my sisters, Gracie Gold and Sam Carter."

"Bill Dekker," he said, shaking Caroline's and Sam's hands quickly and then taking Gracie's. "Nice to meet you."

Gracie played the name over and over in her mind. For some reason it sounded familiar.

Gracie suddenly realized that Bill Dekker was still holding her hand. His was warm and very big and she could feel the calluses on his fingers and palms. Slowly, she slipped her hand out of his and looked at her watch. "It's getting late, and we really need to be going."

"I'm guessing you're here on vacation."

Sam nodded. "Two weeks, and the time's going by much too fast."

"Well, if you're going to be here Sat.u.r.day, my church is having a clambake. It's an all-day affair, but most people will show up around dusk. It's out on Madaket Beach." He hooked his thumb in the direction he'd pointed out earlier. "We can't build bonfires like we could back in the day because of safety concerns, but we make it look like an authentic clambake, charcoal grills and all."

"Oh, we heard about that," Sam said. "The antique store lady told us about it."

"Megan," Caroline clarified.

"That's right," Bill said. "Megan Folger-Wildes. I'm glad she invited you."

"I hope it'll be okay for us to bring a salad," Sam said. "And a dessert and bread maybe?"

"Dessert's always welcome, but don't worry about anything else. We'll have music, corn on the cob, and the best chowder you ever ate. Do you know how to find Madaket?"

Gracie nodded. "Megan gave us a flyer a couple of days ago. You know her, I suppose?"

Bill nodded. "Her father-in-law's our minister, and her late father was a friend of mine. We were in 'Nam together, but that's a story for another day."

That had always been a story for another day with Art too. Vietnam was a nightmare he'd wanted to stop visiting, but never had.

"It's awfully nice to meet you," Bill said, and looked at his wrist.w.a.tch, then plowed a hand through his windblown hair. "I've got to get cleaned up for a board meeting at church." He took a few steps to the stairs. "Hope to see you at the clambake, but if you need me to look at the inn for you before then, just give me a call."

He was gone in an instant, the smile and blue eyes that sparkled in the sunlight disappearing from view.

"He seems awfully nice," Caroline said, raising an eyebrow at Gracie.

Gracie could see the wheels turning in Caroline's head. And she was right. He was nice. But Gracie had no plans to ever again fall for a man. Art had been the only man in her life, and he was the only man she ever wanted in her heart.

Sam turned and headed back toward the stairs. They probably had time for a quick lunch back at the cottage before their appointment to see the inn. As her sisters started back down, Gracie turned and looked out over the island again. Off in the distance, she immediately spotted the pale yellow inn sitting on a bluff overlooking the ocean. From their lofty vantage, it looked small and rather forlorn, and in a little over an hour they'd be wandering around inside it. She wished she hadn't changed her mind about touring the place. The Misty Harbor Inn was Caroline's dream, not hers. But she had a sneaking suspicion their appointment this afternoon was going to change everything.

Caroline could hear the gravel crunching beneath the wheels as Sam turned the small rental car onto Misty Harbor Road. She had a lump in her throat, her stomach was in knots, and her breath was shallow and rapid.

Sam came to a stop where the drive widened into a circle at the front of the inn, and Caroline was the first to unfold out of the cramped vehicle. Next to their car sat a gold Mercedes with a magnetic sign on the door that read "Deborah Greenleaf Real Estate." A woman wearing red-framed sungla.s.ses, a crisp white blouse, and white capris waited for them on the porch.

She walked briskly toward Caroline, her hand extended in greeting. "h.e.l.lo. I'm Deborah Greenleaf. And you must be-"

"Caroline Marris." Caroline shook her hand, trying not to stare at the big red rubies in Deborah's ears. "And these are my sisters, Gracie Gold and Sam Carter."

Everyone smiled and shook hands. They chatted about the usual things: the weather, how they were enjoying their stay on Nantucket, where they had eaten. Deborah recommended they not miss going out to 'Sconset. "It's one of my favorite places on the island, especially when I'm looking for something unique. A piece of metal art, an inexpensive oil painting by a local just learning his or her craft," Deborah smiled. "There are also quite a number of lovely homes for sale in that area, if you decide the Misty Harbor isn't quite what you have in mind."

"Actually," Gracie said, and Caroline knew exactly what her sister was going to say, "we didn't come here looking for a place to buy. It's just that Caroline's intrigued by the inn and is dying to see the inside."

Deborah's smile fell. "I see."

"Actually," Caroline corrected, before Deborah decided she'd wasted her time, "I'm more than just intrigued."

"Me too," Sam said, taking Caroline by surprise. "Although the price on the flyer seems high, considering all the work that needs to be done. Granted, we haven't seen the inside yet, but I've looked at quite a few Nantucket homes on the Internet, and it seems to be listed for around the same price as other homes that are pristine, and this place needs an overhaul."

Deborah's smile returned. "I'm not sure which homes you looked at, but not every home on the island comes complete with antiques like this one does. The furniture that comes with this home could bring quite a sum if sold at auction."

Sam's brow puckered. She was the detail person, the sensible one who dotted all the i 's and crossed every t. She'd obviously done her homework, and now it appeared she had a lot of questions. Though Caroline was grateful for her sister's thoroughness, she was dying to get inside.

"The inn has been for sale for quite some time," Sam said. "If it's not the price that's keeping it on the market, what is? And if the antiques are so valuable, why hasn't the owner tried to sell them individually, rather than include them in the price of the inn?"

Deborah raised her shoulders a little. "The owners are very busy, and they decided not to spend the time to go through the pieces individually. They decided they would prefer to just sell everything together." She smiled conspiratorially. "It's not how I would have chosen to handle it, but they have other properties and business ventures, and at this point, they just want to be rid of it."

Caroline couldn't imagine how anyone could want to be rid of this magnificent home.

"That could work out very well for the buyer," Deborah added.

"We would need to have it inspected, of course," Gracie said. "To see if there are any structural issues."