"Of course." Deborah seem unfazed by the questions. "Why don't I show you around. I'll give you a complete tour, and if you're interested and still feel the price is too high, I can show you similar properties that are on the market so you can see a comparison."

"Fair enough," Sam said, marching toward the front door. Caroline knew her sister was a terrific negotiator, and she trusted Sam to handle that element of the process. But that would never happen if they didn't get inside the house.

"The garden definitely needs work," Deborah said, entering her key code into the lockbox affixed to a water spigot hidden behind an overgrown blue hydrangea. "Fortunately the fine bones of the landscaping are still there. I'm sure you noticed that."

"It's a beautiful garden," Caroline said, hoping to smooth over any rough feelings that might have come about from Sam's exchange with Deborah. "I love the birdbath."

"Sadly," Sam said, "the arbors are falling down under the weight of all the vines, and the weather over the years hasn't helped them at all. The siding on the inn has suffered as well."

"That's to be expected in homes that were built in the mid-1800s, and thankfully, we have several contractors here in Nantucket who specialize in refurbishing old houses."

"Another cost to factor in to the purchase." Sam took a notebook from her backpack and started jotting down tidbits of information.

Deborah put the key in the lock. "There are three things you must remember when it comes to real estate purchases. Location. Location. Location." Deborah grinned, even though the key refused to turn in the lock. "I mean, look around you. The ocean's stunning. A sandy beach is mere steps away. You're within walking distance of a wonderful town with fine restaurants, fabulous shops, and"-she struggled more with the key, until the door finally flew open-"a steady stream of tourists, who would love to stay in a place like the Misty Harbor, should you decide to keep it as an inn."

Caroline coughed as a thin cloud of dust billowed out of the inn.

"I'm so sorry about that," Deborah said, stepping into the foyer and holding the door open for Sam, Gracie, and Caroline to enter. "The inn's owners no longer live on the island and haven't paid anyone to keep it up. In the beginning I came out every couple of weeks to dust, but it's a big job."

"Yes, I imagine a place like this would be a big job." Gracie aimed a sardonic I-told-you-so gaze at Caroline.

Caroline walked right past Deborah, pushing Gracie's pessimism out of her mind, and stepped into the center of what could be a beautifully welcoming foyer. Even through the dust she could see the exquisite woodwork in the crown molding and wainscoting. "It's cherrywood, isn't it?" Caroline asked, looking back at Gracie, as her fingers whispered over the elegant panels, molding and rails.

Gracie pulled a tissue from the pocket of her pink capris and rubbed a circle of dust from the trim, exposing the deep and rich reddish-brown wood. "Definitely cherry. You can tell by just how smooth the wood is." Gracie smiled softly. "It was probably a yellowish pink when the inn was built, but it changes with age, and this wood has darkened beautifully."

"A touch of lemon oil and a soft cloth will bring out its l.u.s.ter," Deborah added. "It's the same wood that's on the banister."

Caroline turned to look at the stairs and smiled when she saw how they curved gently toward the second-floor landing. She'd seen dozens of elegant staircases in her travels, most far more dramatic than this one. Still, as she skimmed her fingers along the dusty cherry wood, she could easily imagine a Victorian woman dressed in burgundy taffeta and white lace sweeping down the staircase, twirling a frilly parasol as she headed out for the day to make calls on her friends. That image turned to a modern bride in white satin, a wreath of rosebuds in her hair, a nosegay of pink, yellow, and red roses clasped in her hands.

"Are the stairs structurally sound?" Sam asked.

"Oh, can't you see the banister draped with evergreen garland and red velvet bows at Christmas? Or the grandchildren-your Zachary, Jacob, and Evelyn," Caroline said to Gracie, "sliding down from the second floor?"

"Their mother would have my head if I let them slide down a banister. You know what a mama bear Stacy can be at times."

"But wouldn't it be fun?" Caroline raced halfway up the steps and then glided down the stairs. "If I weren't"-she cleared her throat-"the age I am, I might give it a shot."

"I believe I slid down it a time or two," Deborah said, her businesslike demeanor easing just a little. "Back in the sixties my friends and I used to sneak into the inn to see what kind of cookies and other treats were laid out for the guests. When no one was watching, we'd use the banister as a slide." She smiled. "I'd almost forgotten what a good time I'd had back then. But come on, there's so much more to see."

Caroline trailed her fingers over the peeling wallpaper on the foyer walls, imagining just how welcoming the entry would be with crisp paint and a soft, flowery wallpaper that reflected what visitors saw in the garden. And Gracie was so good at flower arranging. She could work wonders in each room with a freshly picked bouquet.

Deborah led them into a large, open room just off the foyer.

"This was once a ballroom," Deborah said, interrupting Caroline's musing. "In more recent years, it's been used as a parlor or sort of formal living room. As you can see, the previous owners took advantage of its size"-she gestured around the room-"but, sadly, I don't believe they took advantage of the windows that look out across the garden."

"These aren't the original windows," Gracie said, walking straight to the back of the room, which was lit only by the artificial lights, since the windows had been shuttered tight, blocking the view.

"When the home was turned into an inn back in the fifties, the original windows were removed and replaced with more expansive panes of gla.s.s to afford the guests the very best view of the ocean and the sunsets," said Deborah.

"Did they get rid of the old windows?" Gracie asked, her architect's mind concerned about the integrity of the original building.

"I don't know for sure," Deborah said, "but if my guess is correct, they were stored in the bas.e.m.e.nt or out in the carriage house, should a new owner wish to restore the home to the original."

"As lovely as that would be," Caroline said, "I can't imagine living here without having full access to the view." She wished she could see it now from where she stood, but she'd seen it a couple of days before when she'd stood on the veranda. It was definitely a sight to behold.

"And all of these antiques stay with the inn?" Sam asked. She peeked under a white sheet to reveal a plush sofa covered in what was now a dingy jacquard print, all dirty pink roses and lackl.u.s.ter green leaves.

"Yes, everything here stays." Deborah carefully unfolded a dusty white cover from an elaborately carved table sitting at the back of the sofa. "Even the Majolica, like this piece," she said, lightly caressing a colorful large tabletop figurine of dolphins and seash.e.l.ls, "not to mention the tableware, the linens and lace, and my favorite piece in the inn-the piano."

They'd seen the piano when peeking through the windows, and Caroline had barely been able to take her eyes off of it when they'd entered the parlor. Her fingers were already stroking the keys, which were made from genuine ivory and ebony. She'd taken endless hours of piano lessons when she was young, but was less than proficient. She could maybe play "Chopsticks" with a partner and peck out simple pieces, but what she really wished she could play was Rhapsody in Blue. Right now, though, she was afraid to plunk the keys, positive she'd hear dull thuds instead of the glorious melody an antique like this should produce.

"It's gorgeous," Sam said, the pads of her fingers whispering over the dusty, dark reddish-brown rosewood. "This must have cost a small fortune back in its day."

"It would probably be worth quite a bit now," Deborah said, circling the piano slowly, "though I'm sure it would benefit from some restoration."

Caroline gingerly touched the ancient ivories, hesitantly picking out the first few melancholy notes of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. It was out of tune, but it played.

Sam clapped when Caroline finished and then sat next to her sister and-as they'd done when they were kids-plunked out a bit of "Heart and Soul," their fingers moving over the keyboard perfectly in time with each other.

Gracie folded her arms atop the ornate, old-fashioned, square grand. "On the other hand, the carving on this thing is a ma.s.s of nooks and crannies. Can you imagine how many hours you'd have to spend each week dusting it?"

"It would be worth it," Caroline said. "Just imagine what it would sound like if it was tuned." Caroline offered a little trill on the keys. "Can't you imagine sitting around this piano on a cold winter's night, with a fire flickering?"

"Drinking hot cocoa," Sam added. "With homemade snickerdoodles."

It certainly needed work. Specks of ivory and ebony were chipped off some of the keys, though they were mostly intact. But that didn't make it any less beautiful. Caroline tried not to think about the expense involved in having it tuned and restored. "I can't believe they just left all this," Sam said, rising from the piano bench and turning in a full circle to take in the full view of the room. "It's like the inn, the antiques, and everything else inside didn't matter to them at all."

"As I mentioned, they had other business ventures they were interested in." Deborah removed another dust cover, revealing yet another antique table and another piece of brightly colored Majolica pottery. "They were frustrated in their efforts to remodel the inn and simply gave up and moved on to something more their style-a contemporary hotel in Miami."

Caroline couldn't imagine anyone leaving the inn. She was ready to move in right then and there, without an inspection, without George taking a look and giving her his blessing. It seemed to be calling out her name, and she knew she had to buy it.

If only Gracie and Sam would go in on it with her. She wasn't quite sure she could refurbish the place and run it as a B and B all on her own.

"Why don't the three of you wander around and take a peek at the library off to your right. The dining room, kitchen, and owners' quarters are to the left of the foyer, and when you're through down here, we'll move on up to the second-floor bedrooms."

On their way into the library, Caroline, Gracie, and Sam left flip-flop prints on the dusty wooden floorboards. Deborah walked in behind them, flicked on the overhead light, and the room brightened to reveal the rich wood the sales flyer had mentioned. Empty bookcases lined three walls. A lovely, ornately carved fireplace occupied part of another wall, with a bronze light sconce on either side. A ma.s.sive desk sat atop a nearly threadbare Oriental rug. That would definitely have to go, but Caroline couldn't miss the sparkle in Gracie's eyes. Reading was one of her pa.s.sions. The tabletops in her home were piled high with books.

"If-and that's a huge if," Gracie said, "the three of us were insane enough to purchase this place, I can picture myself sitting in here reading biographies about everyone imaginable. I could go haunting garage sales and the Rarest Books shop downtown to fill the shelves, and-"

"And picking flowers from the garden outside and arranging grand bouquets to fill the room with their fragrance and color." Caroline slung an arm around Gracie's shoulder. "You're warming up to the inn, aren't you?"

"Actually"-Gracie slipped away from Caroline to inspect the desk-"I've been thinking about the dusting, the window washing, and keeping these floors clean. It'll take a lot more than just running a vacuum cleaner over them once a day. They'll need buffing and-"

"And new carpets to replace the old ones," Sam interrupted. "Wouldn't it be fun checking out the carpet stores in Boston to see what we can find? Hopefully we can get a few at a bargain price."

Caroline's heart was feeling a little lighter. Sam seemed to be warming to the idea of buying the inn, and Gracie, even though she still balked at it, was showing hints of interest.

"You know," Caroline said, "the three of us complement each other really well. Gracie worries about how much work the place will be; Sam puts everything in perspective; and I'm ready to throw a party, no matter the cost, no matter the work involved. In fact-"

Caroline grabbed Gracie's hand and pulled her back into the parlor. Once Sam joined them, Caroline walked to the center of the room and twirled around. "Can't you just imagine what this room was like filled with men in tuxes, women in satin and taffeta and feathers dancing around to the strains of Mozart played on vio-"

She sneezed. The air was filled with dust. It smelled musty, and like something was rotting. But Caroline was captivated. "If you can't imagine it in the past, think of it a year from now, once we've got this room cleaned up and refurbished. Picture this table over here"-she peeled the yellowed dust cover off yet another antique-"with a four-tiered wedding cake, all white frosting and pink roses, and a lovely bride gliding into the room on her father's arm, with a man-her husband-to-be-smiling at her with so much love in his eyes that you find yourself crying.

"And then the music begins, something soft, maybe 'Some Enchanted Evening.' The groom sweeps the bride into his arms, and they dance their first dance as husband and wife." Caroline sighed. "If I were in my twenties again, if I had ever had any thoughts of getting married, I'd hold the ceremony right here."

"No you wouldn't." Sam plunked a few jaunted keys on the piano. "You'd be down on the beach, barefoot, and carrying one simple rose."

"Okay, so maybe my dreams are too grandiose-"

"No they're not," Gracie said solemnly. "They're the same dreams Mom would have shared with us if she were here right now."

Caroline felt tears well up at this unexpected gift from Gracie.

"She'd be happy, wouldn't she?" Sam said. "All smiles, dreaming up menus for the wedding feast yet to come."

"And she'd be in the kitchen right now checking it out," Caroline said, latching on to her sisters' hands. "Let's see if it's as perfect as it sounds in the sales flyer."

"Oh dear." Sam stood in the center of the kitchen. She was not quite horrified, but she wasn't encouraged by what she saw. "It looks like some of the wildlife of Nantucket has taken up residence in here."

"Actually, it was a couple of vagrants," Deborah said, picking up the one lonely business card left by an agent who'd shown the inn, or at least visited it. "Fortunately, someone saw them coming and going from the inn far too often and called the police. We've boarded it up tight since then."

"They didn't steal anything, I hope?" Sam said.

"No, they simply left behind a lot of filth."

"Is there a security system?" Gracie asked, opening the white pebbled refrigerator. A forlorn-looking box of baking soda was its sole occupant. "Yes," Deborah said, "but, as I'm sure you've guessed, the current owners don't want to spend the money to keep it activated."

"If they had"-Caroline chuckled-"we could have been caught trying to peek through the shutters and hauled off to jail."

"All that aside," Deborah continued, "the kitchen isn't fancy, but it is fairly up-to-date."

A good kitchen doesn't need sleek modern counters and cabinets to function well, Sam thought, checking out the 1980s-era white painted cabinetry and laminate work surfaces. Everything needed a good scrubbing, and the stove and oven might need servicing, but all in all, it would work.

Still, there was so much work to do around the inn to make it shine. She hoped the rest of the rooms wouldn't leave a sour taste in her mouth.

They toured the owners' quarters next. There were two bedrooms and a shared bathroom, but the rooms were good-sized and had large windows that looked out over the garden and let in a lot of light. They would need to figure out who would have to share if they did end up buying the inn. They then headed upstairs and started touring the second floor. The upstairs hall was lined with a thick, dusty carpet and painted a dingy yellow-beige that had scuff marks all along the walls. "As it says in the sales brochure, each guest room comes with its own bath." Deborah opened the door to the first guest room to the right of the stairs, and Sam followed her sisters inside.

"What do you think, ladies?"

"Beautiful," Sam whispered. The walls were a light pink, and the trim was painted a cheery white, and there was a fireplace with a wide mantle. The floors were scuffed and would need to be refinished, but they were a light, wide-plank hardwood. There were two windows, one looking toward Shirley Addison's house, and the other facing the back of the house, looking out directly onto the beach. The windows were shuttered, but she could imagine the view.

She suddenly found herself caught up in Caroline's dream world, picturing a Victorian woman in a ruffled white cotton nightgown that covered her from neck to wrist to toe letting her dark wavy hair down for the night. Sam could almost see her standing at the window, looking out at the ocean, wondering when her mariner husband would be coming home from sea.

"Once a lot of elbow grease is applied," Gracie added. Sam's vision burst like a bubble. Gracie seemed determined to find a complaint about everything, but finally a smile pushed away her frown. "Of course, that four-poster bed is amazing." It was a dark wood-Sam wasn't sure what, but surely Gracie would know-and the headboard was carved with an elaborate fleur-de-lis. "I can just imagine what it would look like with a canopy of lace."

"Battenburg lace." Caroline said. "With crisp white linens and a down comforter."

"And locally made chocolates resting on the pillow when the guests turn in for the night," Sam added. "Or I could make them myself. I have the perfect recipe, and I could get candy molds shaped like whales or seash.e.l.ls."

The other two guest rooms were in similar shape. One looked out over the front of the house, and the other would have a view of the ocean and the coastline up to the north. The bathrooms in each room were dated, with pink tiles and fixtures, and would need to be redone. But all the work appeared to be cosmetic. There were no cracks or mold spots or any indication that there were structural problems.

They laughed and chatted all the way through the rest of the house-the linen closets, the dining room, the bas.e.m.e.nt, even the attic, piled high with boxes that no doubt had been there for decades. They wished they could rip away all the shutters so they could see what the rooms would look like with sunshine pouring in. Finally, Deborah ushered them outside.

"Should you decide you want to make an offer-a serious offer," Deborah emphasized, closing the door behind them when they stepped out onto the front porch, "I'll talk to the owner about having the shutters removed. It's amazing the difference natural light can make."

"You don't by any chance have estimates from contractors giving approximate costs for making repairs, do you?" Sam asked, knowing they'd have to take that into consideration before making any kind of offer. If they made an offer.

"I do, as a matter of fact. I can copy them for you if you'd like to drop by my office to pick them up." Deborah looked at her watch again. "I can't get them for you until tomorrow, I'm afraid, and I do have another appointment to get to in just a little while, but I'd like to show you the carriage house before we leave."

"Tomorrow's fine," Sam said, following Deborah along the crushed-sh.e.l.l-and-gravel drive that wound its way past the garden to a two-story clapboard building painted the same faded and peeling b.u.t.tercup yellow.

"I've always thought this carriage house could be turned into a charming rental, if anyone was willing to empty out the contents. I'm afraid a lot has been shoved inside by many different owners. Grace Brothers, the hotel company that bought the inn back in the fifties, did a rather quick remodel of the inn, adding the bathrooms to the guest rooms upstairs, replacing a few doors and windows, but as far as I know, the attic and the inside of the carriage house were never touched."

Deborah stopped in front of the carriage house's double sliding doors. They were warped from wind and rain and snow, not to mention time. "The carriage house, like the inn, was built in the 1850s," Deborah said, jiggling a key in the rusty padlock, proving once again that the inn and the carriage house hadn't been shown to interested buyers in a very long time.

"Do you know much about the history of the inn?" Gracie asked as Deborah struggled with the lock.

"Not much beyond its recent history. There's not as much about it in the history books as you would find if it had belonged to one of Nantucket's original founders, people like the Folgers, Macys, and Starbucks. But I believe it was built with whaling money originally."

Gracie glanced at Caroline and then asked, "We heard that the original owner's wife disappeared. Have you heard anything about that?"

"I've heard that rumor, but it's such ancient history that I never really paid attention." She put her body weight into turning the key in the lock, but it didn't budge. "There are also rumors about hidden rooms. I don't know if that's true either. However, if you wanted to play up that history in your inn's advertising, you might be able to attract some guests that way. A lot of people are drawn to places with mysterious pasts."

Sam wasn't sure she wanted people like that staying at their inn-not that it was their inn yet, or ever would be. Just then, her cell phone rang with Jamie's familiar ring. She pulled it from her backpack. Then she excused herself for just a moment, sensing it might be some time before Deborah was able to open the carriage house doors.

"Hi, sweetheart. What's up?"

"Not much. Kind of quiet here, so I thought I'd give you a quick call to see what you're up to."

But Jamie's voice was strained, and Sam sensed that something far more than just some downtime had led to the call. "Everything okay? You haven't changed your mind about coming to the island, have you?"

"Oh no, I'm still coming. In fact, Mom, I'm wondering if it would be okay for me to come early. Tomorrow maybe?"

"Of course that's okay." She'd ask Jamie what was troubling her, what had prompted her to make such a sudden change in her plans, but if something dreadful had happened, Jamie would tell her immediately. If it could wait, it might be best to talk face-to-face, so Sam could hug her daughter if she needed it. "Are you flying in?"

"Driving to Hyannis and taking the ferry. I'll call you in the morning to let you know what time I'll be in."

They chatted for another moment or two, and Sam couldn't help but worry when she ended the call. Something was wrong. She just knew it. And Sam had a strong suspicion whatever was wrong had to do with Cory Lippincott.

"Everything okay?" Gracie asked, when Sam joined her sisters again.

Sam nodded, giving Gracie a quick rundown. "I'll pick her up at the ferry-"

"At last!"

Deborah removed the padlock, fanned her face, which had broken out into a bit of a sweat, and with Caroline's help, the two of them pushed open the doors to the carriage house, letting the sun pour inside.

"You weren't kidding about a lot of stuff being piled up in here." Gracie stepped inside, attempting to wind through boxes stacked from wood plank floor to ceiling. "Is there a second floor up there?"