I take the coffee Pierce has doctored for me. He kisses my temple. “Take your phone. Let me know if you need anything.”

I nod and follow Marley outside. We head down the front walk to the beach and sit in the sand. “What’s going on? Is this about Mom and Dad? You’re making me nervous.”

“It’s not about Mom and Dad.”

I exhale a sigh of relief, and the tension in my shoulders eases a bit, but not much. She looks so serious.

“I got word this morning that the Mission Mansion is going up for sale.”

“What? Are you sure? When?” I glance over my shoulder, back at the beach house where I’ve left Pierce. I hate the sudden suspicion and the conflict over this news and what it could mean for us, for him, for his brother, for the Mills family.

“The email came a couple hours ago. I know the representing agent.”

“What’s it going for?” I sip my coffee in lieu of chewing on my nails. It’s perfect, the right amount of sweet and the right amount of cream. Pierce is definitely a detail-oriented man. He pays attention. It means there’s logically no way to keep this from him, not that I want to anyway. Things have been so good these past weeks; I don’t want anything to change that.

“I don’t have anything concrete, but the agent is saying somewhere around five million I think. It needs a lot of work.”

Even with good credit and a solid return on our flip, it’s doubtful the bank would approve us for a mortgage that size. “It’s too much, isn’t it?”

She lifts a shoulder. “There’s an agent viewing tomorrow afternoon. I know how much you love that place, and you have all these good memories tied up in it, but it’s really rundown, Rian. The only maintenance has been on the landscaping over the past decade.”

“I know.” And I do. Maybe it’s not completely rational to want it back, but it’s the one piece of my grandmother I can’t seem to let go.

“I managed to secure a spot so we can go, just to see, at the very least.” She sips her coffee, maybe waiting for my reaction.

I squash the pointless hope blooming in my chest. “There’s not really a point in talking to the bank about financing, is there?”

Marley doesn’t tell me no, even though we both know my question is rooted in nothing but nostalgia and a dream that’s never going to come true. “I think we should look at it first, see what we’re up against.”

“Okay.” At least one of us is pragmatic. “Do we have anyone who would be in the market to buy it?” God, just saying it aloud makes my stomach twist.

“I’m going through our list of contacts this afternoon. If nothing else, the commission would be enough to finance another flip.”

I swallow back my sadness. Seeing the Mission Mansion empty all summer has been difficult, but seeing it full of life again might be even harder. “What day is the open house?”

“The agent is saying Sunday.” She picks up a tiny shell and flips it between her fingers. “But that could always change, depending on the seller. There’s a lot of interest in the property, Ri, so even if we went in as buyers, and I’m not sure that’s logical or feasible at this point, there’s no guarantee we’ll get it. And if we did, I don’t know that the upkeep will be affordable.”

“I’ll still go through the numbers tonight.” I run my fingers along the rim of my cup. “If it was a year from now, we’d be in a better position.”

“I know,” she says softly. “And we don’t know when or if it will be on the market again.”

I dig my toes into the sand. In my head I had this amazing plan for the Mansion. We’d turn it into a bed-and-breakfast and live in one of the outbuildings. My eyes burn as the dream I’ve held onto all this time seems so far out of reach, dissipating into vapor.

We watch the waves break against the shoreline in silence for a few minutes.

Marley sighs. “Sometimes I miss our old life. I know it’ll never be like it used to, but I don’t ever want to worry about being able to afford to pay the credit card bill at the end of the month again.”

“We won’t let that happen.” I feel a pang of guilt over the fact that in the past few months I’ve spent more time with Pierce, and some of the luxuries we’d lost have been mine again. The stability and security have been nice, better than nice. I worry about Marley, because she’s a lot like me. We’ve only been close to each other, which means she’s all alone now.

“I hope not.” She rests her cheek on her knee. “Are you going to tell Pierce?”

“Keeping it from him is pointless.”

“Are you worried he’ll tell his brother and that the Mills family will get their hands on it?”

“That’s a risk, regardless. We just have to hope there are other projects that are more lucrative for them.”

“I’m going to cross everything that that’s the case.”

Marley leaves me to tell Pierce. One benefit of the Mission Mansion coming on the market is that we’ll definitely be able to price our flip on the higher end, because of its proximity and desirable location.

Pierce is rearranging the rented furniture for staging purposes when I return. Amalie sent him with a load of supplies, and aside from the inspection, our job today is to set up the house. Tomorrow the cleaners come, and then we’re show ready.

He shifts the couch around, biceps flexing, then steps back to inspect its placement. He knocks it with his hip a couple of times before he seems content, then notices me standing off to the side. His gaze moves over me, assessing, as he grips the back of the couch. “Lawson called while you were outside with Marley.”

I cross the room and stand on the opposite side of the sofa. “So you know the Mansion is coming up for sale.”

“I do.” He hops over the back of the couch, spreads his legs wide, and pulls me between them, palms wrapped around the backs of my legs.

I run my fingers through his hair. “Who told him?”

“I’m assuming his agent.”

I note that he never refers to Lawson’s agent as our agent. Maybe for my sake. I don’t really know. “There’s an agent open house tomorrow. Marley and I are going.”

“Are you going as a buyer or an agent?”

I lift a shoulder and admit what I don’t want to acknowledge. “Likely as an agent. I’m not entirely sure we could afford to take it on as a project.”

“Do you want me to come with you? I’ll understand if you’d rather I not be there.”

I consider how it would feel to have him with me while I revisit my past, possibly for the last time. Probably is more like it. “I think I want you there.”

“Think about it. Sleep on it. And in the morning, if you want, I’ll come with you and if not, I’ll be right here, waiting for you when you get back.”

* * *

The following morning I find a brand-new dress that probably costs more than two months of mortgage payments hanging in my closet and a pair of strappy sandals. I almost cry, but manage to rein in the tears.

Pierce assures me it’s not meant to guilt me into letting him come along, but I want him there. Last night, I mentioned his offer to come along to Marley to see how she’d respond. She didn’t seem upset about it, but then, sometimes it’s hard to tell with Marley.