costs and selling price per bushel. Every penny earned and spent was recorded.
The records from the prior hundred years had been lost due to fire, her grandfather had once told her. The house had been rebuilt at that time.
Pausing, she studied the tatter of memory. She was sure the information had come from her grandfather before his stroke, but she didn’t know when.
She went methodically through every ledger right up to the present and found nothing unusual. No notes tucked inside any. No confessions or incriminating information. She dusted the shelves and returned the cloth-bound records to their place. By late afternoon, she’d gone through the three glass-fronted bookcases.
Surveying the massive rolltop desk with its many nooks and crannies, she really doubted she’d find anything in it that might jog her memory of the past.
The sailboat was the key. She didn’t know why she thought that, but she kept coming back to it.
Tired and dusty, she quit for the day. After washing up, she checked the time. Surprised at the lateness of the hour, she thawed wedding leftovers, little two-bite sandwiches of chicken and ham salad, which she ate along with string cheese and an apple for her supper. She put out some frozen pastry swans filled with whipped cream and several fruit tarts for Kate and her family, then put on a pot of coffee.
Hearing a boat motor on the lake, she looked out in time to see Kyle pull up to his dock and disappear into the attached boathouse. She frowned in his direction, wondering what the heck he was doing and how she could avoid him while she searched for clues.
Fear and anticipation ran through her as she thought of unlocking the door to her past. Kate worried that she would be hurt, but it was a chance she had to take.
A few minutes later, the old fishing dory that Jess and Jeremy had rescued from the barn and restored to running condition pulled up to the Windom pier. Amanda jumped out before anyone could help her, her brother hot on her heels.
“Mandy,” he said sternly, “you wait up or else I’m going to pound you.”
“You won’t really,” the five-year-old informed him with irrepressible humor. “Mom won’t let you.”
Jeremy grabbed her hand. “You’re not supposed to run on the dock. You might fall in.”
“I can swim,” she said with righteous indignation.
“Yeah, and the Loch Ness monster might eat you, too.”
“Ha.”
Amanda obviously didn’t believe in monsters. Megan smiled even as the unpredictable tears crowded her throat at the affectionate teasing. She wished their lives could always be as happy and carefree as they were at this moment.
Foreboding hummed through her, a never-forgotten melody that hinted at death and unspeakable grief.
“Hey, Megan, guess what?” Amanda demanded. “Larry Leighson lost his front two teeth. He looks yucky.”
Larry had been Amanda’s man of the moment prior to this misfortune. “It happens,” Megan said sympathetically. “Next year your teeth will start falling out, too.”
“I bet the tooth fairy leaves me a whole dollar. Larry only got two quarters and a book.”
“Wow. That was pretty nice. I never got more than one quarter.”
“Oh.” Amanda paused, checked her front two teeth and looked disappointed that neither was loose.
Megan hid a smile as Jeremy rolled his eyes. She greeted Jess and Kate. “Thanks for bringing the boat.”
“Here’s the folder,” he said, handing over the information she’d requested. “So you want to check over the sailboat? Are you going to try to bring it up?”
“Well, I’m not sure about that. I mean, how would you go about it?”
Jess pushed a lock of unruly hair off his forehead. “Use a compressor to blow air into the hull and force out the water. That’s what we did on marine rescue.”
Megan was startled by this information. “Kyle Herriot was asking about a compressor at the feed store last week.”
Jess looked more than a little interested. “Hmm, maybe he’s going to try to float her to the top. With two boats, you could probably pull her in to the dock if you get her up, even if the hole is below the waterline.”
“Oh, really?”
This possibility hadn’t occurred to Megan. However, it obviously had to her close-mouthed neighbor. Now all his “fishing” trips made sense. He was after the wreck, too, and she didn’t like his sneaky way of going about it.
But, in all fairness, his father had been involved. If he was searching, too, then maybe they should join forces. Later, when they found out the truth, or all that they could about the tragedy, then they could part ways and forget each other’s existence.
Uneasiness washed over her. Kyle Herriot might be a hard man to forget. Their lives were entangled on an elemental level that involved their families over two generations. Maybe it was unwise to add a third generation to the mix.
For the next hour, she and Jess and Kate discussed the known facts concerning the sailing incident, plus ways and means to bring the vessel to the surface so they could study it up close. Jess wanted to be in on the latter part.
Megan promised him that if she succeeded, he would be the first to know. After all, Bunny had been his beloved older sister, the one who had practically raised him while his mom had had to work to support the family. His father had been an alcoholic and drifter.
After driving them home in the old station wagon, Megan returned to her house. Its loneliness rushed out to greet her when she entered the door to the mud room off the kitchen. Seeing the envelope on the counter, she picked it up and hid it in a kitchen drawer.
The key to her past might lie in that envelope. She realized she was ready to face it, whatever it might be.
The air was hot and listless on Sunday afternoon when Kyle turned the key on the powerboat. The engine caught, and he eased out on the mirror-smooth surface of the lake. With the engine at half throttle—because he hoped not to attract his neighbor’s attention—he pointed the bow toward the far end of the cool waters.
He wasn’t having much luck in finding the wreck. He’d searched the dark depths in a grid pattern, but a whole week had been spent in futile exploration.
Had he known who’d done the original diving, he would look them up, but he didn’t. He could ask the sheriff, who had been the investigating officer on the case at the time, but the sheriff might mention it to Shannon, a former cop, who would surely mention it to her cousin, Megan.
He didn’t want any interference from the Windom side of the lake.
Following his grid plan, he slowed when he came to the boundary of the last search area.
“What the hell?” he muttered.
Another boat was three hundred yards away, anchored next to a huge slab of granite
