He tried to remember her voice, her laugh, but those memories were long faded. What would it have been like to know her back then, as a young woman, full of life and possibility?
His eyes drifted to her dress in the photo. The colors were faded. He realized with a twinge of regret that he didn’t even know her favorite color. Such a simple thing, and yet it was lost to him forever.
What foods did she love? Did she have a sweet tooth like him? He remembered her making pot roast on Sundays, but was that her favorite, or just something she knew he and his dad enjoyed?
His chest tightened as he thought about how young she was when she died. There were so many conversations they never got to have, so many experiences they’d missed out on sharing.
He imagined what life might have been like if she’d lived. Would she have encouraged his interest in history? Would she have shared stories about her time on Magnolia Key? Maybe she would have come with him on this research trip, pointing out places she remembered from her youth.
He sighed. His entire life would have been different if she had lived. He might have chosen a different career path, lived in a different city. He might have been a different person entirely.
But then, he realized, he might never have come to Magnolia Key. Never met Felicity. Never uncovered this mystery that seemed to tie his family to this place.
Beverly came over, interrupting his thoughts. She placed his food on the table and nodded toward the photo in his hand. “Who’s that? Part of your research?”
“It’s my mother.” He handed the photo to her.
“She’s pretty.”
“That’s taken right here on the island.”
Beverly looked at the photo closely. “Oh, it is. With the old lighthouse before it got rebuilt. And we’ve recently had some restoration work done on it too. Looks very different now from what it looks like in this photo.”
“Dale pointed out to me that the photo was taken here. He recognized the old version of the lighthouse.”
“So your mom visited here too? Or lived here?”
“I’m not sure. I did a little research online last night, but can’t find any record of her family here on Magnolia Key.”
Beverly pursed her lips, her brow creasing. “You know. You should show that to Miss Eleanor. She might know. The Whitmores know everyone on the island. Their family has been here for generations.” Beverly tilted her head to a table further back in the cafe. “She’s over there having her breakfast if you want to show it to her.”
He glanced over. “I’ll eat and let her finish her meal, then I’ll pop over there and show it to her.” He had to admit he was a bit intimidated by the idea. She’d been very vague about Prince Lawrence, though he was sure she’d recognized the name. But maybe she would know something about his mother? He couldn’t let the opportunity to ask her pass by.
He ate his meal, keeping an eye on Miss Eleanor. He wanted to catch her before she left. As she appeared to be finishing her coffee, he rose and crossed over to her table.
She looked up at him pointedly. “Yes?”
“Good morning, Miss Eleanor. Brent Dunn, remember me?”
“Yes, of course.” She nodded brusquely.
“I wanted to show you this photograph and see if you recognized the woman in it.”
Miss Eleanor just sat there, not extending a hand nor agreeing to look at it. He held the photo out to her. “Please? Can you just see if you recognize her?”
She slowly took the photo, and the color drained out of her features. A small gasp escaped her lips. “Joanie,” she said softly, almost as if she didn’t know she said the word out loud.
He steadied himself against the table. “Yes. Joan. Her maiden name was?—”
“Burton.” She looked up at him, her eyes darkening. “Where did you get this?”
“I found it in my mother’s things. It’s… my mother.”
He swore she got even paler. “Your mother?”
He nodded.
She traced her finger along the edge of the photo, almost as if she were remembering the exact moment it was taken, before looking back up at him. “And is she—alive?”
