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Chapter 1
Chapter One: The Handwriting
The invitation arrived in a cream envelope, the paper thick and soft like a pressed petal. The script across it was unmistakable. Torin’s handwriting had always leaned slightly left, a trait she teased him about when they labeled boxes together—books, maps, tea. Avery saw it now and felt the museum’s humming ventilation drop away until the only sound left was the thud of her pulse.
Miss Avery Kincaid, it read. The return address was a cherry on the edge of the coast: Seabright Cove. The date was two weeks away. The card inside was embossed and spare—no names beyond The Groom and The Bride, details by request only, formal attire. A calligraphed flourish linked the letters like ties on a sail.
Fiona peered over Avery’s shoulder. “Tell me this is a joke, and then tell me you’ve figured out who thought it was funny.”
Avery set the card on her desk, careful as if the ink could smear after five years of drying. “It’s not a joke,” she said. She listened for the tremor in her voice and was relieved to hear it wasn’t there. “It’s his writing.”
“Could he be alive?” Fiona asked, and the way she said it softened the room. “Avery?”
Avery’s gaze drifted to the corner of her office, where a narrow window showed the parking lot and beyond it the museum’s sculpture garden. Sun slipped over bent metal reeds to make a short, warm path. She remembered his hand wrapped around a thermos, mornings on the museum steps before they opened. She remembered the cliffs, too, and the day the sea kept what it wanted.
“I don’t know,” Avery said. “I’m calling the police.”
She did, and they took her seriously. A missing person’s file had a way of staying open in people’s minds even when the paperwork was gathering dust. A detective named Rowan Vale called back within the hour. His voice had a quiet authority that made her think of worn leather and a steady hand.
“Bring the invitation,” he said. “I’ll meet you at your apartment at seven.”
After she hung up, the two women looked at each other. “If this is him,” Fiona said, “we’re going to Seabright. If it’s not, we’re still going.”
Avery nodded. It was the only direction left. Hope and suspicion stood side by side like two people at a window, watching a storm gather.
