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I’ll drive up on Sunday, go to the hearing Monday, and the social worker said I’d be able to visit with Clarissa Jo the next day at the foster home. So we’ll probably head back here Wednesday morning.”
    Annoyed that I couldn’t find that damn sweater, I plopped on the sofa. “Is there anything special I need to do?”
    â€œNothing I can think of, but…we do need to tell my mother. She has no clue what’s going on.”
    â€œOh, God, you’re right. Well, Opal is due on the island this evening and wanted to cook that gumbo for us tomorrow night. Why don’t we invite her here instead? Besides Opal, maybe we should also invite Saren and Aunt Dora.”
    â€œGood idea. We don’t want the family finding out about Clarissa Jo from the locals.”
    I glanced at the clock on the mantel and saw it was 9:30. “Well, I can’t find that sweater, so I’ll grab another one and then I need to get to the shop. Is your first class at ten?”
    â€œYeah, I’m going to get going too. So you do the inviting for tomorrow evening. Want me to grill some steaks?”
    I nodded. “And I’ll do up a salad with cheese potatoes. Between Aunt Dora and your mother, we’ll have plenty of dessert. It’s going to be warm tomorrow, so we’ll eat out on the deck.”
    I stood in the doorway watching Adam leave and continued to ponder where on earth my sweater could be.

3
    E ven though Grace knew about the current situation with Clarissa Jo, I invited her to dinner with the family. Heck, Grace was like family anyway. We’d met a few years before, shortly after I had decided to stay on the island. And as the young kids say, we knew immediately that we were BFF—best friends forever.
    At thirty-six, she was four years older than me, and we shared many common interests like reading, knitting, and our love for the island. Grace had found her way to Cedar Key from Brunswick, Georgia, ten years before. She might have been my best friend, but from the beginning there’d been a secretiveness about her that I’d never attempted to invade. She did share with me that her parents were killed in a car crash in the south of France when she was twelve years old. They had owned an antique shop in Brunswick and had been in Europe on business. Grace had been staying with her aunt when the accident occurred, and she had an older sister who’d been away at college. Following the funeral, she remained at the aunt’s house in Brunswick to be raised by her. I always got the feeling that Grace came from a wealthy family and it was her aunt who had given her the money to relocate to Cedar Key and open her coffee shop on Dock Street. But the part I could never figure out was despite the close and loving relationship she shared with her aunt, Grace seldom went back to Brunswick to visit her. Almost daily phone calls had cemented their relationship since I’d known Grace. She seldom mentioned her sister, but it was obvious that they’d had a falling-out, because they were never in touch. Ten years later, her coffee shop was thriving and she’d become a savvy businesswoman—much like my mother’s best friend, Alison, who owned the Cedar Key B&B. I learned quickly that the women on the island were a special breed—independent and strong, and they had what was known as true grit .
    Grace dated off and on but had no special man in her life, which was another thing I couldn’t figure out. Extremely attractive with a cloud of auburn curls that fell to her shoulders, she seemed oblivious to the admiring stares sent her way from many of her male customers. One thing we didn’t share was her passion for the metaphysical, but it did create some humorous moments that got me laughing.
    As I was filling the dishwasher on Saturday morning, the phone rang and I answered to hear her voice.
    â€œAnything I can bring this evening?” she