A Treasure Worth Keeping. Kathryn Springer

him was that the mysterious Sophie wasn’t in good health.

      “Evie?”

      She froze midstep.

      Her dad may have been a bit forgetful but apparently there was nothing wrong with his hearing.

      Evie winced and caught her lower lip between her teeth. All the times she’d preached to her students that honesty was the best policy came rushing back. She pressed the glasses against her cheeks to put out the fire in them. The downside of having red hair and fair skin. She couldn’t hide a blush to save her life.

      “I brought you a reward for working so hard,” she called through the screen door.

      Patrick appeared on the other side and Evie could see the furrows in his forehead, as deep as stress cracks in a wall.

      “So, did you sell some of those salt shakers?” Evie asked, deliberately keeping her voice cheerful to cover up the guilt nipping at her conscience.

      Patrick’s mouth tightened. “No. He wasn’t interested in buying anything.”

      “Who—”

      “Let’s take this out to the garden, shall we? You can enjoy the fruit of last summer’s labor while you take a break. Some of the plants are already coming up, and it’s going to be beautiful.”

      Evie handed him one of the glasses and saw his fingers tremble as he reached for it. Worry scoured the lining of her stomach.

      “Dad, is everything all right?” She tried to piece together the fragments of the conversation she’d overheard. It had sounded like someone else wanted to come along on the fishing trip. But why would that upset him? And what did Sophie Graham have to do with it?

      “Right as rain.”

      “There’s nothing right about rain unless you have an umbrella,” Evie said promptly. It was an old joke between them, and she relaxed when he smiled.

      Maybe her concern over the fishing trip was making her read more into the conversation she’d overheard. It was possible her father was simply a little uptight because he was taking a vacation for the first time in—Evie did a quick calculation—twelve years. Not since the year her mother was killed.

      Chapter Two

      Evie had her alarm set for five-thirty. Not to make sure Patrick ate his oatmeal but to make sure he didn’t forget anything. Else.

      She pulled on her robe and slipped into the kitchen, only to discover her sneaky father had already left. The coffee was on and he’d left a note taped to the refrigerator.

      I’ll call you as soon as I can. Relax. Love, Dad.

      Evie snatched the note off the fridge and frowned. The faint smell of bacon and eggs lingered in the air. No wonder he hadn’t wanted her to get up before he left. He’d wanted to eat his artery-clogging breakfast without a witness.

      And what exactly did he mean by relax? Was she supposed to relax because she was on summer vacation? Or was she supposed to relax while knowing her dad, who thought one pair of socks per day was sufficient, was going on a two-week fishing trip with Jacob Cutter? A former Marine. The two men had known each other only six months, and already Jacob was pushing Patrick out of his familiar routine. Evie didn’t like Jacob Cutter. Her dad was a scholar, not an outdoorsman. A retired high school English teacher. What was Jacob thinking?

      Her doubts about the trip had increased the evening before while Patrick packed his things. Evie had noticed an important piece of equipment missing from the gear piled by the door. When she’d called his attention to it, Patrick had laughed self-consciously and disappeared outside to rummage around in one of the outbuildings, finally returning with a fishing pole.

      Shortly after watching her dad hook his thumb on one of the lures, Evie had had a burst of inspiration. She could go with them. As the cook. Keeper of the campfire. That sort of thing. When she’d brought it up to Patrick, he’d looked less than enthusiastic. In fact, he’d looked slightly offended and had reminded her that the reservations were for two people and they couldn’t add someone else this late in the game. Which meant the owner of the black pickup truck who’d tried to coerce Patrick and Jacob into taking him along wasn’t going, either.

      No wonder Patrick had run out on her so early in the morning. Maybe he’d thought she’d stow away in the backseat.

      Too bad she hadn’t thought of that sooner.

      If only her dad would have mentioned the fishing trip to her before he’d brought it up to Caitlin and Meghan, who’d both thought it was a great idea. Of course. They always had their passports ready to go at a moment’s notice.

      “Dad never does anything.” Meghan had listened to her concerns and gently brushed them aside. “He loves to go to auctions and estate sales and putter in the store, but maybe he’s decided he needs to expand his interests. You know, find a new hobby.”

      Caitlin, as usual, had been more direct. “Don’t be such a worrywart, Evie. Dad wants to go fishing, not skydiving. If you see a parachute in the trunk of his car instead of a fishing pole, call me.”

      It was easy for her sisters to live their own lives and let their dad live his. Both of them had already moved away from home when Laura McBride had died unexpectedly. Meghan had been a freshman in an out-of-state college, and Caitlin a graduate student in France for a semester abroad. Evie had just turned fourteen and she’d been the only one left to take care of Patrick.

      Lord, you’ll take care of Dad, won’t you? Keep him safe and comfortable, just like I would if I were with him? Don’t let that reckless Jacob Cutter try to talk him into doing anything dangerous. And help him remember to change his socks if they get wet.

      Patrick had always encouraged her to talk to God, her heavenly Father, as easily and naturally as she talked to him. Some people might think she was crazy to talk to God about wet socks, but Evie figured if God knew when a sparrow fell to the ground, He cared about the details of His children’s lives, too. No matter how small.

      She opened her eyes, ready to start the day right. Beach Glass officially opened at ten o’clock, giving her time to weed the garden and go into town to pick up a gallon of milk and some eggs.

      She’d just make sure to check the expiration date before she bought them.

      Cooper’s Landing was five miles from the antique shop, yet Patrick thought nothing of hopping on a rickety old bicycle and riding it into town. Evie kicked the tire with her toe, and when it wobbled back and forth like a toddler taking those first precious steps, she decided to drive her car instead.

      Johnson’s Market stuck to the basics—not bothering to cater to the tourists who used Cooper’s Landing as a brief resting point to fill up their vehicles and stretch their legs a bit.

      The sandy stretch of beach, strewn with sculptures of satin-smooth driftwood, drew Evie’s attention when she stepped outside the store with her purchases. Ever since Patrick had moved to what Caitlin referred to as “the end of nowhere,” Evie had been fascinated by Lake Superior. She’d grown up in a suburb of Milwaukee, where the only connection she’d had with water was the local swimming pool. But here, right in front of her eyes, the lake stretched across the horizon in variegated shades of blue. And even though today the water was a comforting shade of indigo, it could change with a turn of the wind.

      A glance at her watch told her there was time for a short walk down to the dock. She tucked her groceries into the backseat of her car and headed toward the water. Picking her way down the rocky bank, Evie vaulted over a small ledge of rock and practically fell on top of someone.

      “Hey!” A girl rose up from a crouched position. “What do you think you’re…Oh, sorry.”

      “I’m the one who’s sorry,” Evie apologized. “I was staring at the water and didn’t see you.”

      “That’s okay.” The words came out grudgingly.

      She