Granny James pushed open the door and slowly, stiffly, climbed from the car.

Harper ran around the hood to assist. “Let me help.”

“I’m all right.” Granny brushed away Harper’s hand. “I’m just stiff from the long flight.”

In the bright sunlight Harper could see the new, deep lines that coursed a path in her grandmother’s face.

“My suitcase is in the boot.” Granny James looked at the long flight of stairs to the front door. “Can someone help us? It’s very heavy.”

“I’ve got it.” Harper opened the trunk and, with a soft grunt, hoisted the big suitcase to the ground. She saw the surprise on her grandmother’s face that she could lift it with such ease. “Lifting forty-pound bags of soil and compost all summer does wonders for the muscles.”

Granny James looked confused.

“I’ve been gardening. . . . No worries about the stairs.” Harper began dragging the suitcase toward the cottage. “You’re staying here. In the cottage. It’s quite nice and will give you some privacy.”

En route to the cottage the front door of the main house opened. Mamaw, Dora, and Carson stepped out onto the porch, all smiles and welcome.

“Hello there!” Mamaw crooned. “Welcome to Sea Breeze.”

Granny James turned her head in acknowledgment but, Harper noticed, did not smile.

“I’ll just leave the suitcase on the cottage porch. Let’s go up and say hello.”

Granny James made the climb, clinging to her large purse as though someone would snatch it from her.

At the top of the stairs Mamaw, standing tall and refreshed, stepped forward, hand outstretched. “I’m so glad to meet you at last. I’m Marietta.”

“Imogene.” Granny James accepted the hand with a stiff smile. “I do hope I’m not imposing. I had reservations at a very nice hotel but Harper insisted.”

“Of course. You’re family, after all. Harper has told us so much about you. These are my other granddaughters.” Mamaw stepped aside and gestured. “Dora, the eldest. And Carson. Harper’s sisters.”

The sisters stepped forward with southern hospitality, smiling and warmly shaking Granny James’s extended hand.

“You’re all half sisters, isn’t that right?”

Mamaw raised her brow. Harper knew she despised the term half sister. “Yes. My son, Parker, is their father.”

“Yes, but they have different mothers—all three?”

Mamaw bristled at the implied criticism. Dora and Carson exchanged a wary glance.

“That’s right.” Mamaw’s pithy tone went tit-for-tat. “But we don’t refer to them as half sisters. It’s the parents who gave up halfway. My girls never give up.” Mamaw smiled warmly at each of the three young women. “Sisters are sisters. My summer girls,” she added territorially. She lifted her chin with the air of someone who had just won the first round. “Let’s go indoors. It’s a bit hot out here.”

The house smelled of lemon polish and soap, testament to the preparations they’d made for this visit. The mood was formal as the three women each found a seat on the antique furniture in the living room. The pale blue grass-cloth paper on the walls, the delicate side tables, and gilt-framed paintings, mostly of scenes of the lowcountry, made for an elegant yet still beachy room that Harper was proud of.

“Early-American furniture?” Granny James’s eyes swept over the highboy. “Eighteenth-century, I suppose?”

“Yes.” Mamaw’s eyes brightened. She loved to talk furniture. “That highboy is Chippendale. When my husband, Edward, retired, we moved from our house in Charleston to the island. It broke my heart to deaccess so much of my furniture. I only kept the family pieces, and even of those I selected only my favorites for this house. I keep the rest in storage off island. Away from hurricanes.”

Granny James sniffed as though smelling mold. “Yes, keeping furniture would be a worry living on an island. With all this humidity and sun. Good furniture, that is. Our family heirlooms date back much earlier, of course. Was it difficult giving up your home in Charleston to move to this . . . quaint little island?”

Mamaw sat straighter and smiled stiffly. “Quaint, perhaps, but utterly perfect for our needs. We were ready to downsize from our large house at his retirement. Edward and I loved this house and the island. This is a family house. We spent our summers here, you see.” Her gaze fell on Harper. “With the girls.” Mamaw’s face grew solemn. “What proved difficult was Edward’s passing after only a year.”

“You’ve lived here alone? All those years?”

“Yes. With Lucille. My maid and companion. Lucille passed this summer, sadly. And now that I’ve reached the ripe old age of eighty, I’m afraid, even though I love it, the house is proving to be too much.”

“Too big? Really? Why, it’s a very sweet house. Cozy. I should think it’d be perfect.”

Mamaw drew herself up. “You have no idea of the maintenance a house of any size demands on an island.”

Granny James was listening intently. “I heard you were selling Sea Breeze.”

Mamaw’s expression shifted to curiosity at the comment as Dora and Carson bustled into the room carrying trays of tea and cookies. The scent of Darjeeling, which Harper had informed them was Granny’s favorite, filled the air as Dora poured.

Harper was relieved to see her grandmother accept the tea with relish. She shifted on the silk sofa, her teacup balanced expertly in her hands, and sipped.

Granny James made a face. “Oh, this tea isn’t hot. Did you steep the tea in the harbor, like the colonists?” She laughed as though it were a joke, but set her cup and saucer on the table and coupled her hands stiffly in her lap.

Harper cringed. Mamaw’s face was granite. Carson and Dora silently simmered. It was getting warmer in here, Harper thought. Though the air conditioner was on, Mamaw never kept the house cooler than seventy-two. Mamaw was wearing her usual linen tunic, this one a pale blue that brought out the brilliant blue of her eyes. Dora looked cool in a Lily Pulitzer sundress, as did Carson in her long white caftan. Harper wore her green sundress and pearls. In contrast, Granny James appeared to be sweltering in her dark suit, but Harper knew her grandmother would expire before she would remove her jacket.