Sarah sat quietly as Finch explained who he was and why she should know about it. Apparently he was this big social media icon like Mark Zuckerberg—only with far better looks but also far less business savvy.

“So you made a mistake,” she said when he’d finished his tirade. “Big deal. And, to be perfectly honest, I never much cared for Reel Life anyway. It doesn’t really seem like you did, either.”

Finch began to tap his foot in agitation as he leaned back on the bench. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you started it because you love taking photos, but it turned into this huge thing that you no longer felt you had any control over. Maybe getting out wasn’t a mistake. Maybe it’s what your heart wanted, and it’s just your brain that’s having a hard time understanding.” Sarah leaned back, too, so she could study his reaction as she spoke. His insecurities helped to dispel her own, giving her a rare burst of confidence.

Finch stared at her in dumbfounded silence, but the rigidity in his form softened. Her words seemed to provide at least some measure of comfort for his past hurts. Was it Finch’s head or his heart that found peace with Sarah? Both, she hoped.

She continued, emboldened by the slight smile that had briefly flashed across Finch’s face. “And you know what? It feels like social media has become this huge obligation, something most of us have to do but don’t really want to. If you ask me, it’s all a big waste of time.” She grabbed her phone out of her purse and brought up the home screen.

“What are you doing?” Finch asked, leaning forward, leaning in close.

Sarah tried not to let it distract her. She had a mission to complete. “Deleting my account and then getting rid of this app.”

“What? You don’t have to—”

She jerked her phone away so he couldn’t try to take it for safekeeping. “I want to, Finch. We have a mystery to solve, and the last thing either of us needs is all these pings and notifications distracting me and upsetting you. Right?”

“I guess so,” he mumbled.

Sarah clicked through a surprising long sequence of screens to confirm deleting her account. Once she’d finally reached the last one, she waved her phone triumphantly in front of Finch.

“That felt really good,” she admitted. Of course, she’d be in for it when the breeder Carol Graves found out, but Sarah could deal with that later.

After shoving her phone back into her purse, she withdrew the note Eleanor had given to her earlier that day. “Take a look at this,” she said, handing it to Finch. “Does this mean anything to you?” They sat hip-to-hip, each studying the string of words and numbers on the paper, their only clues toward finding Finch’s lost family.

He shook his head sadly. “I don’t get it. It’s mostly numbers. Dates, maybe? But dates for what? And what do the words mean? Bear? Editor?”

“I was hoping you’d know because I sure don’t. But, look, there are a few names, too.” She drew her finger to Lotte, Joseph, Julie—each written in Eleanor’s shaky hand. “I figured we could start with them.”

“You didn’t Google me, but you’re going to Google them, huh?”

“No, you are. You seem to be much more tech savvy than me anyway.”

“Okay, and then what? Because I’m not sure how far I can get with just first names here. Or if we’re even reading them right. This writing is—”

“But we at least have to try, right?” Sarah felt her heart quicken as she was overcome by the very real worry that they would never get anywhere in solving this mystery. She’d made a promise to Eleanor, and she couldn’t stand to disappoint her, to fail at delivering her final wish in life.

“Of course we’re going to try,” Finch said, briefly touching Sarah’s hand and sending her heart galloping for much nicer reasons.

Sarah felt the heat rise to her cheeks, speaking quickly to get them past this moment, get them back on track. “I traded shifts with one of the girls at work for tomorrow so that we can make a trip over to the hospital. Pick me up at seven and we’ll head out to see what we can find.”

“So are we heading in without a plan?” Finch shot a photo of the list, then handed the paper back to Sarah for safekeeping. Their fingers brushed again. Was it intentional on Finch’s part this time? Was he also daydreaming about what it would be like to hold her, to kiss her?

She gulped hard, praying that Finch couldn’t read her thoughts, that tomorrow would be easier. “Yeah, pretty much, unless you’re able to find something during your fun-filled night of Googling.”

“No pressure or anything,” he said with a laugh.

“Not a bit.” She gestured to his phone before he could shove it back into his pocket. “Now that that’s decided, can you take some actual pictures of Lucky for me? I’ve never had him professionally photographed before, and I’d love something nice to hang on my wall.”

“Okay, c’mon.” He stood and offered Sarah his hand so that he could also pull her to her feet. “I’ll give you a few pointers while we’re at it. Soon you won’t need me at all.”

Not need Finch? Oh, Sarah very much doubted that. Already she found herself terrified of what would happen once they solved their mystery and went back to not having a valid excuse to spend time in each other’s company.

Either they would find a way to be together… or they wouldn’t.

And honestly, she didn’t know which was worse.

Finch stayed at the dog park long after Sarah and Lucky went home. He liked it here, liked that he once again felt like he belonged to something bigger than himself.

Something real.

Maybe all he’d needed was a bit less hiding in his room and a bit more time spent in the open air. Would he wake up in the morning to find things were different now? Would the shame at least be erased, and might the future finally hold hope for something good?

He could almost let himself believe. Sarah had urged him to believe the best of others, and he wanted to. But could he extend that own courtesy to himself?

He spent hours locked in quiet contemplation. Every time new hope swelled within his heart, a sharp and stinging memory came to deflate it. He’d see Sarah’s delicate features, blonde hair, and pink cheeks and feel the first whispers of happiness. But then he’d remember the articles, the interviews, the market reports, and his joy would plummet faster than a falling stock.

Back and forth his mind zipped until, at last, night fell and the fireflies began to flash their tiny lights all around him. No more of this. It was time to head home and put this bizarre day to rest. Only time would tell if it had been the beginning of something wonderful or a new kind of nightmare to contend with.

A long-lost aunt, an intriguing mystery, an entire evening at the dog park sans a dog of his own, and quite possibly a new love interest, too.

But why would Sarah want him?

Sweet Sarah, who saw the best in everyone whether or not they presented it. Sarah who loved dogs and saved lives on a daily basis. Sarah who was just as humble as she was beautiful. Sarah who’d deleted her Reel Life account to show her support for a man she’d only just met.

He brought out his phone as he walked back to his car and typed her name into Google. After all, she was the one who’d ordered him to spend the evening poking and prodding the search engine.

Thousands of results popped up. A Sarah Campbell smiling for a family portrait. A Sarah Campbell kissing her boyfriend on the cheek. A Sarah Campbell eating brunch at some ritzy city cafe.

None of them were his Sarah Campbell, though.

Narrowing by location didn’t help. He simply couldn’t find the needle he wanted in this giant haystack…

So what made him think he had any chance of solving Eleanor Barton’s big mystery of more than seventy years in the making? This wasn’t even a wild goose chase. It was more like wandering around in the darkness without a flashlight.

But then he thought of Sarah, how her whole face lighted with a pink glow whenever she spoke about his mystery—their mystery. For reasons he didn’t understand, she wanted to be a part of this. And if he gave up on Eleanor, then it would also mean giving up any chance he might one day have with Sarah.

No matter how much his brain screamed at him to leave this foolishness aside, his heart insisted that he see where this could go.

The mystery.

The romance.

The possibility of having a family once more.

That night he made no progress decoding the list, but it wasn’t the mystery he wanted to crack. He’d much rather figure out a way to break through Sarah’s remaining walls. Occasionally, she offered him a glimpse of what lay on the other side and—oh—how he longed to be there with her.

Still a few nagging questions remained.

Why did she need Lucky in order to see him? Did she want him the way he thought he might want her? Was she afraid of her own feelings or, like Eleanor, might she have a terrible secret lurking behind that sweet, sweet smile?

That was when he realized he was far more interested in unravelling the mystery of Sarah Campbell than in helping the cruel, old Eleanor Barton.

And, well, if he had to help one in order to help himself to the other…

Then that’s exactly what he would do.