Sarah pulled her hair into a messy bun at the nape of her neck, studied her reflection in the mirror, and then let her mass of frizz fall loose again. She paced back to her closet and looked at the mess of clothes inside, letting out a huge sigh as she crossed from one end of her apartment to the other.

Lucky whined and nudged Sarah’s hand until she was forced to stop panicking long enough to pet him.

“Thanks, boy. I needed that,” she said with a small smile. She felt calmer now, but no clearer on just what she should wear or how she should look for her day out with Finch. What was the proper attire for solving a seventy-year-old mystery with a wildly attractive failed billionaire? Polka dots? Plaid? A freaking ball gown?

She really had no idea, but if she didn’t figure it out soon, she’d be wearing a bath towel when Finch came to collect her that morning. And that would definitely not be the right call.

Lucky winked at her, then spun in two circles before laying down on his doggie bed, leaving Sarah to decide on her own.

If she put in too much effort, he’d think she was into him. If she put in too little, he’d think she didn’t have any feelings for him at all. So which was the right way to go?

Oh, this is frustrating!

At last she settled on her classic standby: jeans and a T-shirt with a high ponytail and only the slightest touch of makeup. It would have to do because she really couldn’t waste another moment on this—and she shouldn’t have wasted any moments to begin with. Finch was just a man, and Sarah already had all the male companionship she needed in her life thanks to one very attentive Golden Retriever.

“C’mon, Lucky,” she called, closing the door to her bedroom behind them—mostly so that she would not be tempted to enter and change her outfit again. “Let’s make breakfast.”

She hardly had enough time to pour the fresh pot of coffee into two stainless steel travel mugs and grab a few pastries from the pantry before Finch showed up at her door.

Five minutes before the time they’d agreed upon. Eep!

“You’re early,” she said with a smirk, handing him a coffee mug and that stack of pastries as she breezed past him and toward his car.

He turned red beneath her gaze, and she loved knowing that he felt every bit as awkward as she did. It was as if only one of them could be weak at a time and the scales constantly shifted back and forth.

“Yeah, it’s kind of a problem I have,” he explained.

“Not a problem,” she said as she pulled open the rear car door for Lucky and threw his favorite blanket over the back seat. “I think it’s a good thing to have respect for other people’s time. As long as you’re not too too early, that is.”

“Got it.” Finch saluted as he dropped into the driver’s seat and waited for Sarah to settle in on the passenger side. “So, are you ready to head to the City by the Bay?” he asked with gleaming eyes.

“City by the Bay, huh? Does that mean you’re a local or a hipster? Maybe both?” Sarah had been in the Bay Area long enough to know that she shouldn’t refer to the city as San Fran or Frisco, but she rarely heard it called anything other than its full name. Honestly, Redwood Cove already had everything she needed, which meant she rarely had cause to venture out of it.

“Definitely not a hipster,” Finch said with a laugh she rather liked as he ran his hand across his smoothly shaven jaw. “But, yeah, Gold Coast born and bred. Not always in Redwood Cove, but I wanted somewhere a bit more private when…”

“When everyone with a blog and an audience was smearing your name?”

Finch surprised her with a smile. “So you Googled me at last.”

“It seemed important to you,” she mumbled, feeling her confidence sway yet again.

He shrugged before jabbing the keys in the ignition and bringing the engine to life. “I just want you to know who you’re agreeing to spend your time with. What you’re getting yourself into.”

Sarah closed her eyes, preferring not to see the expression on Finch’s face when she told him what she really thought of his failed business venture. “Well, you seem pretty okay by me. Actually, you’re kind of great, you know. You built an empire based on the strength of one idea. You went for it, and you weren’t afraid to fail. I know I’ve never done anything like that.”

“Yeah, well… I guess you know everything about me that’s worth knowing now,” he said as he reversed the car out of the parking spot and away from her apartment complex.

She hadn’t expected him to pay her back with a compliment but still felt disappointed when one didn’t come. Perhaps the fact that they were here together now was enough. “I doubt that,” she said after a pause. “People are more than their Google search results, you know.”

Finch scoffed. “Not anymore. Not in today’s day and age.”

“Now you sound like one of my patients,” she said, rolling down the window and allowing her hand to ride on the breeze as they drove. “I like that.”

“Have you always been super into old people?”

She stared at him for a second, then burst into laughter so fierce she couldn’t even try to silence it.

“That came out wrong,” he said, laughing, too. “You know what I meant to ask, so just answer that question, okay?”

She sobered up, sadness overtaking the effervescent laughter. “Not always, but since I was about twelve.”

His voice softened as he cast a glance her way. “Why? What happened?”

“I… I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sensing her apprehension, Lucky whined and stuck his head over the center console so Sarah could stroke his fur. “It’s okay, boy,” she cooed.

Finch’s voice became so quiet, Sarah had to strain to hear it over the whooshing wind outside. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get into anything too heavy. Obviously you don’t have to share if you don’t want to. Just trying to fill the time between here and the big city.”

“You’re fine,” she said with a deep sigh. “Maybe someday I’ll tell you, but not today if that’s okay.”

“Uh, yeah, of course.” Finch frowned and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Tell me something else then. Talk to me about Lucky.”

“Now that I can do…”

Finch laughed in all the right places as Sarah described Carol Graves and her over-the-top commitment to staying in touch with every puppy that had ever been born from her kennel. He even threw in a few stories of his own about the cat he’d had while growing up. If discussing work and family was hard, then talking about their pets was like breathing in clean, sweet air.

If only it could always be this easy. If only she could one day love and trust a person the way she did her dog. Might today be a step in that direction?

Before she had time to contemplate the possibilities, Finch pulled into the sprawling hospital complex… and the easiness between them vanished into the endless summer sky.

Finch tightened his grip on the steering wheel and let out a long, slow breath. They’d arrived, and yet he still had no idea what he really hoped to accomplish here.

“Are you ready?” Sarah asked, a waiting hand hovering over her seatbelt buckle.

Her dog Lucky panted excitedly in the back seat as all three of them took in the massive hospital complex before them. People died here, were born here, found out life-changing news, said final goodbyes, and maybe even learned long-hidden truths.

What would their visit bring?

He tried to push all these nagging thoughts aside and put on a reassuring smile, but Sarah saw right through him.

“Hey, it will be okay,” she said, brushing her fingers against his forearm and igniting a spark that made the fine hairs stand on end.

Whatever happened next, he had Sarah at his side. It was funny how much that meant given they’d only met each other the day before. And while he craved the company of this new acquaintance, he feared what others might be brought into his life as a result of solving Eleanor’s family mystery.

“Let’s go,” he said at last, swinging both legs out of the car before he could change his mind. He waited for Sarah to hook Lucky onto his leash, then the three of them marched toward the swinging glass doors.

Was it possible a whole new existence waited on the other side for Finch? Or would it only be more disappointment?

Predictably, nothing earth-shattering happened—only that they were greeted with scattered stares the moment they strode through those doors. Lucky wore his red harness identifying him as a therapy dog, so at least nobody gave them a hard time about bringing an animal into the hospital.

Finch paced to the greeting desk with far more confidence than he actually felt.

“How can I help you today?” a plump woman with short curls and a tired smile greeted him.

“I’m looking for information about my grandmother,” he said with a nervous smile.

The receptionist nodded and sat up straighter in her chair. “Oh, is she a patient here?”

“No, but she was born here in 1946.”

“Oh, okay…” She hummed a beat, put on a fresh smile, and asked, “What information do you need?”

“Everything. Whatever you have.” He startled when Sarah squeezed her shoulder.

“I’m not going far,” she whispered, leaving him on his own at the front desk. He began to watch them clack away, but the perturbed receptionist broke his concentration almost immediately.

“Is this an estate issue?” she asked for what Finch assumed was at least the second time.

“No, I’m just trying to…” He let out a deep breath and sunk both hands into his pockets. He felt so vulnerable standing her alone, demanding secrets he didn’t know how to put into words. “To learn about my family,” he finished at last.

The woman’s smile wavered as she began shuffling papers on her desk. “I’m afraid you’ll have to put in a special request and provide proof that you’re next of kin. We don’t have digitized records that far back, so it won’t be easy to find what you’re looking for. And we just don’t have the extra staff to—”

Finch raised a hand to cut her off. “It’s fine. I get it. What about paperwork on my aunt? Eleanor Barton?”

This time she didn’t even try to disguise her sigh before asking, “Is she a patient here?”

“No, but she would have been more recently.”

“Okay…” She clicked a few keys on her computer, then handed Finch a print out. “You’ll need the patient’s written permission, proof of relationship, and-or power of attorney. Then we should be able to get those for you.”

Finch rolled the papers into a tube and resisted the urge to give up and walk away. “Is there any way I can have any of these records now? We’re kind of in a hurry.”

“Not without the proper authorization. Hospitals have gotten in big trouble before for far smaller privacy violations.” She spoke slowly as if it were the only way to make him understand. “I’m sorry, but there’s really no way around the rules here.”

“It’s fine. Thank you.” Finch let out a long, irritated sigh.

It wasn’t the receptionist’s fault, of course, but still. They only had one clue that made any sense, and it led to a dead end. Eleanor had been cagey about offering even the smallest of clues, so how would he ever get her to agree to sign the consent form?

And how would he get the needed proof to access his grandmother’s records when it had been years since her death? Even if he got it, how long would it take for the hospital to find and deliver the files? And could he handle all that time knowing, but not knowing?

He turned back toward Sarah at a loss, hoping she would have the answers he was missing. But she and Lucky weren’t standing where he’d left them. Instead, they had journeyed down the hall and were standing beside a small child wearing a hospital gown and sitting in a wheelchair.

Finch immediately noticed the short, patchy hair and the dark purple bruises beneath the child’s eyes, but he couldn’t tell whether the child was a boy or a girl—only that he or she was very, very sick.

Lucky sat, wagging his tail gently and allowing the child to press a hand between his eyes. The sharp squeal of a giggle that followed made Finch’s heart break and melt at the same time.

“Lucky, shake,” Sarah commanded, and obediently the dog offered the child its paw.

“His name is Lucky?” the child asked in a voice that now very clearly belonged to a girl and to one much older than he had expected—perhaps eight or nine instead of the five or six he’d assumed.

“Sure is. And what’s yours?” Sarah said, crouching down so she was eye to eye with little girl in her wheelchair.

“Sara,” the girl declared with a smile.

“Hey, that’s my name, too!” Do you have an H at the end?”

The younger Sara shook her head and giggled. “Nope.”

“See, I do,” Sarah said with an infectious smile that Finch found himself loving more and more each time he saw it. “Which is good, because now nobody can get us confused.”

Both Sarahs smiled at each other, and Finch could only watch in amazement.

Sarah Campbell didn’t just have a calming effect on him—she had it for everyone. It wasn’t in his head or imagined. She truly was the most amazing woman he’d ever met—and he felt himself falling for her faster than ever.