“All done in here?” asked Smythe, coming into Tiny’s living room.

Rosa straightened her aching back and looked down at the box she’d almost finished packing. “Not much longer.” The sale of the resort had been finalized a couple of days ago, and Smythe had been staying in one of the bures while Rosa packed up Tiny’s belongings. She’d refused to let a bunch of strangers come in to go through Tiny’s things.

Smythe checked his watch. “Don’t forget to meet the ferry.”

“Never do,” said Rosa with an edge in her voice. Then she caught herself. After all these years working with the public, she’d prided herself on being hard to provoke. Not anymore, it seemed.

“I also need to talk to you about tomorrow’s cocktail party,” said Smythe, pushing his glasses up his nose. The day he’d arrived, Smythe had informed her the place was barely breaking even and he meant to change that. He’d been cost-cutting ever since, and she already knew what he was going to say next.

“What about it?” She squared her shoulders, mentally preparing for another fight she wouldn’t win.

“It doesn’t make sense for us to be providing the guests with free drinks and food on a weekly basis.”

“It’s only punch and nibbles. The guests enjoy mingling together, and they always stay on after it ends, paying for their own drinks.”

“Last week’s party cost us two hundred and eighty-seven dollars. And that’s not including losses from the drinks our guests would have bought for themselves during the time we were supplying them for free.”

“But you can’t run a resort from a spreadsheet. You need to provide a certain amount of—”

“Just cancel it,” snapped Smythe.

Rosa looked down at the almost-full box and felt her shoulders sag. “Okay.”

“Good.” Smythe turned for the door. “How much longer in here?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Just one room left to pack up. I’ll get it finished today.”

After Smythe left, Rosa picked up the bottle of champagne she’d brought from Sydney. It was unopened, of course. A symbol of how naive she’d been, thinking Tiny would one day be able to share a glass with her. When they’d promised each other they’d drink it in good times or bad, she’d never imagined a time like this. Maybe she should pour the stuff down the toilet. But it had been a gift for her friend, and throwing it away would be like giving up all hope.

She wrapped the bottle up carefully, and put it in the box with the rest of Tiny’s things. Then she took a deep breath and tried to mentally prepare herself before going into the room she’d left for last. Dalton’s room. She’d only been in here once before, the night they’d spent together. Tiny’s paintings still hung on the walls, and she’d need to wrap those and pack them into crates for shipping.

Rosa stared at the bed, her heart thudding. She and Dalton had spent a single, perfect night there. And there was still a dent on the pillow from his head. She had to force herself not to sit on the bed and run her hand across it.

Instead she pulled the closet open. Tiny and Dalton had left Fiji with little more than the clothes they were wearing, but Dalton hadn’t brought that much with him to start with. There were only a few clothes hanging there, and probably some more in the drawers. She should throw them quickly into a box, and ignore the trace of his cologne that wafted from them. What she definitely shouldn’t do was step forward to let the scent fill her lungs.

It smelled so good. When she closed her eyes she could see him in front of her, his broken eyebrow lifted into an arch, and the corners of his lips curled up.

No, she couldn’t cry. She squeezed her eyelids as tightly closed as she could, refusing to let even a drop of moisture escape. If Smythe came back in, he wouldn’t catch her sobbing in here like a heartbroken fool.

Time to pack all this up. To get it all out of her life before she fell apart.

She grabbed a box and threw all Dalton’s clothes in, hardly bothering to fold them. Then his books about stroke rehabilitation, and the carving tools he’d left on his dresser. Was that it? No, wait, there was a drawer in the bedside table, too. Rosa tugged it open and her breath snagged in her throat.

Slowly, she reached in and drew out the piece of wood. It was the driftwood Dalton had picked up on the beach the evening of the wedding.

When Dalton had shown it to her, it had been a gnarled and twisted piece of wood about three times the size of her hand. Now there was a person’s face carved into it, the features somehow emerging from the natural shape of the wood as though it was the wind, sand, and sea that had etched it there. The rough part at the top was now hair, and the tapered part at the bottom, a long and elegant neck. The face seemed to belong in the wood, like it had always been there, waiting to come out.

Rosa drew in her breath. The carving was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

It was her face. Her eyes and nose and hair. Her lips curved into a smile.

The wood was porous, with its natural holes and knobs part of the carving. It made Rosa look wild, like she was half mermaid, with rough hair blowing around her face.

Heart aching, she gently traced the shape of her nose. This was how she’d always wanted to be. Wild, free, and fearless. Could this really be how Dalton saw her? Or had it somehow been a happy accident that he’d brought to life the essence of what she wanted most?

“Rosa Roughknuckles,” she murmured. Dalton had told her the name suited her. But she didn’t feel like that person at all, especially since Dalton had gone. She’d lost whatever fire she’d once had. It had been chiseled out of her, along with her heart.

Sinking onto Dalton’s bed, she cradled the carving in both hands. If only she could take in the carving’s essence, to restore what she’d lost. He must have carved her likeness from memory. The thought of him recalling every detail of her face and etching it into the wood made her throat close up.

God, missing him felt like she’d taken a knife in the guts. And the worst part? This pain was her own stupid fault. She’d known all along that sleeping with Dalton was a bad idea. She’d never been good at casual relationships, and up until now had been careful about not jumping into anything she wasn’t sure of. Her heart had always been her biggest weakness, and she’d hung it on a target for him.

Her cellphone rang, and she tugged it out of her pocket. It was number she didn’t recognize. A Sydney number. Dalton? Heart leaping, she answered it. “Hello?”

Carin’s voice came on the line. “It’s me.”

Rosa let out her breath, disappointment making her sag. “Hi. How come you’re not calling on your cellphone?”

“I’m using Jake’s phone. I left my phone at home, and I’m at the police station.”

“What? Why?”

“Giving a statement. It’s taking a while, so I thought I may as well ring you while I wait.”

“Carin, what happened?”

“Don’t sound so panicked, sis, I’m fine. Just had a little break-in at my place.”

“Tell me.”

“Promise not to freak out?”

“Carin, I swear, if you don’t tell me what happened right now, I’m going to—”

“Okay, okay. Well, I worked the early shift, and when I got home, I went in as usual. I put my bag down, kicked off my shoes, and went to the fridge to grab a drink. That’s when I saw there was a dead bird on my kitchen counter, and the back door was open. The lock was splintered. I didn’t know if the person who broke in was still inside, so I ran. I didn’t grab anything on the way out. Not my shoes, or my bag, or my phone. I went to Jake’s, and he gave me his phone and dropped me off at the police station to report it. Then he took off to my place. I think he was ready to channel Jason Bourne and go into full attack mode if the burglar was still there.”

“Is he okay?”

“He rang a little while ago to say there was nobody there when he arrived. He sounded disappointed. But apart from a poor dead sparrow on my counter, it seems like there’s no damage, and nothing’s been stolen. Just my door bashed in and some feathers to clean up. Jake said Rusty was fine, which was what I was really worried about. At least that loser didn’t hurt him.”

Rosa gripped the phone hard enough that her hand hurt. “You told me you were staying at Jake’s.”

“I am. But I still have to feed Rusty.”

“You’ve been going back to your house every day to feed the cat?” Rosa fought the urge to scream at her sister. “What the hell?”

“Well, I couldn’t exactly let him starve. And he wouldn’t travel well. He’s too old and stuck in his ways to take him to Jake’s with me.”

Rosa let her breath out, staring down at the carving. Enough was enough. Otto was her problem, and it wasn’t right that Carin had to deal with him. Rosa couldn’t stay on Lantana knowing Otto’s psychotic tendencies had kicked into full gear.

“I’m coming to Sydney,” she said, making up her mind.

“When?”

“Now. Right away. I’m going to deal with Otto so he doesn’t bother you again.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“Truthfully? I have no idea.”

She found Smythe in the office she still thought of as Dalton’s. She was still carrying the carving, because she couldn’t bear to let it go. When she went in, she saw he was busy analyzing his precious figures.

“Tomorrow’s my day off,” she said. “But I need to take an extra day.”

He looked up and frowned. “Two days off? You get one day a week.”

“My sister’s in trouble and I need to leave right away.” She stared him down, telling rather than asking. “I’m getting on the next ferry, and I’ll be back the day after tomorrow.”

“I don’t know, Rosa. I don’t think it’s a good time for you to be—”

“It’s important. I have to go. I won’t take any time off next week to make up for the extra day. Or you can dock my pay. Either way.”

He sighed, frowning at his spreadsheet. Was getting rid of her going to be the next cost-cutting measure? Smythe had to have considered it. The thought made her squeeze her hands into fists. She loved it here. Loved the island, her job, the other employees. But it meant nothing if she wasn’t the person she wanted to be, and that person needed to make sure Carin was safe.

“All right,” said Smythe. “Just this once. And make sure you’re back the day after tomorrow.” He adjusted a figure on his spreadsheet. Taking out her salary to see how much better it would make his bottom line look?

Rosa turned and left. She didn’t have long before the ferry arrived, and she had to pack a bag, but she found herself leaning against the wall outside Smythe’s office. The thought of being fired and having to leave Lantana permanently had made the strength drain from her legs. Lantana was home now, and she’d come to love it. What would she do if she couldn’t stay?

Looking down at her carving, she ran her fingers over the texture of the wood. She wanted the man who’d seen her like this. The man who’d taught her to fight and nurtured the person she needed to be.

In a perfect world, Dalton would love her and want to be with her. They’d live on Lantana Island, and she’d run the resort without Smythe looking over her shoulder. Tiny would be healthy, Otto would still be in prison, Carin would be safe and happy, and Crusoe would have a loving family to pamper him.

Yeah, and she’d be able to ride to Sydney whenever she wanted on the back of a flying pig.

Truth was, she wasn’t Rosa Roughknuckles, or the woman Dalton had carved into the driftwood. She was just plain old Rosa and it was time to face facts. There was one scrap of her perfect dream that had a chance of coming true, but only if she managed to make it happen. She’d go to Sydney and make Carin safe. Somehow.