Page 21 of The Words We Lost

Cecelia beamed at her new friend. “Then perhaps you should help me plot it? I need someone I can get inside information from—someone who knows life on the high seas.”

Ingrid’s expression withdrew. “I’m not sure I’d be any good at that. I just like to read.”

“Are you kidding? You’d be perfect! You’ve traveled from port to port, town to town, living the kind of adventurous life I’ve always dreamed of living.” Cecelia flung out her arms for extra emphasis, scaring a duck skimming the waters below into flight.

“You’ve always dreamed of living on a boat when your family ownsthat?” Ingrid’s voice pitched as she pointed to the old Victorian hotel behind them. “I’d give anything to live on land for longer than a week. It’s why we’re here actually. My dad promised he’d try to settle us in a town for as long as he can find work.”

Cecelia’s mental gears began to crank. “It’s really too bad we don’t look more alike because I’d totally suggest we pull aParent Trapswap on our two families.”

Ingrid stared blankly.

“What? You’ve never seenThe Parent Trap?”

“I haven’t seen many movies. I mostly just read anything I can get my hands on ... which hasn’t been much lately.”

Cecelia thought for a moment. “Have you readThe Prince and the Pauper?”

Ingrid nodded. “A few years ago. It was on my homeschool list.”

“Well, it’s pretty much the same story line.”

Ingrid looked as if she was about to comment on that when one of the festival bands started their sound check for the evening. The electric guitar strum reverberated across the water. Cecelia scrambled to her feet. She needed to get going. The shuttle bus would be unloading festivalgoers in no time now—the same bus that would start her journey to find her dad. She’d saved up enough tip money to stay in a motel for a month before she’d have to secure work as a hostess somewhere ... but she’d locate her dad before that. She knew she would. Grown men didn’t go missing; they simply got distracted and lost their way. She’d be the one to help him find it again.

“I have to go,” Cecelia said with a level of regret that surprised her. “But I definitely think we should exchange numbers. I think you’re the perfect person to help me with my stories.”

Ingrid rose to her feet, and her height soared several inches above Cecelia, which wasn’t difficult to achieve given she’d barely reached five-foot-one by her sixteenth birthday. Puberty had been a real letdown.

“Oh ... I don’t have a phone.”

No phone?How did a teenager have no phone? But then a worse question struck her. What if this was the last time they’d ever see each other—this girl who’d come from the sea and mysteriously docked herself at her family’s hotel? Cecelia couldn’t fathom the possibility of walking away with nothing to show for their meeting. With nothing tying them together if their paths should cross again.

It was only then she recalled what Ingrid had said earlier, about her visitsto the local library. About not having a card of her own. Likely because she didn’t have a permanent address. Librarians were sticklers about that kind of thing, especially Mrs. Camden.

Cecelia glanced at the hotel and then back at her watch. If she skipped her plans to grab a blackberry lemonade slush on the way to the shuttle, she’d have just enough time to show Ingrid to the library reserved for hotel guests. Once inside, she’d encourage Ingrid to pick out a book or two, and then Cecelia would put her own name down as the borrower. She’d be states away before anybody found out.

“Come on, I want to show you the hotel library.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I should. I’m not really dressed for”—Ingrid tugged at her tattered T-shirt and cutoff shorts—“for anything that nice.”

“You’re dressed fine. Now, come on.” Cecelia hooked her arm through Ingrid’s, lengthening her strides to the point of an almost-run. They dashed over the grassy knoll and up the steep steps to the back patio. Only a minute had passed when the two made it into the back door of the hotel lobby. But given she only had eleven minutes to spare, she felt every second of it.

Cecelia pointed to the hall on the lobby floor and tried not to rush her new friend as she oohed and ahhed over the echo of their footsteps across the ivory marble and again at the twinkling chandelier above them. From the corner of her eye, Cecelia watched Ingrid tug at her cutoffs. But she didn’t have time to reassure Ingrid that the only guests they’d see were those checking in their luggage.

With half the flair as usual, Cecilia opened one of the two glass doors leading into the library. And something about the way Ingrid staggered backward at the sight of it stabbed her in the gut. It had been a long time since she looked at anything with that kind of wonder and amazement.

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.”

Cecelia swallowed. “My uncle has been collecting books for a long time. There’s even a lending system so it feels like a real library when our guests come to stay. You can use my card, though. Go ahead, pick anything out. Pick out two or three if you want ... just ... it kind of needs to be quick.”

Ingrid didn’t seem to hear her as she stepped toward the bookshelves with a reverence Cecelia had only ever witnessed inside a church. As Ingridneared the tall mahogany shelves, she didn’t lift her hands to the books the way most people did. Instead, she only skimmed the spines with her eyes, as if too afraid to touch them.

An ear-piercing clatter resounded somewhere in the direction of the lobby, and Cecelia told Ingrid she’d be right back.

“Oh, Cecelia, thank goodness,” her frazzled, petite Aunt Patti said as she rounded the hallway into the lobby. “Could you give me a hand with these serving platters? They’re heavier than they look. I don’t know how Joel managed to carry such a large load,” Aunt Patti called out, nearly toppling under the strain of at least eight stainless steel platters.

“Sure, I’ve got you.” But then Cecelia really needed to get out of there, especially with Joel lurking somewhere inside the hotel. She knew the minute they spoke, he’d be able to tell something was up. Just one of the many annoying things about her only cousin.

Seconds after Cecelia set the platters on the cook’s immaculate kitchen counters, she raced back to the library to tell Ingrid good-bye before she collected her backpack and dashed off to the shuttle stop down the street.

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