Happily sated with vegetable-barley soup, buttered biscuits with mesquite honey and the promise of more delicious treats to come—courtesy of Daisy and Élodie—he stopped at the water pump, where he’d gone to collect water for Daisy. He felt ridiculously pleased that, this time, she hadn’t argued with him over the need for him to perform that strenuous task. It was good that Daisy let him care for her a little bit. She needed help, and Owen wanted to give it. That was that. While reaching for the pump handle, Owen heard something crinkle in his shirt pocket. Puzzled, he glanced downward. He retrieved the slip of paper he’d stashed there, then unfolded it, absently scanning those few neatly hand written lines. To: Mr. Conrad Parish Horton House Hotel, San Diego, California I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me. Please do not tell Barker & Bowles what I have done. I will make it right somehow. I promise. Yours Fondly, Daisy Walsh. Fondly. Staring at those words, Owen frowned.
