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MORGAN WOKE THE NEXT morning to see the sun filtering through the window’s lace curtains, promising another beautiful Florida day. She looked around the room, smiling as the memories from her youth came flooding back. Her Aunt Meredith would never change her room, letting Morgan make the changes herself during her visits. There was comfort in those memories, most of her aunt, but a few vague ones of her mother.
She stretched her feet out until they hit something solid. A meow in protest reached her ears, and the memories of the day before came back. It had not been the day she expected, from her arrival to Pearl island, to the discovery of her aunt’s death, to the conversation last night with the ghost of her aunt.
The thought of her conversation with Meredith the night before
