The Memory Keeper: A Heartwarming, Feel-Good Romance(52)

Emmitt had never missed a moment with friends and family, and Hannah could only hope that one day, she could have those kinds of memories to keep her warm on the cold days.



“Any luck?” Hannah asked Georgia when she picked her up from the investigator’s office later that day.

“Maybe. It’s a long shot, but he suggested I visit the local public records office to have a chat with the people in there. Think I could stop by there first for a bit, and then we can go over to your gran’s shop?”

“Of course.” She made the turn headed for the office. “I’ll just wait at the house until we go to the shop. Anything you need me to do with Jerry?”

“You could let him out. That would be awesome. Then just put him in his crate if you need to have him out of your hair.”

“Sounds good. Text me when you need me to come get you.”

Hannah drove Georgia to the office and let her out.

“Fingers crossed,” Georgia said as she got out of the car.

“I’ll have everything crossed for you,” Hannah told her.

“You’re an angel. Thank you for doing this,” Georgia said.

“No problem at all.”

When Hannah got home, she found her mother and father on Gran’s sofa in the living room with Jerry in her mom’s lap.

“Where’s Georgia?” Maura asked, stroking the dog.

“I dropped her off at the records office. She’s looking for a lead to find her birth parents.”

“Oh, I hope she finds something. She’s such a sweet girl.” Her mother smiled. “How was Gran this morning?”

“Okay,” Hannah said. She sat between her parents, disturbing Jerry who crawled off her mother’s lap and found Hannah’s. Hannah scratched his head.

Hannah’s phone interrupted the conversation, pinging with an email. She handed Jerry to her father and pulled it out of her pocket to check the message. “It’s Amanda at work. I should probably get this,” she told her parents, peering down at the sender. “She’s been looking for some images she needs. Maybe she found them.”

“All right, honey,” her mother said.

Hannah went to Gran’s room to go through the entire email. It read,

I know you said not to worry, but IT’s wondering if you and the photographer emailed the images at all. They might be able to see if they can sift through download files to find them. But it would be a big project, so they want to get confirmation that you may have emailed the images first. A.





Hannah racked her brain to remember if they’d shared any emails at all, but sadly, she didn’t think they had. She responded, “I was with the team on the photo shoots and I took the company camera that was used back to the office, so no, I don’t think I downloaded any images. Good thinking, though.”

She clicked off her phone and flopped down on Gran’s bed. What was she going to do about these photos? She checked the calendar on her phone, her heart thumping. There were only about two weeks remaining to finish the project and get it to production.

She sat in Gran’s room and thought for a second. The writers were already in edits, certainly. Could she get any photos around town to replace them? She considered Ardy Wright’s farm, but it was too small and had neighborhood homes surrounding it…

Hannah fired off a quick email to Amanda to ask to read the articles once they were ready to go, so she could see the angles the writers were taking. Then she sent another email to the photographer, warning him that they may have to go in another direction. The worries and problems kept going around in her head, consuming her.

Then, all of a sudden, something clicked. She realized that she was closed up in Gran’s room, fretting about work, when she had other things she could be thinking about. Hannah set down her phone and grabbed Gran’s journal, opening it up to the next entry to get work off her mind for a while.

June 10, 1943



Still no word from Charles. I went back to the soda fountain yesterday to see if Warren was there. He was so lovely to speak to, and I know he understands the way this war can worry someone so. My parents won’t speak of the war in any way, and just the mention of it sends Mama into a fit of tears, so I don’t bring it up. I’d really love to talk to someone about it before I explode. I noticed the Buxton Floral Co. has advertised a small bouquet for grieving families who have lost loved ones. I offered to help the floral company deliver those arrangements in the evenings after my shift at work. It makes me feel like I’m helping to spread a little joy in this awful time.





Hannah brightened. Perhaps Gran could close the shop and volunteer a few hours a week at another florist’s somewhere else. The only problem was, there wasn’t another floral company within walking distance so someone would have to drive her… With a deep breath, she read on.

June 12, 1943



I had a long talk with Minnie Buxton who runs the floral company this evening, when I went in to pick up my deliveries. She was worried about her ability to offer the low price on the grievance bouquets after the summer months, as the cost of flowers will go up when the weather turns colder. She’s making so many and charging so little that she fears she wouldn’t be able to continue. But I had an idea. I explained how adding more baby’s breath and switching out the daisies for carnations could retain the shape and color of the bouquet. She let me make an arrangement to show her, and she was so excited by my creation. We danced around the shop in relief. That was the first time I’ve felt real joy in so long.