Mother's Day Sampler

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Featuring extended excerpts of: The Sea Glass Cottage by RaeAnne Thayne

Seduced by a Steele by Brenda Jackson Sunrise on Half Moon Bay by Robyn Carr

OLIVIA

he could do this. S Olivia Harper approached the nondescript coffee shop across the street from her apartment in the Lower Queen Anne neighborhood of Seattle. The place wasn’t necessarily her favorite. The servers could be rude, the food overcooked and the coffee rather bland com- pared to the place she preferred a few blocks east. The ambi- ence at the Kozy Kitchen wasn’t particularly cozy, or “kozy,” either, for that matter, featuring cracked vinyl booths and walls that had needed a new coat of paint about a decade earlier. The Kitchen, as those in the neighborhood called it, was too tired and dingy to attract many hipsters, with their laptops and their slouchy knit caps and their carefully groomed facial hair. Right now, it was perfect for her needs. Olivia stood outside the door, ignoring the drizzle and the pedestrians hurrying past

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her on their way to somewhere far more interesting and important than this run-down diner. Every instinct inside her cried out for her to rush back down the street, race up the three flights to her apartment, climb into her bed and yank the covers over her head. Any normal person would feel the same in her situation, especially after enduring a life-changing event like she had experienced five days earlier. Her reaction wasn’t out of the ordinary. In the five days since she had witnessed a horrific assault at another diner, the night- mares still haunted her, so vivid she had awakened every morning smelling spilled coffee, blood and fear. She closed her eyes, still hearing the screams of the barista, the enraged yells of the junkie senselessly attacking her, Olivia’s own harsh, terrified breathing. She could feel the floor tiles under her knees and the cush- ions of the booth pressing into her back as she huddled on the floor, trying to make herself disappear. Until that experience less than a week earlier, Olivia had blithely gone through life with absolutely no idea what a craven coward she was. If she had ever thought about it, which, quite honestly, she hadn’t, she might have assumed she would be the kind of person always ready to step up in the face of danger. Someone who could yank a child out of the way of a speeding car or dive into a lake to rescue a floundering swimmer or confront a bully tor- menting someone smaller than him. Someone like her beloved father, who had given his life to save others. Instead, when her moment to stand up and make a difference came along, she had done absolutely nothing to help another human under attack except crouch under a table and call 911, all but paralyzed by her fear. Shame left a bitter taste, even five days later. She hated re-

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membering that she had done nothing while that junkie had fired a gun in the air then used it to pistol-whip the barista again and again. Olivia had wanted desperately to run out of the coffee shop and find help but she’d been afraid to do even that, not sure if he had more rounds in his weapon. The attack had seemed to last hours but had only been a moment or two before the barista herself and another customer, a woman approximately the age of Olivia’s mother, had finally put an end to the horror. That customer, just walking into the otherwise empty coffee shop, had sized up the situation in an instant and demon- strated all the strength and courage that had completely deserted Olivia. Instead of hurrying out of the coffee shop to safety, she had instead run to the barista’s aid, yelling at the junkie to stop. Startled, he had paused his relentless, horrifying random attack and had eased away slightly. That had been long enough for the barista, battered and bleeding and crying in pain, to pick up a carafe of coffee and throw it and its piping hot contents at him. Olivia could still hear his outraged yell and the shouts of a neighborhood police officer who had finally responded to her call, ordering everyone down to the ground. In five minutes it was over, but Olivia had relived it for days, especially coming face-to-face with the stark realization that she was a craven coward. Steve Harper would have been ashamed of her. Amazing, the lengths a person could go to deceive herself. All this time, Olivia thought she was strong and decisive and in control. In certain areas of her life, maybe. Hadn’t she moved away from her hometown in Northern California to go to college twelve years earlier and never looked back? That had taken strength. And she had built her own social media marketing

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company in her own time, working nights and weekends until she now had clients across the globe. Of course, she was terrified to take the leap and make her side hustle her full-time job. She still put in long hours handling information technology for a medical conglomerate because the pay was good and the benefits amazing—even though her ex- fiancé worked in the administration for said conglomerate and made her life unnecessarily difficult, simply because she had broken off their engagement six months earlier. She was constantly running from any situation she found emotionally threatening. “Are you going in?” A man was holding the door for her, she realized. He was about her age and not bad looking in a slightly rumpled, professor sort of way. She started to take a step inside after him but fear froze her in place. She couldn’t do it. Not yet. “I’m waiting for someone,” she lied. “Here’s a crazy idea. You could always wait inside, where it’s dry.” He smiled, his brown eyes friendly and with a glimmer of interest. “I’m good,” she mumbled. He shrugged and let the door between them close with a disappointed sort of look. Yeah, she was a coward when it came to dating, too. She had one serious relationship in college that had ended by mu- tual agreement. Then she’d become engaged to the first guy she dated out of school, until she realized neither one of them loved the other. They were simply together for convenience. She had convinced herself that a mildly enjoyable relationship was the safer choice. What if she loved someone passionately, fiercely, and then lost him suddenly, as her mother had her father? Sixteen years later, there were times Juliet still seemed shattered.

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So many things could go wrong. A car accident. A plane crash. A heart attack. A burning building where a man might run inside to save people, despite his daughter begging him not to do it. Olivia shoved her hands into her pockets against the damp Seattle afternoon. Nothing would take the chill from her bones, though. She knew that. Even five days of sick leave, huddling in her bed and mindlessly bingeing on cooking shows hadn’t done anything but make her crave cake. She couldn’t hide away in her apartment forever. Eventually she was going to have to reenter life and go back to work, which was why she stood outside this coffee shop in a typical spring drizzle with her heart pounding and her stomach in knots. This was stupid. The odds of anything like that happening to her again were ridiculously small. She couldn’t let one man battling mental illness and drug abuse control the rest of her life. She could do this. She reached out to pull the door open, but before she could make contact with the metal handle, her cell phone chimed from her pocket. She knew instantly from the ringtone it was her best friend from high school, who still lived in Cape Sanctuary with her three children. Talking to Melody was more important than testing her resolve by going into the Kozy Kitchen right now, she told herself. She answered the call, already heading back across the street to her own apartment. “Mel,” she answered, her voice slightly breathless from the adrenaline still pumping through her and from the stairs she was racing up two at a time. “I’m so glad you called.” Glad didn’t come close to covering the extent of her relief. She really hadn’t wanted to go into that coffee shop. Not yet. Why should she make herself? She had coffee at home and could have groceries delivered when she needed them.

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“You know why I’m calling, then?” Melody asked, a strange note in her voice. “I know it’s amazing to hear from you. You’ve been on my mind.” She was not only a coward but a lousy friend. She hadn’t checked in with Melody in a few weeks, despite knowing her friend was going through a life upheaval far worse than witness- ing an attack on someone else. As she unlocked her apartment, the cutest rescue dog in the world, a tiny, fluffy cross between a Chihuahua and a miniature poodle, gyrated with joy at the sight of her. Yet another reason she didn’t have to leave. If she needed love and attention, she only had to call her dog and Otis would come running. She scooped him up and let him lick her face, already feeling some of her anxiety calm. “I was thinking how great it would be if you and the boys could come up and stay with me for a few days when school gets out for the summer,” she said now to Melody. “We could take the boys to the Space Needle, maybe hop the ferry up to the San Juans and go whale watching. They would love it. What do you think?” The words seemed to be spilling out of her, too fast. She was babbling, a weird combination of relief that she hadn’t had to face that coffee shop and guilt that she had been wrapped up so tightly with her own life that she hadn’t reached out to a friend in need. “My apartment isn’t very big,” she went on without waiting for an answer. “But I have an extra bedroom and can pick up some air beds for the boys. They’ve got some really comfortable ones these days. I’ve got a friend who says she stayed on one at her sister’s house in Tacoma and slept better than she does on her regular mattress. I’ve still got my car, though I hardly drive

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it in the city, and the boys would love to meet Otis. Maybe we could even drive to Olympic National Park, if you wanted.” “Liv. Stop.” Melody cut her off. “Though that all sounds amazing and I’m sure the boys would love it, we can talk about that later. You have no idea why I called, do you?” “I… Why did you call?” Melody was silent for a few seconds. “I’m afraid there’s been an accident,” she finally said. The breath ran out of Olivia like somebody had popped one of those air mattresses with a bread knife. “Oh no. Is it one of your boys?” Oh please, she prayed. Don’t let it be one of the boys. Melody had been through enough over the past three months, since her jerkhole husband ran off with one of his high school students. “No, honey. It’s not my family. It’s yours.” Her words seemed to come from far away and it took a long time for them to pierce through. No. Impossible. Fear rushed back in, swamping her like a fast-moving tide. She sank blindly onto the sofa. “Is it Caitlin?” “It’s not your niece. Stop throwing out guesses and just let me tell you. It’s your mom. Before you freak out, let me just say, first of all, she’s okay, from what I understand. I don’t have all the details but I do know she’s in the hospital, but she’s okay. It could have been much worse.” Her mom. Olivia tried to picture Juliet lying in a hospital bed and couldn’t quite do it. Juliet Harper didn’t have time to be in a hospital bed. She was always hurrying somewhere, either next door to Sea Glass Cottage to the garden center the Harper family had run in Cape Sanctuary for generations or down the hill to town to help a friend or to one of Caitlin’s school events. “What happened?”

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“She had a bad fall and suffered a concussion and I think some broken bones.” Olivia’s stomach twisted. A concussion. Broken bones. Oh man. “Fell where? Off one of the cliffs near the garden center?” “I’m sorry. I don’t know all the details yet. This just happened this morning and it’s still early for the gossip to make all the rounds around town. I assumed you already knew. That Cait- lin or someone would have called you. I was only checking in to see how I can help.” This morning. She glanced at her watch. Her mother had been in an accident hours earlier and Olivia was just finding out about it now, in late afternoon. Someone should have told her—if not Juliet herself, then, as Melody said, at least Caitlin. Given their recent history, it wasn’t particularly surprising that her niece, raised by Olivia’s mother since she was a baby, hadn’t bothered to call. Olivia wasn’t Caitlin’s favorite person right now. These days, during Olivia’s regular video chats with her mother, Caitlin never popped in to say hi anymore. At fifteen, Caitlin was abrasive and moody and didn’t seem to like Olivia much, for reasons she didn’t quite understand. “I’m sure someone tried to reach me but my phone has been having trouble,” she lied. Her phone never had trouble. She made sure it was always in working order, since so much of her freelance business depended on her clients being able to reach her and on her being able to Tweet or post something on the fly. “I’m glad I checked in, then.” “Same here. Thank you.” Several bones broken and a long recovery. Oh dear. That would be tough on Juliet, especially this time of year when the garden center always saw peak business. “Thank you for telling me. Is she in the hospital there in Cape Sanctuary or was she taken to one of the bigger cities?” “I’m not sure. I can call around for you, if you want.”

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“I’ll find out. You have enough to worry about.” “Keep me posted. I’m worried about her. She’s a pretty great lady, that mom of yours.” Olivia shifted, uncomfortable as she always was when others spoke about her mother to her. Everyone loved her, with good reason. Juliet was warm, gracious, kind to just about everyone in their beachside community of Cape Sanctuary. Which made Olivia’s own awkward, tangled relationship with her mother even harder to comprehend. “Will you be able to come home for a few days?” Home. How could she go home when she couldn’t even walk into the coffee shop across the street? “I don’t know. I’ll have to see what’s going on there.” How could she possibly travel all the way to Northern Cali- fornia? A complicated mix of emotions seemed to lodge like a tangled ball of yarn in her chest whenever she thought about her hometown, which she loved and hated in equal measures. The town held so much guilt and pain and sorrow. Her father was buried there and so was her sister. Each room in Sea Glass Cottage stirred like the swirl of dust motes with memo- ries of happier times. Olivia hadn’t been back in more than a year. She kept mean- ing to make a trip but something else always seemed to come up. She usually went for the holidays at least, but the previous year she’d backed out of even that after work obligations kept her in Seattle until Christmas Eve and a storm had made last- minute travel difficult. She had spent the holiday with friends instead of with her mother and Caitlin and had felt guilty that she had enjoyed it much more than the previous few when she had gone home. She couldn’t avoid it now, though. A trip back to Cape Sanc- tuary was long overdue, especially if her mother needed her. “Thanks again for letting me know.”

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“I’m so glad I called. The minute you find out anything about Juliet, let me know.” “I will. Thanks.” After she ended the call with Melody, Olivia immediately called her mother’s cell. When there was no answer there, she dialed Caitlin’s phone and was sent straight to voice mail, almost as if her niece was blocking her. She glared at the phone in frustration. Left with few other options, she finally dialed the hospital in Cape Sanctuary. To her relief, after she asked whether her mother was a patient there, she was connected almost instantly to a room. “Hello?” Her mother did not sound like herself. Usually Juliet’s voice was firm, confident. She wasn’t exactly brusque, merely self- assured and determined to waste as little time as possible. Today, Juliet’s voice was small, hesitant, almost… Frightened. With her own emotions frayed from the week she’d had, Olivia was aware of a subtle thread connecting them for once, as unexpected as it was unusual. She was frightened, too. “Mom. What’s going on? Is it true you were in an accident?” “How did you find out?” Juliet asked. Not from you or from Caitlin, she wanted to answer tartly. The two people who should have told her hadn’t bothered to pick up the phone, had they? Otis came running over with his favorite toy and sat at her feet, happily chewing. “Melody called me, saying she’d heard bits and pieces and knew you had been injured. Apparently you had a fall. Are you okay? What happened?” “It’s the stupidest thing. I’m so embarrassed.” “I don’t think the word embarrassed needs to enter the conver-

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sation here. You’re hurt. You had an accident. You didn’t break a bottle of pickles at the grocery store. Did you fall off the roof?” Juliet released a breath. “I was up on a ladder, trying to hang some baskets I had just potted to the hooks in one of the green houses, and…something went wrong.” Olivia frowned at that momentary hesitation. “Something?” “The ladder buckled or it wasn’t set up right in the first place. I don’t know exactly. To be honest, everything’s a bit of a blur. Of course, that might be the pain medicine talking.” “What were you doing up on a ladder? You’re the boss. Don’t you have people to do that?” “We’re shorthanded. Don’t get me started.” Juliet’s voice sounded somewhat stronger. Talking about the garden center she loved must have helped take her mind off the pain and fear. “I spent three years training Sharon Mortimer to be the assistant manager under me and she decides two weeks ago to take a job running the nursery at a box store in Redding. Can you believe it? Where’s the loyalty?” She didn’t want to deal with the garden center’s personnel issues right now, when her mother was lying in a hospital bed. “What are the doctors saying?” “You know doctors. They only want to give you bad news.” “What did they say?” Juliet sighed. “Apparently I have a concussion. And I broke two ribs and also my right hip. That’s the side I landed on. They were afraid my wrist on that side was broken as well where I tried to brace my landing, but it seems to be only sprained.” How far had she fallen? Good heavens. It sounded horrible. “Oh, Mom.” “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Juliet assured her. “I was only on the ground for a few minutes before one of my customers found me and called paramedics. And they were there right away. So handsome.” Juliet seemed to be drifting away again.

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“What are the doctors saying about your recovery? Will you need surgery? A cast?” Olivia pressed again. She had no idea how a broken hip was treated. “Dr. Adeno, that nice new orthopedic doctor, was just here and she wants to do surgery tomorrow. I still haven’t decided if I want to go through with it.” Olivia rolled her eyes. “It’s not like Botox, Mom. It’s not about whether you feel like it or not. If you need orthopedic surgery, you don’t have many options. Not if you want to walk again.” “She says I’ll be in the hospital three to five days and need four to six weeks of recovery. I can’t be away from the garden center that long! The whole place will fall apart, especially without Sharon.” Everything always came back to the garden center. Why was she so surprised? After Steve Harper’s tragic death, her mother had stepped up to run the business that supported her family and had surprised everyone—probably most especially Juliet herself—by being great at it. Olivia had tried not to resent her mother’s long hours as she had immersed herself in learning the business. She had never been gifted with the green thumb of her father, or her older sister. Steve and Natalie had bonded over their time in the garden. Nat had loved playing in the dirt while Olivia much preferred digging into a good book. “This couldn’t have happened at a worse time.” Juliet suddenly sounded close to tears. “Spring growing season.” “Right. Our busiest season of the year. And that traitor Sha- ron deserts us for stock options and a better 401(k). What am I going to do? I can’t have surgery tomorrow.” Again, her mother sounded frightened and Olivia had no idea how to handle it. Juliet was one of the most together people

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she’d ever known. Hearing this vulnerability in her voice dis- turbed her almost more than the accident itself. “I’m sorry,” she said gently, not knowing what else she could say. “I wish you were here.” The small, frail-sounding words came out of nowhere, almost as if Juliet didn’t really know she had uttered them. Olivia stared into space while she felt something odd and sharp tug at her chest. Her mother needed her. For once, Juliet wasn’t the invin- cible almost-fifty-three-year-old widow running a successful business and raising her teenage granddaughter on her own. She was an injured woman who needed help and didn’t know how to ask for it. In the end, that was all that mattered. Olivia reached for a piece of paper, already mentally going through the list of things she would have to do in order to take extended emergency family leave from her job, close up her apartment and head out of town. “I’ll come down for a few days,” she said instantly, without giving herself time to panic. “I’ll be there as soon as I can make the arrangements.” “Oh. Oh no,” Juliet said quickly, as if coming to her senses and realizing what she had said. “I know how busy you are. Anyway, what will Grant say?” Grant was her ex-fiancé. Though he was an executive at her job, he wasn’t directly over her department and had nothing to say that mattered. At least he hadn’t in the six months since they broke up. “Don’t worry about me, Mom. This is an emergency. I can take some time.” “Oh. I hate to be a bother. I feel so stupid.” “You’re not a bother and you’re not stupid.” What kind of weird universe had she slipped into where she was the one giving her mother counsel? That wasn’t the natural

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order of things. Usually Juliet didn’t need Olivia or anybody. After Olivia’s father died, her mother had tried very hard to prove that to the world. “I’ll get down there soon as I can.” “I’ll be fine, honey. I promise,” Juliet continued to protest. “Don’t come. Do you hear me?” Before Olivia could answer, Juliet switched gears. “Oh. I need to go,” she said. “Caitlin just came in.” Of course her mom needed to go if Olivia’s fifteen-year-old niece was there. She almost insisted her mother hand the phone to Caitlin so Olivia could yell at her for not calling her the instant she found out about Juliet’s accident, but she had a feeling Juliet would refuse, ever protective over the daughter of the child she couldn’t save. “All right. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” “Don’t come down, honey.” Her mother suddenly sounded far more like herself, her voice brisk and in control. “I mean it. We’ll be fine. I may not be able to get around for a few weeks, but I can supervise operations at the garden center just fine from a wheelchair. I’ll call you later in the week. Bye. I love you.” “I love you, too,” she started to say, but by then, her mother had already hung up the phone. Olivia sat for a moment, her dog happily chewing his toy at her feet and full-on rain splattering the window now. She was half tempted to listen to her mother and stay right here in Seattle, especially after Juliet had just bluntly told her not to come. But then she thought of Juliet’s frightened voice and knew she couldn’t stand by. For once, her mother needed her. If that meant Olivia had to bury her own anxieties and juggle work and clients to make it happen, she could do it.

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JULI ET

uliet Harper ended the call to her daughter, aware even Jthrough her fuzzy, painkiller-addled brain of the usual funny catch in her chest that always showed up when she talked to Olivia. Their relationship seemed so…wrong. She always ended up saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing. Every time she spoke with Olivia, she had the best of inten- tions, determined this would be her chance to heal whatever was broken in her interactions with her daughter. Instead, she would end up bumbling her way through a conversation, never saying what was really on her mind or express- ing how much she loved and admired Olivia for all she had overcome. She knew what was at the heart of it. She had failed one daughter so miserably and was desperately afraid she would screw up with the other one. The great and terrible irony in the whole

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situation was that her very fear was the main thing in the way of forging a warm and loving mother-daughter relationship with Olivia. The one she yearned for with all her heart. “Who was that?” Caitlin took a sip from the soda she had brought up from the hospital cafeteria after Juliet had made her granddaughter go down and find something to eat. Why couldn’t her interactions with Olivia be as easy as those with Caitlin? “Your aunt Olivia. I asked you to call her. Why didn’t you?” “I sent her a message,” Caitlin said, her tone defensive. “Maybe she missed it.” “I told you to call her, not message,” she said. Caitlin always did things her own way and had since she was a baby. When other children would stack two or three blocks together, Caitlin would use them like percussion instruments. Instead of playing with dolls, she had dressed up the wriggling cats and tried to have tea parties with them. She shifted in the hospital bed in a futile effort to find a more comfortable position. Everything hurt. Who knew that one stupid decision, to climb a ladder without someone there to hold it for her, as she always insisted for her workers, could have such devastating consequences? She should have known. She wasn’t stupid, though nobody would know that by the traumatic events of her day. The pain meds were wearing off. Instead of asking for more or surrendering to her discomfort, Juliet forced herself to focus on her granddaughter. She looked so much like her mother, with Natalie’s blond hair, bold eyebrows, stunning hazel eyes. Where Natalie had favored layers and big curls, like the style of the day when she was a teenager, Caitlin wore her hair short in an almost elfin cut. She dressed in her own unique style.

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“Olivia must have got my message. Otherwise she wouldn’t have known you were hurt.” “She only knows because Melody Baker called her. She and Olivia were tight as could be when they were in school. Always together. If you saw one, the other one was close behind. Kind of like you and Jake Cragun.” Caitlin made a face. “We’re not together that much.” Both of them knew that wasn’t true. Their neighbor had been Caitlin’s closest friend since grade school. Caitlin had girlfriends, too, good ones, but Jake was her BFF, her confidant. Juliet had always thought it was so sweet, the way the two of them were always talking a mile a minute to each other. When they weren’t together, they were texting each other or sending memes back and forth. They had supported each other through some pretty tough things. Despite her young age, Caitlin had been a rock to Jake when his mother died of cancer three years earlier. Juliet felt a pang when she thought of her dear friend Lili anne, who kept a smile on her face even when she lost her hair and when the grueling effects of chemotherapy treatment kept her on the couch for days afterward. “How’s your English homework? Did you finish the essay you needed to write?” “You’re in a hospital bed and you’re still going to nag me about my homework? Really, Mimi?” Caitlin said. She always called Juliet that, from the days when Caitlin had been learning to talk and instinctively tried to call her Mama, since Juliet had been her primary caregiver most of her life. “It’s my job to worry about your homework.” Juliet frowned as she tried to adjust. Pain clawed at her and she couldn’t hold back a moan. Worry furrowed Caitlin’s brow. “Right now, my English

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homework should be the last thing on your mind. For once, can’t you just rest and focus on yourself?” Juliet wasn’t completely sure she knew how to do that. She had been taking care of those she loved all her life, from the time her own mother died when she was fourteen and she had to help her father raise her younger sister. She hadn’t minded. She loved her family, loved cooking nu- tritious meals and keeping house. Marrying Steve right out of high school and slipping into life as a full-time mother and wife by accidentally getting pregnant on their honeymoon had seemed a natural transition. And then, after all those wonderful years of marriage, Steve had been killed and she had been left to handle everything. The garden center. Sea Glass Cottage. The girls, with Nata- lie in and out of jail and treatment centers as she battled her addictions and Olivia slipping further and further away, like a freesia blossom bobbing on the breakers, being carried out to sea by a riptide. She was trying. Exercising more, eating better. She had lost some of the stress weight she had gained after Steve died and she wanted to think she was more fit than she’d been her entire adult life, especially after her doctor told her regular ex- ercise was one of the best ways to slow the progression of her condition. What would happen now? Would she regain all the weight while she recovered from her injuries? Had this stupid fall ruined everything? The questions seemed to rattle together in her brain like dry seeds in a gourd. “You should rest while you can,” Caitlin said, fluffing her pillow and adjusting the blanket. Sleep did sound lovely. In sleep, she could push away all the fears and worries and unfinished tasks she didn’t make it to that day.

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“What about you? Do I need to arrange a ride home for you? It will be dark soon.” “I could take the bus if I had to, but I don’t because I’m staying here. The nurse told me this chair folds out to a bed, so I will just sleep in the room with you in case you need anything.” “No. Absolutely not.” “Why? It’s just one night.” “Because you have school tomorrow. How do you think you’ll do on your history test on two hours of sleep in an uncomfortable hospital chair?” “I’m planning to take a sick day tomorrow. You need someone here when you have surgery.” She almost told Caitlin she had asked Olivia to come home, but suspected her granddaughter would not be thrilled at the information. For some reason, Caitlin didn’t seem to like her aunt right now, though they had been de facto siblings for most of Caitlin’s life and certainly since Juliet took full custody of her granddaughter after Natalie’s death, when Caitlin was not quite three. Yet another thing Juliet couldn’t fix. Pain lodged in her chest, this time having nothing to do with her broken bones. She had tried to dig out the root of Caitlin’s anger toward her aunt, but this was one thing the girl wouldn’t share with her. Oh well. It probably wouldn’t be an issue. She doubted Olivia would be able to come home. Her daughter was far too busy and successful and happy in the life she had created away from Cape Sanctuary. It was for the best anyway. “I will call one of my friends to be here during the surgery. Maybe Stella or Jane could come while I’m in surgery. I understand that you might not want to stay at Sea Glass Cottage by yourself tonight. Let me call Henry and see if he can pick you up and let you stay at their place tonight.” Caitlin lifted her chin. “Stop worrying about me. I don’t

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need a ride and I don’t need a babysitter because I’m staying here tonight.” Some part of Juliet was grateful for her granddaughter’s loyalty. Caitlin could be the sweetest thing, affectionate and helpful, eager to please. She could also be as stubborn as a mule with a canker sore. “You have school tomorrow,” she repeated. “You can’t stay here all night. I appreciate the offer, honey. Truly I do. I’ll be okay. I can press a button if I need a single thing and the nurses will be here soon.” “How are you going to stop me?” She narrowed her gaze at the defiant tone, so familiar. When she spoke like that, she looked and sounded just like her mother had in the last few years when Nat had been so troubled. Slip- ping out at night, going to wild parties, coming home drunk or stoned. She had learned some bitter lessons through the experience of being Natalie’s only remaining parent in the last three years of her oldest daughter’s life. She wasn’t about to make the same mistakes: passivity, inertia, acquiescence. Forget that. “Young lady,” she said sternly. “You are still a minor and I am still your grandmother, not to mention your legal guardian. I might be in a hospital bed but that doesn’t make me completely helpless. You are not staying at this hospital tonight. I will make that clear to the entire medical staff if I have to. You don’t have to stay with Henry and Jake if you don’t want to. I can call another of your friends. Maybe Emma or Allie. It doesn’t matter to me. You choose. But you’re not staying here.” Caitlin looked slightly shocked at her fierce response. “I just don’t want you to be alone.” “I’m in a hospital full of people who will be coming in and out at all hours of the night to check my vital signs and take my blood and roll me this way and that. By the time they release me, I’ll be desperate for some alone time.”

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Caitlin still looked as if she wanted to argue, but before she could, a knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” Juliet called, grateful for the interruption. It wasn’t a nurse with another dose of pain medicine, as she was hoping. Instead, Henry Cragun and his son Jake pushed open the door. “Hey. You up for visitors?” Juliet fought the urge to pull the hospital blankets over her head. How ridiculous, when she was injured and in pain, that she could worry about vanity right now, but she hated the idea of Henry Cragun seeing her like this. Wounded, frail, broken. Old. She sighed. While she didn’t particularly want Henry here, perhaps he and his son could talk some sense into her stubborn granddaughter. “Hi,” she said, aware she sounded slightly breathless. With any luck, Henry would merely assume she was in pain. He could never guess that lately she always felt this way whenever he was around. While Jake went immediately to Caitlin to give her a hug, Henry headed to her bedside. He was carrying a vase full of flowers, big lush pale pink peonies she knew probably came from his garden. They looked feminine, almost sensual in the hands of such a tough, hardworking man. “Those are gorgeous,” she managed, her voice squeaking. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” He set them on the table beside her bed, then gave her a long look. “Oh, Juliet. What have you done to yourself now?” She felt old and clumsy and stupid. “I broke the cardinal rule of ladders and now I’m paying the price.” “I hear you had quite a nasty fall.”

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“She has two broken ribs, a concussion and a broken hip,” Caitlin offered, ever so helpfully. Juliet felt like an ancient old crone. Henry winced in sympathy. “You never do things halfway, do you?” “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Surgery tomorrow and a few weeks of recovery and I’ll be good as new.” He raised an eyebrow, clearly doubtful, and she wanted to throw a pillow at him. She was trying to be optimistic here. She didn’t need a hospital room full of Debbie Downers. “I hope that’s the case,” he said. “What time is surgery tomorrow?” “We’re not sure yet,” Caitlin said. “I haven’t decided if I’m having surgery.” It was a stupid position and she knew it. Of course she had to have surgery. She had a broken hip that needed to be repaired. She had no choice, and no amount of trying to exert a little control would change that. “I hope you know that Caitlin is welcome to stay with us until you break out of here. Even after, if you need to go into a rehabilitation center.” She was an old lady with a broken hip who might need to go into a nursing home to recover. Could her life hit a lower point? “Thank you. I was hoping you’d say that. There you go, honey. You can stay with Henry and Jake for now. I’ll com- promise. You can take a sick day tomorrow to be here during my surgery as long as you email your teachers to find out what homework you might have.” Her granddaughter pouted but apparently didn’t want to argue in front of their neighbors and friends. “What can we do to help?” Henry sat in the visitor’s chair, entirely too close for Juliet’s comfort. Of course, anywhere he chose to sit in the room would be too close for comfort.

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That was the awful pain pills talking, she told herself, but she knew it was a lie. Over the past few months, she had developed a completely ridiculous attraction to the man. She couldn’t be attracted to him. He was her friend. One of her closest. His late wife had been one of her dearest friends. She needed to focus on that and not on the way her pulse seemed to jump whenever he was near and her insides felt shaky and weak. She cherished his friendship too much to ruin everything. Not only that, but he was eight years younger than her, and as a local landscape designer with a thriving company, he was one of her best clients at Harper Hill Home & Garden. She couldn’t lose sight of that. “I don’t know yet, to be honest. Right now, I can hardly think straight. I just want to make it through the surgery tomorrow and then I’ll focus on how to make it through the next few months.” He reached for her hand, his skin warm and a little rough from his work as a landscaping contractor. “I would tell you to call me if you need anything, but I’m pretty sure you won’t do that, will you?” She wanted to lean into his hand, into him, and let him take care of everything. That was one of Henry Cragun’s defining traits. He came across as a strong, capable man who could handle any crisis, from a leaky faucet to a woman who hadn’t had an orgasm with someone else in years. She didn’t lean into him. Instead, she slipped her hand away to play with the edge of the hospital blanket. “I don’t think I need help right now, but thank you. I have good employees.” At least the ones who were left. She felt the betrayal all over again of losing Sharon. “Well, keep me posted, then. I’ll be around.” She found more comfort from that than she probably should. “Thank you.”

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A knock at the door heralded more visitors. “You’re a popular person today.” “Yeah. And all I needed to do to win the popularity contest was fall off a ladder.” He smiled as the door opened and Lucien Hall, her longtime neurologist, walked in. Juliet could feel panic swelling in her along with the pain. Oh no. She should have anticipated this. Lucien treated her disease and was one of a very small number of people who knew about it. If he said anything, even dropped a hint, her secret would be out and everything would change. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I was here visiting another patient and received a text from Dr. Adeno, letting me know about your injuries. I just saw you a week ago. What happened?” “She fell off a ladder and broke two ribs and her hip. And she has a concussion,” Caitlin said, giving the doctor a curious look. Juliet’s heart dropped. It was clear her granddaughter was wondering what kind of doctor Lucien was and what reason Juliet might have had for visiting him. Lucien gave her a look that was part disbelief and part admon- ishment. “What were you doing up on a ladder?” “Hanging flowers,” she said. “I’m fine. I’m sure Dr. Adeno gave you the full report. How are you? How’s Jorge?” Lucien had recently married his partner in a beautiful sea side service, and Harper Hill Home & Garden had helped with the flowers. “He’s wonderful, but don’t think you’re going to change the subject that easily,” he said. Juliet tried not to panic. She couldn’t have a conversation right now with him while Henry, Jake and Caitlin were there. To her vast relief, Henry seemed to pick up on her distress. He glanced at the teenagers. “Come on, kids. Let’s let Juliet and her doctor talk. We can

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grab some dinner then head over to Sea Glass Cottage and pick up some things for Caitlin so she can stay in the guest room.” Caitlin looked reluctant to leave her grandmother. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” “I’m fine. I have nurses to take care of me. Don’t worry.” “I’ll call you later, to make sure you’re still okay.” “Is there anything we can bring back to you later tonight? Anything from home you might find comforting?” Henry asked her, so much gentleness and kindness in his eyes that she suddenly wanted to cry. She couldn’t lose his friendship. It was too precious to her, like a rare flower that only bloomed once every hundred years. He leaned in and kissed her cheek, and she again fought the urge to throw her arms around his neck and let him take care of her. “Thank you for the peonies. I can’t believe you remembered they’re my favorites.” “You’re welcome,” he said, his voice gruff. “Don’t fall off anything in the night.” “I’ll do my best.” She felt that same complicated mix of gratitude and tender- ness as Henry ushered his son and her granddaughter out of the hospital room, leaving her alone with her neurologist. “So. Talk to me,” Lucien said in his no-nonsense voice. “What were you thinking?” “I wasn’t,” she admitted. “You shouldn’t have been up on a ladder. You know that, right? I warned you that the new medication we were trying might cause dizziness.” She shifted on the bed. “Yes. It’s been worth it. I haven’t had any symptoms.” “It’s too early in the trial to know if that will continue. You know that, right? You have multiple sclerosis, Juliet. You can’t pretend you don’t. Yes, you’re lucky enough that your symp-

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toms have been mild so far, but no one can predict what might happen.” “I feel strong and healthy, except for the broken bones,” she muttered. “You know that may not continue forever, though. We can keep the symptoms at bay a long time but possibly not indefi- nitely.” She knew. She knew entirely too well. She woke up each morning wondering if today would be the day she would suddenly develop vision problems or her hands would go numb. With each muscle pain or spasm, she worried this was the beginning of a steep decline. At the end of each day, she said a prayer of gratitude that she’d been able to make it through another day where she could keep up with the demands of her life. Dr. Hall’s voice gentled. “You need to promise me that next time you’re prescribed a medication that may cause dizziness, you don’t climb up a twenty-foot ladder to hang a flower bas- ket, got it?” “I promise. It was a mistake. One I’m paying for dearly.” “Dr. Adeno says she wants to operate tomorrow.” “That’s the plan.” “You’ll be in excellent hands. She’s a very good surgeon.” “Nice to know.” “If I have your permission to talk with her, I’ll give her a call to discuss co-treatments. Some of the medications you’re on for the MS might impact your healing process.” “Yes. You can talk to her. Thank you.” He squeezed her hand. “Good luck tomorrow. I’ll check in while you’re still an inpatient and have my office schedule you for a few months from now so we can check in.” After he left, the room seemed blessedly empty, but she knew it wouldn’t last. More nurses and technicians would be in to poke at her.

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Juliet was exhausted suddenly. She longed to curl up on this bed and forget everything. Her pain, the accident, the burden of her MS diagnosis that she had carried alone every day for the past four years. The bouquet Henry had brought her stirred the air with its luscious smell, and she closed her eyes, focusing on that scent and trying to picture the showy blossoms with their intricate layers of petals until she fell asleep.

Want to know what happens next? Order The Sea Glass Cottage by RaeAnne Thayne, available now, wherever books are sold!

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One

Mercury Steele glanced over at his mother, sitting across the breakfast table. Eden Tyson Steele, you just had to love her. He’d just told her how awful the past few days had been for him. Not only had he lost a client but also one of his prized antique cars had been stolen. She had the audacity to say there must be a reason for the streak of bad luck he’d had lately. Of course, she couldn’t resist blaming it on his womanizing ways. “That’s awful about your car getting stolen, Mer- cury. What did the police say about it?” his father asked with concern. He appreciated his father’s empathy, but then, Drew Steele had passed his love for antique cars on to his six sons. He’d passed something else on to them, as well. Namely his testosterone-driven genes.

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In Drew’s younger days he’d been quite the ladies’ man. His reputation as a philanderer had been so bad that he’d been run out of Charlotte by a bunch of women out for blood—namely Drew’s. He had fled from North Carolina, where most of the Steele family lived, and made his way to Phoenix. That was where he’d eventually met and fallen in love with Mercury’s mother. Eden Tyson Steele, a green-eyed beauty and for- mer international model, whose face had graced the covers of such magazines as Vogue, Cosmo and Elle, had practically snatched Drew’s heart right out of his chest. Proving miracles could happen. For the longest time, it seemed their six die-hard bachelor sons had inherited Drew’s philandering genes when their womanizing reputation rivaled that of their father’s. They’d become known as the Bad News Steeles. Four of Mercury’s brothers had now married, leaving only two brothers still single: Mercury and Gannon. He couldn’t speak for Gannon, but Mercury intended to be a bachelor for life. Their brother Galen was the oldest of the six and had gotten married first. At thirty-eight he’d made millions as a video-game creator. Tyson was thirty-seven, the most recent to marry, and was a gifted surgeon. Eli, at thirty-six, was a prominent attorney in town and had been the second to marry. Jonas, who was thirty-five and the third to marry, owned a marketing business. Mercury was thirty-four and was a well-known sports agent; and Gannon, who had recently turned thirty- three, had become CEO of the family’s million-dollar trucking firm when Drew had retired. “They will be on the lookout for it, Dad, but I was told not to get my hopes up about getting it back. More

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than likely it will be dismantled for parts. Knowing that hurts more than anything. That particular car was my favorite.” Drew nodded sympathetically and Mercury appreciated his father’s understanding of just how upset he still was about it, even if his mother did not. He glanced at his watch. “I need to get going if I intend to make that appointment. A possible new client.” Getting up from the table, he leaned over and placed a kiss on his mother’s cheek. “Thanks for breakfast, Mom. You’re still my number one girl.” He then glanced over at his father. “I’ll talk to you later, Dad.” Ten minutes later he was headed toward his office in the Steele Building. A few years ago, his attorney brother, Eli, had purchased a twenty-story high-rise in downtown Phoenix. Eli’s wife, Stacey, owned the gift shop on the ground floor. Their brother Jonas’s marketing company, Ideas of Steele, was housed on the fifth floor, and Galen leased the entire second and third floors as a downtown campus for his wife’s etiquette schools. Mercury and his brother Tyson jointly leased the tenth floor. Although Tyson was the physician in the family, he’d leased the space as a gift to his wife, Hunter, for her architecture company. Sharing office space with Hunter worked out great. Mercury liked Hunter and for now they shared an administrative assistant, Pauline Martin. The older woman was perfect and had to be the most efficient woman Mercury had ever met. She knew how to handle him, his clients and his appointments. The moment he merged into traffic on the interstate that would take him downtown, he blinked. Three cars ahead of him was his car. His stolen car. He would

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recognize his red 1967 Camaro anywhere. Hell, they hadn’t even bothered changing the license plates. Moving into the other lane, he tried getting as close as he could. Finally, he was two cars behind. When the driver changed lanes, he did likewise. When the car ex- ited off the interstate, he followed, but now he was three cars behind. He pressed the call-assist button on his car’s dash. Within seconds a voice came on through the car’s speaker. “Yes, Mr. Steele, how can we help you today?” “Connect me with the Phoenix Police Department.” “Yes, Mr. Steele.” He nodded, appreciating hands-free technology. Moments later the connection was made. “Phoenix Police Department. May I help you?” “My car, the one that was stolen three nights ago that you guys haven’t been able to find, is three cars ahead of me. I’m tailing them as we speak.” “Your name, sir?” “Mercury Steele.” “What is your location?” “Currently, I’m in the Norcross District, at the intersection of Adams and Monroe. If the driver makes a stop, then I will, too.” “Sir, you are advised not to tail anyone or take matters into your own hands. Police in the area have been summoned.” Like hell he wouldn’t tail the person who’d had the nerve to steal his car, he thought, disconnecting the call. Mercury saw the driver making a right turn ahead and he quickly put on the brakes when the car ahead of him got caught by a traffic light. “Damn!” He hoped he didn’t lose the thief. It seemed

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to take forever for the traffic light to change and then he turned right at the intersection. Glancing around, he saw he was on a busy street, one that led to the Ap- person Mall.

Sloan Donahue didn’t have time to go back home and change her blouse, and there was no way she could wear one bearing coffee stains to her job interview. That meant she needed to dash into this clothing store and buy a new blouse and then swap it out in the dressing room with the one she was currently wearing. She was excited. For the very first time she would be interviewing for a job without her parents’ help or interference. She’d left Cincinnati, Ohio, a week ago when her parents tried forcing her into an ar- ranged marriage, saying that in their social circles it was their duty to ensure her future and her fortune. She’d refused. Luckily, her parents’ predictions that she couldn’t make it on her own and would be return- ing home in less than forty-eight hours didn’t happen. She wouldn’t go back if they still expected her to marry Harold Cunningham. And she knew they would. Sloan didn’t care one iota that marrying Harold would be a financial marriage made in heaven. It was her life and future they were dealing with. She didn’t love Harold any more than he loved her. For the past six months he’d wined and dined her, romanced her like a good suitor was supposed to. For a short while, she’d almost convinced herself maybe he was falling in love with her and that she could possibly fall in love with him. Then she’d discovered he was having an affair. She’d received the text message he’d intended to send an-

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other woman. When she confronted Harold about it, he didn’t deny anything. He admitted to being in love with the woman, but said he would do his “duty” and marry Sloan. However, he wanted her to know that, married or not, he intended for the woman he loved to forever be a part of his life. In other words, he would have a mistress if he and Sloan got married. When she told her parents to call off the wedding and the reason for doing so, they felt Harold marrying her and keeping his piece on the side shouldn’t matter. She should consider the boost the marriage would play in her financial future and suck it up. They’d given her an ultimatum to marry Harold or else. She told them she would take the or else. She needed time away from her family, and wanting to get as far away from Cincinnati as she could, Sloan had looked up an old college roommate who invited her to come to Phoenix. But then Priscilla had unexpectedly had to leave the day after Sloan arrived. Priscilla’s boyfriend had finally asked her to marry him and had sent her an airline ticket to Spain. The good thing was that the rent was paid up and Priscilla told Sloan she was welcome to stay in the house for the remainder of the month. That meant getting a job to have funds to cover the rent for next month. For the past few days she’d studied interview videos on the internet and felt she was ready. As she rushed into the store, she glanced back at her car. Her car. It wasn’t the Tesla sports car she’d left behind in Cincinnati, but a car that was probably older than she was. But it ran okay, and she’d only paid three hundred for it. It was hers and that was what mattered. Since her parents had made good on their threat

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and placed a hold on the funds in her bank account, she had to watch her money. No telling what else they would do in order to get her to return home. Well, she had news for them. She would rather endure the hard- ship of not having the finer things in life she was used to than a forced, loveless marriage. She knew she would be making decisions she’d never had to make before, decisions her parents had always made for her, but it was time for a change. For the first time in her life she felt a sense of freedom she’d never had before, and she truly loved it.

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A feeling of relief swept through Mercury when he lo- cated his car. Parking in the space beside it, he quickly got out and glanced around the shops in the mall, wondering where the driver had gone. He was pissed when he pulled his phone out of his jacket to call the police again to give them his exact location. Putting his phone back, he walked around his car and was glad not to see any dents. Other than needing a good wash job, the old girl looked good. Decid- ing to check the interior, he pulled his car keys out of his pocket to open the door. “Get away from my car!” Mercury snatched his head up and was instantly mesmerized by the beauty of the woman’s dark brown eyes, shoulder-length curly hair that cascaded around an oval face, high cheekbones, the smooth and creamy

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texture of her cocoa-colored skin and one pair of the sexiest lips he’d ever seen on a woman. He immediately flashed her one of his wolfish smiles and was about to go into man-whore mode until what she’d said stopped him. Then he became blinded to all that gorgeous beauty. “Your car?” “Yes, my car. Now get away from it before I call the police.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “This is my car. It was stolen from me three nights ago.” “You’re lying,” the woman snapped. Calling him a liar was a big mistake. The one thing he despised more than anything was for someone to question his integrity. “If you think that, then by all means call the police. However, you don’t have to call them since I already have. You’re the thief, not me.” “I am not a thief,” she said, feeling brave enough to step closer and glare at him. “Nor am I a liar,” he said, glaring back. Suddenly a police cruiser with flashing blue lights pulled up and two officers quickly got out. One was Sherman Aikens, one of Jonas’s old high school friends. “I see you’ve found your car, Mercury.” Mercury frowned over at him. “No thanks to you guys who should have been looking for it. And my car was never lost, it was stolen, and she’s the person who has it.” “It’s my car!” Both officers glanced over at the woman and Mer- cury glowered. Instead of saying anything, they just stared at her, male appreciation obvious in their gazes. “For crying out loud, aren’t you going to ask to see

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her papers on the vehicle since she claims to be the owner?” he snapped out at the officers. Sherman broke eye contact with the woman to frown at Mercury. “I was going to get to that.” In a voice Mercury felt was way too accommodating, considering the circumstances, Sherman said, “Ma’am, I need to see papers on this vehicle, because it resembles one reported stolen three nights ago.” “It is the one that was stolen three nights ago,” Mer- cury snapped while ignoring Sherman’s frown. As far as Mercury was concerned, Sherman could become smitten with the woman on someone else’s time. “Stolen! That’s not possible, Officer,” the woman said, looking alarmed. “Why would anyone want to steal that car? Look at it. It’s old.” Mercury glared at her while Sherman and the other officer unsuccessfully tried hiding their grins. “It’s a classic, and if it’s so old for your taste, why did you buy it like you claim you did?” Mercury asked her. “Because I needed transportation and it was in my budget,” she said, pulling papers from her purse. “I just bought it yesterday.” She handed the papers to Sherman. Mercury thought it took Sherman longer than necessary to switch his gaze from the woman to the papers. He then said in a too-apologetic voice, “Sorry, ma’am, but these papers are fake.” Shock flew to her face. “Fake? But that’s not possible. A nice gentleman sold the car to me.” “That ‘nice’ man conned you into buying a stolen car,” Mercury said, ignoring Sherman’s narrowed gaze as well as the woman’s thunderstruck expression.

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Switching her gaze from Mercury to Sherman, she said, “Please tell me that’s not true, Officer. I gave him three hundred dollars.” “Three hundred dollars?” Mercury asked, not be- lieving what she’d said. Lifting her chin, she added, “Yes, I knew the car wasn’t worth that much, but the man looked a little down on his luck and needed the money.” Mercury shook his head. “You got that car for a steal, no pun intended. Do you not know the value of that car? It’s worth over two hundred thousand dollars easily.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Ridiculous? She had bought a stolen car from someone who she thought was a nice man, and she thought he was being ridiculous? He was about to give her a scathing reply, but Sherman’s look warned him not to do so. “Yes, ma’am, unfortunately that man did run a scam on you,” Sherman said. “I hate you lost all that money. I need you to come down to police headquarters and give us a statement, including a description of the man who sold you the car. We will be on the lookout for him.” “Like you guys were on the lookout for my car?” Mercury said under his breath, but when Sherman shot him a disapproving glare, he knew he’d been heard regardless. Sherman turned to him. “We’re going to have to im- pound the car. You and Miss Donahue need to come down to police headquarters to give statements.” “But I’m on my way to a job interview,” the woman said, suddenly looking distressed.

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Mercury refused to feel an ounce of sympathy for her since he too would be late for an interview with a potential new client. Now he would have to reschedule. Every sports agent alive would want to sign on Nor- ris Eastwood, but the parents of the high school senior with plans to go straight into the NBA had sought out Mercury. He hoped being a no-show this morning wouldn’t be a negative against him. If it was, then he had this woman to blame. “Are you okay with that, Mercury?” When he heard his name, he glanced up. “Am I okay with what?” He saw the other officer had pulled the woman off to the side to take down some information. “Giving Miss Donahue a ride to the police station,” Sherman said. “Don’t you have room in the police car? That’s the normal way you transport criminals, isn’t it? For all we know, she could be in cahoots with the person who stole my car.” Sherman rolled his eyes. “You don’t believe that any more than I do, Mercury. It’s obvious she’s an inno- cent victim who doesn’t belong in the back of a patrol car. She’s no more a thief than we are. Look at her.” Mercury didn’t want to look at her, but he did anyway. He immediately thought the same thing he had when he’d first seen her. She was a very beautiful woman. Her features were just that striking. And then there was that delectable-looking figure in a navy blue pencil skirt and white blouse. Sexy as hell. But still… “Unlike you, Sherman, I refuse to get taken in by a beautiful face and a nice body. Need I remind you, the woman was caught with a stolen car, and I refuse to be

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that gullible.” Again. He quickly pushed to the back of his mind the one time he had been and the lasting damage it had caused him. “Look on the bright side, Mercury. At least you got your car back. You can’t blame her for being too trusting.” He could blame her and was in just the rotten mood to do it. “Whatever.” “So, will you give her a ride to police headquarters? The sooner we can get there and plow through all the paperwork, the sooner you can get your car released to you. Then you can forget you’ve ever seen Sloan Donahue.”

“So, where are you from?” Sloan hadn’t wanted to glance over at the man whose name was Mercury Steele, but with his question she felt compelled to do so. She had been satisfied with pre- tending to view all the sights outside the car’s window but now that had to come to an end. It wasn’t that she was ignoring him, because to ignore a man who looked like him would be nearly impossible. However, she did have a lot to think about. Because of her naivete in trusting that man who’d sold her that car, she could have been thrown in jail. She could just imagine her parents’ reactions if she’d been forced to call and ask them for bail money. Their accusations that she couldn’t fend for herself would have been proved right. Shifting in her seat, she glanced over to Mercury Steele and asked a question of her own. “How do you know I’m not from here?” “Trust me. I know.”

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She raised a brow. “How? My accent?” She honestly didn’t think she had one. “No, it wasn’t your accent. It’s your looks. I know every beautiful woman in this town. If you were from here, we would have met already.” Was he serious? Sloan studied his profile as he ma- neuvered the car in traffic and figured that, yes, he was serious. “I’m from Cincinnati, Ohio.” “I represented a kid from there once.” “You’re an attorney?” “No, a sports agent.” She nodded. Although she didn’t know a lot about that occupation, other than they brokered deals for ath- letes wanting to play certain sports for a living, she thought he fit the part. First off, he was a sharp dresser. She was convinced the suit he was wearing was the same designer brand her father and Harold often wore. And then there was this car he was driving. A Tesla, like hers. It was obvious he was a successful man. Why hadn’t she noticed that before accusing him of trying to steal her car? A car it seemed was rightfully his. Sloan released a long sigh and inwardly admitted that, considering the circumstances of how they’d met, she appreciated him giving her a lift to the police station. It was time she told him that and apologized for her earlier accusations. “Mr. Steele?” They’d come to a traffic light and he glanced over at her. In a way, she wished he hadn’t. There was something about his green eyes that un- settled her. “Yes?” “I want to apologize for everything. I honestly didn’t know the car was stolen.”

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He didn’t say anything and for a minute she wondered if he would. Instead he stared at her. Finally, before turning back to the road, he said, “Apology ac- cepted.” That made her feel better, although to her way of thinking, he’d said it almost grudgingly. “And I want to thank you for giving me a lift to the police station.” “Don’t mention it.” A few moments later, he asked, “How old are you, Ms. Donahue?” “Twenty-five.” He didn’t say anything, nor did he glance back over at her. Since he’d asked hers, she could ask his. “And how old are you, Mr. Steele?” They’d come to another traffic light and he did glance over at her when he said, “Thirty-four.” He kept staring at her as if he expected her to say something, and when she didn’t, he said, “When you refer to me as Mr. Steele that makes me feel even older. I prefer being called Mercury.” She lifted a brow. “Like the planet?” He chuckled. “Yes, like the planet, and also like the chemical element. However, I was named after one of my father’s favorite football players.” She nodded. “I understand about being named after someone.” He turned back to the road and asked, “Do you?” “Yes. I was named after my grandfather. I’m Sloan Elizabeth.” She missed her grandfather and often wondered how different things would have been had he lived. He’d died of cancer six years ago. She would never forget when her parents had shown up on her college campus to deliver the news to her. At least they’d

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had the insight to know that receiving such news over the phone would have devastated her. She snapped out of her reverie and saw they’d arrived at their destination. “Here we are,” Mercury said.

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“In case you haven’t noticed, Mercury, Sloan Dona- hue is a beautiful woman.” Mercury glared over at his oldest brother, Galen. The woman’s looks were the last thing Mercury was concerned with. He had called Galen because he lived close by, and his wife, Brittany, had dropped him off. Once his car was released to him, Mercury would need someone to drive it to his place. “If she hadn’t bought a stolen car I wouldn’t be here.” “True,” Galen said. “Instead you could have been at the junkyard looking at what was left after thieves dismantled it, so the way I see it, her buying it was a blessing in disguise for you. Once you get off your indignant high horse, you will realize that, as well.” Galen paused briefly then added, “And another thing. Evidently you’ve been so into getting your car

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back that you failed to notice that everything about Sloan screams money. I don’t know her story now, but I’d bet in her past she lived a life of wealth. That’s obvious from her manicured nails all the way to those designer shoes. And if you took the time to talk to her instead of glaring at her, you would notice her re- fined voice. She spells high-class any way you want to look at it.” Mercury didn’t want to look at it in any way. Galen was too damn observant to suit him. “Whatever,” he said, glancing at his watch. He wondered what was taking so long. He’d given his statement and now Sloan Donahue was behind closed doors giving hers. It had taken him less than ten minutes, but she’d been in there for nearly thirty. No sooner had he wondered at that than the closed door opened, and she walked out, followed by a smiling detective. Mercury immediately noticed the man wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. He would bet the detective had been in that room flirting with Sloan instead of doing his job. Or it could be the other way around. Sloan might have been deliberately flirting with the man for a lighter sentence. Regardless of the circumstances, possession of stolen property was a serious crime. “Like I said, she’s a beautiful woman,” Galen leaned over to whisper. He turned to his brother and frowned. “Need I remind you that you’re a married man and the father of twins.” Galen chuckled. “I was making the observation for you, not for me. I am happy being Brittany’s husband and father to Ethan and Elyse. In fact, I’m looking out

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for their best interests. It’s about time Brittany got a new sister-in-law and the twins a new aunt, don’t you think?” Mercury’s frown deepened. “Go to hell.” Galen laughed but Mercury ignored his brother when the detective and Sloan approached. “Now can I get my car?” he asked the man who was still smiling. “Yes. I’ll complete the release now.” The detective then turned to Sloan. “You have my business card. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to give me a call.” “I will.” The detective walked off and then Mercury heard Galen ask Sloan, “Are you okay?” It was then that Mercury noticed the worried expression bunching her forehead. “Well, I do have a slight problem,” she said. Mercury didn’t like the sound of that. “What?” “I don’t have a way home.” When she looked at him expectantly, Mercury said, “And?” “I was wondering if you could drop me off there.” Personally, Mercury was wondering if she’d considered calling Uber, a cab or a friend. He was about to put such a thought into her head when Galen spoke up and said, “Don’t consider it a problem. Mercury will be glad to drop you off.” Mercury gave his brother a look that could have turned him to stone, but Galen ignored it and said, “My five brothers and I were raised to treat all females with the utmost respect. If one is ever in need, we are there for the rescue.” Mercury fought to keep a straight face. Respect? Rescue? Of the six of them, Galen had been the most

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notorious womanizer. His reputation had extended from Phoenix all the way to Charlotte, North Caro- lina, where their Steele cousins lived. Hell, Galen had gotten expelled from school once after the principal found him under the bleachers making out with the man’s daughter. And now he wanted to stand here and say he respected women like he’d always done so. “Our mother wouldn’t have it any other way, right, Mercury?” Mercury rubbed a hand down his face. Galen would have to bring Eden Tyson Steele up at a time like this. “Yes, right, Galen.” Mercury would give his brother hell when he saw him alone later. At that moment the detective came back with Mercury’s keys and said to him, “Here you are.” The man then turned to Sloan, smiled broadly and said, “Again, I regret what happened to you and wish you the best in the future.” “Thanks, Detective Fulton.” “And I meant what I said earlier—if you need anything else, just call the precinct and ask for me,” the detective added. Mercury fought not to begin fuming again inside. Why was everyone treating her like the victim when it had been his car that had been stolen? “You’re ready to go now?” he asked Sloan, decid- ing to break up the little chitchat. It wouldn’t surprise him if the detective asked her for a date right then and there. The man could do whatever he liked, but not on Mercury’s time. “Yes. Mercury, I’m ready.” That was the first time she’d referred to him by

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name and he didn’t appreciate that he liked the way she said it. He then turned to Galen and handed him the key. “Take my baby home and park her in the garage.” “Okay, and there’s no reason to rush to your place. Jonas will pick me up from there. He’s treating me to lunch.” There was no reason for Mercury to ask why. Those two brothers were always betting against something. Galen then extended his hand out to Sloan. “It was nice meeting you, Sloan.” “Same here, Galen, and again, you have a beautiful wife and twins.” Mercury lifted a brow. “You know about his wife and kids?” Sloan smiled. “Yes. He showed me photos.” Galen grinned. “I was keeping her company while you were giving your statement.” “I see.” Without saying anything else to Galen, Mer- cury escorted Sloan out of police headquarters.

Sloan glanced over at the man walking beside her. The man who was too good-looking and she had a feeling he knew it. Otherwise, why would he assume he’d know every single woman he thought beautiful in Phoenix? But she had a feeling every single woman in Phoenix probably knew him, as well. He was a man a woman couldn’t easily forget. Tall with medium brown skin, a strong chiseled jaw and a pair of lips that looked so delicious, it would tempt you to take a lick to test their sweetness. And she couldn’t forget those gorgeous green eyes.

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When she had used the restroom earlier, two women were talking between stalls after having seen Mer- cury and Galen. They were familiar with those green- eyed Steele brothers. Just from eavesdropping on the women’s conversation, she found out that at one time Mercury and his five brothers had been pegged the hottest bachelors in Phoenix. Some even called them the “Bad News” Steeles. Their reputations as die-hard players were legendary. Then real shockers happened when they started getting married, one at a time, leaving only Mercury and his younger brother, Gannon, to fire up women’s beds. She figured there was truth in everything the women had said, especially about the Steele brothers being hot. Although she didn’t like Mercury very much and thought his attitude could handle some improvement, his looks were downright gorgeous. Sloan wished there was a wall somewhere to knock her head against. At this point in her life, being attracted to a man, especially to this one, was ludicrous. She had enough problems on her plate without adding Mercury Steele to the menu. Walking beside him wasn’t easy. His walk was brisk, and she could barely keep up with him, but she refused to let him leave her. He had to be wondering why she hadn’t called a taxi or used Uber to get home. He would probably be shocked to know she’d never used either in her entire life. While growing up, her parents had always provided private transportation for her. Then for her sixteenth birthday, they’d purchased her first car and she’d gotten a new one every year since. It was only after arriving in Phoenix and taking

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stock of her predicament that it dawned on her that over the past twenty-five years, her parents had played her right into their hands. They had taken care of her every need, given in to her every whim. She hadn’t wanted for anything. There had been more cash in her bank account than she’d known what to do with and credit cards in her name with unlimited balances. All that had made her completely dependent on them, and shamefully she would admit that for years she hadn’t questioned it. Just because she’d never used other modes of transportation didn’t mean she thought she was too good to do so. Today just wasn’t a good day to try something new. Especially after what had happened this morning in that dress store. Her credit card had been declined. A credit card that had been issued through her parents’ bank, so she knew who was behind that denial. Her parents were determined to put a squeeze on her so she’d be forced to run back home and be their puppet again. Luckily, after telling the nice saleslady about her job interview, the older woman had helped her get the stain out of her blouse. With her credit cards canceled and unable to get funds from the ATM, that meant she was low on funds. She’d lost three hundred dollars buying that car and had only less than a hundred in cash on her. When she’d tried calling to reschedule her interview, she was told she would have to reapply. She tried not to feel too sad about that. Glancing over at the man walking beside her, she noted he was staring straight ahead with a brooding

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expression on his face. He probably hated being bothered about taking her anywhere again, but she would ignore his mood. After all, if he’d taken better care of his car it would not have gotten stolen and she wouldn’t be in this predicament. She knew for her to think that way was absurd, but she didn’t care. It was just as il- logical for him to think she would have intentionally stolen his car or be in cahoots with the people who had. “I hope I’m not inconveniencing you again, Mer- cury.” He glanced over at her and her heart began thump- ing hard in her chest. The look he gave her wasn’t one of annoyance but something else. Something she couldn’t quite put a name to. It left her momentarily dazed. Before she could sufficiently recover, the look was gone and replaced by one of indifference. “No problem,” he muttered. “Like Galen said, we were raised to respect women and rescue damsels in distress.” “In that case, you have a very kind mother.” “She is definitely that and I wouldn’t trade her for all the tea in China.” Sloan heard fondness in his tone, and she wished she could say the same about her own mother, but she couldn’t. It was not that her mother was a bad person because she wasn’t. She’d just never made her daughter her priority. Her father hadn’t been much better. He never failed to let Sloan know she should have been born a boy, and because she hadn’t been, he’d treated her like the disappointment she’d been. “You’re okay?” She glanced back over at Mercury. They had reached his car. A serious frown marred his forehead. “Yes, I’m

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fine.” He nodded and then opened the car door for her. “Thank you.” She slid onto the car’s leather seat and then glanced at him. Their gazes met, and when he stood there a moment, she lifted a brow. “Is something wrong?” As if her question made him realize he’d been staring, he frowned and shook his head. “No. Nothing is wrong.” He then closed the car door and walked around to the driver’s side to get in. He had removed his jacket earlier and she liked the way the dress shirt fit him. It was obvious he worked out. A man didn’t get those kinds of tight muscles by doing nothing. “Your address?” She blinked. “My address?” “Yes. If I’m to take you home, then I need to know it, don’t you think?” She swallowed. “Yes, of course.” She then rattled it off for him. When he started the car, she asked, “Aren’t you going to put it in your GPS?” He glanced over at her before backing out of the parking space. “No. I’m familiar with the area. How long have you been in Phoenix, Sloan?” She sighed deeply. “One week tomorrow.” He didn’t ask her anything else during the car ride and she was fine with him ignoring her all the way to their destination. “You’re having a yard sale?” His question made her look at him. “A yard sale? No, of course not. Why would you ask me that?” “Because of what’s going on at your address.” She glanced out the car’s window and drew in a sharp breath. Her belongings—the little she’d brought

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with her—were laid out on a table for everyone to see, and it appeared as if someone was having a sale with her stuff. As soon as Mercury stopped the car, she was out in a flash.

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CHAPTER ONE

dele Descaro’s mother passed away right before Christmas. AWhile she missed her mother, Adele was relieved to know she was no longer held prisoner in a body that refused to serve her. It had been four years since the stroke that left her crippled, nonverbal and able to communicate only with her eyes and facial expressions. Adele had been her primary caretaker for those four years and now, with Elaine at rest, she could get back to her own life. If she could remember what it was. She was thirty-two and had actually spent the last eight years mostly as a caretaker. Mostly because Adele had also helped to care for her disabled father for four years. Her mother had done much of the work and then, within just a few months of his death, she had suffered her debilitating stroke. Devastated by this cruel turn of events, Adele resigned from the part-time job she’d taken as a bookkeeper at a local inn and dedicated herself to Elaine’s care full-time. There had been help from a visiting

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nursing service and from Justine, her much older sister. Justine was, in fact, twenty years older, now fifty-two. Adele was happy she had made her mother’s care her priority, but was aware that in doing so, she had allowed herself to hide from her own life, to put off her own growth and keep her dreams and desires just out of reach. Now her opportunity was at hand. She lived in the comfort of the home she’d grown up in, had friends in her little town and the time to pursue whatever her heart desired. Justine, a successful corporate attorney in Silicon Valley and the mother of two teenage girls, hadn’t been able to pitch in much time so she contributed to the cost of Elaine’s care and provided a modest income for Adele. She had made it a point to stay with Elaine every other Sunday so Adele could have at least a little freedom. The truth was that for the past four years, or actually eight if you really thought about it, Adele had been fantasizing about how she would reinvent herself when the time came. Now that it was here, in the cold rainy months of a typical Pacific winter, she realized she had yet to come up with a plan. Adele had left her graduate studies in English Literature at Berkeley to return home when her father was released from the hospital. “To help out,” she told her mother. Her father, Lenny, had been a maintenance supervisor for the Half Moon Bay school district and had taken a bad fall while trying to fix a heating vent in the ceiling of an auditorium. He was in a body cast for months, had several spinal surgeries and spent years either in traction or a wheelchair. But the worst of it was his pain, and he became dependent on powerful pain medications. Adele’s mother needed her help, that was true. But she might still have continued her graduate studies. But Adele had another problem. She fell in love and got pregnant—accidentally. The father of her baby didn’t want the child, so in addition to her

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pregnancy, she suffered a broken heart. She’d intended to raise the child on her own but she’d suffered complications; her baby was stillborn and her already broken heart was completely shattered. The safety of her home was her refuge, even with her disabled father’s condition casting a pall over life there. Then, as if to drive home the fact that she was not quite ready to get on with her life, her mother had her stroke. And now, here she was, still with no plan whatsoever. She gazed out the kitchen window. It was early March in Half Moon Bay, and fog sat on the beach every day until noon. It was like living in a heavy cloud. Adele had no motivation whatsoever. She found herself eating a cardboard container of lentil soup from the deli while standing over the kitchen sink, alone. She was wearing a lavender chenille robe and had slopped some soup on the front. She was not ready for bed early; she hadn’t bothered to get dressed today. She could have spent the day reading great literature or better still, drafting a life plan. Instead, she’d watched a full day of M*A*S*H reruns while lying on the couch. She’d been sleeping on the couch for months. She and the couch were as one. She had often slept there in her mother’s final days so she could hear her in the night. Adele’s bedroom had been little more than a changing room. The doorbell rang, and she looked down at the mess on her robe. “Great,” she said. She took another spoonful of soup, then went to the door. She peeped out. It was Jake Bronski, probably her closest friend. He held up a white bag so she could see he brought something for her. She opened the door. “Hi, Jake. Sorry, but I’m just on my way out…” “Right,” he said, pushing his way in. “You were invited to a pajama party, I suppose?” “Yes, as it happens,” she said meekly. “Well, you look stunning, as usual. Why don’t you slip into something a little less comfortable while I set the table.”

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“I will if you promise not to clean the kitchen,” she said. “It annoys me when you do that.” “Someone has to do it,” he said. Then he smiled at her. “Go on, then.” “All right, but eventually this has to stop,” she said, even though she had no desire for it to stop. She went to her room, the master bedroom. It had been her parents’ room until they each got sick and they converted the only bedroom downstairs, which had an adjoining bath, into a sick room. They were fortunate that her father had remodeled the house a bit before his accident since these old homes didn’t usually have large spacious main floor bathrooms. Maybe that was why she had trouble sleeping in her bed—it was her parents’ when they had been healthy and happy. She stripped and got into the shower. Jake deserved that much. She blew out her curly hair and rummaged around for a pair of clean jeans. Of course she came from that ilk of women who gained rather than lost weight in their grief. How was it you could barely swallow any food and yet gain weight? She sighed as she squeezed into the uncomfortably tight jeans and added some lip gloss. When she returned, she found the kitchen had been cleaned and the table was set for two with place mats, good dishes, wine and water glasses. Jake had even put his offerings in serving dishes—tri-tip on a platter, Caesar salad, green beans sprinkled with pieces of bacon. On the counter were a couple of generous slices of cheesecake with berries on top. A bottle of wine had been opened and was breathing. “Your mother isn’t coming?” Adele asked. “Dancing with the Stars is on,” he said, by way of explanation. “What did you do today?” “Not too much,” she said. He held her chair for her. “Addie, have you given any thought

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to talking to someone? A professional? I think you might be depressed.” “You think someone can talk me out of it?” she asked face- tiously. “What if you need medication?” “Jake, my mother just died!” “I realize that,” he said. “But for the last few years we talked about the things you wanted to do when you weren’t tied down anymore.” “That’s true, but I didn’t want her to die! And I think my grief is normal, under these circumstances.” “I couldn’t agree more, but you’re turning into a shut-in. You are free to live for yourself. You can finally get together with friends, get out, do things.” “Enjoy this wet, cold weather, you mean? Maybe when the sun comes out, I’ll feel more motivated.” “You had a long list of things you were going to do. I can’t even remember everything…” She remembered. “I was going to remodel or at least give this house a face-lift so I could put it on the market, find myself a chic little apartment with a view, finish my graduate studies, date Bradley Cooper—” He smiled. “I can help with the house,” he said. “Anything I can’t do, I can find you the right person. Have you seen Jus- tine lately?” “I don’t see too much of her now that I don’t need her to help with Mom,” Adele said. “She brought the girls down a couple of times after Christmas.” “She should do better than that,” Jake said, frowning. “I could just as easily go to San Jose and see her. She’s not the only one in this relationship.” “I don’t think she realizes how much you need her,” he said.

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“Well, we’re not close. We’re family. We’d never be friends if we weren’t family. We’re nothing alike.” “Lots of siblings say that about each other. I’m not close to Marty. If he weren’t in constant need of money, I’d never hear from him.” The two of them did have that in common, Adele thought, but for very different reasons. Marty, short for Martin, was Jake’s younger brother. He’d been twice married, had three kids from those two wives, presently had a girlfriend he was living with, and was not doing very well at supporting his extended family. For Adele and Justine, the twenty-year age difference was just the beginning. They had never really lived in the same house. Justine was in college when Adele was born. Elaine had been in her forties when surprised by a second pregnancy. Then, probably because of her age and experience, Elaine made Adele the center of her universe in a way Justine had never been. Adele had been dreadfully spoiled, her parents doting on her every moment. It wasn’t as though Justine had been pushed to one side, but she certainly didn’t get as much attention. Many times Justine had told Adele the story of her asking their mother to make her wedding gown, Elaine having been a gifted seamstress. But, according to Justine, Elaine had said, “How could I find the time? I have a small child!” When Justine pointed out that the small child was now in school, Elaine had said, “But I have myself and Adele to get ready for the wedding!” So how could she find time to make a complicated gown for the bride? It had ever been thus as far as Justine could see. Adele was the chosen one and Justine was expected to understand, step aside and worship her darling baby sister. Justine’s great accomplish- ments, and there were many, were taken in stride while Adele’s merest babble was praised to the skies. Justine used to claim, “If

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Adele put a turd in the punch bowl, Mother would say, ‘Look what Addie made! Isn’t she brilliant?’” As Adele remembered too well, her parents didn’t exactly respond that way when she came home from college pregnant, refusing to name the father. Her own father reacted like he’d been shot in the gut, and her mother cried and cried, wondering what miscreant had knocked up her pure and precious daughter. When her baby boy had been born dead, Adele’s father pronounced that now she could start over while her mother had called it a blessing. It was only Justine who had offered true and genuine support. “Having children of my own, I can’t imagine what you must be going through. Anything I can do, Addie. Anything. Just tell me what you need.” That was probably the closest Adele and Justine had ever been. It was brief, bittersweet but meaningful. There would always be at least that bond. “I think tomorrow night we should go to a movie,” Jake said. “We haven’t done that in years.” “Not years,” she argued. “Maybe almost one.” “Let’s get out,” he said. “Not that I don’t like our dinners in, but how about a movie. I’ll sit and quietly eat popcorn while you ogle Bradley Cooper.” “You know the first time you rescued me I was about four years old.” “More like ten,” he corrected. “Headfirst into the pool and you sank like a rock.” Jake had been a lifeguard at the community pool. He was eight years her senior and like a big brother to her. After that incident he taught her to swim. Now she could swim like a competitor when she got the chance. They had almost a lifetime of history. Their families lived a block apart in an older residential section of Half Moon Bay, California. Mr. Bronski used to walk to his market every day, Mrs. Bronski often visited with Addie’s mother and they both volunteered at

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the schools. Beverly Bronski remained Elaine Descaro’s most frequent visitor until her death. They’d remained close through so many monumental events. Thirteen years ago, Jake had married Mary Ellen Rathgate and within two years she’d left him for another man, breaking his heart. Ten years ago Max Bronski died of a heart attack. Eight years ago, Addie’s father broke his back on the job and was disabled for the remainder of his life. He had barely left the bonds of earth when Addie’s mother suffered her severe stroke. Since neither was close to their siblings, Jake and Addie had only each other to lean on for a long time now. They cleaned up the dishes together and even though Adele had a dishwasher, Jake washed and she dried. They talked about the neighborhood, the people they knew in common, their families. Adele said Justine worked all the time. Jake’s younger brother, Marty, didn’t have the same history with the market that Jake had and only worked there when he was between jobs. “I think it’s high time he grew up,” Jake said, not for the first time. When Jake was leaving, he told her to plan on a seven o’clock movie the next night. Dinner might be popcorn, and if they were still hungry afterward, they could get a bite to eat. He put a big hand on her shoulder, gave it a squeeze and said, “It was nice to spend some time with you, Addie.” “It was. Thank you, Jake. See you tomorrow.” He gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead before leaving.

Jake had had a thing for Adele for years, but it seemed the timing was never right. When he first saw her as something more just a kid, when she was blossoming before his very eyes, she was still a teenager and he was a man in his early twenties. Then she went to college, and he fell in love with Mary Ellen and married her in short order. By the time Mary Ellen had

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dumped him, leaving him shattered and lonely, Addie was involved with someone at Berkeley so he put her from his mind. But every time she was home in Half Moon Bay for holidays or just to spend a weekend with her parents, she became bigger than life and he was aware of a bothersome desire. Yet, she was involved with someone. Then he heard through her mother that her romance had failed, so he lectured himself on patience and gentlemanly distance. When she enrolled in graduate studies, he was blown away by her brilliance. He loved talking with her when she was in Half Moon Bay because she was fascinating; he believed she knew a little bit about everything. He could sit in a mesmerized trance just listening to her talk for as long as she’d go on. Then she confessed she was involved with someone. She didn’t want to say too much about the new relationship. “But are you in love?” he asked her. “Oh, I’m just a goner,” she said. “But I’m playing it as cool as I can so I don’t scare him away. This time I plan to take my time, not like the last time when I dove in headfirst and almost drowned.” He couldn’t help but think about how he’d been with Mary Ellen. She had been so beautiful, so sexy, it took him about five minutes to want her desperately, and once he claimed the prize, he found there was very little substance there. Mary Ellen, God bless her, was shallow as a bird bath. She cheated on him almost immediately. He gave Addie a lot of credit for taking it slow. Then she returned home. Not for a visit, but to stay. She said it was because her father was injured and facing surgeries, but Jake had known Addie for a long time and he could tell there was more to the story. Then he watched her grow before his very eyes and knew what the something more was. She was

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pregnant. And she did not have the love and support of the baby’s father. She was alone. Jake made sure he checked on her often, at least a few times a week. If the moment presented itself, he just might tell her that he was willing to be that man. He had come to realize how much he wanted to be with her. But he never found the appropriate time. There was once a moment of affection that he thought might lead to intimacy. They had a conversation about everything she’d been through losing her baby, and it was intense. It filled Jake with joy that she felt comfortable confiding in him until she started sobbing. Jake did the only thing he knew to do—he comforted her. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead before he found his lips on hers. They kissed, clumsily, and then she’d pulled away. She’d been through so much and apparently was ill prepared to deal with anything more. He had been waiting five years for her to decide she had a little more to give. And he gave as much as he dared. She wasn’t the only one with fragile feelings.

A nice dinner with Jake the previous night and an invitation out for the evening had put Adele in a more positive frame of mind. But who better than her older sister to knock her off that perch. Justine called to say she was coming by because there was something she needed to talk to Adele about. It was Saturday, and she wasn’t going to her office. Justine was Adele’s opposite, in appearance and almost everything else. She was a tall, slim blonde while Adele was a shorter, rounder brunette. They used to joke that they weren’t from the same family. But Justine’s hair was colored and she wore blue contact lenses, making her look more Scandanavian than Italian. And she was chic, but then Justine lived in a professional, high-

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income world and was expected to be chic. Adele, on the other hand, always thought she’d be a natural as an English professor, one who wore oversize sweaters and flat black shoes. And she usually pulled her hair back in a clip or pinned it in a boring bun. They had very little in common, yet another reason they weren’t close. When Justine arrived, Adele eyed her stylish haircut. “How much does that supershort blond coif cost?” Adele asked. “Be- cause I’ve been thinking about making a change…” “It’s pretty expensive, actually,” Justine said, giving Adele a brief hug. “I’m thinking of letting it grow out… Scott isn’t crazy about short hair.” “So what if he isn’t? It’s your head, right? And I think it’s wonderful. Would you like coffee?” “I suppose it’s too early for wine,” Justine said. “How are you getting along since the funeral? Are things beginning to fall into place?” “I suppose,” Adele lied. “Not nearly as quickly or neatly as I hoped. All those things I’d been looking forward to, like having the time and energy to lose some weight and get in shape, or maybe at least look at a university program catalog, go back to my studies… Day after day goes by and I haven’t done anything. I suppose I’m a little depressed.” “There’s a lot of that going around,” Justine said dourly. “Lis- ten, I have to tell you some things. It’s difficult.” Adele didn’t like the sound of that, yet she couldn’t imagine what might be coming. Justine lived a charmed life. “Where do you want to sit to have this difficult conversation?” she asked. Before she even finished the sentence, Justine had taken herself to the living room and sat on the edge of a wingback chair. That sight alone, her tall, lithe and lovely sister perched, stiff and tense, in the old chair, emphasized to Adele that she hadn’t even started her redecorating-remodeling project. Justine’s house,

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though she was terribly busy, was breathtakingly decorated and picture-perfect. This old house was not only dated, it was thread- bare. And her usually poised sister was very uptight. “Let me cut right to it. Something has happened,” Justine said. “There have been some changes in the company. My company. Serious downsizing and outsourcing. My job hasn’t been elim- inated yet, but there’s no question there’s going to be a major change. One that will involve an income adjustment.” “Oh no! Why is this happening?” Adele asked. “A lot of complicated reasons that all boil down to profits and losses. We’ve merged with other software manufacturers twice, laid off employees and tacked a not very subtle For Sale sign on the door. They’re paring down corporate officers to combine them since the latest merger. When two companies become one, there’s no point in two VPs of Operation, two presidents, two general counsels. I’ve already been asked if I’m interested in taking over Human Resources since I have experience in dealing with many of their legal issues. I’m thinking about it, but it comes at a significant pay cut. It has forced me to think about other things.” Could one of them be asking your husband to get a real job? Adele thought. She kept her mouth shut about that. Instead, she asked, “Like what?” Wondering what any of this had to do with her. “I’m planning to see a headhunter, look for another firm that’s in need of general counsel. Since I’m experienced in corporate law, I could join a law firm but I’d be on the bottom rung. Or… I’ve even given some thought to private practice. My experience in Human Resources lends to a number of specialties. I have an open mind. I might be qualified to work for the state. What- ever, I have to be thinking now. I have a feeling, a strong feeling, my income is going to be severely impacted. Soon.” And she wondered how Justine’s husband was handling this news. Justine started dating Scott in college, right around the time

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Addie was born. He was undeniably smart, though not a great student and not really motivated, except maybe on the golf course. Based on what little information Justine had shared over the years, Scott had never leaned toward ambition, but he was a steady, good man and devoted father. He got his degree in business, started out in sales for a big sporting goods manufacturer. He did pretty well, and while he was doing that, Justine took the LSAT and killed it. She went to law school—Stanford. Scott was very supportive of the idea. Just make me a stay-at-home dad with a set of clubs, he had said. Since Scott traveled all the time in his first job, they settled in San Jose in a small town house. It was convenient for him as a base of operations and close enough to Stanford for Justine to commute. That was such a long time ago. Adele remembered that town house. She’d been there quite a few times as a little girl. She remembered Justine had said Scott was excited that his wife was going to be a successful lawyer. “That’s all we want,” he had said. “She’ll knock ’em dead in the legal world, and I’ll take care of all the domestic details.” That transition had been gradual, but eventually it led them to where they were now—Justine, a self-made woman with a high-paying corporate job and Scott, a stay-at-home dad and husband who worked part-time in a sporting goods outlet. He had been a volunteer EMT, played a lot of sports, loved hiking, kayaking, scuba diving, boating. “What does Scott say about this?” Adele asked. Justine shrugged. Then she said, “He’ll support my decision.” She straightened. “I wonder how difficult it would be to find a small family law practice looking for someone like me. Or to start my own practice—a one-woman practice.” “Has it ever occurred to Scott to get a serious job?” Adele

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asked. “I mean, forgive me, since I haven’t had a serious job in my life.” Justine smiled patiently. “Your jobs have all been serious, and without you we’d have been lost. If you hadn’t dedicated yourself to Mom’s care, it would have cost our whole family a fortune. We’re indebted to you. And I agree it would help if Scott worked more than part-time, but I think that ship sailed years ago. He’s only worked part-time since Amber and Olivia came along.” Adele adored her nieces, ages sixteen and seventeen. She was much closer to them than she was to Justine. “I’m sorry you’re going through this,” Adele said. “I wish there was something I could do.” “Well, the thing is, the future is looking very uncertain. I might need your help,” Justine said. “What could I do?” she asked. “Adele, I don’t like to push you, but you have to get it together. We have to make some decisions about what you’re going to do, what we’ll do with the house. I realize what I’ve given you for your hard work hasn’t been much, but I don’t know how long I can keep it up—paying for the maintenance on this house, the taxes, a modest income for you… I don’t want to panic prematurely,” Justine said. “Maybe I’ll be able to work everything out without too much hassle, but if I run into trouble… Money could get very tight, Addie. All those promises I made—that I’d help financially while you fix up the house, that I’d give you my half of the proceeds when and if you sold it… I might not be able to come through. I know, I know, I promised you it would be yours after all of your sacrifice, but you wouldn’t want me to ignore the girls’ tuition or not be able to make the mortgage…” “But Justine!” Adele said. “That’s all I have! And I was considering finishing school myself!” Though if she was honest, she had no plans of any kind.

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Justine reached out to her, squeezing her hand. “We’re a long way from me needing money. I just felt it was only fair to tell you what’s going on. If we’re in this together, we can both make it. I swear, I will make this all work out. I’ll make it right.” But as Adele knew, they had never really been “in it together” in the past, and they wouldn’t be for very long in the future. Addie’s dedication to their parents allowed Justine to devote herself to her career. For that matter, it should be Justine and Scott shoring each other up. At least until Justine had a better idea. But where was Scott today? Golfing? Biking? Bowling? Adele realized she had some difficult realities to face. When she dropped out of school to help her mother care for her father, she wasn’t being completely altruistic. She’d needed a place to run away to, hiding an unplanned pregnancy and covering her tattered heart. She’d never told her family that her married lover—her psychology professor—had broken down in tears when he explained he couldn’t leave his wife to marry Adele, that the college would probably fire him for having an affair with a student. For her, going home was the only option. At the time Justine and Scott had been riding the big wave and didn’t lust after the small, old house in Half Moon Bay. That house was chump change to them. So, they worked out a deal. Adele had become her mother’s guardian with a power of attorney. But the will had never been adjusted to reflect just one beneficiary rather than two. In the case of the death of both parents, Adele and Justine would inherit equal equity in the eighty-year-old house and anything left of the life insurance. At the time, of course, neither Adele nor Justine had ever considered the idea that Adele would be needed for very long. But before Adele knew it, eight years had been gobbled up. She was thirty-two and had been caring for her parents since she was twenty-four. Adele, as guardian, could have escaped by turning over the

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house, pension, social security to a care facility for her mother and gone out on her own, finding herself a better job and her own place to live. She wasn’t sure if it was her conscience or just inertia that held her in place for so long. “I just wanted to make sure you understood the circumstances before anything more happens,” Justine said. “And since you don’t have any immediate plans, please don’t list the house for sale or anything. Give me a chance to figure out what’s next. I have children. I’ll do whatever I can to protect them and you. They’re your nieces! They love you so much. I’m sure you want them to get a good education as much as I do.” Does anyone want me to have a real chance to start over? Adele asked herself. This conversation sounded like Justine was pulling out of their deal. “I’ll think about this, but Scott has responsibilities, too,” she pointed out. “He’s been out of the full-time workforce for so long…” Jus- tine said. “Just the same, we all have to live up to our adult commit- ments and responsibilities. And you’ve had a highfalutin job for a long time. You’ve made a lot of money. You can recover. I haven’t even begun.” “I need your help, Addie,” Justine said. “You need to come up with a plan, something we can put in motion. Make plans for your next step, put a little energy into this old house, make suggestions of what we should do with it, everything. Let’s figure out what to do before I find myself short and unable to help. I’m sorry, but we have to move forward.”

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ustine’s visit and her ominous predictions created a pretty dark Jday for Adele. Her head ached from her brow being furrowed all day. She hadn’t even begun to figure out what she wanted to do next before Justine threw a wrench into everything. Addie was lost in deep thought; she took a couple of hours with a cal- culator, looking over the numbers. They were pretty bleak. It had been a consideration to get a home equity loan to improve the property before selling it, but if Justine couldn’t swing it, how was Addie supposed to? She was pretty sure one had to have a job before being approved for a loan. Addie had no money, no income, just what Justine provided. There was a little saved from the insurance, but without money from Justine, she was going to run out soon. How could her sister do this to her now? While Addie cared for their mother, Justine and her family had been to France and Italy and Scot- land, not to mention many long weekend trips here and there.

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They had all the sports equipment under the sun and lived in a very nice house. And now, after Adele had put in eight years, Justine was warning her that she might pull the rug out from under her? How could she? She tried to remember that Justine hadn’t had it easy as it all looked. Law school was a struggle for her, though in the end she graduated with honors. Then she worked long hours while Scott started to work shorter and shorter weeks. When Justine wanted a baby and didn’t conceive, she saw infertility special- ists and was thirty-five before being blessed with the birth of her daughter Amber. Then, like so many infertile women, she ignored birth control after Amber was born, thinking she just couldn’t get pregnant. Olivia came eleven months after Amber. Adele couldn’t really remember all the details of Justine and Scott’s early years together, but by the time her nieces were born when she was in high school, it was obvious that Scott made sure the girls got what they needed but he didn’t go much further. Justine stopped at the store for groceries on her way home from work, sometimes at ten at night. She spent her days off doing laundry, and if she couldn’t stay up until midnight working on briefs, she’d get up at four in the morning to work. And then Scott would criticize her for not working out and complain about the toll her long hours took on the family. But he somehow justified an expensive country club membership. Scott did most of the cooking, but it wasn’t much of an effort. He didn’t like labor intensive meals after a rugged day of playing golf. Adele witnessed a lot of those squabbles because she was a frequent babysitter when her nieces were little. But none of that was Adele’s fault! Now she feared Justine would go back on her promises and take advantage of her again. She thought about canceling the movie date with Jake because she knew she wouldn’t be good company, but she didn’t have the heart after he’d been so sweet to offer. So she got dressed

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and was ready when he picked her up. “What are we going to see?” she asked when she got in the car. “Anything you want. There are plenty of sexy leading men for you to choose from,” he said. Then he grinned. “Anything is fine.” So they chose the latest hit movie, bought popcorn and drinks, and she stared at the screen blankly. He asked her three times what was wrong, and three times she said she just had things on her mind. The movie was over before she’d really let herself enjoy it. Jake grabbed her hand and said, “Come on.” He pulled her up and out of their row, out of the theater into the dimly lit hall that led to the lobby. “We’re going to Maggio’s. We’ll get a dark booth in the back and talk. Whatever it is, it’s better to get it out.” “What makes you say that? I’m a little moody, that’s all. You’ve seen me—” He was shaking his head. “You’re not just moody,” he said. “Any time you don’t stare with big cow eyes at Bradley Cooper, the man you hope to marry, we’ve got us a problem. So, we’ll go have a little wine. Maybe some pasta or pizza but wine for sure.” She raised a brow. “You think you’re going to get me loose and talking?” He nodded. “As only a good friend could.” They drove to Maggio’s, a little hole-in-the-wall Italian piz- zeria. It was one of his favorite places. Jake pulled his truck into a small parking lot behind the restaurant. They did a huge takeout business, but there was a small dining room with only eight booths. It was compact, each booth could hold six people so the maximum they could serve wasn’t even fifty, and in all the years Adele had known about the restaurant, it had never been full. The front of the store, where people picked up their meals or pizzas, was always hopping, and there were a couple

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of tables on the wide sidewalk where people could sit outside in nice weather. Adele and Jake entered through the back door because Jake knew the owners and most of the staff. People hollered “Hey, Jake” or waved a hand in their direction. They slipped into the restaurant and found a booth near the back. Adele loved that it was dimly lit and decorated with plastic grapes. They slid into the booth and sat across from each other. “Hey, Jake,” the waitress said, slapping down a couple of nap- kins. “Haven’t seen you in a long time.” “It hasn’t been that long, has it?” he returned. “You know my friend Adele, don’t you?” “Yeah, sure, how you doin’? And what can I start you off with?” “A glass of cabernet for me,” Addie said. “Same,” Jake said. “And we’ll look at the menu for a while.” “I bet you know it by heart, Jake,” she said, smiling prettily into his eyes. “I’ll be right back.” “All the women in town like you,” Adele said. “Why don’t you ever take any of them out?” “They don’t all like me,” he said. “And Bonnie, there, I think she’s been married a bunch of times.” “Really?” Adele asked. “Well, at least twice. Been there, done that.” Adele remembered too well—it was a scandal in the neighborhood at the time. Jake was in his midtwenties, Adele still in high school, when he married Mary Ellen. It didn’t go well. Jake’s mother complained to Adele’s mother that there was a lot of bickering, and in no time Mary Ellen had become Jake’s un- happy wife. Though she never missed a word of their mothers’ gossip, the only thing she actually saw was that her friend Jake was suddenly alone, miserable, brokenhearted and inconsol- able. Mary Ellen left him after a year, and they were divorced

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by two years. She had now passed her third divorce, been with numerous men she hadn’t married and was said to be keeping company with a much older guy who left his wife of almost forty years for her. “Yeah, I’d love to know what happened there, if only to understand it,” Adele said. Jake was handsome, sweet natured, smart and most importantly, kind. His market was like the cor- nerstone of the older section of Half Moon Bay. He’d served on the city council for a couple of years and was greatly respected. By comparison, Mary Ellen was attractive but not very smart. But she must have some serious skills—she certainly had no trouble getting a guy though she did have short attention span. Adele suspected an abundance of pheromones. She also seemed to be cunning. “Maybe when I understand what happened, I’ll share,” Jake said. Their drinks came, they ordered a pizza to share and Jake went in for the kill. “How about if you tell me why you didn’t drool over Bradley,” Jake said. She told him Justine had come by for a brief visit, complaining about having some job and therefore financial issues, and that she might not be helping out as much as Adele had expected. “It emphasized all the things I haven’t done,” she said. “I was going to change my life, you know—starting with a makeover of myself and the house. Neither has had much attention for the past few years. I was waiting for the inspiration to kick in.” “We’ve been over this,” Jake said. “You have plenty of time for all that. And you don’t need a makeover. The house could use a little paint, but other than that…” “I haven’t even made a list,” she said. “I kept thinking I was making plans but they were just fantasies. Plans require at least a list. Not to mention the purchase of a bucket of paint…” “Well then, let’s talk about what you’d like to do and you can

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go home and make a list, but Addie, stuff like this doesn’t usually cause you to ignore a good movie. Or—” The pizza arrived just as he finished his thought. “Or ignore your best guy, Bradley.” He peeled off a piece of pizza and gestured toward her plate. “I can help with this, you know. I remodeled my mother’s house, and I’ve done a lot of my own work in my house.” “You’re so busy,” she said, chomping off a mouthful of pizza. “Even if I’m not available to pound nails or paint trim, I know a lot of contractors, who to call, where to find them, and if you ever run into a problem—I know how to talk to them. You never saw my mother’s house after I did the kitchen and both bathrooms. Damn good for a grocer, if you ask me.” “I’m sorry, Jake. I should have gone to your mom’s to see your work. I’ll be sure to go now. She always came to see my mom, to read to her.” “You know she enjoyed that,” he said. “Sometimes she spends an hour at the store, visiting, talking to shoppers. I’d see one thing in her cart, but just couldn’t get her to leave. I told her I could bring her what she needs, but walking to the store is good for her. I won’t complain until she starts coming in five times a day, and then—” His voice faded to a low buzz as something caught Adele’s eye. The couple in the front left booth, sitting together so they faced the front door, backs to Adele, leaned their heads together for a deep kiss. The man’s reddish-brown hair curled around his collar, just a little long. The woman’s short white-blond hair was teased up all spiky in a slightly dated style. Then Adele’s brain started to play tricks on her. It looked like Scott, her brother-in-law, his tongue down the woman’s throat, his hand cupping the back of her head. They broke apart, laughed into each other’s open mouths and she stroked his cheek briefly, saying something that made him kiss her open mouth again. It was Scott. He must think that even though Adele lived

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in Half Moon Bay, she would never be out on a Saturday night, having a pizza. It was a good bet, since that was a very rare oc- currence. Adele would have pizza delivered. And a date? For- get about it. Then Scott and the unknown woman became other people as a very old and painful memory rose to the surface. Hadley and his wife materialized in their place. Hadley, her psychology professor, with whom she’d had a steamy affair. She’d taken the class because he was so hot. Hadley, the father of her baby. He had told her it was impossible for him to leave the wife he claimed to hate, to marry Adele. He told her the university might fire him for falling in love with a student. They decided she would terminate the pregnancy. He would then divorce his wife, they’d have a fresh start, begin to date as if the affair and the baby had never happened. They’d marry and eventually have a family. Everything would be fine and they’d live happily-ever-after. And she’d been naive enough to believe him. She did what many a woman her age would do—she drove by Hadley’s house a dozen times a week. Then one morning she saw what she should have known she would see. He stood in the doorway with his beautiful blond wife, an arm around her waist. She still wore a robe or dressing gown. There was a small blond child holding on to his leg. The child was also beautiful. Angelic. Hadley’s wife had a small baby bump. Had- ley pulled her against him and covered her lips in a loving kiss. A deep and long kiss. One of his hands cradled her head while the other ran smoothly over the bump. Hadley wasn’t kissing his wife as though he was planning on getting a divorce. Adele was supposed to have an abortion while Hadley got the gears moving on his separation and divorce. He said he’d try to scrape up some money for the procedure, but he couldn’t be

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obvious about it or his wife wouldn’t let him go. They would have to be discreet. Eight years later, she still couldn’t believe she’d bought those lies. She didn’t go through with the abortion but her baby slipped away, stillborn. And Hadley never came looking for her. While she cared for her parents and mourned the loss of her son, she’d heard he was suspected of other affairs with students. Scott and the woman he was with materialized again. The bastard was stepping out on her sister. She briefly thought about rushing over to them and pouring something over their heads, like a pitcher of beer. Luckily, she didn’t have anything like that on hand. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Jake looked at her, looked in the direction of her stare, looked back at her. Her mouth was open and gaping, and a large piece of pizza drooped limply in her hand. “Addie?” he asked. “Shit,” she muttered. She closed her mouth and looked at him. “Jake, I need a favor. Can we get a box for the pizza and leave? Right now? I can explain when we’re in the truck.” “Something happened,” he said. “What happened?” “Shh,” she said, hushing him. “Can you go back to the kitchen, ask for a box, pay the bill and get me out of here? Quietly?” she whispered. “The guy in the front booth with the blonde—that’s my brother-in-law. And that is not my sister he’s making out with.” Jake couldn’t resist. He looked again. “Whoa,” he said, probably recognizing Scott at last. Then he slid out of the booth and made tracks to the kitchen. He was back with a box very quickly, and they transferred the pizza into it. “I hope everything was okay,” Bonnie said as they were leaving. “Oh, it was fine, I just remembered I left the stove on,” Adele

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said with a smile. By the time she got to Jake’s truck, she felt weak. When he got in and closed his door, she was shaking. “That bastard!” “What’s he doing here?” Jake asked. “He lives in San Jose, right?” She held out her hands, examining her trembling fingers. “He probably thinks no one knows him here, which except for me, maybe no one does. And he probably thinks I’d never be out for the evening, because what are the odds? While my sister is home worrying about her job, her husband is out deep kissing some woman—” “Cat,” Jake said. “Huh?” “Cat Brooks. She owns that kayak and snorkel shop on the beach. Cat’s Place. It should make a killing, but it’s been through three or four owners in the last dozen years. I think she owns it with her brother or something.” “Well, that makes sense,” Adele said. “Scott works part-time at a sporting goods store in San Jose where he gets a discount on all the gear he can stuff into his car. That’s what he does— plays. He loves to kayak. And golf and scuba dive and play ball and you name it. I bet his salary doesn’t even cover the cost of his toys. Justine works such long hours, he complains that she works so much and this is what he does instead.” Jake put his truck in Reverse and backed out of the lot. “And I’ll have to tell her,” Adele said. “You have to?” he asked. “Why do you have to?” “Come on!” she said. “I can’t let Justine get caught unaware! Telling her now might not even help. Clearly he’s into something serious, and he can’t support himself and his fun times. Justine has been the primary breadwinner for at least twenty of their twenty-eight-year marriage! And he has the nerve to complain about her hours. As if the income would just mate-

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rialize while she took time off to entertain him. Oh! I want to kill him right now!” “Addie, don’t do anything too soon here,” Jake said. “I’ve seen it before. She might hate you for telling her.” “Now why would she do that?” Adele asked. He took a breath. “It was Marty who told me Mary Ellen was cheating. I hit him in the face.” “Because you didn’t believe him?” “No. Because he ruined the illusion I had that I could make it work in the end. It was like a knife to the heart. It was in that instant I knew it was over. And it was going to get ugly.” “I’ll tell you what’s going to get ugly—me driving to San Jose.”

Justine felt confident she’d made an impression on Adele. Surely her younger sister would finally get serious about getting her life on track so that Justine wouldn’t feel obligated to support her forever. Just from looking at the comparable sales in the area, she judged the house to be worth roughly six hundred thousand, and it was paid off, free and clear. If she could get her own Realtor and decorator involved in cleaning up and staging the property, it could be worth more. She’d worry about how to scrape up the money to help in that effort later. Adele would probably have to put off going back to school for a little while. She had to get a job. Justine was determined to make it up to her. Somehow. Eventually. It was true that her company was struggling right now, downsizing here and there, and the stress was overwhelming. But she was hoping she could repair her real problem before she talked to anyone about it. Scott had informed her that he didn’t love her anymore. He was sorry but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t have much hope for the marriage; he thought it might be best if they broke up. He

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wanted to cash out. She was holding him back, expecting too much from him. She was completely caught off guard. She had been asking him to apply himself a little more to what she thought had been a pretty satisfactory partnership. Their relationship was hardly perfect, but then whose was? They’d been seeing a marriage counselor for three months, and she had no grasp of how that was working out. Some days Scott would say, I think we’re making progress here—I know I’m feeling better about things. Other days he’d grumble that she wasn’t really involved in the marriage, or their family life for that matter. He told her she was “emotionally unavailable” too often. “When was the last time you watched me play ball?” he asked. “When was the last time we went to a movie?” Her work was very difficult and demanding, what more could she say? If she wanted to keep her job, she had to be on top of it. She worked sixty hours a week and brought work home, as well. It was when he started saying things like, “I feel like I have a hole in my heart,” and “I’m not really living, just existing,” she began to suspect there was another woman. Those were women’s words. Scott didn’t say things like that. In fact, he had trouble sitting through a chick flick with dialogue like that. It made him roll his eyes. Now he was saying those things to her with a straight face. In their thirty years together, two dating and twenty-eight married, she had suspected there were other women now and then, but there was never any clear evidence. Just a name that came up too frequently, that faraway look in his eye, a very un- reliable schedule. He’d go MIA for a while. During their first decade of marriage, he traveled all the time while he was in sales. She’d had trouble getting pregnant and blamed his travel schedule. When she passed the bar, he was more than happy to take a less demanding, less lucrative job to improve their odds

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at reproduction. Seventeen years ago she had Amber and eleven months later, Olivia. He was a stay-at-home dad and she was so happy; her baby daughters were everything to her. She was a successful businesswoman with a supportive husband and two beautiful daughters. She didn’t have a jealous bone in her body. But she had to work. She was the bread and butter of the family. Getting home to her husband and babies was her reward for every hard penny she earned. She was successful, Scott urging her on every day while he stayed home and planned their vacations. In more recent years when he had so much time on his hands because the girls were self-sufficient and he only worked part-time, she never wondered where he was—he was busy every minute. They texted and spoke several times every day. Maybe she should have worried sooner. Now she didn’t know what to do. She had asked him about other women and he’d said, “Don’t be ridiculous.” That wasn’t a real answer, was it? Should she get a detective? It was a thought. She didn’t know what she would do, how she would live. What would the girls say? Do? Would Scott try to take them from her? They adored him. Would they want to be with her, when she worked sixty- hour weeks? At first she thought she couldn’t let him leave. She didn’t know how she’d get by. It never once occurred to her that her life might be slightly less tense without him constantly keeping score on her hours and familial contributions. Now that she thought about it, Scott had always been a lot of emotional work. It wasn’t easy trying to get a law degree while making sure she was always a good wife. True, she couldn’t do all the wifely chores and work as an attorney, but a good balance was that she made enough money for a weekly cleaning lady. What she did do was never mention she was the breadwinner, never minimize his contributions. She took time to praise his every effort, compliment his mind and frequently mention how

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stimulating she found him, scream with joy during mediocre sex. It wasn’t until he said he no longer loved her that she realized the enormous emotional weight of that effort. Scott ran the house and made sure the girls got to school and every extracurricular activity, lesson or practice. Now that Amber was driving, he had even more free time. It took him roughly two hours a day to do his chores—she still did the laundry, stopped for groceries on the way home, cleaned the kitchen after dinner. The hours left over—some six or more a day—he could devote to biking, kayaking, working out, running, hiking, swimming or various sports training. He was a member of two bowling leagues and one baseball team. He watched hours of sports on TV, most of it recorded for later. He worked part- time at the sporting goods outlet off and on, never more than twenty hours in a week. How dare he not love me, she thought angrily. If anything, I shouldn’t love him!

There was a time Adele was an adventurous soul, like back in college and grad school. But for the past six to eight years, she’d done little driving, staying close to home, rarely leaving Half Moon Bay. This was an old town, originally called Spanishtown and settled before the gold rush, officially becoming Half Moon Bay in the late 1800s. The history of the town was carefully pre- served. It was a sweet town on the ocean that attracted tour- ists. This part of San Mateo County was known for farming of vegetables and flowers, surfing and other water sports, a quaint and quiet getaway filled with and surrounded by beautiful state parks, redwoods and wonderful beaches. It got its name from the crescent-shaped harbor just north of the city. Addie thought of it as calm, sometimes too calm. Maybe a little old-fashioned and stifling. When she was young, she

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couldn’t wait to knock the dust from that little old town off her shoes, to get out and enjoy the freedom of college in a bigger city. Now that she’d been held hostage there for eight years, she was nearly phobic about leaving. But leave she would, if only for the day. She wasn’t going to let Justine down, even though it appeared Justine would let her down. They might not be the closest of sisters but if Adele had one shining trait, she was fiercely loyal. She thought she was more loyal to Justine than Justine was to her, but that was okay. She believed that what goes around comes around and she’d in- vest now, hope for good things to follow. Plus there was Amber and Olivia, and Addie loved them. Adele called Justine first thing in the morning. “I know we just talked yesterday but I need to see you, in person, alone, as soon as possible. I’ll drive to San Jose if necessary, but it would be better if you came here. I don’t want to try to talk to you with the girls or Scott around. It’s a very private matter.” “What’s bothering you, Addie?” Justine asked. Of course Justine would think it was Adele who had the problem, that it was something she was embarrassed to share or have anyone overhear. “We have to talk. It’s urgent. Please decide where we should do it.” Justine sighed into the phone. It was clear she couldn’t imagine Addie having a truly urgent issue of any kind. “I have a lot to do today. Are you sure this can’t wait?” “I’m afraid it can’t. Do you want to meet somewhere or what?” “Can you come to me? Scott’s playing golf and won’t be home until after two. Amber and Olivia are both busy with friends, and I expect they’ll be gone all day. If you come to me, at least I can get a few things done in the time I would have spent driving.” “Okay,” Adele said in a shaky breath. She hated the freeway. And left turns. And other cars. She hadn’t driven to San Jose,

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forty miles away, in years and she recalled it as traumatic. In fact, she hadn’t driven out of Half Moon Bay in a couple of years. She was used to getting teased about it. “Wow,” Justine said. “This must be important.” “It is.” Adele thought about the one time Justine had really come through for her—when she was brokenhearted, pregnant and alone. Justine was supportive and nonjudgmental. “These things happen, kiddo,” she’d said. “But you’re doing the right thing. Adoption is a good option.” “If I can make myself go through with it,” Adele had said. “I feel him moving and I want to hold him.” “Of course you do. And women do raise their children without fathers all the time. But if you’re serious about that, there are legal ways to make the father responsible. He can pay support. Just think about it. I can help.” But that option had been taken away from her when the baby didn’t survive. It was Justine who showered her with sympathy, paid for the mortuary and cemetery costs, held her while she cried and encouraged her to grieve, get counseling and try to move on. For that compassion, Adele would be forever grateful. She did love and admire Justine. She was also quite jealous, an emotion she fought constantly. It was just that until she saw Scott misbehaving, she thought Justine had everything, beautiful home, perfect daughters, happy marriage, great career. She had been so lost in thought that she was almost surprised when she pulled up to her older sister’s house. She had managed the drive without incident. She looked up and admired the place. It wasn’t an estate or anything, but it was so much larger than the house they grew up in, plus it was relatively new—about fifteen years old. The kitchen was spacious, the great room was grand and welcom- ing and overlooked a small but beautiful pool and meticulously

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groomed yard. There were five bedrooms and as many baths, and the third port in the garage was stacked with sporting gear— skis, paddleboards, kayaks, golf clubs, et cetera. Justine and the girls also had skis and bikes and paddleboards, but the gear was by and large Scott’s. Now she wasn’t sure what Justine was up against. Did Justine know her husband was unfaithful? Justine opened the front door to greet her with a frown. “Oh jeez, you’re pale. Come in. You know, now that you’re officially off the caretaking job, you might want to broaden your terri- tory. Do more driving, go farther, get your confidence back, put yourself out there.” “I will,” Adele said, as she had been saying to herself for more than a couple of months. “Let’s go sit on the patio,” Justine said. “I made a fresh pot of coffee and I have some cookies.” “I was going to give up cookies,” Adele said. “Maybe I’ll start tomorrow.” Adele sat at the patio table and let Justine serve the coffee, which seemed like the last thing she needed. She was jittery enough, and not from the drive on the crowded California freeway. Even on Sunday morning it was like bumper cars, but she’d managed it just fine. “You going to spit it out?” Justine asked. “So we can spend what time we have figuring it out, whatever it is?” “Scott is cheating on you,” Addie blurted. “I saw him.” Justine jerked in dubious surprise, her chin lowering as did her brow. She frowned. “You saw him having sex?” “No. I—” “You’d better be specific. And very sure of what you’re saying because this is serious.” “Oh, I know it is. I went for a pizza with Jake Bronski last night. Maggio’s. Do you even remember it?”

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Justine nodded gravely. “Eight booths in the dining room. We went in the back door because Jake knows everyone there. We had just gotten a glass of wine when I noticed the couple two booths ahead and to the left. They were sitting side by side facing the front, maybe watching the front entry. They probably thought they were alone since we snuck in the back. They were kissing. Kissing like they couldn’t stop. Like they really needed a room.” Justine was quiet for a long moment. “Kissing?” “Powerful, desperate, crazy kissing. Like in the movies kissing. Mouths open, devour—” Justine held up a hand to stop her. “Was there any evidence of an affair? Or was it just kissing?” “Seriously? Just?” Addie laughed, though not in humor. “I never thought to follow them. You have a provision for movie- star kissing in the marriage contract?” “Okay, thanks for telling me,” Justine said, as if she couldn’t bear to hear any more. “I can take it from here. And if you think of anything else…” “I know who she is. Well, Jake knows who she is. The woman who owns that kayak rental shack near the ocean, down the bike path past the beach bar. Her name is Cat Brooks. She’s not very pretty.” Justine seemed to wince ever so slightly. “Thanks.” “What are you going to do?” “I don’t know. But I know how this will turn out. Scott is caught kissing outside of our marriage and we’re going to fight about it, quietly so the girls don’t hear, then he’s going to grovel, beg for forgiveness, make a lot of promises about his perfect future behavior, then things will be tense for a while and he’ll in- vest a lot in flowers and maybe a little jewelry and then it will be over. It will pass.” “It sounds like you’ve been down this road before…”

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“Except for the getting caught part. He’s never been caught before, but we’ve had the discussion…” “Why? He must have done something if you talked about it?” “There were a few times I wondered if he was lying to me about where he’d been. You know—the timing was just off or his story would change. And he couldn’t be reached… Didn’t answer his phone. There was some texting with this woman or that—but I didn’t see anything real damning. Still… It’s not like I have a lot of time to chase him around, but if the girls can’t reach him and call me… Don’t worry about this. We’ll get it straightened out.” “Do you think he’s having an affair?” Addie asked, grabbing one of the cookies and taking a big bite. “I suppose it’s possible, but honestly I doubt it. Scott is very critical of men who step out on their wives. But believe me, I’ll conduct a thorough interview. It’s one of my particular skills.” Then she smiled. Weakly. “Where was he supposed to be last night?” “A bowling tournament. He’s in two leagues. I guess there’s been some lying. I will find out how much.” Adele wasn’t buying that smile. “You can talk to me, you know.” “Thank you, honey. That’s very sweet. I’m sure we’ll work this out quickly. And I won’t tell him where I got the information.” Justine spoke as if Adele couldn’t possibly be experienced enough to help her through this, to be a confidante. “I suspect he was in Half Moon Bay because she lives there and he never thought he’d see me,” Adele said. “I hardly leave the house.” “You’re going to have to change that, Addie. It’s not good for you.” “Yeah,” she said, noting how quickly the subject changed to her. “I’ll get right on that.”

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here was a vase containing a cheerful spring bouquet sit- Tting on the breakfast bar. Scott had given it to Justine two days ago, a day after their weekly counseling session. “For you, Juss,” he said. “I’m a very lucky man. I will always love you.” Had he told her about the flowers? About the declaration of love? Because according to Adele, who couldn’t lie if her life depended on it, he’d been devouring the lips of another woman the next day, last night. Some woman named Cat Brooks who owned a kayak rental shack. How was this possible? Justine had practically grown up with Scott. They’d met during their freshman year at Berkeley when they were mere children, just beginning to make their way into a future. They dated, fell in love, broke up a couple of times, but always came back to each other. By the time they were sopho- mores, they were exclusive. Right after graduation, they got engaged, though neither of them had two nickels to rub together.

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College costs, loans, very little help from their parents and only low-paying part-time jobs between them did not leave enough money for a wedding. The diamond in Justine’s engagement ring could barely be seen with the naked eye, it was so small. They lived together while they were in pursuit of decent jobs. Justine began teaching as a substitute, but before a year passed she’d acquired a permanent post teaching high school algebra. It took Scott longer to land a job in sales with a sporting goods manufacturer, but it seemed a good fit for someone as gregari- ous as Scott. By the time they were twenty-four, they could af- ford a modest but classy wedding with Adele as their flower girl. At twenty-five Justine took the LSAT. She did better than just very well; she scored at the highest end of the scale. She’d always been a good test taker. Her biggest cheerleader was Scott. At twenty-six she began law school at Stanford, this not quite middle class janitor’s daughter from Half Moon Bay. And she graduated from Stanford with honors. Scott had been so proud of her. But he also said he’d expected it. When had he stopped being proud of her? Through the years, through law school and two difficult pregnancies and a high-stress job in the legal department for a major software manufacturer, she’d always thought she and Scott were happy together. She was with her company through their first public offering, a killer project that yielded a handsome bonus and a big pile of stock options, setting her and Scott up for a tidy investment portfolio. From the time her little girls were four and five until now, even with the industry’s ups and downs, she’d managed an excellent income. And Scott had claimed to be a very satisfied house husband. Now, after all of that, he was saying she hadn’t been emotionally available? Scott did contribute to the family income with a little part- time work on and off for the last seventeen years, but the days

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of his pursuit of a career ended with Amber’s birth. “Me working will just put us in a higher tax bracket. I’m better off staying home and saving the cost of childcare,” he had said. It had seemed like a fair balance. Scott managed the money, the investments, the retirement accounts, the bills. “I have to look at those accounts,” Justine said to herself. The one thing she would never advise a woman to do, she had done. It was out of sheer want of time—she couldn’t do it all. And now she had no idea what their true financial situation was. She had three credit cards, never worried about their balances, never wrote a check, never paid a bill. She earned the money, tried to be an attentive wife and mother, worked her ass off and had looked forward to a future of less stress and more fun. Justine was fifty-two and had been with Scott since she was eighteen. And now he had another woman on the side. What would she do without him? They had always functioned as a team. She couldn’t do her work and his work too! And although she had no problem being alone, she couldn’t imagine having no partner. She thought she and Scott would grow old together, but now she would be alone forever. She didn’t think that due to low self-esteem or lack of confidence, but when the hell would she find the time to even consider a new companion? Scott, on the other hand, had nothing but time to screw around. He didn’t have the pressure of bringing home a paycheck, for starters. His parents were healthy and strong and didn’t need him for anything but the occasional visit, and they usually provided a dinner or picnic if Scott and his family planned to stop by. Justine had had years of supporting ill parents and her younger sister, who shouldered all the care. The younger sister she had promised to reward for the commitment she’d made to care for their parents. Now she didn’t even know what she would end up with for herself and her daughters.

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She looked at the flowers. Was her life really this cliché? That he would cheat on her and then bring her flowers? To what end? To forgive him? To keep her from looking further into their problems where she would discover his lover? Did he in fact love that other woman? Suddenly her arm shot out and swiped the vase and flowers off the counter, sending the container sailing across the kitchen and crashing against the cabinets. The flowers lay in the mess of shattered glass and dirty water on the floor. She shook her head as she looked at the mess. It would not hurt Scott in any way, and now she would have to clean it up. At that moment she made a decision. From now on she would move with more precision and not do things that would only make her work harder. She would have to check her rage lest she make the situation worse for herself. But she wasn’t going to take this sitting down.

Driving back home, all Adele could think about was Justine. It was that much more upsetting because Justine did not seem the least bit worried about Scott’s indiscretion. Even with her concerns about possibly losing her job, she’d been as cool as ever. Adele knew Justine had money and a good résumé, so she’d be all right. But what would she do about Scott? Because no matter what she said, Adele knew that her brother-in-law had crossed the line, been unfaithful, and she couldn’t imagine Justine letting that go with an apology. But she also couldn’t imagine Justine without Scott. To be fifty-two and suddenly discover everything you believed in and valued most a lie? How devastating would that be? Adele reminded herself that at least Justine had lived a rich life before reaching this crisis. In contrast, she had spent the last eight years treading water. And getting out of shape. She was driving through town and toward her east end neigh-

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borhood when she passed a church with an adjacent building that held offices and a few classrooms. A sign in one of the windows said Weight Loss Clinic. She thought that maybe she could make that small first step toward reclaiming her life, so she went home and looked up the weight loss programs online and found the one at the church she had passed. They called themselves Emerging Women and met several times a week. It was just a few blocks from her house. She decided she could go to a meeting in the morning to check them out. Like any woman more than ten pounds overweight, Adele had tried many diets, but none that had worked. Or maybe all of them could’ve worked had she lasted more than four days. This time, however, she read about the diet online and found it actually looked fun. They even had products available for sale both at the meeting and in the grocery store for those busy men and women who didn’t have a lot of time for meal preparation. But everything she would need she could get at the local grocer. Grocery store, not Jake’s market. Her first meeting was successful. The friendly woman who weighed her in, pronounced her as having thirty-six pounds to lose for her ideal weight. “I would have guessed a solid fifty,” Adele said. “You’ll be so surprised at the difference you see and feel in just ten,” the woman said. Adele listened to complaints and testimonials, heard advice and experiences, stayed late to get the instructions on how to calculate points for meals. She could even get an app for her phone so she could calculate the correct points for meals taken in a restaurant. Any place but Maggio’s. She went home from her first meeting, cleaned out her re- frigerator and made a list for the grocery. After that, she cleaned out her mother’s chest of drawers and half of her closet, stack- ing up the old clothes in either give away or throw away piles.

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Then she made a list of things she had to get done immediately. Topping the list was JOB. She was filled with nervous energy, taking the first steps in starting over at last, unsure what the trigger had been. If she had learned Justine had a life-threatening disease, like cancer, she’d get it—don’t waste another moment of your life on trivial matters. Live as if it counts! Be your best self! But what she had learned was not that. Her wonderful brother-in-law, whom she loved more than she realized, loved like a brother, was a scoun- drel. Not to be trusted. And her sister, who loved him and depended on him, was headed for certain heartbreak. Adele did not dare waste a moment more.

Justine was just scrubbing up the last of the shattered flower vase when Scott came home, looking over the breakfast bar at her. She was on her knees, sweeping small bits of wet glass into a dustpan. “What happened here?” Scott asked. “Oh, an accident,” she said, her voice as pleasant as possible. “I dropped the vase and flowers. There were no survivors.” “Aw, that’s too bad. There will be more, no worries,” he said. He gave her a smile. No doubt, she thought. Probably lots of flowers before all was said and done. She judged his rumpled golf shirt and shorts, but she didn’t notice any sweat stains or grass stains, but then it was only March and there was a nice ocean breeze. Still, she’d like to ask to see a receipt for the round of golf. But instead she asked, “How’d you play?” “Like crap. Eighty-six.” The rest of their day involved minimal conversation, consist- ing of routine issues like what to have for dinner and the needs the girls had for the coming week. Then, as had become typical, Scott went to bed before nine while the girls and Justine were all up until eleven. Justine had work from the office to com-

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plete before an early Monday morning start, and the girls were finishing homework they’d put off to the last minute.

Monday came and that meant work for Justine, and even with all the uncertainties in the company, she was anxious to get there. Once she got to the office she texted one of the de- tectives they often used for legal assistance. It’s not like hers was a district attorney’s or prosecutor’s office—their investigations had to do with background checks on companies they might be involved with in business deals, contracts, that sort of thing. She texted a question.

I have a friend going through a divorce. Do you know a private investigator who does domestic investigations? I’d like to be able to recommend someone.

A name and phone number came back to her right away. She called a man named Logan Danner, a recently retired police lieutenant who worked for a private investigator’s office out of San Francisco. She asked to make an appointment to discuss a possible job. She named the detective who had recommended him and said the issue was domestic. And personal. “Thanks. I’ll remember to tell him I appreciate the recom- mendation. Why don’t you tell me when you’re available and where I’ll be researching if you hire me. Then I can suggest a meeting place.” “You don’t have an office?” she asked. “Sure, but it’s better to meet in a public place that isn’t too busy. That way you’re not seen going into a PI’s office…” “I go into PI’s offices from time to time, though mostly they come to me. I’m an attorney. However, in this—” “Where and when, Mrs. Somersby. Let’s make this easy.” She sighed. “I’m still just a little wobbly about doing this…” “We’ll talk about that, too.”

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“All right, you’re the expert. Any day after four and before seven, and I suppose you’ll be looking around San Jose and as far south as Half Moon Bay.” “Perfect. There’s a great little Chinese restaurant in South San Jose called Chen’s. Have you been there?” “I haven’t, no,” she said. “Then it’s perfect. If we meet there at four thirty, it will be quiet. You can even get takeout for your dinner if you want to. Are you in a hurry?” “Of course,” she said, but she said it tiredly. “Today?” “Today it is,” he said. “Although it’s possible there won’t be many people in the place, I’m forty-eight and ordinary looking. Brown and brown. You?” “Fifty-two, short blond hair, business attire.” “Lawyer attire,” he added with a chuckle. “I’m a corporate attorney,” she explained. “I read a lot of pro- spectuses. And contracts. And stock option proposals and docu- ments filed with the SEC.” “Noted,” he said. “See you a little later.” For the rest of the day, she fluctuated between anxious for some details about her husband and frightened of what this detective might find. She wasn’t really sure if she hoped Scott wasn’t found to be doing anything egregious or if she hoped he was nailed with a red-hot poker. After all, what Adele had seen was not benign. Passionately kissing someone else was not allowed in their marriage. Perhaps it was forgivable and survivable, however. She wasn’t sure how, but perhaps. However, was there enough love left between them?

She arrived at Chen’s a little early. There was no one dining at the time, and she told the hostess she’d be meeting someone at four thirty. The woman said, “You want food? Of course?”

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“Of course,” Justine said, but she was thinking about what she could order that wasn’t exactly a meal. Her appetite had dis- appeared with Adele’s news. “A cup of tea for now, thank you.” What she said and did today could decide the rest of her life. It was not too late to change her mind, forget about hiring a detective. If Scott ever found out… Wait a minute, she said to herself. He’s kissing some strange woman! That’s a worse crime than hiring a detective, isn’t it? Her appointment walked in. Just his entrance alone was mem- orable. He spoke softly to the hostess, smiling at her. Then with an arm sweeping wide, the hostess indicated Justine. Logan Danner thanked her with another big smile and walked toward Justine. “Mrs. Somersby?” he asked, putting out a hand. “Yes. Thanks for meeting with me so quickly,” she said, noting his firm handshake. “I’m happy to. It happens I’m not working tonight, so there’s plenty of time to talk about how I can help.” “I’m not even sure what I’m looking for,” she said. “How about I ask you a few questions to help us get there?” he suggested. “Of course,” she said. “Infidelity?” he asked. The hostess brought her tea and for Logan, a tall blond beer. For both of them, water. Then she left quickly. “I suspect so. My sister saw my husband kissing a woman. She described it as passionate kissing. In a dark restaurant.” “Forgive the question, but is there any reason you know of that your sister would make up something like that? Some ax to grind. Family arguments, jealousies, anything?” Justine shook her head. “Addie loves Scott,” she said. “She told me immediately. She’s outraged and hurt. I didn’t get over- wrought, at least for her to see.”

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“Who might he have been kissing?” Logan asked. “I don’t know the woman, but Addie was with a friend who said her name is Cat Brooks and she owns a kayak rental shop in Half Moon Bay. That’s where I grew up. I’ve been gone for over twenty years, since college, only home for brief vis- its. Addie still lives there. She’s quite a bit younger than me— twenty years younger.” Logan frowned. “Kind of ballsy, kissing some woman in his wife’s hometown, his sister-in-law’s town of residence…” “Well, Addie lives there, but she has a very small circle of friends and doesn’t have much of a social life. For years she cared for our parents who were disabled and in need of medical care. Our mother only recently passed away. Addie can finally go out with friends, if they haven’t all deserted her by now. She was out for a pizza with a friend she’s known since childhood.” “So, what is it you want me to do?” Logan asked. “Let me tell you some things first,” she said. “Of course,” he said. He took a swallow of his beer. Then he pulled a small notebook and pen from his pocket. “Take your time. Tell me what you think is important.” Pen poised over notebook, he gave her a nod. “I’m a corporate attorney for a major software developer. Sharper Dynamic. I have two daughters, age sixteen and seventeen. Scott has been a stay-at-home dad since Amber, my oldest, was born. We’ve been married twenty-eight years but started dating in college. And I’ve provided most of the income the last twenty years.” “Most?” he asked. “When Scott didn’t have the responsibilities of two babies or toddlers or preschoolers, he sometimes worked part-time. Usu- ally sporting goods retail—he liked the discounts on his gear from golf clubs to high-end mountain bikes. Discounts for the whole family. One year he even gave me a profit and loss state-

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ment showing me how much money he saved the family with his discounts. Enough to take a great vacation.” She sounded ridiculous even to herself. “And,” Logan said. “I sense there’s more.” “He managed the finances. He would ask my opinion from time to time. No, that’s not right. He would tell me things like he was moving a little money to lessen our exposure in a vola- tile market. And I would say okay. But I rarely looked at a credit card bill or a phone bill or a bank statement. For all I know—” “What do you want to know?” he asked. “What do I want to know?” she repeated. “I guess I want to know if he’s having an affair.” Logan leveled his gaze on hers. “I think you already know the answer to that. You just can’t prove it. In your capacity as an attorney, you’ve had occasion to work with an investigator or two.” “On a regular basis, yes. But in quite a different way. Back- ground checks, financial records, lawsuits, et cetera. I can honestly say extramarital affairs never crossed my desk.” “Unfortunately, there seems to be an epidemic. You’ve been married a long time. Have you considered counseling?” “We’re in counseling now. At Scott’s suggestion. Do you suppose that means he wants to save the marriage?” “Let me be honest, Mrs. Somersby—” “Please, feel free to call me Justine.” “Justine. He might be trying to demonstrate he’s made an effort when he has no intention of staying in the marriage. I suggest you acquaint yourself with the accounting just in case…” “Right…” She suspected they both knew this could be the death knell of a marriage. “I can surveil him, find out how and where he spends his time, ascertain if there’s any inappropriate behavior that would suggest an affair, do a public records search of the woman he’s

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involved with, that sort of thing. To get started, I just need your husband’s full name and a license plate number. A picture would help. If the car he drives is registered in both your names, you can put a GPS tracker on the car. I can do that with your permission.” “All right. And yes, the car is registered in both names. How much time will that take?” “A matter of days, depending on the schedule your husband keeps. But plan on a couple of weeks. That way you won’t get impatient. A retainer and a very brief contract is required. It only states that you’ll pay for my time and expenses and I’ll deliver information to you and only you.” “What if what we learn is the worst-case scenario? What am I supposed to do?” “I’m an investigator, Justine. I’m not a marriage counselor. I don’t know the answer to that.” She took a sip of her tea. “I might be the primary breadwinner, but I’m completely dependent on him.” Logan didn’t say anything for a moment. “If you have a business card with your email address and cell number, I can send you an attachment with our agency contract. You can also wire me the deposit through this cell number.” He handed her his business card. “You’ll want to stash this card in a secure place. Unless you have a lot of PI business cards already so this one wouldn’t seem suspicious.” She reached into her purse, pulled out a business card and wrote Scott’s full name on the back. Scott Rush Somersby. She texted a picture of the two of them. They were smiling con- fidently for the shot. There were pictures like that framed all over their house. So many people thought they were the perfect couple. “Here you go. I don’t remember his license plate number, but it’s a new Escalade, dark blue. I’ll send it to you when I get home.”

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“Okay, then I can get started.” After a quiet moment she said, “Finish your beer. I’m going to finish my tea. And I promised the hostess I’d order some food.” “You’ll feel better about making a decision after you have the information you need,” he said. “Oh, I don’t think I’m ever going to feel better about this.” “Yes, you will,” he said. “If I find what you expect me to find, you’ll want all of the facts before you make a long-term decision.” “What makes you think I have an expectation of what you’ll find?” she asked. “You wouldn’t have called me otherwise. And Justine, I doubt you’re as dependent on him as you think.”

Justine tried to remember when, exactly, she’d given up her individual power. It might’ve been right away, when Scott said, “I’ll take the right side of the bed.” Then he proceeded to give her a list of her advantages to being on the left side. She would be closer to the bathroom, would have the better reading lamp and when he turned on his left side toward her, he could caress her with his right and dominant hand. He must have forgotten about the dominant hand lately. Or, more like for years. Because he wasn’t ever in the mood anymore. That hadn’t bothered her much, since she worked such long hours and was frequently tired. The more she thought about it, the more she realized he chose the TV shows, the dinners, the vacations, managed their social life. He told her to take the LSAT. “You’re a good test taker. You always have been. I know you like teaching, but you can make more money in law and I bet you’d like it.” “Why don’t you take the LSAT. I’ll help you study,” she’d suggested. “We both know that’s not a good idea,” he said.

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He was good in sales, any kind of sales, because he was good with people. He was the fun and entertaining one. But it was probably when they moved in together, right after college, that she slowly began to give away any decision-making power in the partnership. And once she became a lawyer, she began to defer to him lest he feel that masculine bite from being the less successful of the two. When she thought about it, he was quite eager not to work. She had always assumed they would both work and find a nanny or a reasonable day care. She had no problem after thinking about it. And in practice, it seemed to work. It seemed so mod- ern and progressive. Oh, but the neighborhood women loved him. He showed up at all the school events, was usually the only man to volunteer in the classroom, went on school field trips, had coffee with the stay-at-home mothers. They used to fuss over him, comparing him to their working husbands who never pitched in. Justine had wanted to say, “He has a cleaning lady, you know,” but she said nothing. And Scott had many limitations—he refused to do laundry and he wasn’t very helpful with homework. “You’re the teacher,” he always said. So, what did he actually do? He took care of the kids and he was very good at it. He tidied up the house after they were safely dropped off at school. He paid the bills and managed their retirement funds. Those funds she now needed to get up to speed on. Five years ago Scott had received a text at 5:00 a.m. and she’d wrangled the phone away from him to read, Coffee later? on the screen. It was from one of the elementary school teachers, a for- mer teacher of Olivia’s. They’d had a big fight over that. She told him he should not be texting with or meeting a woman for coffee. It was inappropriate! So he said, “Fine, I’ll tell her. Con- sider it stopped here and now.” Justine asked a few times if that nonsense had stopped, and he offered her his phone. She didn’t take him up on the offer. She wanted to believe him.

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Now, suddenly, she wondered if there had been inappropriate liaisons all along. She tried to envision Scott kissing a woman in a public place, and it made her sick to her stomach. She had to go home and face him. She’d talked to him twice today and he said he wasn’t planning to go anywhere in the evening, so she’d have to wear a poker face. She could plead a headache. She was in the mood for a very large martini but she’d be careful; a too large martini could loosen her tongue and cause her to scream, “You’ve been cheating on me, you lowlife son of a bitch!” There was no one to talk to about this. It was important that while Logan Danner did his investigating, she not tip off Scott. She knew a couple of women from work who had gone through messy divorces, but she hadn’t paid close attention because she’d believed that was never going to happen to her. She thought about Addie. She wished she could talk to her but felt she couldn’t show any vulnerability or weakness to her younger sister. Yet the circumstances they both suddenly faced called to her. They had both become isolated—Addie because she chose to take care of their parents and Justine because she worked, worked, worked and let Scott decide how they’d spend their time. Even among their couple friends, she didn’t have a lot of time to spend with the women. Addie and Justine had become loners. For Justine it was almost twenty-five years ago, after passing the bar and settling into her job. But for Addie, just eight, when she came home from school with a baby bump and never went back. Justine was overwhelmed by the feeling that she had failed everyone. She’d failed her daughters, who would be devastated by this family crisis; she’d failed Adele, to whom she should have shown more support. And she’d failed herself. Here she was, fifty-two and had never felt quite so alone. She had done nothing wrong and yet couldn’t escape the feeling that everything was all her fault.

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* * * Scott was snoring loudly as Justine came to bed. It was something she had become used to over the years, but now it just hit her as the biggest insult under the circumstances. Circumstances that were very bad. She had boldly paid Logan Danner’s retainer with her credit card, confident the detective would have some news for her before Scott would notice. And indeed he did. It hadn’t taken long for him to contact her to let her know that Scott had been a regular at the kayak shack on the beach for quite a long time. Any PI worth his salt knew that strangers would tell strangers anything. He reported to Justine that he had said to someone, “That guy, I think I know him. Dave Besteil?” “Naw, that’s not his name,” said the young man putting up kayaks. “That’s Scott Somersby and he’s around here all the time. He’s tight with the owner, Cat.” Logan texted a few pictures of passionate kisses and afternoon trips to the No-Tell-Motel. One picture was time stamped for Thursday when Scott had claimed he’d been playing ball. In- stead, he was having dinner at an ocean-side lodge, after which the couple went to a room. Scott left alone while the lady stayed on, presumably for the night. He was quite late getting home— he said he’d gone out for a beer with the guys after the game. According to Logan, he had not been on that team for a couple of years. It had not yet been determined if he was still part of the bowling leagues. The woman Scott was seeing had quite an interesting history. Divorced twice, she had a couple of bankruptcies, was currently struggling with debt, but her late-model car was paid off. Oh, and she was married to her third husband. There had also been some police calls for domestic disturbances. “It’s possible the woman is in an abusive relationship,” Logan said.

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“Would that explain her fishing around for a new boyfriend?” Justine asked. “Well, I suppose it could. But typically abused women are afraid of the abuser and don’t take those kinds of chances. There haven’t been any assault charges filed, but people lie and cover up domestic violence all the time. You need to keep in mind that Scott might have gotten himself into an explosive dynamic.” Justine did not know exactly how long her husband had been involved with Cat. She could only assume it had been quite a while. Years, perhaps. It was possible she was just one of many. Justine felt like a complete fool. Logan Danner had given her as much information as she needed to move forward and said he would remain available if there was anything more she needed from him. But she could take it from here. She would need a court order to do a forensic accounting, find out if he had other bank accounts and credit cards. This was her wheelhouse. It’s what she did for a living.

It played out at their next counseling appointment. Scott opened the session as he usually did by giving Justine her report card, as if this marital crisis had only to do with her behavior. “Justine has been great about remembering to say thank you. I think we’re making great progress,” he said, as if counseling a first grader learning to say please and thank you. As if she should remember to thank him for warming up frozen burritos for dinner while he didn’t find it necessary to thank her for working so hard for the generous paycheck that paid for that food. When it was her turn to speak, Justine was very calm. “Scott has been having an affair with a woman named Cat Brooks. I’m not sure how long exactly but at least a couple of years. We have some urgent decisions to make. We have two daughters at very vulnerable ages, and I won’t have them lied to.”

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The counselor, a thin, bald man wearing wire-rimmed glasses, looked shocked and off balance. But it was brief. He was about to speak but Scott reacted first. “You’re out of your mind! I’m only friends with the owner of the kayak shop because I love to kayak! And you know that!” “I have lots of proof,” Justine stated. “And how would you come by proof when I haven’t done anything?” He’d know soon enough, when the credit card bill came. “Let’s not waste precious time on you denying everything, Scott. There are pictures, receipts, witnesses, tons of stuff. We have to talk about how to face the future. We have kids. We have assets. I’m a lawyer and I know only too well, once lawyers get involved, we’ll be sucked dry. You clearly don’t want to be married to me anymore. And I can’t be married to a man who cheats. So how do we resolve this?” Scott stared at her for a long time, not speaking. His lips were as thin as a wire; his temples pulsed. His eyes narrowed. He sat there frozen, looking at her with silent hatred. At that moment more than any of the other moments before, she realized she didn’t know him at all. At. All. “This is all your fault,” he finally said.

Justine couldn’t cry. She wanted to release the valve, open the dam, scream out the pain of betrayal and rage. She’d been used! Every nickel in their portfolio and retirement accounts had been earned by her. The house they lived in—she qualified for and paid the mortgage. She wasn’t sure when it happened, but the ability to break down and cry had been trained out of her years ago. It was a feature of practicing law. While she might not be putting away hardened criminals, she was responsible for keeping the legal affairs of a corporation in order, protecting the jobs of hundreds

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of employees. Still, her job wasn’t always dry and unemotional. There were times she felt the weight and pressure of the future of her company at stake, awaiting an answer from the Securi- ties Exchange for example, and getting the wrong answer and knowing there would be grave disappointment, possible mon- etary losses, perhaps bankruptcy or in an extreme case, a hos- tile takeover. She held the legal aspect of the company in her hands, and of course she couldn’t cry about it, no matter how scared or disappointed she felt. Scott had never been sympathetic to the pressure she felt. But when was the last time she cried over her husband or marriage? It was probably before the girls were born. In their attempts to have a family, there had been a couple of miscar- riages—those brought her to her knees. And she was sure she cried tears of joy when Amber and Olivia were born… Oh God, her daughters! They would be so devastated by this news. They adored their father, and while she was certain she had their love as well, they were closer to Scott. After all, he was the one available to seek out for permission, to go to for fa- vors, to call if they needed a ride or wanted to borrow the car. It was Scott who played with them. He took them to watch games—football and hockey were their favorite sporting events. Scott taught them to play tennis and golf. They often went biking or hiking together, most of the time leaving Justine behind if it was her day to stay with her mother or if she had work to do. The girls needed their father. But there was no way she was leaving her home! They would be heartbroken to think of their father not being there. Especially Olivia. Her girls looked very much alike with their long, thick brown hair and dark eyes, but were as different as night and day. Amber was smart and strong and fiercely independent. Now that she thought about it, Jus- tine realized it was rare for Amber to cry, as well. But Olivia was another story. She was sensitive and emotional and would

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probably fall apart at the thought of her daddy not being at her beck and call. She would have to share her daughters with their father; she would have to take over as the primary parent. She would have to do all of the chores Scott routinely accomplished. Everything she’d become used to would change.

Right after Scott told her everything was her fault, he delivered a litany of complaints about her character. She worked all the time and didn’t take adequate care of the family. He was never sure he could count on her—in her business something was always coming up to delay her or take up time at home. They didn’t agree on anything. She was stubborn and pushy. She flaunted her success. She was cold. “Wait a minute—I am not! And when did you expect me to earn that paycheck if I wasn’t committed to the work I do?” she had asked. “If our genders were reversed and if you were a woman, a housewife for lack of a better word, you’d seem mighty ungrateful right now. And I think it’s pretty well estab- lished, you’re the one who is cold and unavailable! You’ve been with another woman. And looking back, I doubt she’s the first!” “Let’s slow this down and talk about where this is going,” the counselor said. The man explained that if they wanted to try to save the marriage, he could offer counseling. But if they were going to separate and perhaps divorce, he couldn’t counsel them individually. At least not both of them. After talking and answering the counselor’s questions for half an hour, it was Justine who said, “We should separate pending divorce. I’m not completely closed to the idea of saving the marriage but I admit, it doesn’t look promising. I don’t know that I can ever trust Scott again.” “Fine, then you leave,” Scott said.

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“I’d like to suggest we have a candid talk about what we can do and how to go about it. We should both have a look at our assets and discuss options for living apart. I can take tomorrow off so we can talk while the girls are at school. We also have to talk about what we’re going to tell them.” She swallowed, and her voice was not as strong when she continued. “They’ll be very upset.” “To say the least,” Scott said.

Want to know what happens next? Order Sunrise on Half Moon Bay by Robyn Carr, available now, wherever books are sold!

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