Is home where the heart is?

Life on the road suits Bruce Cole just fine. And after what he went through back in the day, he’s in no hurry to face his hometown again. Until his little sister asks him to return for her wedding. One brief visit can’t hurt, right? Especially when he meets a beautiful stranger at the reception.

Except Natalie Kimball isn’t a stranger. In fact, she knows more about Bruce than anyone else in Wallis Point—including the secret he’s been running from all these years. The woman Natalie has become is fascinating…and so different from the girl he remembers. If anyone can change his mind about what home really means, it could be her.

Bruce stared at the woman he’d aimed for like a laser beam

She was tilting her head at him, focusing on him with those inquisitive blue eyes. To other people that might be a good sign, but not to him.

He wanted a distraction. That was all.

He held the glass out again. “I can’t promise it’s a good year, but I can promise a decent toast from it.”

She smiled at him, a brilliant, relieved smile. “Then I’m glad I didn’t leave and miss the opportunity.”

He handed her the flute of champagne, his heart kicking up a notch. She accepted it with a small laugh, and for a moment their fingers brushed.

He lifted his glass to her. “To getting to know you better.”

She took a sip as he did the same. The tart, bubbly taste jarred him as they watched each other over the rims of their glasses. The magnetism between them made his blood pump.

She was still looking at his mouth. Maybe she wanted him to stay for purely selfish reasons.

He could handle that.

“I’m Bruce,” he said. “And you are…?”

Her brow furrowed. Her mouth opened, then closed.

Ah, hell. And they’d been doing so well.

Dear Reader,

I’m delighted to announce exciting news: beginning in January 2013, Harlequin Superromance books will be longer! That means more romance with more of the characters you love and expect from Harlequin Superromance.

We’ll also be unveiling a brand-new look for our covers. These fresh, beautiful covers will showcase the six wonderful contemporary stories we publish each month.

So don’t miss out on your favorite series—Harlequin Superromance. Look for longer stories and exciting new covers starting December 18, 2012, wherever you buy books.

In the meantime, check out this month’s reads:

#1818 THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS

Liz Talley

#1819 THE TIME OF HER LIFE

Jeanie London

#1820 THE LONG WAY HOME

Cathryn Parry

#1821 CROSSING NEVADA

Jeannie Watt

#1822 WISH UPON A CHRISTMAS STAR

Darlene Gardner

#1823 ESPRESSO IN THE MORNING

Dorie Graham

Happy reading!

Wanda Ottewell,

Senior Editor, Harlequin Superromance

The Long Way Home
Cathryn Parry

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Cathryn Parry loved living and working in seacoast New Hampshire during the summers of her college years. She still lives close by with her husband, Lou, and her neighbor’s cat, Otis. When she’s not writing, she figure skates, plans as many vacations as possible and indulges in her genealogy hobby. She loves to hear from readers. Please see her website at www.CathrynParry.com.

This book is dedicated to my husband, Lou, who cheered me on every day, cooked me dinner and patiently listened as I talked through plot points.

I couldn’t have done it without you!

Acknowledgments

Thanks to Megan Long for all your patience and wisdom in editing this story.

Thanks also to Piya Campana and the rest of the team at Harlequin Books, who worked hard to make the book the best it can be.

Thanks to my brother Phil, from whom I’ve learned many things about being a lawyer in a small town.

Thanks also to my ear surgeons Dr. Fred (father and son), to my nana, Ruth, and to the “road warriors” in Annapolis for your inspiration and insight with some of the topics in this story. (Any errors are mine alone.)

Thanks also to my writing buddies at New England Chapter RWA for your never-ending support and encouragement. I know how lucky I am to be a part of you.

Thanks as well to Laurie Schnebly Campbell, who once again presented a great workshop where I was able to develop the characters in this book. (Love those enneagrams!)

And to my late uncle, Richard S. Parry, proud veteran of the U.S. Navy, whose adventures and stories always sparked my imagination.

I miss you.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

NO ONE HAD EVER PROMISED Natalie Kimball that moving home to be a lawyer in a small town with people who still thought of her as a hopelessly shy nerd was going to be easy.

“I can do this,” Natalie muttered for about the tenth time that morning, her hands clenched on the steering wheel of her secondhand Toyota as she drove out of town and north up the coast.

To her right, the waves crashed toward her in a spectacular show of whitecaps; the Atlantic tide was coming in. The narrow strip of beach beside it, usually so crowded with tourists in the summer, was deserted, and most of the seaside shops and arcades were still closed for the winter. She opened the window a crack and let the fresh, cold smell of ocean air wash over her.

For once, Natalie was exactly where she wanted to be. She loved this place; it was in her DNA. Even though her father, Asa Kimball, didn’t want her at home working in his law firm, Natalie knew she could be happy here and do a great job, if he gave her the chance. More than anybody else he could possibly turn the firm over to, she understood the people of this town: their connections, their histories, their families and their secrets.

Especially the family secret of the woman she was set to meet. I wonder what became of Bruce Cole? Natalie thought.

Bruce was her longtime high school crush, though Natalie hadn’t seen him since the summer he left town. It was only wishful thinking to expect his sister would mention him today.

Shaking her head, Natalie watched for the familiar gazebo perched on an outcropping of rock. When she came to it, she parked in a vacant lot where the meters weren’t set up for the season yet.

Grabbing the packet on the seat beside her, she slammed the car door against the wind. It was an unseasonably cold day in late April even by New England seacoast standards—blustery, with freezing rain that made her teeth clench. She shivered, wishing she’d brought a warmer coat.

But this was where Maureen Cole’s receptionist at the real estate office had asked Natalie to meet her. And to shore up her position with her father as a lawyer able to “bring in business,” Natalie needed to convince Maureen that she should work with them on future projects. To secure her place, Natalie would do whatever it took, even drive ten miles out of town to the Rosewood Nondenominational Chapel in order to bring Maureen her forgotten notebook.

Natalie glanced down the beach to the picturesque chapel on a bluff overlooking the ocean. Strange how this place affected her. Long before all Natalie’s surgeries, this little church had figured prominently in her romantic fantasies. She hoped the quaint property wasn’t for sale. But why else would Maureen be here? Natalie had hinted for information from Maureen’s receptionist, but the young woman had only smiled mysteriously. “I’m sure Maureen will fill you in when you see her.”

Sighing, Natalie picked her way over the sidewalk, still littered with sand and pebbles after a late winter storm. Outside the chapel, a winter-deadened lawn was ringed by a garden beginning to come alive. For now, yellow forsythia sparked open and lilac bushes budded with purple shoots. Later, the roses of June and the tall, spiked perennial flowers of July would join them.

When she entered through the side door, Natalie recognized Maureen Cole immediately. A year older than Natalie, she looked every bit the prom queen and student council president she’d been in high school.

Maureen was curvy, blonde and authoritative—in a good way Natalie admired but would never be at heart. Her booming voice carried across the church to a volume that even Natalie, hearing-impaired as she was, could clearly process.

“Over there! You stand over there and I’ll walk around you.” Maureen tugged on a measuring tape, directing her mother. Nearby was a baby carriage with netting thrown over it, though there couldn’t be many flying insects inside the chilly church.

Rubbing her arms, Natalie stood back and watched the women chatter away, their voices lower now as they worked. To pick out the words, Natalie concentrated on Maureen’s lips. Maureen wore bright coral lipstick. Her teeth were straight and perfect; she’d gotten dental work done in the years since Natalie had seen her.

“...red would look nice,” Maureen was saying, “but white is more traditional, and that’s what I prefer.”

But then Maureen turned to the side, and Natalie couldn’t read her lips anymore. She caught only the muted words wedding flowers.

Was Maureen getting married? Natalie glanced from the measuring tape Maureen wielded to the pad of paper she wrote on. Maybe they were planning the placement of floral arrangements for the ceremony.

A pang went through Natalie. Ever since she was a child, she had gazed up at this chapel as her family drove past on a Sunday, looking at the brides and wedding parties, and wondering what it would feel like to marry a man she loved in this fairy-tale place.

But dreams like that didn’t happen for people like her. She needed to be practical. Use her brain, use her legal training, use her knowledge of the town’s past connections and histories and secrets, and maybe she could find a way to be of service to people. Even if she wasn’t the world’s best communicator, like her father said.

“May I help you?” Maureen was standing directly in front of her.

Natalie jumped, snapping out of her reverie. “I’m...sorry.” She cleared her throat, then remembered the binder cradled against her arm. She held it forward, smiling sheepishly at Maureen. “This is for you.”

“Right.” Maureen nodded, sizing her up. “You’re the lawyer Lyndsey sent over with my wedding organizer. Thank you.” With a grudging look, Maureen took the notebook she had left behind at her office and turned away from Natalie, immediately flipping to a page and scribbling furiously.

No one had said this would be easy.

Natalie walked around Maureen, to where she could see her face. “Ah...forgive me for prying. But are you getting married, Maureen?”

Maureen looked up, staring at her. “Do you need to buy a house or something?”

“No...not right now. I’m settled, thanks.” From the corner of her eye, Natalie noticed Maureen’s mom picking the baby up and sniffing at his diaper. The exaggerated grimace on her face told the story. Quickly, Mrs. Cole wheeled the carriage toward the restroom at the rear of the church, leaving Natalie and Maureen alone.

She might as well face the issue head-on.

Smiling, Natalie held out her hand. “Hi, I don’t know if you remember me, but I was a year behind you in high school. I’m Natalie Kimball.”

“Kimball?”

The real estate agent gave a sarcastic, unfriendly smile and pointedly neglected to shake her hand.

Natalie wiped her palms against her already damp raincoat. She knew what this treatment was about: her father’s involvement with Maureen’s brother Bruce, and what had happened that last summer he was in town. Part of Natalie was dying to ask about him. She would never do that, though. As far as she knew, Bruce Cole had never come home, not once, and was never likely to again. She remembered how much it had hurt Maureen when he left.

Maureen’s gaze traveled up and down Natalie’s body. She had the curl to her lips of a former “in girl” judging and dismissing an “out girl.” Natalie felt deflated, well aware of every physical flaw she had.

“Nope,” Maureen drawled. “Your name doesn’t ring a bell. I didn’t go to school with any of Asa Kimball’s kids.”

She said “Asa Kimball” as if the words tasted bitter. And then she turned away.

Natalie nodded. She understood why Maureen was acting this way. Indirectly, her father had made Maureen’s life hell. Lawyers in general had made Maureen’s life hell.

Bruce’s life, too.

But Natalie wasn’t that kind of lawyer and never would be. She saw herself as a helper, not an adversary. Her father, and his father before him, and for all she knew, his father before that, had run the family firm in the traditional way, which had, in her opinion, often caused problems. Years of standing on the sidelines, watching and observing, had convinced her she could make a place for herself, that she had a unique talent to contribute.

Natalie may not have been one to speak to people much, but she noticed things about people, and that was important, too. Maybe it was time to take a chance on the new style she envisioned. She had always thought that if given the opportunity, she could make a difference.

Natalie cleared her throat and approached Maureen again. “I know it was a long time ago, but you and I were...friends, actually—at least I thought so—your senior year in high school.”

Maureen’s lips pressed together, as if she was reliving the hell of being a popular girl who was suddenly ostracized by her peers. Natalie had seen it happen firsthand.

Hopefully Maureen would understand that her intentions weren’t harsh. “We had study hall together on Fridays, final period,” Natalie said. “I always looked forward to it. I...drove you to the bus station once in the fall.” Remember?

For a split second, she looked bludgeoned and she abruptly sat on the nearest pew. And Natalie felt guilty. She hadn’t wanted to use that particular memory, but it was the incident Maureen was most likely to recall. Maureen had planned to run away to visit Bruce, who was in his first year as a midshipman at the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland. Natalie had never forgotten that day for many reasons, the most important of which was that it was the second most daring thing she had ever done.

“You were nice to me,” Maureen finally said, albeit grudgingly. “Not too many people were nice to me that year.”

“At least they talked to you,” Natalie said with a joking tone. “I was always so shy.”

Maureen cocked her head and studied her. “You look pretty.” Her voice was softer, as if she was starting to warm up. “You cut your hair. It flatters you.”

By reflex, Natalie touched her head. “Thanks. I found a really great stylist when I lived in Boston.”

“You lived in Boston?” Maureen actually seemed interested.

“I went to law school there. And then afterward, I had a clerkship.”

Maureen squinted.

“It’s...a job I had, at the Federal courthouse on the waterfront. I clerked for a judge there.”

Maureen smirked. “And now you’re back to work with your father on small-time wills and real estate closings.” Her laughter was unkind, all trace of the former softness now gone.

Natalie smiled gently, refusing to take the bait. “It’s always been my dream to go solo.”

Maureen’s eyebrows rose. “So the old man is retiring?”

“Not...yet anyway.” Therein was the crux of her dilemma. Natalie fiddled with the button on her coat. Her father wanted to sell the law firm and retire to Florida by the end of summer. She wanted him to pass control to her and take a cut of her future earnings, but he didn’t believe she had the ability to make future earnings.

This mission with Maureen was part of Natalie’s plan to establish a bottom line for the summer, to prove to him she could.

And if she couldn’t, well...

There was no couldn’t. The law firm had been in her family for five generations, and she wanted to be part of that link, too. If she didn’t stay and fight for her connection to that legacy, then it would be lost forever.

She would make a go of it here. And Maureen could help her, at the same time that she helped Maureen.

Natalie smiled and looked Maureen in the eyes. “If I can’t convince my dad to keep the law office in the family, then he’ll sell to a big firm from Portsmouth or Concord. If that happens, then they’ll make his place into a satellite location to theirs.”

With lawyers who wouldn’t know anybody in town. Not personally, anyway. Outside attorneys wouldn’t be likely to float a loan for legal work for a small business starting out, or to spring a local’s miscreant son from the drunk tank at the beach on a Saturday night. Her father’s firm did, often without charge. As a local businesswoman, Maureen would understand the implications.

Maureen leaned against the pew and chewed her bottom lip, thinking. Then she rubbed her hands over her face, and Natalie couldn’t hear what she said.

“...such a big problem...the wedding...” was all Natalie caught.

And then Maureen moved her hands away from her mouth, and stared at her, waiting for Natalie to reply.

The familiar panic crept over Natalie that she’d missed something essential, that she’d be found out. And she’d been careful to stand face-to-face with Maureen so she could lip-read what she couldn’t hear.

You communicate so poorly, her parents had always told her.

No one wanted a hard-of-hearing lawyer. Natalie knew it made them uncomfortable. It made them think she was either a snob or incompetent when she missed something important.

Sometimes both.

“I’m...sorry,” Natalie said carefully. “Could you please repeat what you just said?”

Maureen’s scowl deepened. Natalie got a bad feeling, as if Maureen was holding her response against her.

“Do you still have any ill-feelings toward my brother Bruce?” Maureen demanded bluntly.

“What? No! I never blamed him.” On the contrary, Natalie had always thought she understood him better than most people did. “I knew your brother once—I talked to him, and I...”

She felt her face flushing. She could never tell Maureen about that night. She had never discussed it with anyone, even when she should have.

She was fiddling with her buttons again, and Maureen was staring in curiosity.

Oh, why not admit she’d had a crush on him? It was so long ago, surely it couldn’t hurt. Most likely Bruce was married anyway, making beautiful babies and saving the world somewhere as a navy pilot or intelligence officer, something heroic and swashbuckling and passionately emotional, like he was.

“I had a huge crush on him, truth be told.” Natalie laughed, but knew it came out strangled. “Me and about a hundred other girls in town.”

“A hundred other girls in town turned their backs on him after what happened,” Maureen said flatly.

Yes. Yes, they had. “But I didn’t,” Natalie said softly. “I was loyal to you, remember?” Maybe because Natalie was the only person in town who knew the truth about how Bruce had felt and what he’d done after the accident that had killed his best friend. “I saw what this town did to you, and I stayed by your side. I talked to you after all your cheerleader and student council friends turned their backs.”

“You must really want my business.” Maureen’s voice was hard and bitter.

It’s not her fault. Maureen had been a sheltered kid who’d gone through a tough year that had changed her life. But the most important thing was that Maureen had overcome the trauma. She was a functioning member of the community. From her father, Natalie knew Maureen had built herself up from a single mom with few prospects into a successful real estate agent specializing in the million-dollar beach homes along the waterfront. It must not have been easy to compete at that level, and was certainly not a job for the fainthearted.

Natalie, especially, could respect that.

“It’s not that I want your business,” Natalie said. “Take your business wherever you please, as far as I’m concerned. What I came for is to let you know I’m back, and I’m not leaving. This is my town, too, and I love it. I...think I can do good here, if you’ll let me help.”

Maureen shifted in her seat and stared at her. Twirling the tape measure between her fingers, over and over, as if she was taking Natalie’s measure.

Natalie stood straighter. Go ahead. I’m not the same shy kid who left town after high school. I’m a whole new person now and I want you to know it.

“All right.” Maureen lowered the tape measure. “My brother is coming home at the end of next month for my wedding. It will help me if you stop by and say hello to him. I think he’d like to see a friendly face.”

“I...he’s coming home?” Natalie raised her gaze and blinked into Maureen’s eyes.

This, she had never expected.

“If it goes well with him and you’re able to help,” Maureen said, “then I’ll consider bringing some business to your firm.”

For a moment Natalie couldn’t speak. Had she heard this right? “I would like that very much.”

She should be happy. She had almost won.

And yet...

Her hands began to shake.

The one night she had spent with Bruce was his last one in town. He’d never spoken to anyone other than his family again. Nobody knew why. Not even Natalie. It was a complete mystery to her, because Bruce had told her his plans that night, and they certainly hadn’t been to simply disappear.

He had meant to help before he left. Everybody had loved and relied on Bruce Cole, once upon a time. He’d been the natural leader of the kids their age, the center of all that had been fun and good. And then he had left town and suddenly, everybody hated him. It became cool to blame him, and his younger sister—who’d really had nothing to do with any of it—had suffered the brunt of the fallout.

What would he say when he saw Natalie? What would she say?

“Bruce Cole made sure he kept his plum spot at the U.S. Naval Academy,” she’d heard people grumble. That was the perception—that when it came down to it, Bruce Cole was a heartless bastard. A guy who used people for his own ends and then escaped the consequences of his actions.

But Natalie knew he hadn’t been involved in the accident. And back then, when she should have spoken up, she’d kept silent instead. To save herself from getting into trouble.

How many people got the chance to fix their mistakes?

“I...would love to see your brother when he comes home,” she breathed.

Her hands shook harder now. Maureen stared. Natalie was afraid Maureen could see how much she was affected by Bruce’s memory, still in an awed state of mixed puppy-love and sympathy that was...silly, really. She was an attorney, for heaven’s sake. The daughter of the man who’d been hired, once upon a time, to depose Bruce for a lawsuit in civil court.

Maureen bent and picked up the bridal veil her mother had brought, and placed it on her head. With the delicate white lace softening her face, covering the harsh lines her bitterness had given her, Natalie could see the beautiful, innocent girl Maureen had been, back when Bruce had been home to protect her.

Maureen spoke again, but the words were muffled and Natalie couldn’t see her lips behind the veil.

“May I?” Natalie asked. She gently lifted the veil. “This is antique, isn’t it? Does it belong to someone in your family?”

“It was my nana’s.” Maureen’s lips quivered. “She died a year ago.” Then she shook her head. But her tough mask had slipped, and for a moment, Maureen had looked like the vulnerable teen Natalie remembered.

“Will you be my bridesmaid?” Maureen blurted.

“I...” What?

Maureen’s determination had come back, the fighting attitude that made her such a good salesperson. “Here’s what I need you to do,” she said crisply. “You said you wanted to help me, right? Well, this is the help I need.”

She abruptly stood and stalked to the front of the church, and Natalie had no choice but to follow her. They stopped in front of the altar.

Maureen pointed. “Jim—my fiancé—will be standing there. You remember Jimmy Hannaford?”

“Yes.” He was a former classmate of theirs, a skinny, quiet kid who liked computers and reading science fiction. “James was in all my math classes.”

“Yeah, well, he runs Wallis Point PC now. If you want your computer fixed, Jimmy is your guy. His office is two blocks over from your father’s law firm.”

Natalie nodded, but Maureen kept talking. “Jim will have four groomsmen—his best friend and my twin brothers. Bruce is the fourth groomsman, and he’ll be standing here.”

Natalie stared at the spot Maureen had indicated, and could easily see tall, good-looking Bruce Cole standing there dressed in a black tux and white tie. With his dark hair and his dark eyes, he would be heart-stopping.

She swallowed, missing half of what Maureen was saying.

“...then, on my side—” Maureen pointed to the left of the altar “—I have Jim’s sister and my two sisters-in-law as attendants. Plus you.” She suddenly turned to Natalie, and Natalie blinked at the undisguised pleading in her eyes. “If you’ll do it. If you’ll stand up for me.”

Maureen clutched the veil in her fist, and Natalie felt her heart go out to this hard, hurt woman who didn’t have a best friend or a sister of her own to stand up for her on her special day.

Just like me, Natalie thought. Just like me.

“I’m honored you asked me,” she said.

“So will you do it?” Maureen stared hard at Natalie. “Bruce will be paired with you in the wedding party, first for the chapel ceremony, and then for the reception afterward. I won’t have much time to spend with him, so I’d be depending on you to make him feel comfortable.”

Natalie looked again to the spot where Bruce would stand. Then to where she would stand, across from him. They would walk down the aisle together, and later, dance at the reception with the rest of the bridal party.

“Where...where is the reception?” Natalie asked, cringing inwardly because she was sure she knew the answer. Where else did locals host their parties?

Maureen’s eyes narrowed. “The Grand Beachfront Hotel,” she snapped. “Is that okay with you?”

Bruce wasn’t going to like it at all.

“It’s fine with me,” Natalie said. But her knees were shaking and her tongue felt tied. Why had she regressed to a shy, awkward teenager? Maybe she wasn’t up for this task.

“Bruce is single, by the way,” Maureen said. “He’s not bringing a date, so you don’t have to worry about any awkwardness there.”

Lovely. Natalie should say no. She should run away. This could be an absolute disaster.

Then again, if she was able to pull off what Maureen wanted, wouldn’t it be best for everyone? She would help her father and Maureen and the Cole family and Bruce...heck, in a sense she could help the entire town by keeping the law firm local. If she had learned any of the skills she’d claimed to have during those years on her own, then she had to do this, for everyone’s sake.

“Okay,” Natalie said. “I’ll do it.”

CHAPTER TWO

BRUCE COLE STOOD in the rental car office at Boston’s Logan airport and shook his head in disbelief.

They’d assigned him a minivan? Really?

He glanced at the electronic board listing the last names of the arriving platinum-level customers. There he was, “Cole, B.,” assigned to the vehicle parked in spot 367. Here he was at spot 367, and there sat a minivan, which was against the explicit instructions on his frequent-traveler profile.

Bruce sighed. The golden rule of traveling was that anything could go wrong, at any moment, for any reason. Terminal shutdowns, bad weather, airplane mechanical problems, a hotel closed by Legionnaire’s Disease. He considered himself lucky he hadn’t been a passenger in an emergency landing on a jumbo jet in the Hudson River. Yet.

But the corollary to the golden rule was that there were some things a frequent traveler could influence, even control. And road warriors, with their points and their elevated status, had more power than those people who only traveled once in a blue moon.

Civilians, the travel companies could afford to inconvenience. Customers like him, not so much.

He left his suitcase and his briefcase on the pavement and peered inside the van’s window. Fate must be laughing at him, because there was a child seat strapped in the back.

Sorry, fate. That wasn’t ever going to happen. Even though he was only driving back to Wallis Point for this one night—and against his best instincts—this van was the worst vehicle he could show up in. His parents and Mark and Mike wanted him to stick around and be part of the family. Maureen, the headstrong real estate agent, would be trying to sell him a town house right down the street from hers.

Not a chance in hell.

His life was exactly the way he wanted it. He was free. Independent. Unencumbered.

No close relationships.

The only reason he’d made room in his schedule to fly back to Wallis Point to be in his sister’s wedding was that she had nagged him until he’d given in.

Not that going back made any difference to him. He didn’t care what anybody thought of him.

He stayed out of their lives. He stayed out of everybody’s life but his own.

Usually.

He grimaced, visually plotting the trip ahead, and his subsequent escape. After he got a decent car, he’d roll into town, witness the happy event for Maureen, raise his glass in a good-natured toast and then he’d roll right on out.

Be back in the air first thing tomorrow morning on the earliest flight out—that was his plan.

First, though, he needed a car that fit his image. Shuddering, he opened the van door, plucked the paperwork from the visor and then wheeled his luggage toward the customer service counter. A place that frequent travelers avoided like the plague.

The line stretched five deep, with even more people being unloaded from a courtesy bus at the curb. It was Friday evening on the Memorial Day weekend—the beginning of the summer season in New England—what did he expect?

By instinct, he scanned the parking lot and realized that, predictably, the rental service had run out of cars. The wait to snag one could last hours. Bruce was a road warrior by profession, he knew the ins and outs of navigating airports, hotels, car rental services and business conventions—it was his life. Normally he loved it.

Better than anyone, he knew that by flying on a Friday evening—any Friday evening, never mind the Friday before a long weekend—he’d broken a major rule of road warriors: never travel with the amateurs. They didn’t understand the arcane system of U.S. travel—how to make it as smooth and problem-free as possible—and because they didn’t get it, they made life difficult for the people depended on fast entrances and quick exits.

The thing was, road warriors stuck together. They knew all about traveling out first thing Monday morning and home last thing Thursday night. Fridays were for paperwork and telecommuting from home. Bruce did his laundry and errands on Saturday and relaxed on Sunday. Then on Monday he flew to whatever client site he was currently contracted to, fixed the computer systems and was a hero. Or a bum, if something went wrong. Either way, he was free. Nothing held him down. Nothing locked him in place.

Don’t make eye contact.

He walked past the snaking line—caught glimpses of families and old people and young, wide-eyed couples—and ambled up to the counter. This wasn’t his normal rental-car place—he knew the staff in the Fort Lauderdale office personally—so he opened his wallet to get his identification card, just in case. It was tucked behind his gold American Express card, which he removed gingerly. The fragile plastic had been swiped by so many machines that the card was cracked almost in half.

He caught the eye of a clerk on duty. Desmond, the clerk’s nametag read. Bruce nodded at Desmond, and subtly flashed his platinum-colored customer ID.

Desmond nodded back, but continued listening to the customer who was venting at him, a guy about Bruce’s age with a goatee and backpack—and absolutely no power to make anything happen in his favor. A guy who didn’t stand a shot at getting a car.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Desmond said patiently, “I know you have a reservation, but we are absolutely empty at the moment. There is nothing I can do.”

Then Desmond hurried over to assist him. He took the paperwork Bruce offered. “Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you?”

“I need to switch this for a sedan,” Bruce said. “Something smaller and low mileage.”

The clerk glanced at the sleeve of Bruce’s paperwork. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cole, but there are no cars available. We have at least an hour wait. Your best bet is to keep what you have.” He tried to hand back the paperwork.

Bruce smiled slowly. Held Desmond’s gaze. Kept his palms flat on the counter. With an easy look that said he understood, he felt for Desmond, he really did, but he knew the rules—hell, he had his own rules, too—and this was the way it was gonna go down. He’d do it gracefully, without inciting a riot in the line—especially from the guy in the goatee, practically blowing a gasket beside him, but either way, they were going to do this.

“There are always cars,” Bruce said, softly, his body angled away from the waiting crowd.

The clerk swallowed, his Adam’s apple moving up and down.

And then he went to his computer. Bruce tucked his customer ID card back inside his wallet.

Desmond glanced from the monitor to Bruce. Bruce smiled at him. He knew that the computer system—similar to the ones he designed himself—was telling Desmond that Bruce had rented one of his firm’s cars every week, never fail, for the past eight years.

“Excuse me, Mr. Cole,” Desmond said, reaching for the phone. “I need to get an override from management. Would you mind waiting a moment?”

“No problem,” Bruce replied. He went to slide his wallet into his back pocket, when his elbow bumped against something soft.

Actually, against someone soft.

A kid, no more than six or seven years old, had come up beside him. Well inside his personal space. Now what? He raised one eyebrow at the kid, who didn’t take the hint.

Big trouble, he thought. Don’t go there.

“My dad says you’re cutting the line,” the boy said.

Bruce had a niece about the same age. She was a real firecracker, too. Maybe that was why he was considering ignoring his own rules about not interacting with civilians. It seemed nothing was going to be normal about this trip.

“Does he?” Bruce replied. In curiosity, he lifted his gaze past the kid to the guy with the goatee who’d been expressing his irritation to the clerk.

“Daniel,” the man said, his face red with either exasperation or embarrassment, “get over here right now.”

But the kid didn’t move. Bruce frowned, looking down at him. What was it about this kid? Thin and determined, he had a set to his mouth. The parents were just...tired and worn-out from their travels, and kind of clueless about what was happening around them, to tell the truth. The mother rocked and cooed at a toddler girl, cute kid, with wispy hair a blinding blond that was almost white. There were two older kids, eleven or twelve, but they were arguing over an iPod, or maybe an iPhone. The father was sidetracked now, distracted with reading them the riot act, and attempting to get them to line up and behave, although even Bruce saw what a futile gesture that was.

Bruce looked down at the kid again. This was none of his business. But he couldn’t seem to help himself.

“I’m not cutting the line on you,” Bruce explained. “This is a special line for people who travel a lot.”

The kid stared at him. “How can we get in the special line? We need a car. We need to get to Grandma’s house before the traffic starts.”

Bruce had news for him; it was already well into rush hour. Waiting another hour for a car might be the best thing for them to do.

“I think you’ll be stuck in traffic even if you leave now.”

The kid’s chin set. “It’s better if my brothers fight in the car than fight here. My dad won’t be as mad.”

“That’s uh...good thinking.”

“I know.”

Bruce blinked and looked at the boy again. Something about this kid was just...sucking him in. The thing was, Bruce could relate to parents who were absorbed in their own world and not paying attention to the wide world around them. To older siblings who were equally absorbed in their world of petty squabbles, of scuffling with each other instead of behaving. To the baby, so cute and helpless. And to this precocious middle kid, the only one who paid attention to the bigger picture. A leader in the making.

“What’s that big ring?” The kid asked, pointing to Bruce’s heavy gold Annapolis ring with the blue stone on his left ring finger. “Were you in the Super Bowl? Are you famous?”

“It’s my Annapolis ring. I earned it at the U.S. Naval Academy.” Bruce pushed away his unease. He didn’t usually wear the ring, but this week he’d had meetings scheduled with the upper brass of the navy—captains and admirals. His life tended to flow more smoothly when the people in charge accepted him as part of their club. So he’d dug it out of his top drawer, and now he was stuck with it for the night.

“What’s the U.S. Naval Academy?” the kid asked him.

“It’s where the country trains leaders for the U.S. Navy,” he said by rote.

“Is that like the Marines? I want to be a Marine.”

Bruce had felt that way once, too. “Yeah, I get that. When I was your age, I had a buddy whose father was—”

Whoa. He suddenly felt light-headed. Where was this coming from?

He was over all that old stuff. Way over it.

The kid stared at him, but Bruce shook his head in response. He couldn’t tell him that once, a long time ago, he’d had nearly the same conversation with his best friend’s irascible father. Because Bruce had been the precocious kid in his neighborhood. The inquisitive leader who’d felt the burning need to take care of everybody close to him because they weren’t doing such a good job of it themselves. Maureen was the baby sister his mom fussed over, dressed in pretty clothing and took to girly things like ballet class and shopping. His brothers, twins, older than him by eight years, were the ones always distracted by hunting and fishing and boating, and fighting with each other. Their father was cut from the same cloth as Mark and Mike, and though they were all three good guys at heart, they had never understood Bruce. He baffled them. He was different from everybody else they knew.

Slowly Bruce let out his breath. Desmond the clerk had returned. He was smiling now, suddenly willing to be Bruce’s buddy. People loved being able help somebody else out, when their hands were no longer tied from doing a good deed for someone who would appreciate it of them.

You could do a good deed, too.

No, another part of him said. Don’t get involved.

He closed his eyes. Alarm bells were going off all over the place, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to be that carefree kid again, for once.

This wedding was going to be a mess for him, he could just tell.

But he opened his eyes and glanced down at the kid. He was looking at Bruce eagerly, as if Bruce was a hero or something.

How could he say no to that?

“You want me to get you a car, little man?” Bruce asked softly.

The kid—Daniel, was it?—put his hands on his hips and nodded.

“Is a minivan okay? With a car seat for your sister?”

Daniel grinned. “That sounds real good. She isn’t big enough to sit on her own yet.”

“Got it.” He looked at Desmond, who was clearly baffled. “You heard the customer. Give them the Chrysler van in space 367.” He held out his old contract. “And while you’re processing the paperwork, transfer as many of my points as you need to cover their full fee.”

Desmond squinted at the computer screen. “You’ve used all your points, Mr. Cole. Transferred the bulk of them last week, to a...Maureen Cole. A Mark Cole. And a Mike Cole.”

He’d forgotten about Maureen’s honeymoon, along with his parents’ and brothers’ trip to Disney World with his nieces and nephews at the same time.

“Yeah, well...” Bruce reached for his wallet again, skipped past the almost-broken-in-half corporate card, and reached for his personal card, stuck way in the back. “Put the base rental charge on my credit card. Use the renter’s credit card for their gas, insurance and security holds. I don’t want to be liable if they lose the car or crack it up or something.”

He was a good guy, not a stupid guy.

“Certainly, sir,” Desmond said. And as he returned to the computer to process the minivan, Bruce accepted the paperwork for his sedan. Luxury Collection, the header read. And Bruce’s heart beat a bit faster, because every road warrior had heard of the mythical stock of high-end luxury and sports cars that were reserved for the high-end customers, but also available at regular rates for platinum-level members whenever there was an out-of-stock situation. Such as this one.

Yeah, Bruce had hit the road warrior jackpot. What would he get? A Lexus? A BMW?

He felt so good he saluted the kid, who promptly saluted back. Then Bruce hightailed it out of there before the parents chewed him out for overstepping his boundaries. But really, he was only serving himself. Going about his business, the way he always did.

As he walked to the parking lot, he thought of sharing the news about the car he’d scored, but who would he call? It was the weekend. The guys he worked with, work buddies, were all at home, spread to the four corners of the country.

For a moment he felt all alone.

And then he saw the car. Gleaming white. Black-top convertible. A Mercedes.

Wait a minute—he was taking a Mercedes convertible back to Wallis Point? Was this some kind of sick joke?

Fate was really sticking it to him tonight. For a moment he wavered, thinking he might be sick, but no, he overcame the physical reaction. Trained his mind to control his body. Remembered the boiling anger he’d once felt. The unfairness of other people’s attitudes toward Maureen. Recalled how stubborn she had to be not to leave Wallis Point as soon as she’d graduated high school, like he had.

And once he’d trained his mind to remember the sweet glow of righteous anger, his body followed suit and he was calm again.

It was as if a curtain of numbness had fallen over what a few moments ago had been...something else. Because the past didn’t matter anymore. It hadn’t for fifteen years. The car accident was a long time ago, with lots of water under the bridge since then. He was done thinking or caring about what anyone thought of him.

He tossed his suitcase into the trunk. Walked around the Mercedes, glanced at the miniscule backseat, too small for anything larger than a briefcase, certainly too small for kids, never mind adults. He had to admit, the car was perfect for his rules. He should concentrate on that.

He slid inside the driver’s seat, feeling better now. Felt the cool leather slide beneath his thighs. Smelled the new-car smell of a sweet, sweet machine with only five hundred miles on the odometer.

Just him and a fast vehicle he could easily escape in. Too bad he was returning it tomorrow.

He started the engine and turned on the radio. Loud, so he couldn’t think.

* * *

NATALIE STOOD BEHIND the three other bridesmaids, and knew that her presence at Maureen Cole’s wedding was awkward and out of place. For a moment she wished she could disappear into the floor.

But feeling uncomfortable and doubting herself had never solved anything, so she stiffened her spine and renewed her grip on her bouquet. White roses interspersed with white lilacs, the bouquet was as fragrant as it was beautiful. Her dress, too, was elegant and flattering—Maureen had let them choose their own gowns as long as they were black, short-sleeved and tea length. The group photos would be stunning, with the men in black tuxes with white rose boutonnieres, the women in black gowns with their white bouquets, and the bride in a simply cut, white silk sheath with a long train and antique lace veil.

Natalie felt her spirits drooping lower. She had always hoped for a wedding like this, in the beautiful chapel on the beach in her home town, saying vows at dusk. The problem was, in Natalie’s teenaged dream wedding, she had been imagining Bruce Cole in the groom’s place. Which was insane.

And now Bruce Cole hadn’t bothered to show.

Natalie swallowed her disappointment, staring down at her hands and purposely avoiding looking at the vacant space opposite her where he should have been standing.

She wasn’t sure what was going on, but something was very wrong. More than once before the ceremony she’d seen Maureen huddled with her mother and her sisters-in-law, whispering.

One of the rose petals was coming loose from Natalie’s bouquet, and she absently tucked it back in. No one else knew it, but Natalie had built up Bruce’s arrival as a pie-in-the-sky fantasy in which he would see her, instantly be sent back to that long-ago night they had confided in one another, and only this time, with her newfound courage and the shyness she had overcome, Natalie could initiate...something...with him.

Wrong again. And the sooner she shook off her unrealistic expectations, the better she would feel.

For a while she had also fantasized that she and Maureen would become fast friends since their meeting last month in the chapel. That wasn’t happening the way she’d hoped, either. Yes, Natalie had been politely invited to the wedding shower, to the rehearsal dinner and even to this morning’s hairdressing session, but it was clear the Coles were a tight-knit clan that didn’t trust Natalie at all.

Or maybe she wasn’t hearing them well enough to know what was going on.

Natalie sighed. One thing she did know for a fact—intelligence gained from her father this morning, unfortunately—was that Maureen had closed on the old Gale place, a National Historic Register home originally built in 1810. Sold to wealthy out-of-towners, Bostonians moving north to take advantage of New Hampshire’s lack of state income tax. Which was fine. Except for the fact Maureen had taken her business to her usual out-of-town lawyer, instead of to Asa Kimball.

Who, as a result, was not happy with Natalie.

True, the closing fees weren’t a lot of money. But the fees added up. And Maureen’s business, added up, would go a long way toward giving Natalie’s father the confidence that he could leave the business safely in her hands, rather than selling out to a stranger.

Loud organ music burst forth from the choir loft. The bride’s processional was beginning, and Maureen appeared at the end of the aisle, looking beautiful and composed as she held her father’s arm. The guests, about seventy-five in number, rose to their feet with a collective sigh.

Natalie pasted a smile on her face. As much as her instincts told her to run away—to cut out early—she needed to stick it out.

* * *

BRUCE WAS IN NO MOOD to walk down memory lane. Sitting for two hours in Route 95 traffic tended to do that to a guy.

He parked the Mercedes at a lot a few blocks from the beach then cut through the laneway behind a nightclub. The music spilled into the open air, a song from twenty years ago when he’d been a kid. It reminded him of summer campouts and days spent with his buddies in the neighborhood. It made him feel old and nostalgic and depressed. Those had been good days, and they were gone. Good friends who he hadn’t spoken to in years. Most of them he didn’t even know where they’d ended up.

Hell. If he was going to survive this visit, then he needed to stop thinking like that. His lifestyle had served him well for fifteen years since he’d left town. So he yanked open the door to the hotel where all the trouble had started, and marched inside as if it didn’t matter. He quickly checked his computer and his suitcase with the bellhop in the corner—a habit he’d adopted because valuables were generally safer when he tipped someone to watch them rather than leaving them alone in a car in a public parking area—and then shook out the tuxedo jacket he carried and shrugged it over his shoulders, where it weighed heavily.

The reality was, he was so late that for all practical purposes, he had missed his sister’s wedding. His first responsibility was to find Maureen and smooth things over with her.

He passed behind a brass luggage cart and glanced through the lobby windows to the crowded boulevard outside. Darkness was falling. Tourists were wandering past, dressed in flip-flops and shorts. In all these years, not a thing about Wallis Point had changed. This beach town was small, provincial and predictable—and it made him feel trapped. He loosened his tie. He couldn’t wait to get out of here.

As luck would have it, Maureen was standing alone, in the hallway before the ballroom. When he saw her, he felt himself smile. His sister broke into a grin and ran to meet him.

“Hey, Moe,” he whispered, once he had her in a bear hug.

“You’re late and I hate you,” she whispered back, “but at least you came.”

“I’m sorry, I got held up.”

She pushed back and looked at him. “Don’t think I don’t know how hard it is for you to be here.”

“I’m fine.” He didn’t want to talk about his self-imposed exile with her, especially today. “This is your wedding, don’t let me ruin it for you.”

He dug in his pocket. His sister liked pretty things, and he’d done his best to find her a copy of the earrings she’d been admiring in a jewelry store window last Thanksgiving, when the family had come down for their yearly party at his house in Florida. He pressed the box into her palm.

Her eyes widened as she opened it. “Bruce, these are sapphires.”

“Yeah, something blue,” he said.

She stood a long time, clutching the box and blinking at him. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her skin was pale.

His antennae went up. “Where’s Jimmy? Is everything okay with you two?”

A big, sloppy smile crossed Maureen’s face, which was great to see, because Maureen usually looked hard and focused. She’d built a solid career for herself and her daughter, and he was proud of her.

“Come on,” she said, tugging on his arm, “I’ll take you to see him.”

“Wait.” He pulled out an envelope from inside his jacket pocket. He’d stuffed some cash inside. He wouldn’t do anything so tacky at any other wedding, but this was Maureen, and he knew the importance she placed on security. “This is for you. It’s spending money for your honeymoon.”

“Excellent,” Maureen said, and tucked the money inside her bra.

He relaxed. That was the Maureen he knew.

“And now...” She poked him in the chest. “I want you to stop skulking around out here. Go into the ballroom and spend time with the family. Nina has gotten so big lately. She’s been asking about her uncle and she’s been looking forward to her trip to Disney World.” Maureen put her hand to her mouth.

“What’s wrong?”

But Maureen shook her head, blinking rapidly, as if she was upset about something. Before Bruce could question her further, Jimmy came over and put his arm around her shoulders. Jimmy was small and slight, shorter than Maureen. Where Maureen could be fierce and strong-willed, Jimmy was steady and calm. He ran his own independent home-computer consulting business, so in a sense, he and Bruce were in the same industry.

“We need to get inside for the cake cutting,” Jimmy said to Maureen.

“Right,” Bruce said. “You two go on. I’ll join you in a bit.”

“Where are you going?” Maureen asked.

“Ah...” Now that he was here, the best he felt he could do was to disappear into the woodwork and observe the festivities from afar. And there was only one other guy he knew who would be happy joining him there.

“I’m looking for Gramps,” he said to Maureen.

Her mouth tightened. “He’s not here.”

But that didn’t make any sense. Maureen and Bruce had lived with Gramps and Nana during Bruce’s last two years of high school, when their parents had been in Florida on a long-term job assignment. Nana had passed on a year ago, but there was no way Gramps would miss Maureen’s wedding. “Why isn’t he here? Is he sick?”

Maureen sucked in her breath and stared at him. “He’s fine,” she snapped. “He just couldn’t make it.” She had a set to her chin that Bruce didn’t like. He didn’t like at all. “We’ll talk about this later.”

Later he was leaving. Later he had a flight to catch.

“Fine,” he said.

He’d call Gramps and get the whole story when he had the time. Which right now, he did not.

Because he needed to get out of here. He needed to separate from these people and this life he wasn’t a part of anymore. He needed to be free.

But this was Maureen’s wedding day, so he gave her and Jimmy a lazy smile instead. “Sure. We’ll talk later.”

“Come into the reception with us,” Maureen pleaded. “I have someone I want you to meet.”

Nope, sorry. He wasn’t being introduced to anyone. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.” He nodded to Jimmy. “You two go on. I’ll meet you inside.”

They nodded—Maureen reluctantly, Jimmy with more force, and they left for the ballroom, Maureen’s train dragging along the carpet. Bruce watched them until they disappeared inside, then he headed in the opposite direction down a short, musty back hallway.

One of the advantages of working here in high school was that he knew the floor plan of the rambling old hotel. Rounding a corner, he ducked inside a doorway and climbed rickety stairs until he came to a balcony of sorts.

Years ago, during the hotel’s big-band heyday, this had been the pit where the orchestras were set up to play. The bands were gone, but the dusty space still gave a great view of the dance floor.

He stood near the railing with a bird’s-eye shot of the conga line that snaked around the room. The men wore dark suits and the women black dresses. He remembered the invitation Maureen had sent: black-and-white informal. Maybe that was the latest style. Maureen was always up on design. She had started out being interested in fashion, then interior design, and now she’d morphed into staging and selling beach houses. Hard-nosed and practical, that was always Maureen’s thing.

He crossed his arms and glanced down. He knew roughly half the people—Maureen’s half, and they were relatives. As for Jimmy’s half, he didn’t know many in that crowd. They were younger than him. Still, he couldn’t be sure they didn’t know who he was.

Damn it. He had done his job. He’d shown up, he’d greeted Moe and made her happy, now why couldn’t he quietly escape through a side door, for her sake?

And then he saw the leggy blonde. Standing alone by the windows, she was the only person besides him who seemed out of place.

Sure, she was dressed like everybody else, in a black cocktail dress, but in every other way, she stood out from the crowd. She was...self-contained, for one. A real stunner, but in a fresh-faced, natural way, with little, if any makeup or jewelry. Her thick, honey-colored hair was long, loose, undone. It made her look sexy without even trying. But most of all, he liked that she wasn’t driven to snake around the room in the communal conga line, or to belly up to the bar, joking with the families, or even to sit at the cleared dinner tables, drinking coffee and chatting with the more subdued relatives, because she was disconnected from them, too. That much was obvious.

And then she calmly pulled out her phone to check her messages.

He liked that. He liked that...a lot.

“Who are you?” he muttered aloud.

Jimmy spoke up behind him. “That’s Natalie.”

Bruce swiveled to face his new brother-in-law. “Is she a relative of yours?”

“No.”

“A friend of Maureen’s?”

“Yes.”

His heart sank. Messing with a friend of his sister’s was a terrible idea. Unless...

“Is she an old friend that Moe hasn’t seen in a while, or a work friend she sees every week around town?” Because the former wasn’t too bad, but the latter would be fatal.

Jimmy blinked and stared at him. Bruce waited.

“No,” Jimmy said.

“No?”

“No.”

Bruce waited some more, but Jimmy added nothing. Like so many of the hard-core engineers and techies Bruce knew, getting Jimmy to open up was like pulling teeth.

“How does Maureen know her?” Bruce asked patiently, figuring an open-ended question was his best bet. Enough of the yes/no conversation.

“They went to school together.” Jimmy blinked at him. “I have to take you downstairs now. Maureen wants you in the ballroom with her.”

“Right.” Bruce swept his arm forward for Jimmy to precede him. “Don’t worry, I’m right behind you.”

As Jimmy traipsed down the creaking stairs, Bruce hung back for a last look at pretty Natalie. With her thumb on her phone’s screen, she was scrolling through her messages, unruffled by the music and the dancers in the wedding reception swirling around her.

Like an oasis of calm.

He needed calm. He needed an oasis, too, since it was clear Moe wasn’t going to allow him to escape until the very end of her reception.

Would it cause problems for Moe if he approached Natalie? If she and Maureen had gone to school together, then that meant Natalie had attended the state university where Maureen had majored in business. She couldn’t be a high school friend because he’d known all her friends before he’d left home. Knowing Maureen, Natalie was a dorm-mate invited to the wedding as courtesy. She would be out of Maureen’s life just as quickly as she’d been invited back in.

Like he would be, too.

No. It was too risky.

He was about to leave, when Natalie glanced up at him. He froze as she studied him from head to toe. Then she calmly met his gaze.

And smiled.

He felt hot inside. Maybe he was nuts, because suddenly, the course of action he was imagining seemed like the only possible one to take.

* * *

ONE MOMENT, NATALIE was checking her messages. Her father had sent her a text—all in caps, but still, it was progress in getting him to switch from his habit of phoning her all the time. She had felt the phone vibrating in her purse, and since she was just sitting there watching everybody dance, feeling disconnected and out of place, she’d read his message.

Tenant called. Check the mousetraps at 3 South Street before you come home.

She’d groaned inwardly. He wanted her to cover for him at the rental apartments above the building that housed the law firm. She’d tried to tell her father she was a lawyer, not his building supervisor, and that furthermore she had her own maintenance-needy cottage to worry about, but he was under the impression that she was at his beck and call, part of the package deal of her insisting on coming home to Wallis Point to work in the family firm.

Just rebait the darn mousetrap for him.

She’d suppressed the shudder. She hated mice.

You have to do it. Besides, you’re at a wedding. Think romantic thoughts.

But Bruce Cole hadn’t shown, and her pie-in-the-sky fantasies had lost their wings and fallen to earth.

Sighing, she’d tossed her phone into her purse and prepared to leave to find a hardware store open at this hour, in case the mice had escaped and she needed new traps. She’d almost made her escape, too, until she’d glanced up at the old balcony where the orchestras used to play.

And saw...him.

She’d blinked and gaped. She must be hallucinating.

But no, it was Bruce Cole. And he looked even better than she’d remembered. The sight of him still made her stop in her tracks.

Her heart had seemed to grow in her chest, squeezing her tight. He seemed taller than before. He was broader in the shoulders and he stood straighter. Then again, he’d been a navy lieutenant, although now he was dressed in a black tux with his tie undone. His dark brown, almost black hair was swept off his forehead in a tousled nonstyle that made her want to run her hands through it and gave him the old, passionate air she remembered. His jaw was edged with a five-o’clock shadow that looked sexy and dangerous.

She lifted her gaze to him. Those dark, intense eyes, so alive with fire, were boring straight into hers.

Her heartbeat sped up. The pull of his eyes seemed to tug on her, an invisible line straight to her...well, to parts of her anatomy that hadn’t felt a man’s touch in quite a while.

His eyes seemed to drink her in. Raked her from top to bottom. And she was standing still, letting him study her. This was what she’d been waiting for, after all.

No man interested her the way Bruce did.

As a kid, he had always known how to connect with people. He had that magical quality, a “people” gene that Natalie had been born without. And now all of his intensity was focused on her. She felt every muscle weaken, as if she were being swept away by his gaze.

A slow smile slid up his face.

Make him feel comfortable, Maureen had said. Well, here was a start, and she would do her best to keep it going.

But then she was distracted by her phone vibrating again, and when she glanced back, Bruce was no longer on the balcony. He was coming down to see her—she knew it in her bones, and, shy-person-at-heart she would always be, she couldn’t help worrying.

What if she didn’t hear him properly? What if she said something wrong, something he misinterpreted, and she was responsible for sending him away from Wallis Point again?

Glancing around her, she looked for an out. Somebody they both knew who could rescue her if she made a misstep.

But every other wedding guest was on the dance floor, singing aloud to Sister Sledge’s “We Are Family,” reminding Natalie she was probably the only person present who was not family.

Okay. She would have to handle the conversation on her own. Pay close attention, focus, and in doing so, hopefully help him see that not everybody in Wallis Point thought badly of him.

Once, he had trusted her enough to open up. Just by listening, she had helped him. A small thing she knew had brought him comfort because he’d told her so himself.

And that had been an extraordinary night to a girl of fifteen with little confidence in herself or sense of her worth. She needed to remember that she’d grown since then. She had achieved some extraordinary educational and career accomplishments, and she had found the courage to come home and carve out a place for herself. Don’t think of me as I was then. Let me show you who I am now.

As Bruce walked toward her, smiling, she remembered Maureen’s deal with her. But even if there hadn’t been one dollar of business on the line, Natalie would be breathing just as hard, her hands sweating just as much, and her heart yearning for Bruce to trust her again, just as deeply.

He reached for two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter. He held one flute up, and the full glass obscured her view of his mouth. It was so loud and so confusing in the room that she had to lean in to catch what he was saying.

He lowered the glass and looked at her, his smile expectant, a gleam in his eye. “So what do you think?”

This close to him, his voice sounded so low and deep that it sent shivers up her spine. But at the same time, she panicked. Because all she could think was, What did he just say?

CHAPTER THREE

BRUCE STARED DOWN at the woman he’d aimed for like a laser beam. She was tilting her head at him, focusing on him with those inquisitive blue eyes as if she were trying to figure him out. To other people that might be a good sign, but not to him. He didn’t want to actually talk to anybody about anything more important than an offer of champagne or a stroll on the beach.

He wanted a distraction. That was all.

He held the glass out again. “I can’t promise it’s a good year, but I can promise a decent toast from it.”

She smiled at him, a brilliant, relieved smile. “Then I’m glad I didn’t leave and miss the opportunity.”

Her voice was soft and pleasant-sounding. He had to lean forward to hear her, which was nice. She smelled great, something lush and sexy that came from soap or shampoo rather than perfume.

Once there, in her space, she didn’t shrink from him, and he didn’t back away.

He handed her the flute of champagne, his heart kicking up a notch. She accepted it with a small laugh, and for a moment their fingers brushed. Hers felt soft and slight, her nails short and free of polish.

She’s low-maintenance, was his automatic thought. Good.

He lifted his glass to her. “To getting to know you better.”

She gave him a smile that invited him in, like a blond Mona Lisa. He suddenly felt very predatory and very hungry. It had been...months since his last hookup, with an international flight attendant who led the same transitory lifestyle he did. They’d drifted apart, and he missed nothing about her but the sex. Maybe that was cold, but that’s who he was. He just didn’t feel things the way regular people did. Not anymore.

A shout went up from the dance floor. Maureen was dancing with her new husband and everyone was congratulating her.

“I hate these things,” he said to Natalie.

She blinked for a moment, and then smiled harder. “I know. I’d rather be somewhere else, too. With you, of course.”

“That’s heartening.”

She brought the flute to her lips and took a sip, so he did the same. The tart, bubbly taste jarred him. He wasn’t a champagne guy, but he drank a swallow, both of them watching each other over the rims of their glasses. The magnetism between them made his blood pump.

“We should probably toast the bride,” she said, licking the champagne off her lips.

He raised his glass. “To Maureen and Jimmy. May they have years of bliss ahead of them.”

Her gaze moved from his mouth to his eyes, then back to his mouth. She kept doing that, and it made his groin tighten. It also told him to keep going, that she was interested. “How was that for a toast?”

“Scintillating.” She lifted her glass and clinked it with his, her eyes sparkling. “And now it’s my turn. To bliss. May you have a good visit in Wallis Point.”

Yeah, right. If she only knew how short it would be. Then again, she was still looking at his mouth. Maybe she wanted him to stay for purely selfish reasons.

He could handle that.

He took a second drink of champagne and then put down the glass. “I’m Bruce,” he said. “And you’re a...friend of Maureen’s?”

Her brow furrowed. Her mouth opened then closed. Then she pressed her lips together and glanced toward Maureen.

Ah, hell. And they’d been doing so well.

“I’m Natalie,” she said finally. She was still staring at his mouth, so there was that. He needed to press on.

“Pleased to meet you, Natalie.” He held out his hand to shake hers, but she didn’t take it. For some reason, she looked disappointed.

“I’m up-to-date on all my shots,” he said to lighten the mood, “and I haven’t bitten anyone yet.”

Finally she smiled and took his hand, and he felt himself exhale. At the soft press of her flesh against his, he felt a thousand sparks within him.

She didn’t. Or maybe she did—he couldn’t tell because even though she gave his hand a halfhearted shake, her sharp blue eyes were focused on his mouth. It was confusing as hell. Maybe she wanted him to shut up and take her to her hotel room for some quick sex.

That was fine with him.

But first, they needed to stop dancing around the one clarification they needed to get out in the open.

“Look,” he said, steering her gently by the elbow away from some guests returning to their table with dessert plates. “I know you don’t know me from Adam, and that’s fine—it’s how I prefer it, too. But since you’re a friend of my sister’s, I need you to tell me how you know her, so at least there are no misunderstandings between us.”

Protecting his baby sister took priority over anything he would do in town during these few hours. Even over his own need to escape.

“What kind of misunderstandings?” she asked. At least it appeared she was considering his offer.

“I...” When I leave, you might get mad. It had been known to happen. She didn’t look like the stalker type—he didn’t get that vibe at all from her. His impression was that she was sweet and laid-back—exactly what he needed.

But a man with white hair was walking straight toward them. If Bruce wasn’t mistaken, he looked like his old elementary school principal. “How about we take a walk on the beach and sort this out?” Bruce asked.

She frowned. “It’s dark on the beach.”

Wasn’t that the point? He noticed, with alarm, that his niece Nina was skipping his way as well. “None of my family members or old teachers are there, either,” he quipped.

Her head tilted as she listened to him. But it was too late. Nina ran up to them and came to a stop. Natalie put her hands lightly on his niece’s head. “Hello, Nina.”

Shoot. She knew his family better than he’d assumed.

“Hi, Natalie! Uncle Bruce, will you come dance with me?” Nina pleaded. She hopped up and down, clinging to his hand with both her tiny ones.

Aw, hell.

“Dance with your niece,” Natalie said softly. It was noisy, and he had to lean close to hear her. Then she turned and smiled at the white-haired gentleman. “I’ll dance with Bill.”

He felt deflated. He couldn’t get a read on this woman, no matter how hard he tried. Altogether, nothing about her made sense. She’d come on to him, too, with her looks, her smiles. But then as soon as he’d asked how she knew Maureen, she’d turned...cautious.

But her expression was smooth, and she gave him no hint of trouble. Her face was...a mask. Happy-go-lucky. Agreeable.

Just not to him. Because as he stood there, staring, she walked off arm in arm with a guy two and a half times his age and a lot crankier. He didn’t get it.

She had snubbed him. And good.

But he picked up his niece, tossed her over her shoulder the way she adored and headed for his own dark corner of the dance floor.

Because here, in this moment, he had figured it out.

Natalie did know him from Adam. She knew all about him from the court of public opinion. Anybody in town could have told her. Hell, Maureen could have told her.

In the three-hundred-and-fifty-year-plus history of their little seaside town, he was probably the only guy who had ever been blamed for killing his best friend, and then leaving town before the funeral to pursue his own agenda.

He willed himself to turn cold inside, still and unfeeling. No guilt, no pain. He’d had lots of practice, and of all the things he was good at, this is what he did best.

Feeling dead, he held his niece’s hand as she twirled around and around, her puffy dress expanding like a top. This was a favorite game for the “princess cowgirl,” as she’d so seriously told him she wanted to be when she grew up, and though he loved her, he was afraid his heart had been pretty much burned out and shrunk to ash. There just wasn’t much of anything...meaningful...he felt moved to give anybody. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, even if he could. It just ended badly. The fact he’d shown up at Maureen’s wedding at all...well, that was about all he was capable of giving.

“Okay, princess,” he said, extricating himself when the song ended. “Let’s go find your mom.”

On the way to search for Maureen, he glanced to where she had been. Natalie. But she was gone.

* * *

HE HAD NO IDEA who she was.

Natalie walked on stiff legs across the crowded boulevard to the public beach. Overhead, a moon shone low and full. The waves lapped on the shore. A smattering of couples strolled along the wet sand at the waterline, lovers enjoying the first warm evening of this Memorial Day weekend, the symbolic opening of the season.

She’d had such high hopes with Bruce. She’d felt elated when he’d approached her, but then crushed that he didn’t remember her.

Even if he didn’t immediately recognize her—and she’d been willing to cut him some slack on that count—she had been the only “Natalie” in their small high school. There was no getting around the fact that he didn’t remember her at all.

She sat on the sand and wrapped her arms around her knees. The breeze felt good against her face, though she still felt an ache inside. She had never considered that Bruce might not attach the same significance she did to their meeting that night—the night she’d stolen the key and unlocked the door to the room in the funeral home where the body of Brian Faulkner lay after the car accident that had killed him.

She had crouched beside Bruce in that horrible place, which smelled of chemicals and was filled with fear. The room was lit only by a tiny penlight, because she was too afraid to turn on an overhead bulb and risk them being seen. She had witnessed how Bruce had cried, listened to everything he’d told her when she’d answered the door. And after he’d begged her, she’d promised she wouldn’t tell anyone. She’d thought she was special to him. Because of that, she’d never discussed with anyone how he had mourned, or how he’d sat with his friend’s body, alone in the dark, all night, until the attendants came to work in the morning.

And through that night, she’d learned that what everyone else had assumed was guilt was actually something else. Yes, Brian had died in a Mercedes stolen from the valet stand where Bruce worked. But Bruce wasn’t complicit; she was positive of that. After all, Brian had been alone in the car when he crashed.

For all she could see, it was obvious Bruce had not known about the stolen keys. He’d simply sat with his best friend, seeing his soul through the last of his ordeal, loyal to their friendship to the last. Everyone else in town saw guilt in his reactions, but Natalie recognized it as a heartfelt, bone-deep grief. One that came from losing his best friend.

She didn’t know how to connect with people on that level. She’d always tried—witness tonight’s silly attempt at flirtation with him—but the truth was, she was inept at achieving that kind of friendship or intimacy. She had always wished she could have heard what Bruce had whispered to his friend at the end. Maybe she would have some inkling of the secret.

But she’d never know what he’d said to him, because Natalie couldn’t hear very well.

That was her secret.

She stood and brushed the sand off her bottom. Now that she knew that she’d imagined the past connection with Bruce, she needed to move on. There was no point in considering him any longer; he would be leaving town soon, anyway.

Yes, it was true she was attracted to him physically. She could imagine what it would feel like to make love to Bruce Cole, to want that to happen, but it was a mistake to think about that now. She’d actually accomplished what she’d set out to do tonight, so she could forget Bruce Cole. She’d done everything Maureen had asked her to—she’d talked to him and made sure he danced with his niece when asked, just as Maureen had wanted. Natalie had fulfilled her end of the bargain. The rest was up to Maureen.

And, if there was one thing Natalie had learned today, it was that she needed to consider other ways to bring in business for her father’s law firm. She had an open house planned for next week—one that she hoped would net her more contacts. A lot of planning was required, and she needed to step that up.

She found her shoes and headed back to the hotel. Her parents hadn’t raised a rude daughter. She would gracefully say her goodbyes, and then extricate herself from a no-win situation. There was no one at this wedding she could help, and no one who could help her. Time to move on.

Still, she thought, as she pushed open the glass door to the hotel, it stung. It would probably always sting, but at least now she could chalk up the experience as one big lesson.

Stay practical.

* * *

BRUCE CIRCLED THE LOBBY three times, feeling unsettled. He’d danced with his niece for a few more songs, though it had taken all the effort he could muster to keep the numbness in place. Nina adored him and was begging him to stay. If he let her affect him, he would go crazy.

He needed to get out of here, now. Time to drive back to the airport hotel. He had a 6:00 a.m. flight out of Boston tomorrow.

But Maureen would never let him hear the end of it if he left without at least saying goodbye, so he had to stick around until he found her and his parents. He tried her cell phone but she wasn’t picking up—understandable since it was still her wedding reception—and nobody knew where she was.

On his fourth circuit of the lobby, his sister emerged from the elevator. Maureen had changed out of her wedding dress and into more casual clothes. In each hand she held the chubby fists of twin boys.

Jimmy’s kids from his first marriage. Maureen’s new stepsons.

For a moment, something seemed to break through Bruce’s self-imposed numbness. A faint tinge of...regret? He didn’t know the toddlers at all. He’d barely exchanged more than a hello with any of Maureen’s new in-laws. Heck, he’d barely spoken to Maureen.

That was for the best, wasn’t it?

He shook off the doubt. In the end, he made his way toward her, cognizant of the people in the vicinity, scanning their faces and wondering if he knew them.

But before he’d cleared the first set of lobby couches, Natalie appeared.

He faltered, then stopped. Why did this woman affect him so much? He couldn’t help sensing something...important with her, but that didn’t make any sense.

While he stood there, frozen by indecision, Natalie gave Maureen a quick hug. Then she knelt down to each boy and gave him a soft pat on the head.

Natalie was leaving the reception, too.

Without even knowing why, he switched directions to follow her. She was headed for the elevators that led to the parking garage. As he caught up to her, she stood before the closed doors, the down button lit up red.

He ambled up behind her. Leaned in close and said in a low voice, “I screwed up in there. What I meant to say is I think you’re beautiful, and you look amazing in that dress. Of all the people in that room, you stood out to me. You still do.”

The bell rang, the elevator door opened and Natalie walked inside. She didn’t turn. She didn’t look at him. She kept her face averted.

And then the doors closed, and he was left staring at his reflection in the stainless steel.

He began to laugh. If he’d been looking for a sign that he needed to get out of here, that was it. There was no place for him in this town. The old prejudices were still evident—why else would she have snubbed him? He was enough of a professional problem solver to know that some problems never got solved. They were just worked around.

He jiggled the car keys in his pocket and turned back to where Maureen had been. She was gone, but when he looked for her he found his brothers Mark and Mike instead, holding up one end of the bar, post wedding-reception.

Eight years older than him, his brothers had marched past forty with their trademark stoicism. Their only concession to a midlife crisis was that they’d each bought a boat they moored at the local marina. The two brothers ran Cole and Sons plumbing, and pretty much did everything together. They’d both married girls from their graduating high school class. They each had two kids apiece. Mark, two daughters, a toddler and an infant, while Mike had sons the same age. Their lives were mirror images of each other. Their dad was retired, but now and then when he was bored, he took a small job with them. Of course, there were always the customers who insisted on the “father, not the sons.” That was because Mark and Mike charged top dollar, while Dad could be counted on to fall for a hard-luck story. And sometimes, he plain forgot to bill people.

Bruce stood and looked at his brothers, their backs turned to him. Their blond hair was getting thinner, and their waistlines thicker. But they seemed content with their lives. “Townies” at heart.

Still dressed in their wedding tuxes, they each grasped a beer bottle—Mike left-handed, Mark right-handed—and were watching the baseball game on the big-screen TV. At the bottom of the sixth inning, the local team was losing.

Bruce clapped Mark on the shoulder. “Marcus, I’m headed out.”

Mark turned and blinked at him. “You just got here, B.B.”

B.B. was short for “Bruce Boy.” He’d forgotten that stupid nickname.

“Yup,” he said. “And now I’m leaving.”

Mark took a drink of beer and nodded. He had been in Florida on a plumbing job with their parents back when Bruce had gotten into all his trouble with the law. None of them had ever really discussed it. “Did you check with Moe?” Mark asked.

“What, she runs our lives now?” Bruce said.

“She tries.” Mike took his hand and shook it. “How’s the weather in Florida?”

“Dunno, Mikhael,” Bruce said. “I haven’t been home in a week.”

“Where’ve you been?” Both twins stared at him. They were always slightly bewildered that Bruce traveled for a living instead of staying put in Fort Lauderdale and enjoying his boat and his motorcycle in the sunshine.

“I’m on a project in D.C. The navy hired me to analyze their procurement systems.”

He earned blank stares from his brothers. But that was good—if they didn’t know what he was talking about, they wouldn’t ask questions, which meant he could bug out of town even sooner.

“Bruce! When did you get here?”

Internally he groaned. Mark’s wife, Desiree, stood on her toes to kiss him on the cheek, and Mike’s wife, Holly, followed suit. A real family reunion. At this rate, he’d never be able to leave.

But he smiled, gave each of them the requisite kiss, went through the motions of being a sociable brother-in-law. “You two are looking better and better. How are the kids?”

“My niece Kristen is watching them upstairs in the room,” Desiree told him. “You should go see them.” She scratched her head, and Bruce noticed she had a new tattoo on her wrist. Some kind of Chinese symbol. “Your mother is up there, too. I swear, she’s in her glory. She loves it when we all get together.”

“She’ll be in heaven when we’re all in Disney World together,” Holly agreed.

It was Bruce’s turn to stare. What was she talking about?

Oh, yeah. The whole clan was going together for the week of Maureen’s honeymoon: his parents, his siblings and their kids, mainly so Maureen and Jimmy’s three wouldn’t be too upset by their parents’ absence. Bruce had covered the airfare, hotel and the car rental with his points, so he’d contributed without having to go with them. “I’m sure you’ll all have a good time.”

“It was so great of you to agree to stay here while we’re gone. We’ve got the house all set for you,” Desiree added.

Wait, what? Warnings went off in his head. “No, I’m leaving,” he stated as calmly as he could. “I’m taking the 6:00 a.m. flight out tomorrow.”

“The fridge is stocked,” Desiree continued rapid-fire. Sometimes he wondered at their habit of talking over everybody. Maybe it was part of being in a big family. “And we changed the sheets on our bed, so you can use our room. There’s a copy of the instructions tacked to the refrigerator. All you have to remember to do is to leave the screen door unlocked for the dog-sitter.”

Mark and Desiree had two yapping dachshunds. “Sorry, you’ve got me mixed up with somebody else.” He didn’t do pets.

Holly shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“You haven’t talked to Moe yet, have you?” Desiree asked.

“Where is she?”

“She’s up in the room with Mom and the kids.”

His mother lived and died for her grandkids. She’d been sixty when Nina was born, and on that day, she had promptly retired from being the dispatcher and chief bookkeeper for the family plumbing business. Holly currently did the honors. Desiree was some kind of nurse.

“Or Jimmy,” Holly added. “He’s the one who organized it all.”

What had Jimmy organized? “I’m not part of this plan, whatever it is,” Bruce said coldly.

Holly and Desiree glanced at each other. He was getting all kinds of bad signals.

“I think,” Holly said slowly, “that you had better talk to Maureen.”

“Isn’t she on her honeymoon as of now?” he demanded.

Mark ambled up beside him. The ball game had cut to commercial.

Bruce pointed to his brother. “Tell your wife I’m flying back to D.C. in the morning. Tell her that I work for a living. I’ve already used my two weeks’ vacation, and I don’t have time for a social call.”

“We’re having a family emergency,” Mark calmly explained. “Everybody’s got to pitch in.”

“What are you talking about?” he demanded.

Everyone went quiet and he realized he’d been shouting. His brothers looked solemn. Their wives just looked sorry for him.

Bruce ground his teeth and got control of his emotions, waiting for them to explain. As a business consultant, he always waited for the people with the problems to speak first. But he suspected his family was all a little bit afraid of him now. He didn’t blame them; he had reached the end of his rope. This trip home had left him edgy, and he didn’t like it. This wasn’t like him. On the job, he was known for being Mr. Cool. He skimmed the surface of life; he didn’t get sucked into the muck. And if they weren’t used to that by now, it was their problem.

“Look, I’ll see you guys next Thanksgiving,” Bruce said quietly. “In Florida, like always.”

“You really need to talk to Maureen,” Mike said.

“And why is that?”

Holly and Desiree snuck a glance at each other. A loaded glance, ripe with meaning. He just didn’t know what it meant. Mark looked at his toes, and Mike was busy peeling the label off his beer bottle.

“If you can’t tell me, then it can’t be that important,” Bruce said. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” He pulled out his phone and pressed the speed dial number for Maureen. Honeymoon or no honeymoon, he was solving this problem before he left.

Desiree put her hand on his arm. “It’s Gramps. He’s sick.”

Everything within Bruce stilled. He should have known something would have been very wrong to keep Gramps from coming to Maureen’s wedding.

“How sick?” he asked.

“They gave him a CAT scan this week,” Holly said. “Gramps has beginning stages Alzheimer’s.”

Bruce felt as if he’d been sucker-punched. He needed to sit.

Leaning against a barstool, he tried to remember his last interaction with Gramps. Thanksgiving, six months ago at his place. Gramps hadn’t been quite as strong as usual, but he’d been riding in Bruce’s boat, for cripe’s sake. And he’d seemed completely lucid.

“He’s frail, Bruce. He’s been going downhill rapidly. You won’t recognize him.”

Bruce turned back to his his phone. He’d have to check flight times for tomorrow afternoon. “I’ll visit him early before I leave.” He’d be flying out on standby, and that meant a middle seat in the rear of the plane beside the bathrooms, but for Gramps, he would do it.

He was glad that nothing had worked out with Natalie after all. He wanted to be alone tonight.

Now he needed a local hotel room, too. There was no way he was staying in Desiree’s house with her dogs and her nosy neighbors.

Scrolling through his phone’s contact list, he strode toward the bellhop stand, typing as he went. By the time he’d retrieved his suitcase, he’d changed his flight and canceled his reservation at the airport hotel in Boston. He went to the front desk to book a room, momentarily confused that there was no frequent-traveler check-in station, and that he had to wait in a long and snaking holiday-weekend line beside people who commandeered the luggage carts and loaded them with mounds of duffel bags, piles of grocery bags and cases of soda, water and beer.

When he finally got to the front of the line, he was incredulous to hear that there were no rooms available.

And he didn’t have status here, because this wasn’t a national chain.

I’m in hell.

“It’s Sandcastle Weekend,” the bubbly clerk explained.

“It’s what?”

“You’ve never heard of it? Sand sculptors come from all over the world to compete for prizes. It’s our second biggest weekend of the summer, after Fourth of July week, of course.”

Great. His sleepy little hometown had turned international on him.

He was contemplating sleeping in his car when he bumped into Maureen. Without a word, just a shake of her head, she tucked a room key into his hand.

He opened his palm and looked at it. “How did you get this?”

“I reserved a room for you months ago, Bruce. It was booked for last night, too, in case you’d changed your mind about attending the rehearsal dinner.”

He suddenly felt ashamed of himself. Moe rarely asked him for anything. She’d just wanted him to come to her wedding like a normal brother.

A tear had leaked out and was running down her cheek. “Aw, honey.” With nothing else to say, he put an arm around her shoulder.

“We need you to stay for the week, Bruce.”

“You know I can’t.” He suddenly felt tired.

“If you don’t, then I have to stay home from my honeymoon.” “

“That’s...blackmail.”

She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “No, it’s life, Bruce. We have to take care of each other. And frankly, you’ve been doing a piss-poor job.”

“That is not fair,” he said.

“Isn’t it? How is it fair that we’ve all been taking turns visiting Gramps every day, making sure he sees a familiar face because he’s terrified about what’s happening to him, and yet, you’re not a part of it? And you’ll never be a part of it, because you never come home. If he’s lucky, you might show up for his funeral after he’s gone, but we can’t even count on that.”

She was referring to him missing Nana’s funeral a year ago. Well, he’d been in China then. He’d had no choice. “Do not go there,” he said coldly.

“Why not, Bruce? It’s true. You’ve cut yourself off from everyone. No one knows you anymore. The only reason Nina recognizes you is that she sees your photo on the bureau when we visit Gramps every day. He can’t remember me, he can’t remember Nina, but he remembers you. The guy has one son, one daughter-in-law, four grandchildren, seven great-grandchildren and of all of us, you’re the only one whose picture he displays. You’re his favorite, and you can’t even see fit to visit him for one week. To support us for one week.”

“I support you plenty.”

Maureen paused, and in her silence, Bruce knew exactly what she was thinking. “We’re all tired of this, Bruce,” she said quietly. “Get over it.”

“I am over it.” It was the nonfamily members who weren’t. Natalie, for one. “I stayed away to make it easier for you and the rest of the family. I still do.”

“You know, I used to think it was best you stayed away, too, Bruce. You’re right...sometimes it’s hard being here. But lately I’ve been changing my mind. Family is important.” Her voice broke. “I waited until you got here to tell you, but if you really want to make it easier for me, then you’ll step up and help me while I’m gone. Visit Gramps for the week. You’re the only person left for him, and he needs you. Don’t you understand?”

He did. And he couldn’t even spin it anymore, not even to himself.

That was the worst part about it.

CHAPTER FOUR

SOMEONE WAS JUMPING on him.

“Wake up, Uncle Bruce!” Nina screamed in his ear. “We’re going to Disney World!”

Bruce opened one eye. Sunlight streamed in through wide-open curtains. His head ached. For a moment he struggled to remember where he was, a definite drawback to the traveling lifestyle.

Nina smacked him on the temple with a plastic magic wand. “Your hair looks funny. You have bedhead,” she announced.

That was amusing, coming from a six-year-old who wore Mickey Mouse ears and a sparkly princess costume, complete with wig and plastic purse.

His raised a brow at her and propped himself up on one elbow, but his stomach seemed to turn over. Last night Mark and Mike had followed him up here—to this room Moe had reserved for him at the Grand Beachfront Hotel. They’d carried a case of beer with them. Bruce knew the only reason they had made the effort was that a woman in the bar—he thought she might have been one of Bunny Faulkner’s former cleaning maids—had made a comment about him.

“Stole the keys from the valet stand here and got his best friend killed,” she’d whispered to a cohort sitting on a stool beside her. He wasn’t surprised to hear it, but he’d left because he didn’t want his family to have to deal with that.

And they hadn’t. Mark and Mike hadn’t said a word about it, and neither had he.

He gave his niece one of his easygoing smiles. “Hiya, princess. Where’s your mother?”

“I’m right here,” Maureen snapped, both hands on her hips. Her face was pinched and she was looking around the hotel room like a superior officer getting ready to assess him demerits. “This place smells like a brewery.”

Yep, the three Cole brothers had killed the case of beer between them. “You should be proud, Moe.” He winked at her. “Your wedding brought about the first real Cole brother reunion in years. Makes me feel in the family mood, it does.”

“Don’t be a jerk, Bruce.”

He rolled over and covered Nina’s ears. “Think of the children.”

Nina giggled and bashed him with her wand again.

“Ouch, that hurts,” he said in his best cartoon-character voice. His niece shrieked with laughter.

“Bruce, I’m not kidding,” Maureen said. “Get dressed. We don’t have much time.”

Apparently not. She was standing before him with suitcase packed, papers in hand. Well, it was for the best.

He gave her a mock salute, not willing to let himself get sucked into a bad mood, but her back was already turned and she was answering her cell phone. Her real estate voice was engaged. She stepped out into the hallway, momentarily bringing in the sounds of chaos before she closed the door behind her.

He turned and waggled his brows at Nina, who was now clinging to his back. “Time for you to leave so I can shower and get out of here, princess cowgirl.”

She whispered into his ear. “I wish you were coming to Disney World with us.”

Again, that regret tugged at him, nagging him to feel, but he pushed it away. “Honey, I live near Disney World. Any time you want to come for a school vacation, ask your mom to give me a call and I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

She gave him a pout. “I want you to come back here and get me.”

Nina had Maureen’s long, dark lashes and the same big, luminous blue eyes he remembered on his sister as a kid. He suddenly couldn’t do this anymore, sit and joke around with everyone as if nothing had happened, as if he was still that same guy, still a part of them.

He wasn’t anymore, and never would be again. Last night had proved that.

But he couldn’t say that to his niece. Instead he nodded. “Call me when you get to Cinderella’s castle.”

Then he opened the door and ushered Nina outside, and saw that, yes, the ruckus had been from his boisterous family, gathered in the hallway. Mark and Mike looked as if their heads felt fine and it didn’t bother them that their kids were screaming and running up and down the corridor. Two of the older ones—cousins, maybe?—were playing keep-away with their sister’s stuffed animal. “Lambie!” she screeched.

He smiled to himself. This crew was a danger to sleeping travelers everywhere. If he didn’t know them, he’d be cringing.

“Here’s the packet with everything you’ll need for Gramps.” Maureen pushed her way back into his hotel room, shoving a manila envelope labeled in her big, bold handwriting into his hands. “The main thing to remember,” she said in that drill sergeant voice, “is that he has an MRI scheduled for Wednesday at the hospital. The home has a van that can take him, but he needs constant supervision, so it’s best that you go with him.”

“To the hospital?” He looked at her as if she was nuts—because she was if she thought he’d be any kind of help there.

“Yes, Bruce, to the hospital.” She stared him straight in the eye. “The Wallis Point Regional Hospital.”

He felt his jaw grinding. If he remembered correctly, Bunny Faulkner had worked there. The last person in the world who would want to see him.

He hauled his suitcase upright and unzipped it to find his toothbrush. It was best he got all the details out in front, now. “Does anyone know me at this nursing home of Gramps?” he asked as calmly as he could.

Maureen sighed. “I thought you said you were over it.”

He glanced sharply at her. “I don’t want it taken out on Gramps if somebody petty remembers the gossip,” he said quietly.

Her lips pressed tight together. She didn’t like what he was saying.

“Your friend, Natalie,” he remarked casually, as he rooted in the side pocket for his toothpaste, “gave me a strange reaction last night after I introduced myself.”

“That’s probably because you hit on her.” Maureen snorted. “I saw you come on to her. Way to be subtle, Bruce.”

He smiled and shook his head. He’d approached Natalie only because she’d been “hitting on him,” too. There had been an attraction across that crowded ballroom. He couldn’t possibly have mistaken that. “Do you expect me to be a monk?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re here to take care of Gramps.”

Which he was going to do. Today. Today only. He’d thought about it last night and had realized what should have been obvious from the beginning: he had the cash, he could hire a great private nurse to give Gramps the extra-special attention that Bruce could not. And as soon as he got to this nursing home, he would make inquiries.

But Moe didn’t need to know that. It would upset her unnecessarily, and there was no need for that as she got ready for her honeymoon. He wasn’t that big a jerk.

Maureen’s phone chirped again, and she glanced at it. “The van to the airport is here. Bruce, I have to wrap this up.” She opened her purse and pulled out an envelope with a slip of paper attached by a paper clip. “Here it is. I went through hoops to honor your request not to stay in any of the family homes. I’ve been working the phones all morning to find you a rental that’s still open.”

He glanced at the bedside clock. “It’s 8:00 a.m., Moe.”

“And real estate never sleeps. Lucky for you I’m an insomniac, because this is beachfront. A private cottage.” She pressed the envelope into his hands. “Close to Gramps’s nursing home, so you can spend time with him without worrying about weekend traffic.”

The address was for an exclusive area on the water and accessible only by private road. He whistled, suddenly intrigued. “How did you manage this one?”

“I pulled in a favor. I didn’t particularly like doing it, which should show you how much I’m willing to go to bat for you.” She glanced at her phone, which was beeping again. “Look, I’ll call you from the road. I need to get everybody going.” She leaned over and half hugged him around the shoulder. “Take care of Gramps,” she whispered into his ear. “And thank you.”

As a rule, Coles did not thank each other. That meant she was seriously rattled about Gramps’s condition.

“He’ll be fine, Moe,” was all he said.

She nodded, her lips pressed together. “Please call me when you see him,” she said. And then she began marshaling her caravan down the hallway.

The poor kid would never enjoy her honeymoon. He fumed with his impotence in this situation. This made it all the more critical to hire somebody great—somebody capable—to protect and take care of Gramps for her.

Once Bruce was showered and dressed, he cleared out, repacking the few items he’d taken from his suitcase. Just another anonymous hotel room in another anonymous town. He’d have to look at the situation that way.

* * *

NATALIE WAS SLEEPING soundly when the phone she always kept inside her pillowcase vibrated against her cheek and jolted her awake.

Her first thought was that she was late for the class she’d volunteered to teach. Berating herself, and without looking to see who was calling, she muttered a greeting into the phone.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

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