Evie sat up and bumped her head on the drawer.

“Police officer,” the mean-sounding man said. “Come out of there.”

Police officer? Evie curled her fingertips around the top of the desk and said, “OK, I’m coming out.” She sounded like the lone hold-out in a hostage crisis. Slowly rising to her knees, she stopped when her nose was level with the desk blotter, and stared across the top.

The gruff voice belonged to a tall, formidably built man whose face was set in a scowl. He was definitely a cop – blue uniform, lots of stuff attached to the belt, the whole package. And he didn’t look happy. Clearly he wasn’t welcoming her to town with a big ole Heron Point grin.

She spoke into the middle of the lap drawer. “You don’t have your gun drawn, do you?”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Cynthia Thomason writes contemporary and historical romances as well as a historical mystery series. She has received the National Readers’ Choice Award, nominations for Romantic Times BOOKreviews Reviewers Choice Award and the Golden Quill Award. She and her husband own an auction company in Davie, Florida, where she is a licensed auctioneer. They have one son, an entertainment reporter, and a very lovable Jack Russell terrier. Learn more about Cynthia at www.cynthiathomason.com.

Dear Reader,

An Unlikely Family is a story about a hapless island cop who searched for years but couldn’t find the right woman.

This book is about how the most unlikely folks come together and, through struggle and perseverance, form a true family, complete with all the caring and love that defines such a special bond. And it’s about one unique little girl who needs everyone in her thrown-together family and on her quirky island, to support and cherish her.

I hope you enjoy Billy and Evie’s journey. And if you want to see Heron Point for yourself, just follow Florida’s Route 19 and take 24, a narrow two-lane road, west to where the cedar trees blend with the Gulf.

I love to hear from readers. Please visit my website, www.cynthiathomason.com, e-mail me at cynthoma@aol.com or write a letter to PO Box 550068, Fort Lauderdale, FL 33355, USA.

Wishing you the warmth of the Heron Point sun,

Cynthia Thomason

An Unlikely Family

CYNTHIA THOMASON

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to those hardworking

faculty members who educate our children.

Having been a teacher, I know it takes much

more than a textbook to do the job right.

CHAPTER ONE

THE PAVEMENT ahead of Evie Gaynor’s Chevy Malibu shimmered hot in the sultry Florida sun. Two days after leaving Detroit, she’d clocked thirteen hundred miles and experienced a twenty-degree spike in the temperature. Since entering the state, she’d gone from her air-conditioned automobile to a chilled fast-food restaurant and a convenience store to pay for gasoline. And with each stop, she’d removed another article of clothing until now she wore only a camisole, capris and sandals.

The road she was driving was nearly deserted, but Evie had expected that. Claire Hogan, the town mayor, had told her Heron Point was a weekend tourist destination. On Friday afternoons the population swelled with Gulfside visitors who came to sample the fine food and browse the upscale gift shops. Since this was only Thursday, the influx had yet to begin.

Once she’d turned off the main highway onto the thirty-mile stretch to Heron Point, Evie had enjoyed a lush, green landscape. Taking advantage of the quiet drive, she picked up her cell phone and punched in the number from her notebook, propped open beside her. A woman answered on the first ring. “The Pink Ladies Cottages,” she practically chirped.

Evie introduced herself as the new principal of the elementary school and confirmed her reservation for one of the cottages which she assumed would most probably be pink.

“Oh, yes, dear, we’re expecting you.” The woman gave directions and verified Evie’s assumption by adding, “You can’t miss us. Our buildings are true baby-girl pink, just like our delightful beds of impatiens.”

Evie disconnected and rolled down her window, fully expecting another blast of steaming air to hit her face. Instead, an undercurrent of cooler, salty freshness promised a respite from the stifling heat. She ran her fingers through her hair and enjoyed the feel of it whipping against her cheeks.

After a few miles, the panorama changed. Dense hummocks of cedar trees dotted the horizon and the ground rolled with gentle hills identified as Indian Burial Grounds. She crossed a narrow bridge spanning a wide inlet. At the end a placard announced her arrival in Heron Point, population just over two thousand.

She passed a marina, a tavern and a small grocery before turning onto Gulfview Road. She had every intention of driving straight to her pink-painted destination. But when she saw a sign pointing down a road that read Heron Point Elementary School, she simply couldn’t resist. She drove by the entrance of the clean, freshly painted parsonage-turned-schoolhouse. The dazzling white exterior had just enough sage-green Victorian trim to give the building an air of whimsy. And Evie fell in love with it.

She pulled around to the parking lot in back and got out of the car. She didn’t have a key, but she walked up to the rear entrance and gave the knob a firm twist. The door opened with a subtle creak. Stunned, since no one seemed to be on the property, Evie looked around, waited a few seconds and then stepped over the threshold.

The back foyer smelled of old books, cleanser and something unmistakable to buildings where children gathered. Evie called it the smell of learning, and it varied according to the age of the student body. In this school, it was a pleasant mixture of crayon and pencil shavings.

She walked down the central hallway and looked into rooms identified with numbers on the doors. Desks were scattered haphazardly, waiting for a maintenance crew to finish the summer spruce-up and set them back in rows. The last door before the front entrance made her feel at home. The sign on the panel read Principal. There was no name under the title, but she anticipated seeing her own in a few days.

She entered her office much as a new student might enter his classroom for the first time, with an exhilarating rush of uncertainty. Reaching up to her ear, she twisted the diamond stud earring in her left lobe, a habit she’d developed over the years whenever she felt apprehensive. The smooth metallic finish of 14-carat gold and the slightly rough edges of the rose-cut stone were familiar, and she relaxed. She took a deep breath, comforted by the realization that she belonged right here in this eclectic hodge-podge of bookshelves, supply cabinets and wooden chairs.

The principal’s position she’d seen advertised a few months ago in an educational journal had been her wake-up call, her chance to stop spinning her wheels as an assistant administrator working for an impassive school board. Here, in tiny Heron Point, she could truly have a positive impact on America’s next generation. And maybe make a difference in her own stagnant life, as well.

Careful not to disturb anything, she progressed to the inner office—hers. It was smaller than the reception area and well-or-ganized, with a desk in the center, a credenza behind and file cabinets along one wall. She walked behind the desk to a corner window that afforded a view of flowering shrubs and towering pines. It was paradise, a sunny, inspiring space that caused Evie’s eyes to well with tears.

And then she heard a gentle ping, much like a tiny pebble ricocheting off a smooth surface. “What was that?” she asked the otherwise still air. She spun around, expecting to see that someone or some thing had disturbed her solitude. But she was quite alone in the stuffy office. A trickle of perspiration ran between her breasts. She again felt for her earring and discovered it was missing. Ah. The ping. She dropped to her knees and began searching frantically.

She scraped her fingers over the rubber mat under the chair and mumbled threats to the earring. She never heard anyone enter the room until a deep voice commanded, “Come out from under that desk right now. And don’t try anything funny.”

Evie gulped back a gasp, sat up and bumped her head on the desk drawer.

“Police officer,” the mean-sounding man said. “Come out of there.”

Police officer? Well, that was good, wasn’t it? Evie curled her fingertips around the top of the desk and said, “Okay, I’m coming out.” She almost laughed. She sounded like the lone hold-out in a hostage crisis. Slowly rising to her knees, she stopped when her nose was level with the desk blotter and stared across the top.

The gruff voice belonged to a tall, formidably built man whose face was set in a scowl. He was definitely a cop—blue uniform, lots of stuff attached to the belt, the whole package. And he didn’t look happy. Clearly he wasn’t welcoming her to town with a big ol’ Heron Point grin.

She spoke into the middle of the lap drawer. “You don’t have your gun drawn, do you?”

“No, but hear this sound?” She flinched at a muffled pop. “That’s me unsnapping the holster just in case.”

She stood and held her hands high enough so he could see them, figuring submissive and obedient was her wisest course of action. “I don’t have a weapon,” she said, “so, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer it if you’d snap up again.”

He did. “What are you doing in here?”

She felt the back of her head where a small bump had formed. “I lost my earring,” she said. “It was a gift from my father, and I would be heartbroken to lose it. It rolled…” She stopped when she realized that was probably the least significant part of the story to this man in blue.

He frowned, obviously lacking any sympathy for her. “Looks like a case of breaking and entering to me.”

She checked her fingertips. No blood from a head injury, thank goodness. Just a dull pain behind her eyes. “You’re wrong. I did enter, but I didn’t have to break anything to do it. The back door was unlocked.”

“I don’t buy that,” he said. “This building is a school. It’s closed for the summer and is locked every night.”

Okay, forget submissive. No one had ever called Evie a liar to her face, and she was running out of patience with this guy, cop or not. “I’m well aware this is a school, and I’m telling you I opened the back door and walked in.”

“You shouldn’t have,” he said. “It’s nearly dark. No one has any business being in this building this time of night. You’re violating public property even if you didn’t pick the lock.”

She released a frustrated breath. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. I’m not violating anything. Besides being part of that public you’re sworn to protect, I’m the new principal of Heron Point Elementary. And this is my office, or soon will be.”

He cocked his head to the side and studied her. His frown deepened. Was he drawing a conclusion based solely on appearance? Did he find her lacking in stature at five feet four inches? She followed his gaze downward and sighed. A jersey-knit camisole was definitely inappropriate for the head of a school. She tugged its thin strap back up to her shoulder. Give me a break, she thought. I’ve been driving all day. She was glad he couldn’t see her feet. One flat, flowered sandal had slipped off somewhere under the desk.

A corner of his mouth twitched. He rubbed his jaw and continued staring. “You’re the new principal?”

She squared her shoulders. “I am. And you’ll pardon me for saying so, but with your attitude, I’d guess you’ve spent more time in a principal’s office than I have.”

He folded his arms over his chest and grinned. She detected a dusting of fine dark hair on his left forearm, broken by a patch of white where his wide leather watch strap began. His ball cap covered most of what appeared to be thick black hair.

“That’s a pretty good guess,” he admitted.

She relaxed, one hand on the desk. “Can I assume you’re not going to arrest me?”

“Yes, you can. We don’t have a law against just entering.”

“Fine, but I still have an earring to find.”

“I guess I could help you.”

She started to protest, imagining a large, polished boot crunching the delicate gold mounting. “No need…”

“It’s okay. Firemen get cats out of trees. I suppose I can do jewelry recovery.” He started to bend in front of the desk when they heard a beeping sound from outside.

Evie spun around to the window and stared at a small vehicle racing toward the school at perhaps a wicked fifteen miles per hour. She turned back to the officer. “What’s that?”

“Oh, shi—shoot. I forgot to cancel Lou.” He pressed a button on a radio attached to his shoulder, and the device crackled to life. “Lou, it’s Billy. Never mind. False alarm. Everything’s under control.”

Too late. Whoever Lou was, he was arriving amid a blaze of flashing lights attached to the top of his vehicle. “Are you kidding me?” Evie asked. “Your backup is arriving in a golf cart?”

The man who had just identified himself as Billy joined her at the window. “He had to. I have the squad car.”

“The squad car? As in, there’s only one?”

“It’s all we need. You can see how fast Lou got here in the golf cart.”

At this moment Heron Point and her hometown seemed more than thirteen hundred miles apart. They could have existed in different galaxies. Imagine golf carts fighting crime in the Motor City!

She looked over at Billy who was intent on watching the battery vehicle purr to a stop at the school’s entrance. An older, decidedly well-nourished officer in the cart lifted a radio from the dashboard. His voice emerged from the radio at Billy’s shoulder. “Ah, Roger that, Billy. But I’m already here.”

Evie got down on her knees. “I’ve got to find my earring, while you tell your crime-fighting partner about the potentially volatile situation here.”

Billy returned to the desk and stood a couple of feet from where she was searching. He didn’t say anything, but Evie could hardly ignore his presence towering above her. She looked up at him and sighed. “Is something else wrong, Officer?”

He was staring disapprovingly. “Maybe there is. I think you’re having a bit of fun at the expense of our town’s law-enforcement division. We take our jobs seriously here, Madam Principal, and if you ever find yourself in real trouble, you’ll be thankful for our commitment to keeping order on this island.”

Oh, dear. She’d hurt his feelings. She hadn’t intended to. All she wanted was to find her precious earring and crawl between clean, pink sheets. “I’m sorry, Officer…?”

“Muldoone. Billy Muldoone.”

“Officer Muldoone.” She stuck her hand up to him. “I’m Evie Gaynor.”

He took her hand. His lips curved into a sort of conciliatory smile, but she sensed he was a long way from becoming a friend.

“I apologize if it seemed I demeaned your position and authority. I assure you I have the utmost respect for the law and police officers.” She felt rather silly looking up at him from all fours, while he stood like one of the pine trees outside, tall, unyielding and, in his cop way, even more impressive. “I meant no offense, really.”

“Then none taken.” He pointed to her left foot. “Look there. I think that’s your earring.”

She scooted around, spotted the glimmer of a diamond and exhaled a sigh of relief. “That’s it. Thank you, Officer.” The small gold post backing was next to the gemstone, and she palmed both pieces.

“No thanks necessary. And call me Billy. Everybody does.”

“Okay, Billy. You can’t imagine what this means to me. My father was never much for shopping, so when he actually went to a jeweler for this and wrapped it…” She cleared her throat. “Well, enough about that. I’ll just be on my way so you can return to whatever it was you were doing before—”

A knock at the front door cut her off. “That’s Lou,” Billy said, heading out. “Maybe we can get to the bottom of who left the door unlocked.”

While Evie wiped off the earring and reinserted it, Billy returned with Lou. He explained that she was the new principal and introduced her to the man he identified as a service aide. Lou, while not exactly the ideal image of first responder, was jovial and probably competent enough to deal with problems that could be investigated from a golf cart.

“Lou thinks one of the maintenance crew left the door unlocked,” Billy said. “I’m sure it was a mistake. It would have gone unnoticed if I hadn’t seen someone moving behind this corner window.”

“Yes, I’m sure it was.” She twirled the diamond stud, relieved to have it back where it belonged. Billy had removed his cap, revealing an abundance of wavy hair. When he ran his fingers through it, spiky strands fell onto his forehead nearly reaching his straight black eyebrows. Evie reaffirmed her first impression that he was decidedly well-proportioned at better than six feet. She didn’t doubt his ability to maintain the upper hand over most any law-breaker.

But Officer Muldoone wasn’t all brawn. His facial features gentled him in a way his build and that deep baritone voice never could. His eyes were a soft brown, the color of wet sand. His lips were full and framed by fine crescent-shaped creases. Something Lou said made him chuckle, and the low, rumbling sound seemed to vibrate into Evie’s chest. The tough cop had a nice laugh.

Lou flipped a notebook closed and stuck a pen in his pocket. “I’ve got some time, Billy. We’ll secure the building and then you go home to your family. I’ll write up the report.”

Go home to your family… Evie turned away from the men and fiddled with the zipper on her purse. She didn’t even know Billy Muldoone, so how could she be disappointed to learn he had a family? He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, and he was a decent-looking guy. Of course he would have a wife and kids. Most men did at his age. Most women at thirty-four did, too, but Evie had learned to live with being the exception.

Settling the strap of her purse over her shoulder, Evie headed for the door. “Thanks again, Billy,” she said, “and I’m sorry for any misunderstanding.”

“No problem.” He wiggled his cap into the groove around his hairline. “We’ll follow you to the back door and make sure the lock is secure.”

It was dark when Evie got into her car. She pulled out of her spot and took one last look at the men checking the mechanism on the door. Billy gave a wave and hollered at her to drive safely. She exited the parking lot in the direction of Gulfview Road and the Pink Ladies.

She planned to take a shower and ask her landlady about the nearest place to grab dinner. Then she’d call her father and spend the rest of the evening curled up in bed thinking about plans for Heron Point Elementary. Her mind raced with opportunities for the school year. That was a good thing. Because she couldn’t allow her mind to dwell on any possibilities as far as family man Billy Muldoone was concerned.

CHAPTER TWO

BILLY WATCHED THE Malibu turn the corner. Behind him, Lou rattled the doorknob. “She’s locked now,” he said.

The last splash of red from Evie’s taillights faded behind a stand of cedars. Still Billy stared at the road until Lou jostled his arm and asked if he’d heard him.

Billy focused his attention on his partner. “Sure I heard you.”

Lou smiled. “You could have fooled me. I figured the way you were watching that girl drive off, you’d forgotten about the school.”

“Woman, Lou,” he said. “I don’t think the new principal would appreciate being called a girl.”

“All business, is she?”

“Pretty much.”

Billy fell into step beside Lou when he started around the side of the building. “She doesn’t look like a principal,” Lou said. “At least not any I remember. I could be happy going back to school myself if the woman in charge of spankings looked like her.”

Lou was as committed to his forty-year marriage as anybody Billy had ever known, so he didn’t respond to the older man’s attempt at humor with more than a shake of his head. Then he rubbed the back of his neck and tried to dispel the notion of Evie Gaynor standing in front of the student body in that sexy little shirt-thing, her pink-painted toenails peeking out from an equally sexy pair of sandals. “She was kind of attractive, I guess,” he admitted.

Lou snickered. “Kind of? Come on, Billy, you can’t kid me.” He locked the front entrance, did his knob-jerking routine again, and faced Billy squarely. “You going to ask her out?”

“What? No. At least, I hadn’t thought about it. I don’t even know if she’s married.”

“She’s not. I heard Claire talking about her the other day. As far as I know, she’s come to Heron Point all alone. So maybe you should ask her out. New gals don’t come into town too often, at least with the intention of living here, and you’ve pretty much worn out your welcome with the ones who’ve been around a while.”

Billy frowned. “Thanks for pointing that out, but our artsy-type gallery owners haven’t proved a good match for a cop.” He pictured Evie again. Shoulder-length, light brown hair, green eyes the color of the Gulf at dawn, a smile that could be killer if she’d stop trying to hide it. “I don’t know,” he said. “My dating has changed a lot in the last few years.”

“Don’t think too long,” Lou said. “You don’t want your second meeting with the principal to be official school business.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lou chuckled. “You know darned well. The first week of school won’t be marked off the calendar before you’re in that principal’s office, and it won’t be to ask her for a date.”

Billy sighed as he walked to the cruiser. Lou was right. The last principal had left Heron Point for a number of reasons, not the least of which was Billy’s daughter, Gemma Scarlett Muldoone.

THE NEXT MORNING Evie woke in a cloud of pink sheets and down-filled pink comforter. The air conditioner hummed across the room, and she cuddled deeper into the covers and let the soothing sound leisurely stir her to life.

She’d been assigned the first cottage in a row that stretched to the Gulf. Hester Poole, the owner of the Pink Ladies, had greeted Evie looking like a fairy-tale godmother, complete with floral apron and a crockery bowl full of sugary cookie dough. She’d said she’d saved the cottage nearest the office for Evie so she could come to Hester with any questions she might have about Heron Point and its citizens.

So far, the only question Evie had concerned her landlady’s obsession with pink. She wasn’t complaining though. The room was clean, comfortable and, if one ignored the Barbie-doll ambience, charming. She had nothing planned for the day. Perhaps she’d return to her office to unpack some personal possessions.

“Yoo-hoo, Miss Gaynor.”

She glanced at her travel clock: five past nine. Evie hadn’t slept this well or this long in ages. She swung her legs over the side of the mattress and reached for her robe. “Just a moment, Mrs. Poole.”

She opened the door to her landlady’s welcoming smile and a muffin nestled in a cloth napkin. “Just made these this morning,” Hester said. “Blueberry.”

Evie took the muffin. “Thanks. It smells delicious.”

“And that’s not all, dear,” Hester said, thrusting a vellum envelope at Evie’s chest. “This was just delivered for you.”

Evie’s name was scripted across the front. “Who is it from?”

“Our handsome chief of police, Jack Hogan, dropped it off, so I assume it’s from his wife, our mayor.”

“Oh? That would be Claire.”

Hester nodded. “Hope I didn’t wake you, dear, but you’ve already missed our famous sunrise. I didn’t think you’d want to sleep through the spectacle of the dolphins swimming just off shore.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Sister and I are outside now. Why don’t you bring your muffin and join us?”

“I will. Just give me a moment.”

Evie shut the door, opened the envelope and unfolded a note in clear, precise handwriting. It was signed, “Claire Hogan,” the woman Evie had spoken with on several occasions.

She read the note while she filled the teakettle. Claire was welcoming her to the island and asking her to meet her and some friends for lunch at the Heron Point Hotel. Evie wondered how Claire knew she had arrived, but then she realized that in a town this size, her escapades at the school last evening might have become a topic for local gossip. Or, more likely, Jack Hogan had read a report of the incident when he’d come to work this morning and told his wife.

She filled a mug with tea, took the portable phone to the dinette set and dialed the number on the invitation. The mayor answered on the first ring. “Hello? Claire Hogan.”

Evie identified herself and confirmed that she would be delighted to meet at the hotel at noon. The prospect of making female friends cheered her. She dressed in shorts and a T-shirt and went outside to watch the dolphins, the first of many experiences she never could have had if she’d stayed in Detroit. She’d work on those educational goals later.

CLAIRE HOGAN LOOKED pretty much as Evie had pictured her—a combination of sophistication and small-town charm. She was tall and slim, with blond hair pulled back in a smooth style. She’d been the mayor of Heron Point for two years and, Evie decided, the town couldn’t have a better representative.

Her two friends were quite different from Claire, but it was obvious the three were bound by a deep emotional connection. Petula Sweeney, Claire’s aunt, readily admitted to being a “sexy sixty” and newly married to fishing charter captain, Finn Sweeney, who just happened to be the father of the third woman in Claire’s luncheon group. Helen Sweeney-Anderson, a new mother, was blond, wiry and outspoken. Evie liked them all right away.

Helen took a sip of Coke, while rocking a baby stroller gently with her toe and complaining that she couldn’t wait to be done with breast-feeding so she could have a beer once in a while. “So what do you think of Heron Point so far?” she asked.

“It’s great,” Evie said. “This morning I saw my first dolphins not in an aquarium.”

“That’s the best thing about the Pink Ladies,” Pet said. “The dolphin show. Every morning like clockwork. It’s almost as if the dolphins know they’re supposed to entertain Hester’s guests.”

Claire leaned forward. “There’s a lot to like about this quirky little town, Evie. The longer you stay, the more you realize our island is quite unique.”

Evie smiled. “I think I already know that. I looked for an office supply store and a supermarket on my way in this morning. I didn’t see either one.”

“The Island Market has fresh produce and meat,” Helen said, “and you can get pens and paper at the Island Drug Store. For anything else, you have to go to Office Max in Micopee.”

“What about a beauty salon?”

“We have a lady who cuts hair in her kitchen,” Claire offered. “I go to her for trims, but at least four times a year my daughter, Jane, and I get the royal treatment at a spa in Gainesville. You’ll have to come with us next time.”

The conversation switched to each woman’s occupation. Petula worked as a waitress at the Green Door Café and said she wouldn’t quit no matter how much Finn pleaded with her to stay at home. “I get to be first to learn all the gossip,” she said. “I can usually just look at our customers and tell what’s going on in their lives.”

Helen laughed. “Pet is our resident psychic—or at least that’s what she wants you to believe.” She looked at the baby sleeping in the stroller. “But she was wrong about this one. Until the last moment she thought this baby would be a girl. I never even asked the doctor the sex since Ethan and I were so confident of Pet’s prediction. And yet here he lies, Thomas Finn Anderson in the flesh.”

Pet shook her head and chuckled. “I don’t know how I missed this one. I was so sure.” She laid her hand on top of the baby’s. “But I’ve changed enough diapers since Thomas was born to know without a doubt that he’s male.”

“So you’re a stay-at-home mom?” Evie asked Helen.

“Actually, I’m a college student. I’ve just earned enough credits to be an official sophomore.” Helen laughed. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m a bit old for keggers and sorority rushes, but better late than never, I always say.”

“Absolutely. What are you studying?”

“I’m going to be a teacher.”

“Really? You’ll have to apply at Heron Point Elementary when you get your degree,” Evie said. “I have a sixth sense about people, and I can tell you’d make a great teacher.”

“Thanks, but I’m kind of an English freak. I’m going for my secondary certificate.”

The waiter brought a tray of scones and filled each woman’s cup with tea. Evie took a sip, savoring the hint of orange flavor. “This morning when I was dolphin-watching, I never thought I’d be enjoying real English tea three hours later,” she said.

Claire gave her a coy smile. “Like I said, there’s a lot about Heron Point that will surprise you. Have you met anyone besides us, and Hester Poole, of course?”

Figuring that Claire knew about her encounter with one of her police officers the night before, Evie spooned a generous helping of jelly onto her scone and thought about her answer. The words describing Billy Muldoone caught in her throat, however, when she glanced up and saw the man himself standing at the entrance, all neat, pressed, decidedly official and every bit as handsome as he’d looked the day before. She swallowed, nodded toward the doorway and said, “As a matter of fact…”

All three women followed her gaze. “You’ve met Billy?” Helen said.

“I did. He caught me red-footed, prowling around the school last night before dark. The back door was unlocked, so I just walked in for a quick look-around.” She smiled. “He didn’t seem to like it much.”

Helen laughed. “That’s our Billy. And I bet he didn’t believe a word of your story, either.”

“Something like that. For a minute I thought he was going to—” she lowered her voice in her best imitation of Billy’s growl “—take me downtown for questioning.”

“I know what that’s like,” Helen said. “I’ve had my share of run-ins with Heron Point’s finest.” She licked jelly off her finger and whispered, “Don’t look now, but he spotted us and he’s headed this way.”

Evie quickly buried her face in her teacup, afraid the flush in her cheeks would be evident to everyone at the table. Good grief, she shouldn’t be having a physical reaction like this. She hardly knew the man, and he was married.

Billy ambled over. Out of the corner of her eye, Evie watched him take off his cap and stick it under his arm. “Afternoon, ladies.”

“Hi, Billy,” Claire said, her tone bright. “I understand you’ve met our new school principal.”

“Sure have.”

Evie felt his full attention on her, and her heartbeat kicked up a notch. She returned her teacup to its saucer and risked looking up at him.

“So you survived your first night in town, I see,” he said.

Relieved when her voice was calm and even, she said, “I did. No problems.”

“Good. You’ve got a fine group of tour guides here. They’ll tell you how it really is.”

“Oh, yeah, she can count on us,” Helen said. “We’ll tell Evie what she needs to know.”

The waiter returned to the table with a brown bag in his hand. “Hey, Billy, your take-out is ready.”

“Okay, thanks.” He stared at Evie a moment longer. “Nice seeing you again.”

“Same here.”

He left the dining room, and Evie watched out the front window as he crossed the street toward the Heron Point City Hall. When she looked back at her companions, they were all smiling. “What?”

“He likes you,” Helen said.

Evie’s mouth dropped open before she said, “No, I don’t think so.” She was about to explain that she knew Billy had a family, but Helen interrupted.

“Of course he does. He didn’t come over here to check out the kind of tea we were having. His interest was all on you.”

Pet flipped her long platinum braid over her shoulder. “Be fair, Helen. Maybe Billy was just being friendly. His days as a womanizer are pretty much behind him now. And he’s a good person. He’s just been unlucky in love.”

“That’s right,” Claire agreed. “And he’s hardworking. He’s eating his lunch in the squad car. That shows dedication.”

Helen snickered. “More likely he’s avoiding that control freak of a mother who lives with him. I wouldn’t go home to lunch with her, either.”

Evie leaned back, trying to catch a glimpse of the cruiser through the window. “He lives with his mother?”

“Yes, he does,” Claire said. “And his daughter.”

So this was Billy’s family? His mother and daughter?

“By the way, Evie,” Helen said, “you’ll get to know Billy’s daughter, Gemma. She’ll be in the fourth grade this year.”

“Oh, really? I look forward to meeting her.”

Helen sent a devious glance to her friends.

“Okay, Helen,” Evie said, “is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Do not influence this woman one way or the other,” Claire said. “It wouldn’t be right.”

The baby woke and started to fuss. Helen picked him up. “I guess you’ll draw your own conclusions soon enough,” she said. “Just remember that name—Gemma Scarlett Muldoone.” Settling the baby against her shoulder, she added, “And you might want to put Billy’s cell phone number on your speed dial.”

CHAPTER THREE

SATURDAY NIGHT YAWNED ahead of Evie like the flat Florida landscape she’d driven through two days before. She’d spent the day at the school organizing her work space and adding personal touches. The small office was beginning to feel like home.

She wished she could say the same for Hester Poole’s frilly little haven. But Evie didn’t think she could stand sipping another iced tea from a flowery pink tumbler or bathing with another of the rose-shaped, quarter-size soaps Hester provided with a ruffled shower cap. And surfing the eight channels the outdoor antenna picked up wasn’t any more appealing.

If she were in Detroit, Evie would be spending Saturday night with one of her few remaining friends who still lived in the city, or going on a don’t-get-your-hopes-up date, or hitting one of the local cineplexes. A movie wasn’t an option in Heron Point. There wasn’t a single theater in town.

She supposed she could wander down Hester’s brick-paved walkway to the Gulf and watch the tide roll in, but she was starving. She decided to go into town to the Green Door Café for supper. Maybe she’d run into Pet Sweeney.

What Evie hadn’t counted on was the volume of traffic in town on a Saturday night. After two slow passes down Island Avenue, she finally spotted a car pulling out of a space. She did what she always criticized other drivers for doing—she sat in the street with her blinker on to nab the spot before anyone else could. And she did her best to ignore the drivers in the line behind her.

When she got out of her car, she noticed she was close to Wear It Again, the clothing store owned by her new friend, Claire. Evie walked up to the display window and looked inside. Claire had said she ran a vintage shop. All the selections Evie could see through the glass were elegant and unusual, and according to the tags within sight, some once belonged to Hollywood celebrities.

The store was crowded, but Evie ventured in anyway. She wouldn’t stay long, just say hi to Claire. A young woman signaled to her when she came inside. “Be right with you,” she said.

“Hi, I’m Sue Ellen,” she said a few minutes later, unnecessarily. She wore a name tag on the lapel of her shabby chic jacket. “Can I help you?”

“I stopped by to see Claire,” Evie explained.

“Oh, she’s not here. She’s hardly ever here on a Saturday night.” She nodded toward another girl who had pinned her name tag to a wide band around her hair. “We handle things on weekend nights.”

Evie thanked her and left the shop. Imagine not being present for what must be the biggest sales night of the week. Claire must have a lot of confidence in her employees or, more likely, she wasn’t as concerned about the income as many of the island’s shopkeepers appeared to be.

Evie walked the three blocks to the Green Door, dodging couples holding hands or families with strollers. She hoped she wouldn’t have to wait long for a table since it was nearly eight o’clock. The restaurant was busy, but Evie managed to grab a small table by the window. She asked the mature waitress if Pet Sweeney was working.

“Oh, honey,” the woman said, “Pet only works in the daytime. She vowed when she got married she’d never volunteer for a Friday or Saturday night again.” The waitress flipped open her order pad and pulled a pencil from behind her ear. “A lot of the local employees avoid the Avenue on weekends, which is fine with me. It gives us Micopee gals a chance at the biggest tips.”

Evie ordered a hamburger and a raspberry iced tea. So that’s it, she thought, when the waitress had walked away. The locals prefer Heron Point during the week when the tourists weren’t invading.

Since Claire and Pet weren’t in town, and since Helen lived more than an hour’s drive away in Gainesville, Evie had exhausted her supply of new friends who could teach her the fine art of livin’ easy. She bit into a juicy burger and smiled to herself. Unless I count Officer Billy Muldoone, she thought. He must be around town tonight. And I suppose I could call him my friend. She swallowed a sweet gulp of tea. He did find my earring.

She was still thinking about Billy after she left the Green Door and had resumed window-shopping. When she was opposite the largest building in town, the hotel where she’d had lunch yesterday, a commotion near the sidewalk café stopped her. In the middle of it was the tall, broad-shouldered Muldoone.

He saw her at the same time and greeted her in that booming baritone that muted every other sound on the street. “Hey, there, Evie. Come on over.”

She approached slowly since it was obvious Billy was on duty and, in fact, was performing one of his legal responsibilities at that very moment. She stopped a few feet from the entrance to the café. Billy propped his foot on a bench next to a man who was slouched forward with his hands behind his back. Billy rested his elbow on his bent knee. “What are you doing out tonight?” he asked Evie.

She couldn’t resist staring at the man she assumed was Billy’s captive. He was a scruffy-looking character perhaps in his mid-thirties. Though his head was down, she could see a scowl on his face. She noticed, too, a strand of white plastic sticking out from behind his waist. The new type of restraining device used by police forces.

“I’m, uh, just wandering.”

Billy smiled. “Nice night for it.”

She blinked a couple of times. This was the first apprehended criminal she’d seen that wasn’t on the eleven o’clock news. “So what are you doing?”

“Had to grab this guy,” Billy said. “And a couple others earlier. Been a busy night.”

The man looked up at Billy and barked an expletive.

“Watch it,” Billy said. “We’ve got ladies all around us. Maybe if I tighten those restraints, it’ll encourage you to mind your manners.”

The man stared at the sidewalk.

The knee of Billy’s uniform was ripped through, showing bruised flesh beneath. And when she looked more closely at him, she realized that his elbow had been scraped raw, too. “What happened to you?” she asked.

He shrugged one well-rounded shoulder. “It’s nothing. I had to use a Pensacola High School tackling move to get this fella to slow up.” He pointed down, and for the first time Evie noticed his criminal wore a pair of ragged socks on his feet and no shoes.

“Look under there,” Billy said, and Evie bent to see under the bench. “He was wearing those Rollerblade skates, which meant he had a good head start on me.”

“You caught him when he was on inline skates?” she asked, amazed that a man Billy’s size could churn up that much speed.

“The crowd slowed him down some,” Billy admitted. “That’s the thing about these weekend pickpockets. They don’t take into account that there are disadvantages to stealing in a mob.” He grinned at her. “Or the fact that my mother had a willow tree in her backyard, and avoiding her switch taught me a good deal about hauling a—” he paused “—running fast.”

He looked over her shoulder toward the street and nudged the man beside him. “Time to go, Eugene,” he said. “Our ride’s here.”

The glossy-white porch railings around the café reflected the blue and red cruiser lights, and Evie stepped out of the way with the rest of the crowd. When the car stopped, a young female officer got out. She walked up and grabbed the pickpocket by the elbow while Billy tugged him off the bench.

“Hey, Gail, say hello to Evie,” Billy said as he pushed the top of his captive’s head to lower the guy into the back seat. “She’s our new principal.”

Gail, a cute yet officious-looking brunette about Evie’s height, stuck out her hand. “Heard about you. Welcome to town.”

“Thanks.”

Billy called to a civilian on the porch. “You mind tossing me those skates and that pocketbook?”

The unsuccessful getaway wheels and a Louis Vuitton bag came sailing over to Billy. “Much obliged,” Billy said to the tourist. He handed the purse to Gail. “You’ll see that lady gets this back?”

She nodded.

“Tell her not to let this spoil her impression of Heron Point. The only reason this guy was able to grab her purse without somebody stopping him was because he was wearing those damn wheels. I’m going to suggest a new code at the next town council meeting. No skates after 8:00 p.m. on weekends.”

“Good idea,” Gail said. “You sure you don’t want me to ride into Micopee with you? I can call Jack to come in and spell me.”

“No. Don’t bother him. I’ll pick up Lou, and he can help me escort Eugene as well as those other two guys at city hall. We’ve just got one holding cell on the island,” he explained to Evie, “and that’s only because Jack insisted on having it built when he became chief of police. So when we’ve got more than one perp, we’ve got to take them to the county jail in Micopee.”

Raised in an area where the jails were generally larger than high schools, Evie simply said, “Oh.”

Billy winked at her. “I’d ask you to ride along, but the front seat next to me will be occupied.”

She smiled uncertainly back at him. “That’s quite all right. I understand completely.”

He slid into the driver’s seat of the cruiser. “I hear you’re staying out at the Pink Ladies.”

“That’s right.”

“Maybe I’ll give you a call sometime, see how you’re doing. I’ve lived in Heron Point a good long while, and I can tell you about the area.”

From the backseat, a nasal voice mimicked, “Maybe I’ll give you a call sometime.” Billy glared over his shoulder through a protective screen. “You watch yourself back there. It’s a dark, lonely ride to Micopee. One more missing person along that stretch of roadway wouldn’t even raise an eyebrow around here.” He nodded to Gail. “You see Evie gets back to her car okay, will you? We’ve got some smart mouths in town tonight.”

“You got it, Billy.”

The two women watched him drive away, and Evie realized she hadn’t responded to his offer. Maybe it was just as well. She heard Gail sigh beside her and turned to look at her. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Isn’t he wonderful?”

Evie didn’t quite know how to answer that. She hadn’t decided if Billy Muldoone was any part of wonderful, though she now knew that at least one woman in town thought he was all that and more. “He seems to be an excellent police officer,” she said, confident that the man she’d just seen in action would have no trouble with the criminals he was hauling off to jail.

AT FIVE O’CLOCK Sunday afternoon Billy drove down Island Avenue in the squad car and convinced himself that it was quiet enough to go home. Most of the tourists had left, and the shopkeepers had pulled their merchandise in from the sidewalks. It had been a busy couple of days, even for an August weekend. The weather had been balmy with no rain, no doubt attracting last-minute visitors.

He rolled down the window and rested his arm on the car door, enjoying the warm refreshing air that flowed through the cruiser and erased the sour smell of cheap alcohol from the inebriated petty thieves he’d picked up. He didn’t know exactly when he’d become the unofficial second-in-command on the police force, but he was proud that Jack trusted him so much.

Thankfully they had a good crew. Gail was a competent cop even if she was sweet on him. Billy admired Gail, but he would never date anyone on the force. Personal relations didn’t mix with official responsibilities, especially for cops. Ricky, the transplant from the Orlando P.D. Jack had hired when he took over, was working out great. Lou was a willing and satisfactory service aide, and among the five permanent members of the Heron Point department and the couple of extras they hired on particularly busy weekends, the town was enjoying low crime and dependable service.

But now, as he was most times at the end of the tourist rush, Billy was tired and ready to settle back into his recliner and sniff whatever his ma was preparing for dinner. Mulligan stew probably, since it was Sunday and she never let her family forget they were Irish.

Beginning to sweat, Billy jacked the A/C another notch, taking advantage of the salty air outside and the cool, recycled air coming from the vents. He took off his hat and tossed it next to him on the bench seat. He could practically smell the roast beef simmering now. He may have some complaints about living with his mother after so many years of independence, but no one would ever catch him bad-mouthing her cooking.

As he approached the turn to Gulfview Road he considered detouring away from the middle of town, where he lived in a hundred-year-old clapboard house on what his mother called one of the prettiest little streets she’d ever seen. Billy would have much preferred the unobstructed view of the water from a property on Gulfview Road. Heck, with the price of real estate escalating in Heron Point, he doubted he’d ever own a piece of the Gulf shore now.

But Claire and Jack did. And so did Hester, whose fancy Pink Ladies cut a flowery trail all the way to the water. Where Evie Gaynor was renting.

Billy turned onto Gulfview Road. Maybe he’d stop and pay Evie a visit. On the other hand, he’d told her he’d call, so that’s probably what he should do.

Since he’d already made the turn and since the water looked so blue and endless and since dinner wouldn’t be ready for at least an hour at the Muldoone house, Billy veered into Claire and Jack’s driveway. He’d give Jack an informal report, maybe have a beer and talk for a few minutes—who knows? Maybe the conversation would lead to the new principal.

He pressed the button on his cell phone that connected him home. “Hey, Daddy,” his daughter answered.

“Hi there, Gemma, what’s goin’ on?”

“Nothing much. Nana’s making me fold my laundry. She says I have to have all my clothes in order by tomorrow morning so she can take me shopping for new school things.”

Clearly detecting the irritation in his daughter’s voice, Billy said, “That’s a good thing, isn’t it? You want new clothes, don’t you?”

“Don’t care one way or the other,” Gemma said. “New clothes just get to be old clothes soon enough, and you end up starting all over again anyway.”

Billy shook his head. Sometimes there was no point arguing his daughter’s logic. “I’m over at Jack’s,” he said. “Tell Nana I’ll be home in time for supper.”

“I’ll tell her. Don’t be late or you’ll be in trouble.”

He could picture Gemma’s finger shaking at the phone—the same sassy gesture Brenda Muldoone had perfected raising Billy and his two brothers. No one should ever underestimate the value of a good finger-shaking. “I won’t be late.”

He stuck the cell phone in his pocket and walked up the few steps to the Hogan’s front porch. Tapping lightly on the door, he hollered, “Anybody home?”

He heard a youthful squeal and a voice calling out that she’d get it. In a few seconds, the door swung open and Billy stared down at Jane, Claire’s daughter. The girl’s deep brown eyes smiled right along with her mouth as she announced over her shoulder, “Billy’s here.” She opened the door wider. “Come on in.”

Jane was cute as a button. All sweet-smelling and sparkly in pink shorts with ribbons in her long dark hair. She was only a year older than Gemma, and Billy often regretted that the two girls had never seemed to hit it off.

“How are you, Jane?” When she assured him that everything was rosy in her life, he asked where Jack was.

“He’s outside.” She pointed through the rear of the house. “Go on out.”

Billy entered the kitchen where Claire and Pet Sweeney were concocting something that smelled delicious. “Ladies,” he said. “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Claire motioned to a tray of raw steaks on the counter. “You’re not going to be in our way, Billy. At least not until I can actually get Jack to put these things on the grill.” She paused and then said, “Why don’t you stay for dinner? We have an extra. I thought we were going to have company, but she turned me down.”

“She?”

“Yes. You met her—our new principal, Evie Gaynor.”

Billy leaned against the counter. “Evie was coming here?”

“Well, she never agreed to. But I invited her. She said she had some work to do before the teachers arrived for planning sessions tomorrow.” Claire glanced at Pet. “Actually, she didn’t say so, but I think Evie was afraid she’d be intruding. What do you think, Aunt Pet?”

“Maybe.” Pet delivered a mischievous look to Billy. “What do you think? You know her as well as anyone.”

“Me? I just met her…”

Pet continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Surely you’ve formed an opinion about our Miss Gaynor.”

Normally, Billy could ramble for ten or fifteen minutes on most any subject. But in this case, he simply said, “She seems real nice.”

Pet smiled. “She does, doesn’t she?”

Billy stood straight, suddenly uncomfortable under Pet’s scrutiny.

Claire sprinkled seasoning on the steaks. “So what do you say, Billy? Will you stay?”

“Thanks anyway, but I promised Gemma I’d be home. She’s got my evening all planned out with video game challenges. But I’d like to have a word with Jack, if that’s okay?”

“He’s in the gazebo, avoiding the grill,” Claire said. “I’m pretty sure he and Finn have had enough girl chatter for one afternoon.” She pointed her spoon at the back door. “They’ll welcome another male.”

“Thanks.” Billy left and headed down the pathway to the gazebo, which stood near the shore. He hadn’t been pleased to hear that Jack wasn’t alone and, worse, that his company was Finn Sweeney. “That’s just great,” he grumbled to himself as he meandered through the herb garden Pet had maintained while she’d lived in the smaller cottage behind Claire’s bungalow. He never looked forward to seeing the gruff old fisherman.

Billy and Finn had never gotten along, especially since Billy had once pursued his daughter Helen. Finn had always criticized any guy Helen went out with, and yet she’d ended up with the son of the one man the old grouch had sworn never to forgive. Yet Finn had gotten over his grudge with his decades-old enemy, proving again that life could take some odd turns.

“Look at you,” Billy said to himself. “Who’d have ever thought you’d actually ask your mother to move in with you?” But when Gemma had shown up on his doorstep four years ago, and Billy hadn’t known the first thing about kids, he’d seen Brenda as the answer to his prayers.

Widowed and with no family members who needed her anymore, Brenda Muldoone had willingly come to help her eldest son. Now she strived to keep all of them on the straight and narrow. Though no longer one of her weapons, that now-legendary willow switch reminded Billy every day that she was the woman who could do it.

Jack looked up when Billy stepped on a dry twig. “Hey, look who’s here.”

Finn frowned. “You write your quota of speeding tickets for one day, Muldoone?”

Billy stepped into the gazebo and shook his head. “I’m not getting into an argument with you, Sweeney.”

“It’d be the first time.”

Apparently, Finn was never going to get past all those reckless driving tickets Billy had given Helen, even though the old man knew darned well she’d deserved every one of them. At least motherhood had turned Helen into a conservative driver—something half a dozen fines hadn’t been able to do.

“I’ve come to talk to Jack,” Billy said, sending a pleading glance to the man who was both his boss and his friend.

“I’d like to give you some privacy and take a hike, Billy,” Finn said, tapping the arms of his wheelchair. “Unfortunately my hiking days have been somewhat limited the last forty-odd years.”

Jack motioned for Billy to sit on the bench built into the wall of the gazebo. “What’s on your mind? Is this something you can’t discuss in front of Finn?”

Billy studied the old man’s face for a moment. “I suppose he can hear.”

“Then go ahead and spill it,” Finn said. “Since there’s no way I’m going to end up with you as a son-in-law, I don’t dislike you half as much as I used to.”

“That’s a relief,” Billy mumbled. He clasped his hands between his knees and looked at Jack. “I’m just wondering what you know about the new principal, Evie Gaynor. Have you met her?”

“Not much, but Claire likes her. She was going to suggest Evie move into Pet’s old cottage. It’s been sitting vacant since Pet and Finn got married.”

“That’s a great idea,” Billy said.

“So what’s your interest in her?”

Billy shrugged. “I was just thinking of being friendly.”

Finn snickered. “So that’s what they call it these days.”

Jack scowled at Finn. “Never mind,” he said and gave Billy his full attention. “That’s a good plan. If you like this lady, take things a bit more slowly. She’s new in town. She’ll need friends, and, speaking from experience, I don’t know of a better one than you.”

“So you don’t think I might be reaching too high?”

Jack draped his arm around Billy’s shoulder. “Buddy, I don’t think the Queen of England is beyond your reach. I feel about you like I would a brother, but that doesn’t mean I’d marry you.”

“Well, thank God for that,” Billy muttered.

Jack laughed. “Evie’s not going anywhere. I have it on good authority from the mayor that she signed a two-year contract to stick it out down here. That gives you plenty of time to sweep her off her feet.”

“Right. If I don’t step on her toes in the process.”

Claire hollered at them from the house.

“Oh, Lord,” Finn said. “She’s waving that spatula like it was a battle ax. I’d suggest you take the hint.”

Jack went behind the wheelchair and pushed it toward the ramp he’d installed when Finn and Pet married. “Stay for dinner, Billy?”

“Can’t. Ma’s got stew cooking.” He went down the steps, walked briskly toward the house but called back to the other two, “Thanks for the advice. I know what I’m going to do.” And he did. He’d wait until tomorrow to call Evie and let her know how good a friend he could be.

CHAPTER FOUR

SO FAR Evie’s first official day had gone extraordinarily well. She’d arrived at Heron Point Elementary a few minutes before eight o’clock, just ahead of her administrative assistant, Mary Alice Jones, a middle-aged whirlwind of energy.

The eight teachers and auxiliary staff assembled in the cafeteria, a portable metal structure next to the main building, at eight thirty, where Evie introduced herself. Since most of the staff had been at the school for three years or more, they knew the procedures and made Evie feel welcome.

The third-grade teacher, a man in his mid-fifties, had lived in Heron Point since the school opened ten years earlier. He treated everyone by bringing in doughnuts from the town’s bakery, which happened to be owned by his wife. When he offered to bring coffee cake the next morning, Evie knew the figure she’d worked so hard for at her gym was in serious jeopardy.

After meetings all morning and a lunch of lasagna and green beans prepared by the cafeteria staff, Evie settled down at her desk with a stack of one hundred and twenty-five student folders that reached nearly to her chin. She’d gotten to know the teachers, now it was time to familiarize herself with the students. She pulled the first one off the top and opened it.

Johnny Adler. Evie studied the third-grader’s features from last year’s school picture, scanned the teacher’s comments about Johnny’s progress and behavior, and tried to place his face with his name.

Two hours had flown by when Evie reached the middle of the alphabet. She opened the folder containing records for Gemma Scarlett Muldoone and looked into mischievous brown eyes that immediately made Evie think of the girl’s father. Her hair was lighter than Billy’s, more the tan of a coconut and streaked with highlights the color of a new penny. The long waves were gathered into a neat ponytail with a bright green ribbon.

Smiling at the girl’s photo, Evie said, “Is this the child Helen Sweeney hinted was the terror of Heron Point? She looks so sweet.”

Evie flipped to the page containing Gemma’s vital information and gasped. Gemma’s record resembled a daily diary rather than a recap of educational milestones. Evie counted a dozen sheets of paper filled with comments from teachers and counselors and the previous principal.

When she’d reached the end of Gemma’s profile, Evie stuffed all the pages back into the folder and slammed it closed.

If a child is believed to be bad, or rumored to be bad, or expected to be bad, he will behave badly.

“I refuse to read a single word of this,” she said. “I will not be prejudiced by past opinions about this girl. It’s a new year, and every child deserves a clean slate.”

She couldn’t imagine the easy-going, self-assured cop she’d met raising a child who had a problem following rules. Evie didn’t know what had happened to Gemma’s mother—if she had died or if Billy and she were divorced—but she did know that Billy’s mother lived with them. Gemma had the input of both her father and grandmother.

Evie shoved the folder aside, picked up a pencil and began tapping it on her desk. Just because Billy was a capable cop, didn’t mean he was a competent father. She’d encountered many parents who, in her opinion, weren’t qualified for the job. Plus there were those who’d been willing and interested parents but not necessarily good ones. From this perspective, Evie was able to rationalize her growing desire to know more about Billy.

Her tapping grew more insistent as she recalled his announcement that he would call her sometime. He’d said it in front of Gail, so she assumed they didn’t have a relationship. And he wouldn’t have mentioned calling her at all if he hadn’t intended to do it, would he?

She spun her chair around to stare out the corner window. “Of course he would,” she said. “It was a casual comment, nothing more. Billy probably had no intention of calling despite what you let yourself believe and despite what Helen said about the overzealous cop.” Evie had to take Billy’s comment as just what it was—a local guy’s good-humored welcome to a newcomer. And that was just as well. Evie’s focus should be on Gemma, not the girl’s father.

Billy’s ruggedly handsome face evaporated from Evie’s mind at a knock on her door. “Come in,” she said, turning away from her view of the outside world.

Mary Alice stuck her head inside. “Sorry to bother you, Miss Gaynor, but we have a problem.”

“Oh?”

“One of our mothers is outside with her son and another student. It seems there was an incident on the playground before she came to pick up her child.”

“What? School hasn’t even started yet.”

Mary Alice shrugged. “We let the kids use the facilities all year long. These two were playing on the equipment. Shall I send them in?”

“Of course.” Evie rose. A girl entered first, and Evie’s gaze traveled from her pretty, pixie face and sun-streaked dark hair to the folder she’d just finished perusing. The girl’s familiar brown eyes glittered with indignation.

“This is Gemma Muldoone,” Mary Alice said, nudging the student farther into the room so the others could enter. The secretary introduced a slightly taller, husky boy as Bernard Hutchinson. “And this is Bernard’s mother,” she said. “Missy Hutchinson.”

Once everyone was inside, Mary Alice quickly slipped out and closed the door behind her. Evie faced three scowling faces. “What’s happened?”

“I’ll tell you what happened,” Missy declared. She pushed her son forward. “Look at him.”

Once she got a good look at Bernard’s shirt, Evie jumped back a step. “Good heavens. He’s covered with bugs!”

“You’re telling me,” Missy said. “They’re glued on.”

Regaining her composure, Evie advanced toward Bernard. She reached out and tentatively touched a lifelike roach, half expecting it to dart from under her finger. It didn’t. It remained immobile as one would expect from glued plastic. “They’re not real.”

“Thank heavens for that!” Missy said. “But they’ve ruined his shirt just the same.” She jabbed a finger toward Gemma’s head. “And her father can darned well replace it. I don’t care if he does only make a policeman’s salary. This shirt cost thirty dollars.”

Thirty dollars? For a kid’s play shirt? Evie refrained from commenting. “Did you do this?” she asked Gemma Muldoone.

“Why are you asking her?” Missy practically squealed. “I just told you she did. This child would lie about anything.”

Evie held up a hand. “Excuse me, Mrs. Hutchinson, but will you let me handle this?”

Missy released a pent-up breath and tugged at a caterpillar on Bernard’s collar. “See? They don’t come off.”

Evie pulled a chair next to Gemma. “Sit down, please.”

The girl’s chin thrust forward. “I don’t want to.”

“But I would like you to, so please do it.”

Gemma sat, appearing more like a wooden statue than a flesh-and-blood child.

“Now, I’d like you to tell me if you glued bugs to Bernard’s shirt and, if so, why you did it.”

Gemma’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I’m not saying I did, but if I did, it was because Bernard said I wasn’t going on any field trips this year.”

“Why would Bernard say that?”

“Because he’s mean and stupid.”

Missy fisted her hands on her hips. “There, you see? That’s what you’re dealing with, Miss Gaynor. A vandal and a name-caller.”

Evie sighed. “Please, Mrs. Hutchinson. There’s no need to resort to more name-calling.” She leaned over to be closer to Bernard’s height. “Did you tell Gemma that she wasn’t going on any field trips?”

“Sure. She’s not. She didn’t go on any last year—after the first one.”

Missy nodded dramatically. “Gemma’s not allowed near a public school bus,” she declared.

Evie didn’t intend to discuss that matter. Not when she still had the plastic bug caper to deal with. “This is a new year,” she said. “I think we’ll let Gemma’s teacher and I make field trip decisions.”

Missy smirked. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Evie perched on the edge of her desk and stared at Gemma, whose expression remained stoic. “You do realize, Gemma, that you can’t react to something someone said with a physical attack. That behavior is unacceptable. In this school we will respect each other’s personal property.”

Gemma huffed. “School hasn’t started yet. We were just playing. And besides, I didn’t say I did it.”

“No, but I believe you did. And you’re going to have to tell your father that if those bugs don’t come off, you owe Bernard a new shirt.”

“You’re not going to tell him?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I’m going to ask Bernard to give me his shirt, and you and I are going to stay in this office for as long as it takes for you to remove those bugs. And if Mrs. Hutchinson isn’t satisfied with the result, then we’ll see about involving your father.”

Gemma crossed her arms over her chest and slouched. “That’s not fair. He started it.”

“And it will end here, today. Do you need to call someone at home to say you’ll be delayed at school?”

“No.”

“Fine.” Evie wiggled her fingers at Bernard. “The shirt please.”

He took it off, handed it to her, and stood there in an Abercrombie T-shirt.

“I’m curious about one thing,” Evie said. “Did you try to stop Gemma from gluing bugs to your clothes?”

The considerably larger Bernard refused to look in Gemma’s direction. “Not after she said she’d punch my stomach.”

A smile lurked at the corners of Evie’s mouth. “I see. So you pretty much let her glue the bugs on?”

Bernard shrugged.

“Well, I hope you’ll remember from now on that you are not in charge of school policy, and that includes making decisions about who will and will not go on field trips.”

The boy hung his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

Evie turned to Gemma. “Is there something you’d like to say to Bernard?”

Gemma glared at him. “Yes, but then you’d call my dad.”

“Gemma!”

“Okay.” She squinted her eyes so tightly her face looked like a piece of overripe fruit. “I’m sorry, Bernard.”

Missy Hutchinson wasn’t satisfied. “That’s it? You’re not going to punish this child? You’re not even going to call her father?”

Evie was losing patience with Missy about as quickly as she was losing it with Gemma. “I’ll take care of matters from this point, Mrs. Hutchinson. You and Bernard may go. I’ll see that the shirt is returned for your inspection.”

Missy spun toward the door, pushing Bernard ahead of her. Evie tossed the shirt to Gemma. “You’d better get started.”

Gemma plucked a couple of bugs free before looking up at Evie with soulful dark eyes. “Thanks for not calling my dad.”

“Don’t thank me yet. It’s still a possibility.”

“Excuse me.” A gray-haired man appeared in the doorway.

“Yes?”

“Are you the new principal?”

Evie nodded. “And you are?”

“I’m Malcolm VanFleet, the maintenance man.”

Evie walked over and shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Malcolm. Did you need me?”

He stepped into her office. “Yes, ma’am.” Holding up a clear plastic bag, he said, “It’s about these things.”

Evie recognized the contents immediately. Dozens of bugs just like the ones on Bernard’s shirt. And a tube of quick-drying cement. She looked at Gemma who remained remarkably intent upon her task. “Where did you find these?” Evie asked Malcolm.

“Oh, they’re all over the playground. Bugs are stuck to the swings, the slide, the monkey bars, everywhere. I don’t know how long it’ll take me to get them all off, but I expect you should plan on paying me overtime since school starts in two days.”

Evie took the bag. She almost didn’t recognize her own voice when she said through clenched teeth, “Thank you, Malcolm.” Then she stuck her head out the door. “MaryAlice!”

The secretary jumped up from her chair. “Yes, Miss Gaynor?”

“Do you have Officer Muldoone’s phone number?”

Mary Alice smiled. “Oh, yes. I believe his cell number was left on the Rolodex on top of your desk. Would you like me to call him for you?”

Evie whirled around and went back into her office. “Never mind. I’ll do it myself.”

BILLY ALWAYS CARRIED a couple of small animal cages in the trunk of the cruiser. Living this close to water, you never knew when something would find its way onto a resident’s property. This afternoon’s creature was the belly-crawling kind.

He picked up the wire mesh box to show Mrs. Blake. “It’s just a harmless rat snake, ma’am,” he said. “I guarantee it was more afraid of you than you were of it.”

The elderly woman fluttered a handkerchief in front of her face. “You’re wrong about that, Billy. When a lady sees something like that coiled around the commode, well, I tell you, she’s plenty scared. It could have been a moccasin or some other poisonous snake.”

Billy smiled. “That would be venomous, Mrs. Blake. Snakes have venom in their bites, not poison. And this guy doesn’t have any venom at all.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “And I do thank you for coming to my rescue.”

Billy refrained from telling her that he more likely came to the rat snake’s rescue. Mrs. Blake hadn’t dropped her shovel since he’d arrived. When he got off work, he’d take the harmless creature out to the Indian burial grounds on the other side of the bridge and release it. He couldn’t see any justification in killing something that just happened to wander out of its element. “You’re welcome,” he said. “You call me anytime.”

He set the cage on the back seat. “Here you go, buddy. Unfortunately this is where most snakes in Heron Point end up eventually, usually the human kind.” After rechecking the box latch, Billy got behind the wheel. One more pass around town and he’d head back to city hall to write up a mostly uneventful report. He dreaded that job. Jack was a great boss and certainly a qualified chief of police, but he was a stickler for paperwork.

As Billy backed out of Mrs. Blake’s driveway, his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked the caller. “Heron Point Elementary,” he said. “Well, I’ll be.” A smile broke across his face. He could only think of one person at the school who might be trying to reach him—Evie.

He pressed the connect button. “Muldoone here.”

“Billy, it’s Evie Gaynor at the elementary school.”

His smile widened at the sound of her voice. Brisk, official-sounding even, but music to his ears. “Hey, Evie, I was just thinking about—”

“Billy, we have a problem.”

“We do?” His smile began to fade.

“I have Gemma in my office.”

Oh, boy. “What’s she doing there? School doesn’t start for two days yet.”

“Maybe so, but your daughter made her presence known a little early. Can you come by?”

Billy sighed. “I’ll be right there…. What did she do?”

“I think you should see this for yourself. A description doesn’t do this particular situation justice.”

The line went dead. And unless he could smooth this over, so would his hopes for developing any kind of relationship with Evie.

EVIE HEARD HIS VOICE the moment he entered the outer office. Billy Muldoone had a way of making his presence known.

“I’m here to see Miss Gaynor,” he said to Mary Alice.

Mary Alice’s answer crooned with sympathy, as if she were used to this scenario. “Oh, hi, Billy. Yeah, I know. She and Gemma are in there.”

He stood on the threshold and looked into the office. Evie stood and came around the desk, her hands clenched at her waist. Meetings with parents under these circumstances was never pleasant, and this particular meeting was already topping the tension meter. Billy had been popping into Evie’s head with alarming regularity all day. But any relationship she’d envisioned had just moved to the principal’s office. It was a shame, really. Billy looked so crisp and competent… and, with his face shadowed with a day’s end beard, even sexy. But when the little creases at his mouth deepened, Evie realized he also looked uncharacteristically vulnerable.

He closed the door and removed his ball cap. His gaze held Evie’s for a moment before he looked to his left and saw Gemma. She stared up at him through wispy bangs that needed a trim. She struggled to pull a bug from a shirt and finally dropped it into a pile on the floor beside her chair. “Hi, Daddy.”

His mouth twisted into a frown. “Hi, yourself. What’d you do?” He stared at the plastic items by her feet. “What are those?”

“Bugs. They’re not real.”

“How’d they get on that shirt?”

“They got glued there.”

He took a few steps closer and wiggled a stuck bug. “They sure did.”

Evie motioned to a chair. “Why don’t you sit down, Officer Muldoone?”

He sat stiffly, as if he were the one in trouble, and ran long fingers through his hair. “What happened?”

Evie briefed him, ending with the clean-up necessary to the playground. “Naturally we want all plastic insect infestation gone before Wednesday.”

“I saw Malcolm working out there when I drove up,” Billy said. “I couldn’t figure out what he was doing picking at the monkey bars like he was.”

“Well, now you know. He says he has a solvent that will loosen the glue, but it will take time.”

“Time the taxpayers of Heron Point will have to pay for,” he said, staring at his daughter. “Where did you get the bugs, Gemma?”

“At the Dollar Mart in Micopee. Nana had to go there for something and she gave me five dollars to spend. Somebody was putting out the Halloween stuff, and I saw these.” She held up a rubbery spider. “There were fifty in a bag. I bought five bags.” She paused before anticipating his next question. “I got the glue from Nana’s kitchen drawer.”

“One bag of bugs didn’t do it for you?”

“Not once I got started. It was fun putting them places.”

Billy pointed to the shirt on her lap. “Like that.”

“Specially here.”

“Whose shirt is it?”

She mumbled the answer.

Billy’s face blanched. “Whose did you say?”

“Bernard Hutchinson’s.”

He looked at the ceiling. “That’s just great. Why did you pick Bernard’s shirt?”

“He was saying stuff I didn’t like and that wasn’t true.” She blinked at Evie. “Isn’t that so, Miss Gaynor? He can’t say whether I go on field trips.”

Evie leaned against the desk. “You know that’s not the point, Gemma. There are more appropriate ways of handling problems. We don’t damage anyone else’s property. In this school we will respect one another’s belongings.”

Gemma raised a supplicating gaze to her father. “You would have done the same thing, Daddy.”

“Me? I don’t think I would have put bugs on Bernard’s shirt.”

“Maybe not Bernard’s, but you would his mother’s. You don’t like Missy Hutchinson. Didn’t you say she was stuck-up and con-de…” She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “What’s that word?”

“Never mind. And that’s not the point, either. No matter how I feel about Missy— and quit listening in to adult conversations, by the way—I wouldn’t glue bugs to one of her hundred-dollar blouses!”

Gemma wiggled a centipede loose. “Oh. Well, we owe Bernard another shirt if this one is ruined.”

“That ought to set you back about a dozen weeks of allowances.”

Evie raised her eyebrows. “How much allowance does Gemma get, if I may ask?”

“Fifty cents a week…not counting the windfalls my mother obviously drops in her lap for no reason.”

“That would be more like sixty allowances,” Evie said. “Missy told me what the shirt cost.”

Billy shook his head. “Wonderful. I don’t have a shirt that costs thirty dollars.”

Evie sympathized with Billy’s situation. Thirty dollars was probably a lot of money to a small-town cop. “You can see why I called you,” she said. “This wasn’t just a harmless incident. When other students are victimized—”

His eyes rounded, and he interrupted her. “I’d hardly call Bernard victimized. That’s an exaggeration.”

“I don’t think so. His rights were definitely violated. And there is the matter of financial restitution.” Evie folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t think we can minimize this.”

Billy glared at his daughter. This time she actually squirmed. “You’re grounded until you’re twenty. You know that, don’t you?”

Gemma started to speak, but a commotion in the outer office stopped her.

“I’m going in there right now, Mary Alice.” The woman’s voice coming through the closed door was intended to dissuade all argument. “You can’t stop me.”

Gemma’s hands stilled. The shirt slipped between her knees to the floor. “Daddy, I think Nana’s here.”

The door flew open and a deceptively small, wiry dynamo in yellow sneakers, flowered shorts and a sweat-dampened crimson T-shirt burst into the room. Her tomato-red hair was loosely bound in a scrunchy, leaving coarse strands sticking out like sun-dried pampas grass. Her eyes, under bright lavender shadow glittered as she surveyed the scene. She looked first at Evie, then Gemma, then Billy. “What’s going on here? I saw the cruiser in the parking lot as I was jogging past.”

Billy’s face flushed as he turned from the huffing jogger to look at Evie. He stood. “Miss Gaynor, apparently it’s time for you to meet my mother, Brenda Muldoone. Ma, this is the new principal.”

Brenda nodded once. “What’s going on? You going to tell me, Billy?”

He frowned at her. “It seems that five dollars you gave Gemma at the Dollar Mart was not a particularly wise investment.”

“What are you talking about?”

“She bought a few hundred plastic bugs and has been sticking them on everything inside school property.”

“Oh.” Brenda’s perpetual motion ground to a stop as she considered her son’s statement. “So that’s where my glue went. I tried to seal the crack in a vase earlier and couldn’t find the tube of cement.” She stuck her hand out at Gemma. “Give it back, young lady, and the rest of those bugs, too.”

“I can’t, Nana. It’s all been con…confis…” She looked at Billy. “What’s the word?”

Evie answered for him. “Confiscated, Gemma. Not to be returned.”

“She glued plastic bugs on Bernard Hutchinson’s shirt.” Billy filled Brenda in. “It’s probably ruined.”

A sound inappropriately like a bark of laughter came from Brenda’s cherry-red lips. “I’ll bet the little heir to the Hutchinson fortune just stood there and let her do it.”

“Ma…”

Brenda quickly recovered and said, for Evie’s benefit, “Oh, Gemma, what a naughty thing to do.” Then, under her breath she added to Billy, “Guess she couldn’t find any live ones.”

“Mrs. Muldoone…” Evie said.

“I know, I know.” Brenda stared at the shirt. “What are the damages, Miss Gaynor? We Muldoones pay our bills.” She slipped her hand into the pocket of her shorts. “I’ve got a few bucks on me.”

“I don’t know yet,” Evie said. “If we can remove the bugs without damaging the shirt, then I’ll give it back to Mrs. Hutchinson for her approval.”

Brenda waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “That’s no problem. I’ll have that shirt looking like new.”

Billy took hold of his mother’s arm. “Ma, you’re not helping Gemma realize what she’s done.”

Brenda’s brows came together in a scowl. “I’m not finished with her yet. We haven’t started talking punishment. Now, what else?”

“The schoolyard has to be cleaned up. Those bugs are everywhere.”

Brenda strode to within a few feet of Gemma’s chair. “You really did it this time, didn’t you? Got yourself in a peck of trouble.”

Gemma shrugged. “Looks like it.”

“No dessert for you tonight.” She tugged at the tangled bangs on Gemma’s forehead. “Well, come on. You look a mess. I’ve got you an appointment to get your hair trimmed over at Ida’s. Then I’ll come back with you later and we’ll unstick all those bugs.” She turned to Billy. “With three of us working, we’ll have the place exterminated in no time.” She looked at Evie. “I’m going to go ahead and take my granddaughter and the shirt now, Miss Gaynor. We’ll fix up the schoolyard.”

“But wait…”

Gemma had already taken her grandmother’s words as her release from custody. She bolted to the door.

“Stop right there, Gemma,” Evie said.

Brenda grabbed her granddaughter’s arm and held her still. “We’ll see that Gemma learns her lesson.”

“I wish you could also assure me this type of behavior won’t be repeated.”

Staring at the top of Gemma’s head, Brenda said, “My granddaughter is a bit high-strung. But this was just a childish prank, a stupid one to be sure, but still a prank.” She curved her hand over Gemma’s hair. “I think we can assure Miss Gaynor that you won’t do this again, can’t we, Gemma Scarlett?”

The girl nodded. “I won’t do this again.”

“There, you see? So I’ll take Gemma and we’ll come back later for clean-up duty.” Brenda’s lips widened in a calculated grin. “You tell Missy Hutchinson that Brenda Muldoone is taking charge of Bernard’s shirt. I don’t think you’ll have any more trouble from her.”

“I’ll take you at your word, Mrs. Muldoone.”

“Call me Brenda. Everybody does.” She turned Gemma around and nudged her out the door. “You coming, Billy?”

“Not quite yet, Ma. If you need to use my truck to go to Ida’s, the keys are in the ignition.”

“Never mind,” she said. “I’ll use the Minnie Winnie. See you at home.” She flicked a wave at Evie and left.

Evie walked around her desk and sat. “Minnie Winnie?”

“Winnebago. My mother drives a motor home.”

“Is she always like this?” Evie asked.

Billy scratched the back of his neck. “Who? Ma or Gemma?”

Evie laughed. “I was talking about Brenda this time.”

“Yes. Pretty much. She’s kind of hard to ignore. But she takes good care of Gemma. And she means what she says. We’ll see that Gem doesn’t act out in this way ever again.” He gave her a sympathetic smile. “I know this wasn’t how you hoped to start the school year.”

“No, but with kids you can never be certain of anything. I’m aware that you’re a single father, and raising a child isn’t easy under the best of situations. I’m sorry I had to call you.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said. “I’m not sorry I’m here.” He passed his hand over the start of a grin. “Well, I’m sorry about the circumstances that brought me, but now that we’re alone, I’m kind of glad.”

He was glad? That wasn’t the response Evie had expected. “What do you mean?”

“I was hoping we could get to know each other a little better.”

CHAPTER FIVE

EVIE STARED AT Billy while she caught her breath. He would never win an award for impeccable timing.

After her silence became uncomfortable, she folded her hands in her lap and said, “Billy, are you asking me out?”

He walked over to the pile of litter Gemma had left on the floor, scooped up the bugs and deposited them into the trash can. Then he pulled his chair to the opposite side of Evie’s desk, sat and leaned back. “I’m not sure. But you have this look on your face that tells me you wouldn’t say yes.”

She sat forward. “No, I wouldn’t. We just had an incident with your daughter. I’ve had to appease Missy Hutchinson, who, I’m starting to believe, is not the town’s most understanding and forgiving citizen. And I’m still somewhat breathless over encountering your mother.”

She shook her head. “And to top it off, I’ve spent the day adjusting to a new job, new staff and the responsibility that comes with preparing for the arrival of one hundred and twenty-five youngsters the day after tomorrow.”

“Looks to me like you could use a night out,” he said. “With a friend.”

She pointed at him, then pointed at herself. “You and I? Friends?”

Billy shrugged one shoulder. “Sure, why not?”

“But we’re here as parent and school administrator. I was just about to discuss your daughter’s behavioral problems.”

“Okay. I know Gemma can be a handful. She’s going through a stubborn phase right now. Why don’t you and I talk about it over a couple of seafood dinners at the Tail and Claw restaurant?”

“I don’t know that we should—”

Mary Alice opened the door. “Sorry to bother you again, Evie,” she said.

Evie was beginning to think of the secretary’s sudden appearances as precursors of trouble. “What is it, Mary Alice?”

“There’s a UPS truck outside. The driver has a delivery for you.”

Evie groaned. “Already? I didn’t expect such prompt service.”

Mary Alice jutted her thumb at the window. “See for yourself.”

Leaning over the back edge of a van, a man dressed in trademark brown shorts and shirt lowered a hand truck laden with boxes to the ground. A half dozen other cartons already sat in the school yard.

“He needs to know where you want it,” Mary Alice said.

Evie pressed her hand against her forehead. “I never dreamed… I thought it would be days yet.”

Billy strode to the window and stared at the growing pile of boxes. “What is all that?”

Evie sighed. “Oh, books, reference materials, clothes, knickknacks…” A burst of near hysterical laughter escaped her. “…ice skates.”

Billy turned. “Ice skates?”

“I thought there might be an indoor rink. We have them up north…” She waved her hand in front of her face. “Never mind. It’s a total of fifteen boxes of all the things I thought I couldn’t live without.”

He chuckled. “You can live without ice skates in Heron Point.”

“I know that now,” she said. “I was hoping my things would arrive after I found a place to live.” She stared at the stack in the yard. “I can’t fit even half of this at the Pink Ladies.”

Mary Alice tapped her foot on the wood floor. “So what should I tell him?”

Evie looked around. “In here, I guess. Temporarily at least.”

Mary Alice made a clucking sound with her tongue. “It’s going to be crowded.”

Grimacing at the woman’s obvious and unnecessary observation, Evie said, “I’ve got to find a place. Now!”

The phone in the outer office rang and MaryAlice hurried to answer it. She called to Evie a moment later. “It’s for you. It’s the mayor.”

Evie grabbed the phone. “Claire?”

At the sound of her new friend’s calm voice, Evie’s breathing returned to normal. With each sentence from Claire’s mouth, she relaxed more. She finished the conversation by thanking Claire, hung up and looked at Billy.

He raised his eyebrows. “Good news?”

“Yes. What did I just say five minutes ago?”

“That we were heading to the Tail and Claw.”

She scowled at him.

“Okay, second guess. That you need a place to live.”

“Right. You won’t believe this. Claire just offered me the cottage behind her house. She said it would be ready by Friday.” As the first load of boxes was wheeled into her office, Evie exhaled a deep sigh. “I said yes. I’m moving in Friday.”

“I should have told you Claire was going to do that,” Billy said.

“You knew?”

His response was matter-of-fact. “It’s Heron Point. Of course I knew.” He began stacking the cartons against the only spare wall in the office. “I have Friday night off and I own a pickup.” The mischievous look over his shoulder was disturbingly similar to Gemma’s. “So, do you want my help?”

She watched him squeeze a box into a space between the stack and the ceiling. “Sure. And I’ll buy the pizza.”

THE NEXT AFTERNOON after school, Evie went by Claire’s bungalow, which she’d learned was called Tansy Hill by local residents. Interested in the history of the century-old home, which sat on a rise with a stunning view to the Gulf, Evie discovered that the original owner had raised herbs in the backyard, tansy being one of the principal varieties. Since then, everyone in town, even the postman, knew the property as Tansy Hill.

Claire took Evie through the kitchen, out the back door and down a brick pathway to a charming cottage that could have been out of the pages of a child’s book. It had a peaked roof with scalloped shingles over the eaves, small casement windows with flower boxes at the sills and a leaded-glass front door with a brass knocker shaped like a crescent moon. The entire structure was painted yellow and white to match the main house.

Claire opened the door and stepped aside. “I just had the cleaning lady here today,” she said as Evie went in. “If there’s anything you want to change, feel free. Aunt Pet packed up her personal belongings when she moved into Finn’s place, and what’s left is just the furniture that’s been here for a while. It’s still serviceable I guess, but I have no great love for any of it. You can bring in your own things.”

Evie quickly appraised the cozy parlor. “Oh, no, I wouldn’t change anything. Besides, I’m not moving the furniture from my apartment down here. It’s all in storage in Detroit.”

She was more than pleased with the bright chintz sofa, overstuffed wicker chairs and glass-topped wrought-iron tables covered with magazines dedicated to herb growing and the celestial arts. It was Evie’s taste with a touch of the unconventional Pet, and once she filled up the empty bookshelves along one wall and set out a few precious treasures, she knew she’d be comfortable here for as long as Claire allowed her to stay.

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