“I want to see you again,” Sawyer said

Sophie expelled a little sigh that seemed to be one of relief. “So you’re not finding it hard to be around me?” she asked.

Sawyer had to repeat that to himself. “Hard?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “If I were any other woman, you could kiss me now and not worry about whether I’d scream or tremble or push you away.”

Her candor made him grin. “Actually, I get a lot of that anyway.”

She elbowed him in the arm. He loved the way she did that. “You do not. I hear that women love you. So do children.”

He pushed at the car door, thinking he couldn’t take too much more of this. She was studying him with a sweet look that was still mildly wary, for all her speculation on how she’d react if he kissed her.

“I have to go,” he said quickly. He got out of her car and walked around to his, only to find her standing in front of his door.

Her mind was replaying bright images of Sawyer holding her in the office, memories of how it felt when a man’s muscles were used to comfort rather than hurt.

“Sophie…” he warned.

Dear Reader,

When I began this book I thought I didn’t understand daredevils, but I created one in Sawyer Abbott anyway because I know readers love them. Life is such a gift that it seems criminal to me to risk it for anything less than saving another life.

And then it occurred to me that’s what we do when we love each other. We save each other. Love is the biggest risk a man or woman can take, and there’s no fire suit, no safety net, no 911 responder to protect you from disaster. Love is an openhearted, pull-out-all-the-stops gamble that whatever draws you to someone will grow into the stuff that lasts a lifetime.

As all writers do, I shape a character and send him or her in a certain direction, but what he or she decides to do is really up to that character. When Sawyer decided to love Sophie despite a dark secret, and to love her three creative children, I realized I knew him pretty well. And I fell in love with him myself. I hope you will, too.

Sincerely,

Muriel Jensen

P.O. Box 1168

Astoria, Oregon 97103

Books by Muriel Jensen

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

866—FATHER FOUND

882—DADDY TO BE DETERMINED

953—JACKPOT BABY*

965—THAT SUMMER IN MAINE

1020—HIS BABY**

His Wife

Muriel Jensen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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THE ABBOTTS—A GENEALOGY

Thomas and Abigail Abbott: arrived on the Mayflower; raised sheep outside Plymouth

William and Deborah Abbott: built a woolen mill in the early nineteenth century

Jacob and Beatrice Abbott: ran the mill and fell behind the competition when they failed to modernize

James and Eliza Abbott: Jacob’s eldest son and grandfather of Killian, Sawyer and Campbell Abbott; married a cotton heiress from Virginia

Nathan Abbott and Susannah Stewart Abbott: parents of Killian and Sawyer; Nathan diversified to boost the business and married Susannah, the daughter of a Texas oilman who owned Bluebonnet Knoll

Nathan Abbott and Chloe Marceau: parents of Campbell and Abigail; renamed Bluebonnet Knoll and made it Shepherd’s Knoll

Killian Abbott: now the CEO of Abbott Mills; married to Cordelia Magnolia Hyatt

Sawyer Abbott: Killian’s brother by blood; a daredevil

Campbell Abbott: half brother to Killian and Sawyer; brother to Abigail; manages the Abbott estate on Long Island

China Grant: thinks she might be the missing Abigail

Sophie Foster: mother of Gracie, Eddie and Emma Foster; the woman with whom Sawyer Abbott falls in love

Brian Girard: half brother to Killian and Sawyer

Contents

Prologue

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

Prologue

Sawyer Abbott stared into the eyes of the beautiful young woman he’d found peering in the French doors to the library of his home, as he struggled to process what she’d just told him. “I think…” she’d said, “I mean…I believe I could be…your sister, Abigail.”

Sister. For so long the word had signified grief and regret and terrible guilt. But connecting any of those to this vibrant young woman with long dark hair and lively dark eyes was difficult. Although those physical characteristics would qualify her.

“I wasn’t snooping, I swear,” she went on hastily. “I was just hoping for a glimpse of one of you, some sign of a friendly face so that this wouldn’t be so…scary.”

He wanted to reply, but shock held back the words.

“I’m…China Grant, by the way. I mean…that’s been my name. But…maybe not who I really am.”

She shifted her weight and smiled a little nervously, pointing to a square box on the ground. It was the utilitarian kind, intended to hold office documents or personal papers for storage. “I, ah…there are some things in my box,” she said rapidly, “that make me think it could be me. I was adopted as a toddler and I always knew that, but I was told I came to my family through my mother’s doctor. They adopted my sister the same way. When our father died just a month ago, we were cleaning out the house and found these boxes with our names on them, and the things that must have belonged to us when we moved in. I know that probably sounds suspicious…”

She kept talking, and he finally raised a hand to stop her. She sighed, as though grateful. “Sorry,” she went on. “There’s just so much to say.”

His brain a muddle of confusion, his emotions taking him places he wasn’t sure he had the courage to explore, he nodded in agreement. If she was Abby, there was twenty-five years’ worth of things to say.

He pushed the French doors open. “Let’s go inside. Our company’s yearly staff meeting is under way here right now, but this room’s pretty quiet.”

She walked in, holding on to her box, and stopped in the middle of the room. “My goodness,” she whispered. He was used to the room, but the dark wood and leather and floor-to-ceiling shelves of books did have an awesome elegance.

He pointed her to the leather sofa and noticed a mild tremor in his hand. That tremor was beginning to take over his body.

“Wait right here,” he said. “I’ll get my brothers.”

She put the box down on the coffee table and asked hopefully, “Is my mother at home?” Then she added with a little apologetic inclination of her head, “I mean, if she is my mother.”

Her mother. That possibility was mind-bending after all these years. Chloe would be beside herself with shock and excitement. It was probably a good thing she wasn’t here until they could conclude whether or not this woman was Abby.

“She’s in Paris at the moment,” Sawyer replied. “Her aunt is very ill and she’s caring for her.”

“I see.” Clearly disappointed, she sat.

“Can I get you something?” he asked, touched by her quiet grace. “Coffee? Soft drink?”

“No, thank you.” She wore a white sweater and joined her hands on the knees of her white slacks. “I don’t think I could swallow. I’ll just sit right here and wait for you.”

Sawyer hurried down the hallway and through the quiet kitchen. Catering staff were handling this last day of the meeting. Through the window he could see them setting up under one of several pavilions on the lawn.

His breath came quickly as he ran upstairs, the expansion of his lungs making his broken ribs hurt. Imagining now that his near-fatal waterskiing accident had occurred less than twenty-four hours ago was hard. He should slow down, but he couldn’t. Abigail was home—maybe.

He rapped on his elder brother’s bedroom door. Killian opened it, a shushing finger to his lips. “Cordie’s still asleep.” He pulled on a blue cotton sweater, then took a good look into Sawyer’s eyes. Killian’s were blue under dark blond hair slightly disheveled by the sweater. “What?” he asked anxiously.

Sawyer pointed downstairs. “There’s a young woman in the library.” He was breathless.

“Yeah?”

“She says she thinks she’s Abby.”

“What?” Killian demanded.

Sawyer told him about the box.

“What’s in it?”

“I don’t know. I thought the three of us should talk to her together.”

Killian went into CEO mode. He lived his life with the same methodical organization he used to lead the Abbott Mills Corporation. Sawyer headed up the family’s charitable foundation, and Campbell, their younger brother, managed the estate. “Is Campbell downstairs?” Killian tugged his sweater into place over stone-colored slacks.

“He was still sleeping when I left the boathouse.” Sawyer and his younger brother had slept there because of the crowd at the house. “I’m going for him right now.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you in the library in ten minutes.”

Sawyer rushed down the stairs and toward the back door, a hand to his screaming ribs. He was halfway across the back lawn when Campbell appeared on the trail, walking toward the house in jeans and a black Abbott Mills T-shirt. He ran a hand through his dark hair, yawning.

“Hi,” he said when he spotted Sawyer. “I heard you get up and leave, and thought that meant you were coming back with doughnuts. Where are—?” He stopped when his dark eyes settled on Sawyer’s face. “What happened?” he asked urgently.

“We have a visitor,” Sawyer replied, taking Campbell’s arm and hurrying him toward the house, “who thinks she’s Abby.”

Campbell froze in the middle of the trail, though the late-June Long Island morning was already growing warm. “What? What makes you think she’s telling the truth?”

“I have no idea if she is or not,” Sawyer admitted, drawing him forcefully along. “I just thought we should all talk to her. I left her in the library and Killian’s going to meet us there.”

“All right, all right. I’m coming.” Campbell yanked free of him. “She’s probably pocketing our first editions as we speak. Why on earth would Abby just show up after all this time? She’s got to be some larcenous babe after part of the Abbott fortune.”

Somehow, Sawyer didn’t think so. “Don’t make judgments before you meet her.”

“And don’t start calling her ‘sis’ before we know the truth.”

Killian was filling the coffeemaker when Sawyer and Campbell arrived. A long granite-topped counter served as a work area for Killian, who used the library as an office. In a corner was a small wet bar and a coffeepot.

“Ah. Here they are.” Killian pulled cups out from under the counter as China Grant stood uncertainly at their arrival. Killian had apparently already introduced himself, and Sawyer could only guess from the hospitable act of coffee-making that his brother had decided she was worth listening to.

Sawyer introduced Campbell. “He’s the youngest brother. Killian and I are Abigail’s half brothers, from our father’s first wife, but Campbell is her full sibling. Still, we’re all very close and none of us notices that we aren’t all full-blooded relations.” He sent Campbell a look that told him to keep his personal confusion about his place in the family to himself.

She offered her hand. “Hello,” she said in a warm, quiet voice. “I’m China Grant. That is, that’s who I’ve been for twenty-five years. I’m not sure who I was for the fourteen months before that.”

Campbell shook her hand politely, but didn’t bother to hide his skepticism. “What makes you think you’re our sister?”

“I found these things….” She pointed to the box she’d carried in. The name China was printed on the lid in broad-tipped black pen. “I did a little research about your family and thought…I might be related.”

“Why?”

Killian encouraged China to sit on the sofa and took the other end of it. Sawyer saw him send Campbell a look that told him to show a little courtesy.

Campbell held his stare without flinching as he sat in a chair opposite the sofa. Sawyer sat in the matching chair.

China removed the lid from the box, pulled out several yellowed newspaper clippings and handed them to Killian. She folded her hands as she watched him scan them.

“They’re all stories of your sister’s kidnapping,” she said. “I can’t imagine why my parents would have saved them in my box if they didn’t relate to me.”

Killian’s expression grew grim as he passed one clipping to Sawyer and perused another.

“Then,” China went on, pulling a pair of light blue corduroy rompers out of the box, “there’re these.” She exposed the label sewn into the back of them. It was the same label Abbott Mills’s children’s wear division used today. Abbott Mills Baby, with a lamb curled atop the double L. In the logo for the company’s other products, a sheep stood on the double L.

“We sold millions of those,” Campbell challenged. “Anybody could…”

But Sawyer had a nebulous memory of a favorite pair of rompers the nanny always put on Abby because of their durability and the baby’s high-speed crawl. The knees were reinforced with star-shaped patches.

China held the garment up by the straps, the patches worn, two corners of one star unraveled.

Sawyer’s heart slammed against his aching ribs.

Killian took the rompers from her and studied them, frowning with concentration.

“I remember them,” Sawyer said softly.

Killian nodded. “I think I do, too.” He ran a hand over the knee patches. “She used to crawl everywhere,” he said, lost in his thoughts. “None of our stuff was safe from her.” He passed the garment to Sawyer.

“I repeat,” Campbell said firmly, “that Abbott Mills made thousands of grosses of those.”

“I’ll bet,” China said, lifting something else out of the box, “that there aren’t thousands of grosses of these.” She drew out a rag doll wearing a miniature pair of the same rompers, with the same star patches. The doll had obviously been specially made, with style and skill. It had painted eyes, cheeks and lips, and elegantly embroidered eyelashes. Brown yarn hair was woven into long braids.

“I think…Chloe made this,” Killian whispered. “Abby carried it with her all the time.”

Campbell crossed the room to take the doll from him. “How can you be so certain this is the same doll? It was twenty-five years ago.”

“I’m not certain,” Killian said. He looked startled, even a little shaken. “But I think there’s enough here that bears investigating.”

“Okay,” Campbell said. “All we need for proof is a DNA test.”

Killian put a hand to his forehead. “Yeah, but Mom’s worried about Tante Bijou at the moment, and I hate to further upset her with the news that a woman who might be her daughter has come to Shepherd’s Knoll. She won’t want to leave Tante Bijou, but she’ll be frantic—Her aunt raised her,” he explained to China, “and she’s in very poor health. Mom’s very worried about her.”

“Then don’t tell her,” China said in a reasonable tone, packing up her box again. “Wait until she comes home. The last thing I want to do is cause her pain. I’ll leave you my address and phone number in L.A.—”

“No, wait.” Killian stood, looking pensive. He went to the counter to pour coffee. “Let’s think this through.”

“Couldn’t we just do the test with me?” Campbell asked. “If she is my full sibling—”

“No.” Sawyer didn’t like that idea. “Mom should be here before we do anything. She was here when Abby was lost, and she should be in on finding her. If she is Abby.”

“And if she isn’t?” Campbell demanded impatiently. “Mom gets to grieve all over again? Let’s just do it. Then we’ll know and we’ll spare Mom the pain if she’s lying.”

“I’m not lying!” China denied with a glower at Campbell. Then her expression softened as she looked to Killian and Sawyer. “I may be wrong about who I am, but I’m not lying. I’m sorry this is hard on all of you. I don’t mean it to be. I just don’t know how else to learn the truth.” She handed Killian a business card and stood.

Taught Chloe’s European manners very young, all the brothers stood with her.

“You should stay,” Killian said. “We happen to have a houseful at the moment, but they’ll all be gone tomorrow. We’ll find someplace to put you tonight.”

“Killian!” Campbell said in complete exasperation. “What are you talking about? You don’t know any—”

“It’ll be good for her to stay,” Killian repeated. “You’ll get to know each other.”

“I don’t have time to get to know anybody. I have too much to do already.”

“I’d be happy to earn my keep,” China put in quietly.

“There you go, Cam!” Killian was warming to the whole idea. “You’re always telling me that you could use staff to manage the estate. China can help you while she’s here.”

“But—”

“I think it’s a great idea, too,” Sawyer put in.

Campbell groaned, predictably exasperated.

“Are you able to stay?” Killian asked her. He glanced at her business card, then up at her. “You own a shopping service in L.A.?”

“Yes.” Her quiet manner evaporated in her growing excitement. “I have four great employees. I told them I’d be away a couple of weeks.”

Campbell, accustomed to being outvoted on most things since childhood, twirled his index finger in a mockery of delight. “She’s good at shopping. That’ll help me a lot.”

“Do you want to stay?” Sawyer asked her.

She looked right into Campbell’s face and answered sweetly, “I’d love to stay. And shopping is an art, smarty. One should be willing to pay a fair price, but never too much.”

That, Sawyer thought, sounded a lot like his father.

Killian grinned at him. “That’s settled. They’ll be working together until Mom comes home. Did I mention Cordie and I are leaving for Italy on our second honeymoon day after tomorrow? You’re in charge.”

Sawyer closed his eyes, his head now hurting as well as his ribs. If he was going to have to assume Killian’s role as an arbitrator while he was gone, it was a good thing he was used to flirting with danger.

Chapter One

Anchovies, pepper jack cheese, wheat crackers, beef jerky, marinated vegetables, oranges and taco-flavored corn chips. Sawyer Abbott checked the list in his hand against the contents of his cart and decided, as he crossed off the last item, that shopping wasn’t so hard. Kezia Chambers, the Abbott family’s housekeeper at Shepherd’s Knoll, had laughed when he’d told her he was headed for the Losthampton Market.

“You’re going to meet girls, aren’t you?” She was African-American and she and her husband, Daniel, the Abbotts’ chauffeur, had been part of the family for as long as Sawyer could remember. Over the years, she’d alternately scolded him and comforted him and his brother Killian, depending upon the situation. When their mother had left he was three and Killian was five, and she’d helped them accept their stepmother, Chloe, and the two babies she and their father had eventually added to their household. And when their little sister, Abigail, was taken at fourteen months of age, Kezia had been a brick.

“No, I’m not.” He’d pretended to be insulted. “As if I had to arrange to meet single women. They seem to find me.”

She’d rolled her eyes as she stirred the dark contents of a bowl with a wooden spoon. “You’re so spoiled. You were born with those fair good looks and that outrageous charm and you think they’ll never fail you, but someday you’re going to meet someone who’ll resist you. Then what will you do?”

“Nothing,” he replied. “I won’t want anyone who doesn’t want me. Now—do you need anything from the market? I just came to ask you as a courtesy. Don’t try to harass me the way you harass Killian.”

“Really?” She smiled and raised the wooden spoon from the bowl menacingly. A rich chocolate batter ran off the spoon, its sweet aroma wafting toward him. Brownies. “Even if I’m making your favorite treat?”

“Are you putting caramel and pecans in them?” he bargained.

“I might be convinced to do that, but you have to let me pick on you.”

He’d rolled his eyes theatrically. “Oh, all right. But there’d better be lots of caramel.”

“There will be. If you’d remember to give me your list when I go shopping, you wouldn’t have to pick up your own treats. China’s been here only two weeks and she remembers to tell me what she needs.”

“I know. She’s obviously smarter than I am. I’m just laying in a few personal supplies. Brian and I are working on one of his boats tonight, and even though he has that little store now, he has mostly survival stuff for tourists and none of my favorites.”

“Ha!” she teased. “Applaud him for his good taste.”

Brian Girard, a newly discovered half brother, the progeny of Sawyer and Killian’s perfidious mother and the next-door neighbor, had upped the Abbott-sibling count to five. Sawyer, Killian and Campbell—their other half brother and full sibling of Abigail—had been doing their best to make him feel welcome. Brian had refused Killian’s invitation to move into Shepherd’s Knoll, choosing instead to live in an old house his paternal grandmother had left him. He’d recently bought an old general store and boat rental at the edge of Losthampton on Long Island, and was learning about life as a merchant after having spent most of his adulthood in the corporate world with Corbin Girard, his natural father.

The fact that Corbin had hated and competed with the Abbotts and the Abbott Mills Corporation all his life was ignored by the brothers as they determined to make their own way in this new relationship.

And since Brian had literally saved Sawyer’s life when one of Sawyer’s stunts for charity had gone wrong, Sawyer felt obliged to make even more of an effort than the others. Actually, Brian was hardworking and witty, and liking him didn’t require much effort. His father had disowned him for helping the Abbotts, and without the old man’s predatory presence among them, they were getting along very well.

Sawyer suddenly remembered something he’d forgotten to put on the list but had thought about on the drive to town—the current Wall Street Journal. He’d promised Killian he’d keep an eye on their stock while he was gone.

Sawyer pushed his cart through the narrow aisles of the quaint little store that hadn’t changed much in one hundred and fifty years because its nineteenth-century-charm appealed to the tourists. He stopped at the book and magazine rack in back. Someone had apparently just rummaged through the newspapers on the bottom, so the usually orderly stacks were all jumbled. Sawyer squatted behind the rack to look for the Journal.

“Mister!” A high, urgent whisper made him look up into the dark eyes of a boy about eight. He was scrawny and flushed and appeared frightened. With him was a little girl slightly younger, who had the same dark eyes and tumbled dark hair. She, too, looked scared. Their hands and faces were dirty.

“What is it?” Sawyer asked, putting a hand to the boy’s shoulder.

“Can you help us?” the boy asked, his big eyes pleading.

Sawyer noted the boy’s anxious glance around the book rack.

“With what? What’s the matter?”

“We’ve been kidnapped!” the boy said, ducking. “We need you to help us!”

Sawyer stared at him. “What? Kidnapped by whom?”

The little girl nodded and pointed around the rack to a woman pushing a cart through the produce section. The woman wore a white shirt and denim pedal pushers and her dark hair was caught in a ponytail. She stopped to thump a watermelon.

Sawyer stepped back behind the rack and turned to the little girl, whose lip was trembling. “She took us from our mom in Florida!” she said.

“When?” he asked. That was an irrelevant question under the circumstances, he realized, but he was having trouble believing this was happening to him.

“Three days ago,” the boy replied. “We haven’t had much to eat. And she hid us in the back of the car under a blanket all the way from Florida.”

Sawyer peered out again and saw that the woman, though quite pretty, did seem drawn and tired, as though she had been driving for days. Suddenly, she looked up and around her, and the impatience and annoyance on her face were clear. “Eddie!” she called. “Emma!”

Sawyer leaned out of sight again, took the cell phone out of his pocket and dialed 911. A glance around the rack while he waited for a response told him the woman was headed this way. He caught the little girl by the hand and gestured for the boy to follow.

Emergency picked up and Sawyer explained the situation as he hustled the children across the market to the deli. He put the children behind the meat case and planted himself in the narrow opening between it and a case filled with salads while he finished his call. He told the dispatcher where they were, gave her a physical description of the woman, and rattled off his name and cell phone number. She promised officers would be there within minutes.

He turned off his phone and pocketed it, hearing the woman calling the children. She sounded as though she was going up one aisle and down the other. By the time she reached the deli, she was looking pretty desperate. He wasn’t surprised. She was being deprived of potential ransom money or the fulfillment of some sick need to mother children, anyone’s children.

Kidnap was not just an ugly headline to him but a stark reality, an event that had changed his life forever, and he hated to think of another family enduring such a horrible thing. Well, at least this time the children would be returned and the family wouldn’t be left to wonder for their entire lifetimes if the child was alive or dead, if she was suffering or terrified.

“Hey!” the boy asked softly from behind the case. “You’re that guy that does the stunts, aren’t ya?”

Sawyer nodded and put a finger to his lips.

“Have you got kids?” the little girl whispered loudly.

As Sawyer turned to quiet her, he heard the boy answer, “Of course he doesn’t, stupid! He isn’t even married!”

“Mom’s not married and she’s got us!” the girl replied in a “so there!” tone.

“Shh!” Sawyer hushed them as he saw the woman come down the aisle, still calling their names.

He felt belligerent as the woman pointed her cart toward him. To tell her what he thought of her would have been satisfying, but that might make her run before the police arrived. And he wanted her put behind bars before she did this to someone else’s children.

“Excuse me,” the woman said courteously, apologetically. “Have you seen two little children—a boy and a girl, around this height?” She held a hand, palm down, about waist high, then a little higher. “Big dark eyes, lots of hair, look a lot like me?”

He was silently applauding her performance as the worried mother when he noticed that the children did look a lot like her. Her eyes were also large and dark, and though her hair was more auburn than brown, it was thick like theirs. The boy had a dimple in his right cheek and so did she.

A horrible possibility began to form in his mind.

But natural mothers were always stealing their children from court-appointed guardians, he reminded himself. Still, the children would know she was their mother. Or would they?

“I don’t understand it,” she said anxiously. Mild concern was turning to serious fear. “It isn’t like them to—”

Before she could finish that sentence, Sawyer saw two policemen coming down the aisle, and he beckoned to them.

She hesitated, turning to see whom he was signaling. Her eyes widened at the sight of the policemen, then she turned back to him in confused surprise. A small crowd had gathered at the head of the aisle to see what the police were up to.

Sawyer recognized one of the officers as David Draper. He was tall, craggy-faced and middle-aged, a seasoned veteran of the force. He and Sawyer had worked together on community fund-raising.

Draper stopped halfway down the aisle. The younger officer, a stranger to Sawyer, also stopped, clearly wondering what Draper was doing. Draper shook his head then kept coming.

“This your kidnapper?” Draper asked Sawyer, one hand on his leather belt, the other on the butt of his holstered gun. He aimed his chin at the woman.

Sawyer nodded. “She took the kids three days ago from someplace in Florida. They haven’t had anything to eat and she’s kept them under a blanket in the back of her car.”

The woman expelled a gasp of dismay and put both hands to her face.

Aha! Sawyer thought, vindicated by that expression of guilt. Gotcha!

“She’s a hard case, all right,” Draper said. “Goes by the name Sophie Foster. ER nurse at Losthampton Hospital, sings at St. Paul’s Catholic Church—eight-thirty mass—and helps out at the crisis shelter for battered women. But she does have a problem with kids.”

“Stealing them?” Sawyer asked, not sure what to make of Draper’s description.

“No, raising them,” Draper replied. “She appears to have two little frauds on her hands. Can I see the children in question?”

This was not looking good. Sawyer could feel himself physically shrinking. He was about two feet high now. He reached behind the case and pulled out the boy. Inexplicably, the boy was grinning.

“I found him, Mom!” he exclaimed. “This is him! Brave! Willing to help! Not married! He’s perfect!”

The woman dropped her hands with a groan and said to Sawyer in a remarkably even voice, all things considered, “You know what, Mr—?”

“Abbott,” Draper provided before Sawyer could.

She was distracted for a moment. “The Shepherd’s Knoll Abbotts?” she asked Draper.

He nodded. “Second son.”

“Ah.” She nodded, then diverted her attention at Sawyer. He waited for the slow perusal women usually gave him that resulted in a smile of admiration, even when they pretended not to be interested. Of course, he’d just called the police on her, so he wasn’t entirely surprised when she did nothing but look into his eyes, her own very weary. “Tell you what, Mr. Abbott number two. You obviously care for these children, so how about if I just let you have them? Right now. No charge.” She turned to Draper. “That’s not a problem for you, is it? I mean, I’m not selling them—I’m just letting him have them.”

Eddie grinned up at Sawyer. “She’s just kidding. She loves us a lot.”

“Of course I do, Eddie” she said to the boy, “but you couldn’t possibly love me if you’d do something as mean as make me believe you’d gotten lost. And something as mean to this man as telling him that I’d kidnapped you.”

The little girl ran out from behind the case to wrap her arms around her mother’s hips. “We did it to help you find a daddy,” she said, “not to be mean. ’Cause you just can’t find one by yourself.”

SOPHIE WOULD HAVE HAPPILY abandoned her children, her job, her little cottage on the water and every one of her meager possessions for life somewhere on the Riviera.

According to novels and movies, life there would involve political intrigues, amassing of jewels or cash, achieving a high social position. Definitely easier than raising three children by herself while trying to erase painful memories and live in a world that seemed to work for everyone else but not for her.

Being trapped in an abusive relationship for several years had left her unable to bear a man’s touch, yet with a desperate need for it. She didn’t understand it and neither did her psychotherapist. And Father O’Neil could tell her only to keep praying, keep living her life and trusting in God to find her a solution.

She’d been doing that for two years, but there was no light on the horizon that she could see. Added to her confusion was the fact that her two younger children wanted a father so much. They hadn’t witnessed as much of Bill’s temper as had ten-year-old Gracie, who, like Sophie, didn’t want another man in her life. She was withdrawn and skittish, and Sophie ached every time she saw Gracie take a step back when a man approached.

Two of the children wanted a father, and one of them didn’t. They manifested, Sophie thought, the dichotomy that existed within herself.

So she prayed, and lived her life, and waited for a solution. Eddie and Emma’s current prank was making escape look better and better.

She was mildly entertained, though, by Abbott number two’s horrified expression.

“I’m so sorry,” he was saying, as Draper talked on his radio. “But they were dirty and seemed so frightened. And I saw you and thought you seemed…” He hesitated over the words on the tip of his tongue. She was enjoying his discomfort just a little; only fair, considering what he was putting her through.

“Cruel?” she asked. “Psychopathic?”

He shook his head guiltily. “No. No. Tired. A little stressed.” He put a gentle hand to Eddie’s head and smiled wryly. “Now I understand why. I haven’t been around kids very much. It didn’t occur to me that they’d lie about such a thing.”

She was inclined to believe him. “Kids this age are always dirty, and there’s a vast uncharted territory in their little minds between truth and fantasy. I just hauled them out of the backyard to go shopping. I should have bathed them first, but I was pressed for time.”

Actually, the man was very handsome in a wild Long Island–playboy sort of way. He had dark blond hair, which he wore in a spiked and disheveled style that made him appear youthful and somehow useless. But added to that was a pair of blue eyes that were sharply intelligent and surprisingly gentle at the same time. They were set in a handsome, nicely shaped face that managed to look strong without sharp angles or a square jaw.

He was tall and athletic in simple cotton slacks and a dark blue shirt. She glanced at the contents of his cart. He did have strange taste in food, however.

She didn’t want to have to explain to him about her younger children and their obsession about finding a father, but they had used and embarrassed him, and she owed him that much.

“They want a father,” she said with a sigh, “and I have no use for another husband, so it’s hard for us to come together on a solution to the problem. I just didn’t realize they were desperate enough to go searching one out on their own.”

“Another husband,” he said. “You mean you’ve already got one?”

She shook her head. “I had one. He’s gone.”

“He’s gone to heaven!” Emma said loudly, the way she said everything.

Sophie wasn’t sure that was where he was, but she didn’t mind that Emma thought so. That was about all this stranger should know about her difficult past, but she couldn’t just walk away until Dave Draper decided what he was going to do about Eddie and Emma.

“I saw your picture in the paper,” Eddie said to Sawyer Abbott, looking pleased with himself. “You did that dangerous stunt with the skis and the barrels. And you give lots of money to help children. That’s why we picked you out when we saw you buying oranges.”

Abbott squatted in front of him. “I’m flattered that you picked me out. But that was a pretty awful thing to do to your mom. What if a policeman had come who didn’t know that she really was your mom and he took her off to jail because he really thought she’d kidnapped you?”

The expression on Eddie’s face said he’d never considered that.

“I wondered if you’d help us,” Eddie said with a frown. “And not just with something easy, but with something really hard. ’Cause a lot of dads don’t help with the hard stuff. So, if we’re going to find another one, he’s got to be great.”

Clearly, Sawyer Abbott had no experience with children. Eddie already had him wrapped around his little finger. When Emma put her arm around his neck, he turned to look into her face and Sophie saw his eyes melt.

“Okay, that’s it,” she said, taking each child by the hand and drawing them back from him. “We’ll probably have to go to the police station, but Mr. Abbott didn’t do anything wrong, so Officer Draper will just let him go home. I’m sure he’s eager to get on his—”

“You have to come with me,” Draper announced, tucking away his radio. “Sorry, Mr. Abbott, but the chief wants to see you, too.”

“But all he did—” Sophie began to protest.

Draper cut her off with a nod. “I know, I know, but we need a full report,” he said with a significant glance at the children, intending to help them realize the gravity of what they’d done. “And in order to do that, we have to have Mr. Abbott’s input.”

“I’m sorry,” she said with a sigh. She’d had a long day at the hospital, and the quick dinner she had planned, followed by a long period with her feet up, didn’t look as though it was going to materialize.

Abbott smiled. He had to be the most even-tempered man. “Not a problem. I’ll meet you at the station,” he said to Draper, who nodded, then took each of her children by the hand and led them toward a roped-off checkout line. The young officer went ahead of him to unhook it, then closed it after him when he followed her and the children through.

People were watching them with frowns, wondering, she was sure, what crime they’d committed. She’d be horrified if she wasn’t accustomed to policemen being called, usually on her behalf, and the shocked expressions of neighbors. This wasn’t what she wanted for her children. She and the kids would have to have a serious talk about this father-finding stuff when this was over.

She could only hope that being marched out by a police officer was having the desired effect on the children.

That hope was dashed when Eddie looked at her over his shoulder and said with a big grin, “Isn’t he great, Mom? He didn’t even get mad!”

Chapter Two

“You’re going where?” Brian asked, as Sawyer called him on his cell phone.

“The police station,” Sawyer repeated a second time. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. These kids told me they’d been kidnapped and I called the police on the woman they were with. Turns out she really is their mother.”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“Brian?” Sawyer prompted.

“I’m here,” he replied. “I just don’t know what to say to that. Are you in trouble, or is she?”

“I think the officer’s just making a point, bringing us all in to make an impression on the kids so they don’t do it again.”

“Why’d they do it in the first place?”

“They’re looking for a father.”

Sawyer heard stifled laughter. “And they picked you?” Brian asked.

“Yes, they did, thank you very much. Seems they read about me in the paper.”

“I didn’t know kids read the paper.”

“Yeah, well, there’s apparently a lot you don’t know. So, I’ll be over later than I’d planned, okay?”

“Sure. Call me if you need bail.”

“Ha, ha.”

Sawyer pulled into the parking lot of the small police station, with its turn-of-the-century, ball-shaped lights in front of the building. He was right behind Sophie Foster as she climbed the few steps into the building, following the police officers and her children. Sawyer caught up to take her elbow. She had to be feeling terrible.

He was surprised when she recoiled, yanking her arm out of his reach. “Don’t!” she said, fear visible in her eyes and the sharp line of her mouth.

He dropped his hand immediately. He’d never frightened anyone that he could recall, except maybe those who’d misused Abbott Mills Foundation funds.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

The fear left her expression as she exhaled. “That’s all right,” she replied, apology in her tone. “I’m just not very…physical.”

He nodded. “I was trying to do the gentlemanly thing by helping you up the stairs. My stepmother is European and raised my brothers and me to open doors for women, walk on the street side of the sidewalk, offer a steadying arm on stairs and across streets.”

She smiled pensively, probably thinking that he was odd. But he got that a lot, so he was used to it.

“And that’s charming,” she said. “But I’m quite agile.”

“I’ll remember that.” He walked up the stairs beside her.

“I’m sorry this is wasting time you should be spending with your family,” she said.

He shook his head. “I called and explained. We’ll connect later. I’m surprised our paths have never crossed before. I’m at the hospital all the time. Are you new to Losthampton?”

“Ah…a couple of months.” She gave him that look again. “I’ve been filling in on odd shifts. Fortunately, my neighbor will baby-sit any time I need her. You’re there all the time as a patient, or for some other reason?”

“Sometimes as a patient,” he admitted with a little laugh. “I’m sort of the Evel Knievel of Long Island. Or Abominable Abbott, as my brothers like to say.”

She smiled. Her teeth were square and very white, the left front one overlapping the right just a little at the bottom. She seemed warm and kind, but he had the feeling she probably didn’t smile very much.

“Abominable Abbott,” she repeated. “That’s a terrible way to go down in history.”

“I don’t think I’ll make the history books.”

Draper held the door open for her and ushered her through a small, crowded office to an even smaller office on the other side. The walls were green and all the furnishings gray. He frowned at Sawyer. “Apologize for holding you up,” he said under his breath. “But we need to make a point here.”

Sawyer nodded. “I agree.”

“You making time with my little perps’ mother?” Draper asked with a grin.

“Why?” Sawyer returned the grin. “Is it against the law?”

“The way you risk your life, it is. This pretty lady’s got enough troubles with her imaginative children.”

Draper moved ahead to take Sophie and the children to a waiting area with wooden chairs. As they sat down, Sophie in the middle and the children crowding close to her, Sawyer saw them in a new light.

Up until now, they’d been a surprising, somewhat fun diversion on an ordinary afternoon—if you didn’t consider how Sophie had been frightened and how he’d been made to look like a completely gullible idiot. He loved children, and he liked women in his life—at least, on a temporary basis. Commitment to one would require a basic change in his life he wasn’t ready to make.

Right now, his time and energy were focused on the Abbott Mills Foundation and the best dispersal of its funds. It was a heavy responsibility, and he took it to heart.

Added to that, life at Shepherd’s Knoll had been very distracting lately. In the past month alone Killian had brought his bride back to Shepherd’s Knoll after a three-month separation, Sawyer had been practicing a ski jump for the Children with Cancer fund-raiser and broken several ribs, Brian had saved his life and taken his place in the family as their half brother and China Grant had appeared on their doorstep the very day of Sawyer’s accident and said she thought she was their sister, Abigail.

Suddenly the Abbott family’s life had superseded his personal life. He’d done his best to support Killian and Cordie’s renewal of their marriage, to spend time with Brian and get acquainted with China. After all, he’d always felt responsible for her disappearance in the first place. That is, if she was Abby.

He pushed that thought away, trying to refocus on Sophie and her children. Understanding what was going on here was important to him. Helping anyone in trouble was a family commitment.

There was something particularly appealing about Sophie, Eddie and Emma. And he felt a curious compulsion to know more. While the children had done an inadvertently cruel thing, he had to admire the cleverness of their scheme.

And what had it been about marriage that had made Sophie Foster not want another husband? Maybe the guy had been a rat.

Sawyer had gotten the impression, when she’d told him her husband was gone, that she’d wanted to let the matter go at that—as though he’d simply walked away. Then Emma had added that he’d gone to heaven. The expression in Sophie’s eyes had said she didn’t think so.

Sawyer followed them to the row of chairs, determined to know more about Sophie. She was very pretty in a delicate way, yet she looked as if she’d struggled through or endured something difficult. He knew that being a mother required toughness. Chloe, his stepmother, was a beautiful, genteel woman who could be as hard as necessary when the situation warranted it. But she’d had his father to help until he’d died, then she’d had the support of her son and her stepsons.

Sophie had the love of her children, but he’d gathered from this afternoon’s antics that she had her hands full keeping them from harm—or at least, incarceration.

She looked lonely.

He sat on the other side of Eddie just as a nearby office door opened. The police chief stood in the doorway, his expression severe. Until he saw the children. Then his posture relaxed and he said in a firm but quiet voice, “Edward and Emmaline Foster?”

Eddie raised his hand.

“Come in, please,” he said. “And bring your mother and Mr. Abbott.”

Sawyer knew Chief Albert Weston from the hospital board. He was average in height, but wide and balding, and he’d honed his police presence to a fine art. Sawyer had seen him talk to a knife-wielding man whacked out on drugs and alcohol for three hours. By the time the city had sent a hostage negotiator, Weston had the man in the back of a police car, sobbing out his rage over a lost girlfriend, a lost job, a lost life.

Weston’s office was like a room in a law enforcement museum. He had photos and citations on the wall from his years as a police officer in the city. He’d come to Losthampton ten years ago.

On a shelf behind his desk were trophies from the Long Island Officers Bowling League, and taped to the wall was artwork his grandchildren had created. Sawyer knew he and his wife were raising a nine-year-old abandoned by their daughter, who was living with a musician somewhere in L.A.

Weston arranged four chairs in front of his desk and put the children in the middle two. Eddie, who’d been smiling and generally unconcerned to this point, now looked big-eyed and worried. Emma climbed into Sophie’s lap.

“My officers are very busy,” Weston said, shuffling through the paperwork on his desk. “Just today, six officers have answered sixty-three calls. How many is that apiece, Edward?”

Eddie sat forward. “Um…ten,” he replied, “and three left over.”

The chief suppressed a smile. “That’s right. One was a robbery of a couple of cars at the beach, one was a tourist stranded on the rocks, two were traffic accidents, one was a man having a heart attack, one was a domestic…” The chief stopped, realizing the boy wouldn’t know what that meant. “I realize you don’t understand that, but they all take a lot of—”

“I know what a domestic is,” Eddie interrupted. His worried expression deepened. “It’s when a dad beats up a mom. It happened to us a couple of times.” Then he turned to Sophie with sudden concern, as though afraid he’d said the wrong thing.

The pink in her cheeks vanished, but she drew a breath and put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “That’s all right. I’m sure Chief Weston wants you to tell him the truth. And he wants you to understand that it’s bad to waste the time of his police officers, because they have important things to do.”

As Sawyer dealt with equal parts of rage and sadness, he saw the chief’s jaw drop for an instant.

Eddie nodded. “I didn’t think about that when I saw Sawyer in the market. I just thought about how you need to have a husband that’s nice to you instead of mean, and how cool it’d be to have a dad who likes us. So me and Emma gave him the test.”

Sophie’s eyes brimmed with tears, and Sawyer was very grateful that Chloe had drummed into all her sons the old-fashioned notion that gentlemen carried handkerchiefs, if not for themselves, for the ladies they took to sad movies or sandy benches at the beach.

He handed her a white square of linen with a gray monogram. As she turned to accept it, a tear spilled over.

“The test?” the chief asked Eddie.

“Yeah. Our dad yelled a lot. And when my bike broke, Mom fixed it. When Emma got lost, Mom went to find her. When Gracie got in trouble at school—”

Sophie put a hand on his knee. “He understands, Eddie.”

“Who’s Gracie?” the chief enquired.

“She’s our big sister,” Eddie said. “She’s ten. She’s grumpy ’cause she doesn’t have any boobs yet. She stayed to watch a Jennifer Lopez special with Kayla Spoonby across the road.” Apparently thinking her whereabouts required explanation, he added, “We don’t have cable.”

The chief nodded gravely. “I see. So, telling Sawyer…Mr. Abbott…that you were kidnapped was part of the test?”

“Yeah. ’Cause one time I heard Mom talking to Grandma Berry and she said she never wanted to get married again unless she could find someone who’d rescue the children. That’s me and Emma and Gracie. And rescue means save, right? So we had to see if he thought we were in trouble he’d save us.”

The chief opened his mouth to respond, and obviously had no idea what to say. The boy had clearly misinterpreted what he’d heard, but cleverly created his own solution to what he perceived to be the problem.

Sophie groaned and put Sawyer’s handkerchief to her eyes for a moment. Then she lowered it and took Eddie’s hand.

“I meant…rescue you from not having a dad. From having to go to ball games with me instead of a dad. From Emma having no one to carry her on his shoulders, and from Gracie having no one to tell her she’s pretty.”

Eddie obviously didn’t get that, either. “But, she’s ugly,” he said seriously.

Sophie laughed, which was a good thing. Even the chief seemed relieved. Sawyer wanted to take Sophie and her children away to Shepherd’s Knoll, wrap them in fleece and shut out the world.

Of course, he knew that wasn’t healthy. But he had to do something.

“Okay.” The chief cleared his throat, then did it again. “Well. Now I understand what you were thinking when you scared your mother that way, but the next time you get an idea like that, I want you to promise me you’ll think twice. You know what that means?”

“Think twice,” Eddie repeated, considering. “Think about it two times so…so if there’re bad parts in the idea, you’ll see them.”

“Exactly,” the chief praised. “’Cause I’m sure your mom worries about you all the time. Moms usually do. And there’s enough real stuff to worry about without making things up that just scare people. Understand?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said.

Weston focused on Emma. “Do you understand, Emmaline?”

She nodded. “We don’t want to scare Mommy.”

“That’s right. Okay.” The chief stood and shook hands all around. “I’ll get an officer to take you back to your car.”

“We had walked to the market,” she said. “But if someone could take us home…”

“I’ll do that.” Sawyer shook the chief’s hand.

“Mr. Abbott, maybe it’d be better…” She began to object to his plan, but the children skipped after him as he’d thought they might as he walked out of the chief’s office, through the police station and down the steps to the parking lot. Sophie had little choice but to follow them.

He opened the back door of his deep-plum-colored PT Cruiser for Eddie and Emma and then scrambled in. They pulled on seat belts as he held the passenger door for Sophie.

“What if we all go out for pizza or burgers?” Sawyer suggested as he pulled out of the lot. “It’s after seven. Kind of late for you to start cooking.”

The children began a chorus of, “Please, Mommy! Can we? Please?” which he’d have caved to had he been in charge. But she was obviously made of stronger stuff.

“Thank you, but we have to go home,” she said firmly. “Gracie’s at the neighbor’s, and—”

“Can’t we just pick her up and take her along?”

Sophie shook her head. “No, but thank you.”

Eddie and Emma whined a little louder. “We never get to do anything fun! We never get to go out to eat! We never—”

“You know the rule about whining,” she interrupted.

Sophie was determined to get out of this without a further commitment or connection of any kind to Sawyer Abbott. As sweet and charming as he was, she wanted never to see him again. Ever.

“Which way home?” he asked as they reached the road that ran through Losthampton.

Funny, she thought. She’d been asking herself that question for years. When everything had gone bad with Bill, she’d sort of run in place for a long time, trying to find the road back to the way things had been before he’d fallen in with bad cops and become someone different from the man she’d married. She’d been lost in a nightmare for so long that when she finally escaped, she still felt as though she was getting nowhere.

The move from Boston to Losthampton had been intended to help her break free, to put Gracie in a new place, where the old memories would fade in the light of new experiences.

But Gracie was having as much trouble forgetting as Sophie was, so it felt as though they were still stuck in place.

Only Eddie and Emma provided the occasional breath of fresh air with their irrepressible good humor and direct approach to life. If she could just get through to them that their daddy search was hopeless.

She wondered idly if an uncle would appease them.

“Sophie,” Sawyer prompted. “Which way?”

She was a little surprised to hear her name on his lips. There was something nice about hearing it quietly spoken rather than shouted at full volume with a threat in it.

Something inside her made her want to lean toward him, tell him how nice it would be to have pizza or burgers and feel certain that the need wouldn’t erupt into an ugly event with the children crying and her wondering what on earth had happened to her life.

But life with Bill had changed her, and she had nothing left to give a man—even over pizza. So she just had to live with that, focus on her children and not mess up anyone else’s life.

“We live on Blueberry Road,” she said finally. “That old cottage right at the end.”

“Oh, yeah.” He turned in that direction. “I heard somebody’d moved into that place.” He smiled apologetically. “Small-town rumor mill, you know. It’s been vacant a long time.”

“Yes. I cleaned up the living room and the kids slept there for two months until I could make their bedrooms livable. Now I’m slowly working on the rest of it.”

“Nothing like an old house,” he said. “Ours has been around since the mid-1800s. Belonged to my mother’s family.”

“Was your mother a native New Yorker?”

“She was from an old Texas family, actually. They used to summer here. Her great-grandfather built the place and called it Bluebonnet Knoll after the flowers from home. When she left with the chauffeur, she signed the place over to my father—to assuage her guilt, I suppose.”

Sophie could imagine running away, but from circumstances, not from the kids.

“How old were you?”

“Ah…three. Killian was five. Then my father married a designer who worked for one of his clothing companies, and they had two children together.”

“Is Killian the brother you’re meeting after you drop us off?”

“No, he and his wife are in Europe on a second honeymoon. I’m meeting Brian Girard. My mother was pregnant with him when she left.”

“So he was the chauffeur’s…?”

“No. His father is the owner of the neighboring estate.”

“Good heavens!” She put a hand over her mouth to stop a smile. “I’m sorry. I know it isn’t funny. It is your life, after all. But it sounds like a soap opera during Sweeps Week when they pull out all the stops to get the biggest audience share.”

He didn’t bother to hold back his smile. “There’s more,” he said. “Our little sister was kidnapped at fourteen months and we never saw her again. But about two weeks ago, a young woman appeared on our doorstep, who thinks she might be her.”

“You’re kidding!”

“I’m not. She’s dark-haired like Campbell—that’s my younger brother—and she and he squabble like real siblings, so I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she is.”

“Well…aren’t you going to find out for sure?” she asked. “A DNA test would do it, wouldn’t it?”

He nodded. “I think it will. But my stepmother’s in France, looking after her dying aunt right now, and we don’t want to do anything to upset her. So we haven’t told her China is here, and we haven’t gone for testing. China’s in agreement. She’s living at Shepherd’s Knoll with us and helping Campbell run the estate.”

“I thought it was Bluebonnet Knoll.”

“My father changed the name when my mother left. Our ancestors raised sheep in Massachusetts before starting a mill, so Dad wanted the place to reflect his heritage rather than hers.”

“How interesting,” she said, “to be able to follow your ancestry so far back. All I know is that my grandparents farmed in Nebraska, lost everything in a drought and moved back to Vermont, where my great-grandfather was and the family’s been there ever since.”

He smiled. “What brought you here?”

“I spent ten years in Boston after I got married. We vacationed here one summer and I loved it.”

She’d been telling everyone simply that she was a widow starting over. But he knew it wasn’t that simple. Still—she didn’t want him to know much more.

“Fresh start,” she said, relieved as he turned onto Blueberry Road.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked, glancing at her as he led the car down the long, straight road. “I mean…if you need anything for you or the children, I have connections everywhere.”

He didn’t appear to be boasting. “It’s kind of you to offer,” she replied, “but we’re doing fine.”

“I’m not doing fine,” Emma said petulantly. “My cookies are still at the market.”

Sophie groaned. “The groceries.” She wondered if her cart had been set aside for her, or if everything had been put back. She hadn’t had time to pay before the police had taken her and her children away.

“Well, you’ll have to be happy with fruit for a snack tonight,” she said. “We’ll go back to the store tomorrow. And if you don’t tell some stranger a made-up story about being kidnapped, maybe we won’t have to go to jail and can actually take our groceries home.”

“He’s not a stranger,” Eddie corrected. “He’s The One.”

Embarrassed by her children’s insistence that they’d chosen the second son of the prominent and wealthy Abbotts to be their father, Sophie closed her eyes, completely out of excuses for their behavior.

“I could use that as billing for my next stunt,” Sawyer laughed. “Sawyer Abbott—The One!” He gave the line dramatic flair as he turned into the driveway of her ramshackle but charming old house. The white paint was peeling and one gray shutter hung, but she was in love with the wide front porch and the window boxes, in which she’d planted yellow and purple pansies. The sight of them always cheered her.

She took a deep breath and faced Sawyer, prepared to thank him, then dismiss him.

But he was already out of the car, helping the children out of the back, looking over the house and the overgrown lawn. Eddie and Emma pranced along on either side of him, talking nonstop.

“Who’s that?”

Gracie stood near the car door as Sophie let herself out. Beside her was Kayla Spoonby, her best friend. Kayla’s father was the hospital administrator, and her mother, a schoolteacher.

Sophie recounted the story of the afternoon’s adventures for Gracie and Kayla.

Gracie watched Sawyer Abbott with suspicion and hostility. “They’re such dweebs. We don’t need a dad.”

“It’s nice to have a dad,” Kayla disputed. She was a short, plump redhead with a sparkling personality. Gracie was tall and slender, with her father’s blond good looks but Sophie’s shyness. “And Sawyer’s really cool. He’s a friend of my dad’s. Hi, Sawyer!” she called, running around the car to greet him.

He opened his right arm for her, Eddie permanently attached to his left. Emma, obviously feeling left out, began to do cartwheels for attention.

Gracie stayed well out of the way, though Kayla called her over to introduce her. She gave Sawyer a half wave but took a step back when he started toward her.

He stopped, returned the wave, then braced himself as Emma cartwheeled right into him. She and Eddie tried to pull him toward the house. He resisted.

“Thank you so much,” Sophie said hurriedly, peeling her children off him. “It was very kind of you not to be angry at them for ruining your evening. What do you say, Eddie?”

“That he’s The One!” Eddie replied.

She should have known better than to be nonspecific. “What do you say to Mr. Abbott?”

“You’re the—” he began.

“Eddie!”

Eddie held out his narrow hand. “Thank you,” he said dutifully.

“And…” she prompted.

“And…I’m sorry?” He turned to her questioningly.

She nodded approval.

“I think,” Eddie went on, “that it’d be really nice if we asked him to stay for dinner.”

“Well, if we had something nice to feed him,” she replied, relieved to have an excuse not to, “we’d do that, but our groceries are still at the store.”

“Maybe he isn’t fussy,” Emma said, still holding his hand. She squinted up at him. “We have egg sandwiches when we don’t have other stuff. Do you like that?”

Sophie would have countered with another excuse for why he couldn’t stay, but Sawyer mercifully handled that for her. He got down on one knee, still holding each child’s hand. “I really appreciate the invitation,” he said with apparent sincerity, “but I promised to meet my brother for dinner and I’m already a little late. I’d really like it, though, if you invited me again sometime.”

“How ’bout tomorrow?” Eddie offered quickly.

Sawyer smiled up at Sophie. “Maybe we should let your mom pick the time. She can call me when it would be convenient. Okay?”

“She won’t do it,” Emma said with a condemning glance at Sophie. “She’ll say ‘someday,’ but she’ll forget.”

Sawyer grinned at that stain on her character, then said, “Well, I’ll just count on you two to remind her, okay?”

“Okay.” Eddie shook his hand and Emma strangled him with a hug.

“Now, make sure you don’t scare your mom anymore by disappearing on her,” he said, looking at each of them solemnly. “And don’t fib about her kidnapping you, even if you think you have a good reason. Lies are never good, okay?”

They nodded in unison.

Sawyer straightened, waved at Gracie again, wished Sophie good luck and went to his car.

Sophie felt a surge of relief as he drove away, then, when he was out of sight, a strange disappointment. He was the kind of man who could make her long for one in her life again. But she had too much against her now to know how to be happy with one. Bill had finally managed to convince her that it couldn’t be done.

Gracie came to stand beside her as she stared at the empty road. It, too, could be a metaphor for her life.

“You don’t like him, do you?” Gracie asked.

Sophie didn’t even want to focus on that question sufficiently to answer it.

“He was very kind to us,” she replied. “Most people would have been angry, but he brought us home, instead.”

“He runs his family’s foundation,” Kayla said knowledgeably. “So, he kinda works for charities. He’s nice all the time.”

“Nobody’s nice all the time,” Gracie argued, turning toward the house.

Kayla patted Sophie’s arm in a very sisterly way. Sophie often wondered how much of their personal history Gracie had shared with her best friend. “Once she knows how nice he really is,” she said authoritatively, “she’ll see that even though he’s a man, he’s not the way her dad was, and she’ll get to like him, also.” Then she grinned winningly at Sophie. “So you can fall in love if you want to. It’s going to be okay.”

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