Apple Blossom Bride
Lois Richer
After a car accident, Ashley Adams came home to Serenity Bay to heal her broken body - and her broken spirit.Her former teen crush, Michael Masters, was the last person she expected to see in town…and he was even handsomer than she remembered. Planning the town's winter festival brought Ashley back in contact with the dedicated single dad, and Ash found herself falling for him all over again, as well as his darling daughter.Yet pain-filled memories of the past threaten their budding romance. Only Ashley's search for the truth can lead them to love beneath the blossoms….
“Are you sure you won’t have dinner with me sometime?”
Ashley shook her head, smiling. “I don’t think so.”
“Why?”
The bald question took her by surprise.
“Because.”
“That’s not an answer.” Michael kicked at a stone on the ground before meeting her gaze. “I’m not looking for anything more than a friend I can talk to. My daughter’s great, but sometimes it’s nice to talk to another adult.”
“I’m sure there are lots of adults you can talk to.”
“But not you?”
She shrugged. “I won’t be here that long. Just enough time to put my world back together again.”
He nodded, his dark eyes full of empathy.
“Believe me, I understand that. If you want to talk, call me.”
“And you’ll make time in that busy schedule of yours?”
He lifted her hand, brushed his lips against her knuckles. “I’ll make time for you.”
LOIS RICHER
Sneaking a flashlight under the blankets, hiding in a thicket of Caragana bushes where no one could see, pushing books into socks to take to camp—those are just some of the things Lois Richer freely admits to in her pursuit of the written word. “I’m a book-a-holic. I can’t do without stories,” she confesses. “It’s always been that way.”
Her love of language evolved into writing her own stories. Today her passion is to create tales of personal struggle that lead to triumph over life’s rocky road. For Lois, a happy ending is essential.
“In my stories, as in my own life, God has a way of making all things beautiful. Writing a love story is my way of reinforcing my faith in His ultimate goodness toward us—His precious children.”
Apple Blossom Bride
Lois Richer
I am holding you by your right hand—
I the Lord your God—and I say to you,
Don’t be afraid; I am here to help you.
—Isaiah 41:13
This book is dedicated to my dad. I love you.
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
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Letter to Reader
Questions for Discussion
Prologue
Seventeen Years Ago
“How can they do it, Pip?”
Ashley Adams scrubbed at her cheek, struggling to eradicate tears that wouldn’t stop flowing. Sobbing made her hiccup. She had to pause to catch her breath before she could get out her next question.
“My parents promised to love each other until death parted them and now they’re getting a divorce. How can they do that?”
“I don’t know.” Piper Langley sat down cross-legged beside her on the fresh spring grass, her forehead creased in a frown of perplexity. “I don’t understand adults at all, Ash. I wish I did.”
“Me, too. We’ll be teenagers pretty soon. We’re supposed to get smarter about this love stuff but I don’t get it. I don’t want to have two homes. I don’t want to leave my dad or Serenity Bay.” She wept. “I just want my family together.”
Piper, good friend that she was, silently shared her grief.
“At Bible study last week Mrs. Masters said love is a decision.” Ashley sniffed as she plucked the tumbling apple blossoms off her sweater. “My parents could decide to love each other, they could decide to stay married.”
“If they told you about their decision today, it doesn’t sound like they’re going to change their minds,” Piper warned. She checked her watch. “I’ve got to get home. Gran told me not to be late today. I want to stay with you,” she hurried to explain, “but if I’m any later they’ll worry.”
“It’s okay.” Ashley sniffed, managed a weak smile. “I understand. You go on. I think I’ll stay here for a little while.”
“Don’t stay too long or you’ll be completely covered in apple blossoms.” Piper jumped to her feet, black pigtails bobbing. She bent, hugged Ashley once in a tight squeeze, then grabbed her backpack, climbed on her bike and pedaled down the road toward her grandparents’ home.
Ashley wished she could follow. Pip was so lucky. Her grandparents loved each other, and her. They would never make her choose between them.
You’re away at school most of the year, anyway, honey. You’ll spend the summers with me, and Christmas and Easter with your mother. Or would you rather have it the other way around?
Who cared? The point was she wouldn’t have a home. Not a real one.
A moment later her friend had disappeared from sight and Ashley was all alone in the churchyard with only the tumbling blossoms to listen to. Behind her, the woods rustled as the wind tickled newly sprouted leaves, but she paid no attention.
“I trusted you, God. I prayed and prayed, but they’re still getting a divorce. I’m scared.”
The words sounded worse when she said them out loud. She laid her head on her arms and wept for everything she was about to lose, uncaring that the afternoon sun weakened, unseeing when it let fingers of gloom creep in.
A rustle behind her drew her attention. But, before she could check it out, hard fingers locked on to her arm, pinching so tight she dropped her tissue.
“Get up. Slowly now. Don’t make a sound.”
Ashley blinked, startled by the command of a man who looked like a storybook hermit. She obeyed automatically, thinking she must know him. A friend of her father perhaps?
But when they reached the curb and he opened the door of a battered station wagon, her confusion gave way to uncertainty, concern, then full-bodied fear. She opened her mouth to protest but he thrust her inside, then climbed in beside her.
Panic gripped her so fiercely she couldn’t breathe or make her legs work. The sensation of spiders crawling over her skin made her scratch at her arms. But that was nothing compared to the wave of dizziness that rose inside when she glanced over her shoulder and saw two suitcases on the backseat of the man’s car.
You have to be careful, Ashley. Her mother’s constant refrain accompanied the warning bells that were filling her brain.
She hadn’t been careful. Now she was being kidnapped.
“Stop!”
But he didn’t stop, and before she could scramble out of the car he’d already shifted into gear and roared past the church, past the apple blossom tree where she’d always found sanctuary.
“Let me out,” she whispered, pressing herself against the door. Her throat was so dry so could hardly speak. “Please let me out.”
He didn’t seem to hear her. His attention was on his rearview mirror, his foot heavy on the gas pedal. He was moving too fast for her to jump out of the car.
They neared the center of town. Surely someone would notice that Ashley Adams was in a strange man’s car?
But the stores were closing, the streets almost deserted. Only the coffee shop still shone its bright neon lights onto the street, welcoming people into its cozy interior.
“Let me go!” she pleaded. “I’m supposed to be at home now.”
He ignored her. Perhaps he knew that her parents were too busy with their divorce plans to notice she hadn’t been home all afternoon. Maybe that’s why he’d taken her—maybe people could take one look at her and know that she was going to be like the kids in school she’d always felt sorry for.
As the car whizzed over the road Ashley tried to pray, struggled to think about God and those loving arms Mrs. Masters always talked about. But she couldn’t feel them. All she felt was alone and very scared.
The man hunched over the wheel, his face set in a forbidding angry mask. Every so often he’d glance in his rearview mirror. Then his lips pinched together and his fingers squeezed the wheel so tightly they turned pasty-white. Anger emanated from him like smoke from a fire ready to ignite.
She had to get out of this car!
They approached the only traffic light in town, a yellow light which quickly turned red. It was now or maybe never. Ashley slid her fingers around the door handle and prepared herself. When he jerked to a stop she yanked the door open, hurled out of the vehicle and raced across the street to Mrs. Masters’s coffee shop.
“Hey! Wait. I’ll take you home,” the man yelled after her.
Fat chance!
Ashley didn’t look back nor did she stop running until she reached the coffee-shop door. Using both hands she dragged it open, burst into the pungent warmth that surrounded her as she drew deep gasping breaths into her lungs. She glanced from face to face, searching for an ally.
There were two customers at the counter. Mrs. Masters was laughing with them, but she stopped when Ashley locked the café door. By the time her sobs gurgled out, her Sunday school teacher was there, holding her.
“What’s the matter, honey?”
“A man.” Ashley clung to her capable hands as if to anchor herself. “A man tried to take me away. In his car.”
“What man?” Mrs. Masters peered through the coffee-shop windows, shook her head. “I don’t see anyone.”
“He was there. I was at the apple tree by the ch-church and he grabbed me. He was trying to k-kidnap me.” She was shaking and didn’t know how to stop.
As if through a fog she heard Mrs. Masters speaking, felt herself being pushed down onto a chair. Someone pressed her hands around a cup. It warmed her icy fingers so she clung to it while people came and went.
“She said a man took her.” She felt their stares and looked away, locking her gaze on the table, the chair, anything but the street in front. A while later her father came and took her home. To the home she wasn’t going to have anymore.
That night the dreams started: nightmares so real Ashley could feel those bony fingers pressing into her skin, hear the gravel rattling beneath her feet as he pulled her across it, feel the biting odor of freshly cut spruce sting her nostrils and the hard metal pressure of the window handle against her back when she crouched in the car and waited for a chance to escape.
And every time she’d wake up, shaking, crying, knowing that some time, someday, somewhere he’d come back.
And that when he did, she wouldn’t be able to leave.
Chapter One
Ashley shoved open the door of her Vancouver condo with her crutch and hobbled inside, absorbing the stale odor of a place too long uninhabited. She let the door swing closed behind her, made sure it was locked, then concentrated on inhaling deep breaths.
She was home. She was safe.
The mail sat neatly stacked on a side table, thanks to her landlord. But Ashley ignored it, coaxing her body to move a little farther into the room.
All she really wanted was to run. Which was sad when she’d spent so much time and effort dealing with her panic attacks, making this her safe haven. The accident with Kent had only proven what she already knew—there was no safe place. As if to emphasize that point, the fear that had assailed her in the elevator a few moments ago now ballooned and wouldn’t let go.
The phone rang.
“Ash?” Piper’s familiar voice soothed her fractured nerves. “I thought you’d be coming home today. How are you feeling?”
“Battered and bruised, Pip. My ankle’s weak so I’m on crutches for a couple of days. But I’m okay.” Would she ever be okay again?
“And Kent?”
“Walked away without a scratch. It was my side of the sportscar that was hit.” She debated whether to explain, then decided there was no point in pretending. “He kept going faster, though I begged him to stop. He told me he could handle it, that he knew what he was doing with such a powerful car. He lied about that. He lied about everything.”
“Oh, Ashley. I’m so sorry.”
She couldn’t handle the rush of sympathy. Not now. Not today.
“I’m not,” she said steeling herself against the pain she knew would follow the words. “It wasn’t me he really wanted. It was the money. It’s better it happened now, before we’re married, than finding out two years down the road.”
“Yes, it is,” Piper agreed quietly. “When do you go back to work?”
“I don’t. Ferris let me go when I had to cancel out of the exhibition.”
“The rat! You couldn’t help the accident.”
“I should never have believed Kent when he said he knew how to drive a race car. He admitted at the hospital that he’d never even been inside one before.”
“Yes, but—”
“Ferris was in a tight spot with the gallery expansion and he was depending on me to help. Being in the hospital because I was stupid and let myself get talked into something isn’t an excuse.”
“I suppose Kent left the bill for that car for you to pay, too, didn’t he?” Piper waited a second then groaned. “Oh, Ash. The greedy—”
“Believe me, it was a cheap escape. Anyway I don’t want to talk about him, Pip. I’m tired.” Ashley leaned against the wall, rubbed the throbbing spot at the side of her head. “I guess I need to rest.”
“Then as soon as you feel up to it, you should come here. The autumn colors are always gorgeous around the Bay.” Piper’s voice changed, softened. “Cathcart House is made for visitors. You know that. Think of it—you could sleep in every morning, take long walks when you’re better, think about your next move. You could even help me plan my wedding. Or you can just relax if you want. Please say you’ll come.”
Piper sounded so happy, so at peace with her world. Ashley swallowed a tinge of envy.
“I should really be looking for a job, Pip.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve emptied your grandfather’s trust account already? You were supposed to be recuperating in that hospital, not buying stuff online.”
Piper and Rowena were the only two people Ashley would allow to tease about her recent inheritance. Piper’s taunt brought back happy memories of other times they’d shared in Serenity Bay.
“You’re awfully quiet, Ash. You’d better fess up. Just how many pairs of shoes can one woman buy?” Piper demanded.
“Since you’re the queen of shoes, you tell me.” Ashley glanced down at the scuffed and dirty sneakers she’d worn home from the hospital. Looked like she’d have to go shopping. She wanted no lingering memories—of Kent or the accident.
“Ash?”
“I’m here,” she murmured. “Just thinking.”
“Why not come visit me?” Piper pushed.
Ashley could picture exactly how Serenity Bay would look. The water always seemed darker, deeper in autumn. The sky switched to a richer shade of cerulean. The hills cloaked their rolling sides in the finest burnt orange, fiery red and forest green.
And the people—she doubted many of them would know about her broken engagement, even though Serenity Bay was so small everybody knew everyone else’s business.
“Rowena’s coming down for the Labor Day long weekend,” Piper wheedled. “We’d have a chance to reconnect.”
The last weekend of summer. It was too tempting.
“Okay I’ll come,” Ashley agreed. “But just for a few weeks. I want to work, Pip. I don’t want to be one of the idle rich.”
The snort of disbelief carried clearly down the line.
“Like that would happen, Ms. ‘Frenetic Pace’ Adams. When can I expect you?”
Ashley glanced around. There was nothing to hold her here.
“A week—no, two. The doctor said I’ll need a few days for my ankle to strengthen. It will take me about five days to drive there. Say…two weeks from today?” she suggested.
“Yes!” Piper cheered. “I can hardly wait.”
“Listen, I know you’re busy. I don’t want to interfere with your work there, or get in your way.”
“You won’t. The busiest part of the summer is over. It went better than we could have imagined. Now if I could just get my winter plans to work.”
“Winter plans?” Ashley yawned, suddenly tired.
“You’re exhausted. I can tell.” Piper chuckled. “Never mind my brilliant ideas. I’ll tell you all about it when you get here. Go rest, Ash. Dream of all the things we’ll do together once you get here.”
“Yes. It’ll be great.” But she didn’t hang up. Instead Ashley clung to the phone, needing to share what lay so heavily on her heart. “What’s wrong with me, Pip?” she finally whispered.
“Absolutely nothing,” her friend stoutly insisted. “You just made a mistake.”
“Two of them. I thought I knew Parker. And yet I had no idea that he was in love with someone else.”
“He should have said something earlier.” Piper’s voice wasn’t forgiving.
“I should have listened better.”
“Does it matter now? Your engagement to Parker only lasted a couple of days before you learned the truth and corrected things. It’s not your fault. He wasn’t honest about his feelings for someone else.”
“Maybe. But what about Kent? I thought I could trust him. I thought he was everything I wanted in a husband.” She hated saying it out loud. It sounded so silly, but why deny the truth when Piper knew it anyway. “All he wanted was my money, Pip.”
“I’m sure that isn’t so. But even if it is, he’s gone now. You’re starting over.”
“Yes.” She chewed her bottom lip. “Don’t tell anyone, okay, Piper?”
“About the engagements?” Piper’s soothing tones did wonders for Ashley. “Of course not. No one will care anyway. One look at you and the men will be knocking down my door.”
“I doubt that.” She chewed her bottom lip for a moment, then admitted what was really on her mind. “I suppose people know about my grandfather’s oil money but I hope nobody asks about it.”
“I can almost guarantee that someone will. After all, your dad lived here till he died. Some of the old folks will remember him, and you. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing if that’s all it is. But sometimes when people find out about it they change, ask me to do things, insist I help them. It can be rather scary.” She felt silly admitting that but it was the truth. “Last week a woman who said she knew my grandfather came into the gallery and asked me to pay for her son’s rehab. I was lucky Ferris came back from lunch early but even then he had to call the police to make her leave. I’ve been on tenterhooks ever since, hoping she won’t accost me on the street.”
“I’m sure no one here will do that. Mostly I’ve found that people here are as friendly as you are. Just like when we were kids. The only thing is I’ve already told Jason about Kent and all the rest,” Piper soothed. Her soft voice brimmed with happiness. “We don’t have any secrets.”
“Jason’s okay. You trust him, so I do, too.”
“Yeah, I do trust him. Totally. Which is why I can hardly wait to marry the man.”
“I’m happy for you, Pip.”
They discussed how long it would take to drive from Vancouver to the cottage country two hours north of Toronto.
“It’s an awfully long drive to make alone, Ash.”
“It’s the only way. I can’t fly. Last time was horrible.”
Piper sighed. “I was hoping you were getting over those panic attacks.”
“Some days I think I am. Then something happens and it starts all over again.”
“That’s an even better reason to come to the Bay. You know you’re safe here.”
Not quite true, but Ashley wasn’t going to get into it. She promised to call Piper every night she was on the road, then hung up. Because her ankle ached she sank onto the sofa she’d bought with her first paycheck, the one Kent hated so much—the one she loved because to her the pale-blue suede said home. She gazed at her watercolor of Serenity Bay.
Would she be safe there?
She was older now, had learned how to take precautions. Therapy had helped her deal with the panic attacks. But most importantly, he wasn’t there anymore. She’d been back to the Bay several times and never once had she seen the man who’d grabbed her that spring afternoon so long ago.
Thinking about him made her anxious, so Ashley closed her eyes and let daydreams of happier times take over—until the familiar nightmare cut in. Then she rose and changed into her nightgown. From the vial in her purse she took out one of the sedatives that would guarantee a deep, dreamless sleep and swallowed it.
Snuggled into bed, she refocused on Serenity Bay and the good times she’d once found on its shores.
Michael Masters gazed at the cherubic face of his sleeping daughter. Tatiana was so small, yet she held his heart in that grubby little fist.
He touched a fingertip to the cloud of hair as dark as his own, felt the silken texture of one fat curl wrap against his skin. He’d never imagined he would experience weak knees and palpitations all because of one four-year-old girl.
Lest he disturb her afternoon nap, he tiptoed from the room, monitor in hand. If she made a squeak he’d be back in here in three seconds. But he hoped she’d nap for an hour, long enough that he could get some work done.
His studio, if you could call it that, was at the back of the house, far from her room. It was an addition roughly thrown together, a place to work in his spare time.
Spare time. Ha! A joke. There was never any spare time, not since Tati had whirled into his life.
Michael stepped inside the room, breathed in. Pine, spruce, cedar—they mingled together into a woodsy blend that made his fingertips itch to get to work. Once he’d checked the volume on the monitor, he set it on his work table, picked up the oak piece he’d begun two weeks ago and grabbed a chisel. In his mind he visualized what he wanted to create, then set about releasing the face from the wood, bit by hardened bit.
He was almost finished the left side when it dawned on him that he’d heard nothing from Tatiana’s room. He glanced at his watch, blinked.
Two hours? Tati had never slept that long in all the time she’d been with him, no matter how he tired her out.
He set down his chisel, touched the wood with one scarred thumb, then placed the carving on the table, too. As he made his way quietly through the house he chastised himself for not being a better father. Maybe Serenity Bay wasn’t the best place for his daughter to grow up. Sure, his mom was here and she’d gladly offered all the mothering one small grandchild could want, but Serenity Bay was the back of nowhere. There was no ballet school or children’s theater here. Maybe Tati was missing out on something.
He pushed open the door of her room, ready to tease her awake.
His heart dropped like a stone.
The bed was empty.
He scanned the room, noticed her shoes were missing, as well as her doll. The window was pushed up, curtains fluttering in the warm autumn air. Surely she hadn’t gone outside by herself?
Oh, Lord, keep her safe.
He raced through the house, then outside around the back to the window of her room. Tiny footprints had rearranged the flowers he’d so painstakingly planted last spring, but Michael didn’t care about that.
“Tati?”
His heart hit overdrive as he pushed through the woods, found her hair band on the other side of the bridge. Thanks to a dry summer the creek down here wasn’t much more than a trickle, but farther up… He raced along the trail until he came to the old stone church he worshipped in every Sunday.
Where was she?
He stood for a moment, eyes narrowed, assessing the view. Finally his heart gave a bump of relief when he spotted the familiar dark curls beneath the apple tree. She had her doll with her, the one her mother had given her. A red wagon, the one Tati dragged everywhere she went, was turned upside down, forming a stool for her bottom.
Anxious not to scare her, he fought to control his breathing as he listened to her discussion with the beautiful bride doll she never let out of her sight.
“You mustn’t run away again, Princess,” she said in soft admonishing tones. “Daddy doesn’t like it and Mommy can’t follow you. I know the other children come here sometimes and you want to play with them, but you have to ask me first.”
His words exactly. So she knew she was in the wrong.
“Tati?” He stepped closer, crouched down beside her. “What are you doing here?”
“Playing. Princess and I like to catch the leaves. You know, Daddy, for our book.” She pointed to a stack of curled up reddish leaves spread out at her feet.
He remembered the big books she’d stacked on the floor. Ah. Presumably there were leaves between the pages. He’d have to take them off the shelf and put them back before she discovered he’d moved them.
At the moment there were more important concerns.
“Yes, your book is nice. But Tati, you know very well that you are not allowed to come here by yourself.”
“I wasn’t alone, Daddy. Princess was with me.” She blinked that guileless expression that punched him right in the gut. “You didn’t say Princess couldn’t come, Daddy.”
“I didn’t say you could come. I said you had to ask me before you went anywhere. You didn’t ask. That’s disobeying.” Michael struggled to keep himself from weakening when those big brown eyes met his. Staying firm with her was the hardest part of being a father. “I was worried about you when I saw that you weren’t in bed, Tatiana.”
“I wasn’t tired anymore and a bird was calling. I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“I know you are. But that isn’t the point.” He brushed the curls off her forehead, tipped her head up so he could look into her eyes. “It’s dangerous to go through the woods yourself, especially in the fall. Sometimes there are animals around. That’s why I said you have to ask me.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
He’d have to get a fence up around the yard, fast.
“That’s not enough. I told you not to go outside by yourself.”
She kept staring at him. Michael reached down, grasped the handle of her wagon, praying she’d move, that he wouldn’t have to physically force her to comply. He wasn’t good at the battle of wills she occasionally set him.
“Come on, now. We have to go home. And next time you may not come here unless you ask me first.”
He hated bawling her out but many more disappearances and he’d be grayer than the oldest man in Serenity Bay.
“I’m not finished playing.” Her chin butted out in that determined way that told him she was ready for a battle.
Michael’s heart sank but he knew he couldn’t give in.
“Yes, honey. You are finished. We’re going home. Now.” He waited a moment, and when she didn’t move he gently lifted her off the wagon, turned it right side up and stacked her leaves in it. “Climb in. I’ll pull you back.”
Tati shook her head, curls flying. She began picking at her doll, tugging off the tiny socks. Before he could react she’d headed for the brook—and it wasn’t a trickle there.
“Princess wants to wash her feet in the water.”
“Stop!” He gasped as he fought to control his breathing. “Tatiana, you may not ever go in that water without me. Do you understand?” Panic assailed him in a wave that sent his hand out to grasp her shoulder. “Never. Come on. We’re leaving. Now.”
“No!” She jerked away from him, her dark eyes blazing with temper. “I don’t want to go.”
“I’m sorry about that but we have to. Get into the wagon, Tati. I’ll give you a ride home.” Before she could argue any further he wrapped his arms around her forearms and lifted her off the ground.
“No!” she bellowed, her face a rich angry red. “I won’t. Leave me alone.”
She struggled against him, her shoes making painful contact with his midsection while her elbows dug into his chest.
“I don’t want to go with you. Let me go!”
“Stop this right now. You’re coming with me if I have to force you—”
“Put her down!”
The fury in that voice commanded his attention. Michael glanced around, saw a tall, slim woman with a cascade of silver-gilt hair glaring at him. She stood a few feet beyond his reach, her stance alert as if she might race away any moment. Or attack him.
“Excuse me?” Michael frowned, noted the way her hands curled into fists at her sides.
“I said put her down. And I meant it. Do it now. Otherwise I’m calling the police.” A cell phone appeared in her fingers, flipped open.
Tati had gone completely still. Michael took one look into his daughter’s curious face and knew he had to get this settled, fast. Before the little girl found a new way to create chaos in his once-normal world.
“Look, Miss Whoever You Are. You have no idea—”
“My name is Ashley Adams, if that matters.” She stepped an inch closer, touched Tati’s hand with a gentle brush. Her eyes rested on his child, softened for a moment, then returned to him.
The softness dissipated. Now her eyes glittered like rocks. Her other hand slid into her purse. She looked like a city girl, which meant she was probably carrying some kind of protection. He prayed it wasn’t a gun.
“You’re the one with no idea, buddy. Put that child down on the ground and do it fast. Then get out of here. I don’t care how you leave, but you’ll only take her with you over my dead body.”
She was serious. So was the can of Mace in her fingers.
Michael took a step backward, opened his mouth to explain. Tati struggled against him. Deciding it might be wisest to argue his case without clutching her wiggling body, he set her gently down on the ground but clung to one tiny hand. After a moment, as if to emphasize her power, Tati dragged that hand out of his.
He would have held on, but the woman’s stern glare warned him to let go. A puff of angry frustration boiled over.
“Look, er, Ashley. This isn’t what you—”
She ignored him, crouched down to look into Tati’s eyes.
“Hi, honey. Are you all right?”
Playing the part of the maligned child to the hilt, Tati nodded, thrusting one knuckle into her mouth in a way that always aroused sympathy in the grocery store. What chance did a mere man have against those wiles? Her thick dark lashes fluttered against her chubby cheek as if she was ready to burst into tears.
Michael almost groaned. Consummate actress. Just like her mother.
“What’s your name, sweetie?”
“Tati—Tatiana.”
“Why don’t you come with me, Tatiana? We’ll go get the police to help us find your mom. Okay?”
Tati frowned, shook her head. “We can’t.”
“Why not, sweetheart?”
“’Cause Daddy said Mommy’s in heaven. Didn’t you, Daddy?” Tati’s hand slid back inside his as if she’d accepted that he was her main protector now.
“Daddy?” The woman’s almond-shaped eyes opened wide. “You’re her father?”
Michael nodded.
“Guilty,” he admitted, amused by the look on her aristocratic face. Half belligerence, half embarrassment. Served her right.
“Well, for goodness’ sakes, why didn’t you say so?” Her sharp high cheekbones bore dots of bright red.
“You didn’t actually give me a chance to explain.” He squatted down, grasped Tati’s chin. “Grab Princess and get into the wagon,” he said clearly. “We have to go home. Now.”
“Okay, Daddy,” she sang agreeably, as if there had never been any other option. “Can I have one of the chocolate cookies Granny made?”
“After disobeying?” He gave her an arch look. His daughter had the grace to look ashamed. “Get in the wagon, Tati,” he ordered quietly.
“Look, obviously I misjudged the situation. I’m really sorry.” The woman followed his stare to her hand, shoved the Mace and her phone back into the peacock leather purse that hung from her narrow shoulder.
“No problem. I guess I should be relieved that you didn’t call the police. I’m Michael Masters, by the way. You’ve already met my daughter.” He thrust out one hand, shook hers, noticing the faint white line on the ring finger of her left hand where it clutched her bag.
He caught himself speculating about the reason she’d interrupted him and Tati, and ordered his brain to stop.
“Wait a minute—Masters?” She blinked. “Mick—I mean Michael Masters?”
“That’d be me.” He hadn’t heard that nickname since high school. Which meant she knew him—but he couldn’t remember anyone from those days who looked like she did.
“Oh.” Her expression altered, her eyes widened. A moment later her mask had dropped back into place and he couldn’t quite discern what had caused the change.
She drew herself erect. “I’m Ashley Adams. As you already know.”
“Nice to meet you, Ashley Adams.”
“Yes, well.” She gulped, risked a look at him then quickly looked away, toward Tati. Her voice emerged low, with a ragged edge. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have butted in. It’s just that I heard her yell and it reminded me of—never mind.”
“It doesn’t—”
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m really very sorry.” She rubbed her left hand against her thigh, half turned as if she wanted to race away. But she didn’t.
Michael blinked. Instead model-long legs encased in cream silk pants covered the distance toward a sleek sports car at a careful pace. How on earth could she walk in those spiky shoes—with a limp, nonetheless?
“Why didn’t you ask that nice lady to come for cookies, Daddy?”
Michael turned, saw the glimmer in Tati’s eyes and sighed.
“You’re not having cookies, remember? Anyway, she didn’t exactly give me a chance,” he told her as he grasped the wagon handle and began tugging it toward home.
“Next time I’ll ask her. I don’t think that lady likes you, Daddy.”
Too bad. Because Michael was interested in that lady. And in what had made her rush to Tati’s rescue.
Most of all he wanted to know what made her stumble over his name.
Chapter Two
She was bored.
Ashley perched on the deck of Piper’s gorgeous hillside home two weeks later and stared down into the smooth clear waters of Serenity Bay without really seeing a thing.
Her ankle still ached if she walked too much, her ribs weren’t totally healed, but after two weeks of sitting around while Piper rushed off to work, she was sick of waiting for a return to normalcy—whatever that was. She’d expected to find peace here. Instead the same old sense of unease clung.
She needed to do something.
“Maybe I’ll go into town,” she told the crow perched on a deck railing.
Maybe you’ll see Mick Masters again, a little voice whispered.
She pushed it away, but the damage had already been done.
A perfect likeness of Michael filled her head. Neither the brown-black eyes, nor that flirting diamond sparkle that dared you to smile, had been dimmed by the years. His hair was exactly as she remembered—maybe a little shorter now than it had been when she’d fallen for him in her fifteenth summer, but still a bit shaggy, emphasizing his rakish charm.
He hadn’t recognized her. There was a lot to be thankful for in that. Heat scorched her cheeks remembering how she’d trailed after him when his mother had held parties for the church youth group at her house. Ashley had attended the group every week that summer just to catch a glimpse of Mick.
That summer shone golden in her mind. Her friends, the bay with its silken sand beach and Mick’s teasing grin to hope for—a thousand girls would have envied her. But they didn’t know that she was only pretending to be normal.
Ashley rose, walked inside, sweeping away the memories in a rush of busyness. But dusting Piper’s pristine living room was a wasted effort and soon she was gazing out the windows again.
“Might as well go into town and get it over with,” she told herself.
She hadn’t been back since the first day when she’d embarrassed herself. Grabbing that little girl—what was she thinking?
Simple. She’d been thinking about the past, about the day anxiety took over her life. Over the past ten years Ashley had consulted counselors, psychologists, medical personnel of all kinds, but no matter what she tried, the panic attacks continued. They’d grown worse lately.
A Bible study leader in one of the small groups she’d attended suggested that the sense of fear Ashley had asked them to pray about was a result of not trusting God, that she had to let go and let Him handle things. Like she hadn’t tried that a thousand times!
The woman meant well but she didn’t understand. How could she? Ashley couldn’t explain where the fear came from. She’d carried it around with her for so long it had become part of her. So she found a way to deal with it.
Everything in her life was deliberately planned, carefully organized and carried out, minimizing the chance for that paralyzing terror to swamp her. That she’d let her guard down with Kent and endangered herself was too scary. That’s why she’d been so ready to leave Vancouver. It didn’t feel safe anymore.
Ashley remembered the look on Mick’s face when she’d ordered him to put his daughter down. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so pathetic. Well, she’d just have to run the other way if she saw him. She was thankful that he hadn’t seemed to recognize her. Maybe he wasn’t aware of her teenage crush, or he had forgotten how she’d hung on his every word. She hoped.
Serenity Bay looked the same as it always did after the summer cottagers had gone back to the city. Barrels of flowers still burgeoned with cascading blossoms, fairy lights hung from red-gold maples in the town square, a few balloons clung limply to the lamppost outside the ice-cream shop. The welcome banner still stretched across the main road.
The biggest difference was the abundance of empty parking spaces on either side of the narrow streets.
Ashley pulled in front of the Coffee Pot. Through the huge glass windows she could see Mrs. Masters, her round face as unlined as it had always been. A spurt of warmth bubbled up at the welcome Ashley knew she’d find inside. She pulled open the café door with a flutter of excitement.
“Ashley? Ashley Adams, is that you?” Strong arms pulled her close, enveloping her in a cloudy aroma of yeasty bread and summer’s last roses. After a minute, Mrs. Masters drew back, peered into her face. “My goodness dear, you look like a New York model. If it wasn’t for those big gray eyes of yours I’m not sure I would have recognized you.”
They chatted for a few minutes. Mrs. Masters insisted she share a cup of freshly brewed coffee and a piece of fresh apple pie which Ashley picked at.
“Is there something wrong?” her hostess asked, frowning at the mangled pie. “You used to like my apple pie.”
“No. It’s delicious. And I still do. I’m just not very hungry, I guess.”
“You really need to take care of yourself, my dear. You’re so thin. And there are dark circles under your eyes.”
“I was in an accident. I guess it’s taking longer to heal than I thought.” She smiled to ease the other woman’s concern. “I’m going a little stir crazy just sitting around at Piper’s. It was very kind of her to invite me, but I’m used to being active and Serenity Bay isn’t exactly buzzing at this time of year.”
“A museum or something—wasn’t that where you worked?”
“Actually an art gallery,” Ashley corrected. “But I’m not there anymore.”
“No, I don’t imagine you’re up to working after crashing a race car.” Her eyes twinkled. “All right, I’ll confess. I had heard about the accident. Remember, there are no secrets in a small town.” Mrs. Masters paused, tapped one finger against her bottom lip. “I wonder.”
“What are you wondering?” Ashley murmured, then questioned whether she should have asked. Mrs. Masters was a busybody—a nice one, but a busybody all the same.
“The art teacher up at the high school was in for dinner last night, bemoaning the fact that the school board can’t afford to provide the students access to galleries to see the new styles today’s artists use. She’s got some creative souls in that class who she thinks would flourish if they could just have their interest piqued. I don’t suppose you still carry around your slide collection?”
Ashley nodded. “Yes, I do. In fact, they’re in my car. I brought them specifically to show Rowena when she was here for Labor Day. We had some wonderful things come through the gallery this summer and you know how she loves to scout out unusual pieces for those landscapes she designs.”
“Yes, I do. I also think I know some high school kids who’d appreciate seeing those slides.” Mrs. Masters scanned Ashley from head to foot, nodding. “One look at you and I know they’d sit up and listen. You are what they aspire to be. Talented, gorgeous, smart, interesting.”
“Me?” Ashley raised one eyebrow. “I don’t even have a job at the moment.”
“That’s not important right now. Your health is what matters most. But if you’re bored, helping at the school might fill your day.” Mrs. Masters pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. “Take this to the school. Jillian Tremaine is the teacher’s name. Tell her I sent you.”
Three men pushed through the doors of the coffee shop. Ashley gave them a quick check, her heart racing. Nope. Not him.
“You’ve got customers. I’d better go.” But Ashley couldn’t leave until she’d learned what she really needed to know. “How is your family, Mrs. Masters?”
“We’re all fine. My girls have moved to the east coast for their jobs but Michael’s back in town. He lives below the ridge with his daughter. She’s a darling.” A fond smile tilted her generous mouth.
“I didn’t know he’d married.” Understatement of the year.
“Yes, but he’s single now. Tati is a godsend.” Her eyes lit up. “We love that little sweetheart so much.”
“I’m sure.”
Mrs. Masters’s attention wavered to her now-seated customers.
“Excuse me, dear. I’ve got to get back to work. You be sure to talk to Jillian.” She patted her shoulder absently. “I hope you’re feeling better soon.”
“Thanks for the pie.”
“Oh, pfui! You take care of yourself.”
Ashley waggled her fingers and left, mulling over the idea of showing her slides. A few hours a week at the high school—it might just keep her busy enough to prevent getting involved in Piper’s winter festival plans.
Not that Ashley had anything against a winter festival in Serenity Bay. Her father had been part of a group who’d self-published a community history book on the trappers, hunters and fishermen who’d originally settled the bay. Piper’s plan to resurrect some of those old skills into a modern-day festival sounded like loads of fun.
But Ashley wasn’t ready to tie herself down here. Not yet. Not since a tiny sprite with black curly hair had demanded to be free, stopping her heart and reminding her that the past wasn’t dead and buried.
Her focus shifted to what Mrs. Masters had said about Mick. So he’d been married. Hardly surprising given that half the tourist girls that had visited the Bay every summer went gaga over Mick’s bad-boy grin and heart-melting winks. Ashley had come back to visit her father every summer after her parents had split, and her fifteenth summer had been spent hoping and praying Mick would notice her.
It had never happened.
Mick never chose one female over another. He preferred hanging out with a group of friends—both boys and girls. Of course she’d never really been part of his set. He was three years older for one thing. And employed. While she’d played with Piper and Rowena, Mick had helped out his dad in the garage and his mother in her coffee shop. Then one summer Ashley arrived to find he’d left the Bay. She’d never seen him again.
Until the other day at the apple tree when she’d let the past intrude.
She was more certain than ever that Michael had probably never noticed her gaping at him from afar. Good thing, because it meant she wouldn’t feel doubly embarrassed if she met up with him again.
Which she had absolutely no intention of doing.
Ashley started the car, shifted into first and headed toward the school.
“I can’t tell you how relieved I am that Mrs. Masters asked you to talk to me.” Jillian Tremaine pressed a hand to her upsweep, pushing a pin in place.
“Oh?”
“I’ve been at my wits’ end trying to get these kids interested in expressing themselves with visual arts. Unless it has to do with computers they tune out, you know. And somehow the curriculum books just don’t cut it. But you and your slides—” She smiled. “They’re going to enjoy their time with you and I’m going to enjoy putting those busy little minds to work.”
“I hope you’re right—about the slides, I mean.”
“I am.”
Ashley chatted with her for another few minutes, agreeing to show up Monday after lunch. She left as the bell rang for the next period.
Students filled the halls, laughing, talking and shoving each other good-naturedly as they went. One or two of the boys gave her the once-over. Ashley had to smile.
She was almost to the front door when a hand closed around her arm. Every nerve tensed as she jerked free, whirled around, prepared to defend herself. Her jaw dropped.
“You!”
“Yep. Sorry if I hurt you.” Brown eyes melting like chocolate in the sun lit up Mick’s face. His mouth tilted into a crooked smile. “I didn’t mean to grip so hard. I called out a couple of times but with this mob I don’t suppose you heard.”
“No, I didn’t.” Why had he stopped her? “Are you leaving, too?”
His nose wrinkled. “I wish. I have a class this period.”
“You’re teaching here?” She couldn’t believe it. The last thing she’d expected Mick Masters to become was a teacher.
“Started this month. Shop class for grades ten to twelve. You don’t want to know how dangerous it is to pair up a teenager with a saw.” He grinned. “Most of my students are accidents waiting to happen.”
Ashley honed in on the bandage covering his thumb. “Apparently not only the kids.”
He had the grace to look embarrassed.
“A misbehaving chisel. I chastised it thoroughly, don’t worry.”
“Uh-huh.” She zipped her jacket. “Good to talk to you again, Michael. I’d better not keep you.”
“You’re not. The kids aren’t allowed to touch anything unless I’m in the room. For that reason I try always to be late.” He said it without any sign of an apology, but his eyes danced with fun. “Can we have coffee sometime?”
“Why?” She held the door open, wishing her brain would function. She wasn’t prepared for this, not at all.
“Why?” He frowned, tilted his head to one side. “Well, because I’ve never had coffee with a fashion model and because it would greatly improve my status with the two terrors watching us from upstairs.”
“I’m not a fashion model.” Ashley glanced up. Both boys were ogling her and Mick.
She shifted uncomfortably, her fingers tightening against the metal.
“Besides, I wanted to thank you for going out of your way to make sure no one was hurting my daughter. Not everyone would pay that much attention to a child’s cry,” he said quietly.
“It was a mistake. I should have minded my own business. I have to go now. Goodbye.” She scooted through the door and strode down the steps toward her car. Seconds later she’d left the school—and Mick—far behind.
When she saw the sign for Lookout Point, Ashley pulled into the parking area, shut off her motor and sat there, staring across the valley, the sound of her heartbeat echoing in her ears. She hadn’t answered him about the coffee but no doubt he’d gotten the message. Mick wasn’t stupid.
And yet, it wasn’t Mick she’d met again.
This was no boy, definitely not the teenage heartthrob she’d spent hours daydreaming about. Michael Masters was a grown man, with a daughter and responsibilities.
He’d been married once, now he had a child.
That alone was a good reason not to go with him for coffee. She’d already made two mistakes trying to achieve a relationship where she completely trusted her partner. One where her heart wouldn’t be at risk.
Young Mick Masters had been anything but safe. Michael Masters the man would be no different.
“I don’t know how you do it, Mom.” Michael savored the last bite of apple pie his mother had saved for him. “You work a much longer day than I do yet you still manage to make a home-cooked dinner and entertain Tati when I can barely keep one foot in front of the other. Amazing.”
“No, honey. It’s just years of practice. And owning a restaurant.” She chuckled as she picked up his plate, set it in her dishwasher. “Things will get easier for you, I promise. When you and your sisters were little your father and I were walking zombies. But we learned how to cope. You will, too.”
“The difference is you had Dad. I sometimes wonder if Tati’s suffering without her mother.”
“Has she said something?”
“No. She seems fine at the daycare. But it’s hard to leave her there with strangers all day. Thanks.” He accepted the tea she handed him, watching out the window as Tati climbed the old slide and whizzed down it just as he and his sisters had done.
“Tatiana is adjusting well. She has a stable home now, a daddy who loves her. That has to be better than gallivanting all over the globe with Carissa. Children need security. You’re providing that. Cut yourself some slack.”
“I guess.” He mulled that over as he got up, dried the pots and pans she had washed, then resumed his seat. Tati was busy in the sandbox so he had a few minutes to talk. “I wanted to ask you about someone I met. A woman—tall, blond. She looks like a movie star or something. Her name is Ashley—”
“Adams.” His mother nodded. “You should remember her. She used to live in the Bay. She was in my Bible class before her parents separated. Her mother moved away, but Ashley came back every summer to stay with her father, Regan Adams. Remember him? He died several years ago—a salesman who traveled a lot. Ashley’s a good friend of Piper Langley’s.”
“Wow. Do you also know her shoe size?” He stared at her in admiration. “Nothing gets past you.”
“Remember that,” she teased.
“She was at the school today.”
“Of course she was. I sent her there to talk to Jillian about showing her art slides.” His mother stored the last of the pots away. “Ashley used to work in a fancy gallery in Vancouver. She keeps a collection of slides from noteworthy work she’s handled. If what I’ve heard is correct, they’re perfect for Jillian to show to her students.”
“A gallery?” He sat up straight. “You said ‘worked,’ not ‘works.’ She’s not there anymore?”
“She was in an accident. She came to Cathcart House to stay with Piper and recuperate. I don’t know if she’s going back or not.” His mother gave him “the look.” “If you’d spoken to her, you could have asked her.”
“I tried. If I’d known about the gallery gig, I might have tried harder.” He checked the backyard, saw Tati hovering by the fence. “Uh-oh, she’s restless, which can only mean trouble. I’d better go. Are you sure she didn’t ruin your tablecloth? That juice is a pain to get out.”
“After surviving you three my linens are indestructible to childish spills. Besides, it wouldn’t matter a whit if she did,” his mother insisted. “I can buy another tablecloth. But that sweet child will only be four years old for a very short time.”
“True. The question is whether I can last till five.” Michael rose, massaged the tense cords in his neck. “Thanks again for dinner. I appreciate not having to cook.”
“Are you going to work tonight?” his mother asked. She tapped one knuckle on the window to get Tati’s attention, shook her head. Apparently Tati obeyed.
“Tonight I have to check over some homework I stupidly assigned last week.” He groaned. “Teaching takes up so much time. I never imagined I’d be spending so many hours at it. It makes it hard to find time—” A squeal from outside drew his attention. Michael sighed as he went to investigate. “We’d better go. It’s almost bath time.”
Teaching, Tati and trivialities—that’s what took up his time nowadays. Frustration ate at Michael as he fastened her into the car seat, but a pat on his cheek from her little hand tamped it down. He’d choose Tati over his silly dream every time.
His mother waved them off while Tati chatted merrily about her friend Wanda at day care. Tales of Wanda filled the entire drive to the house he’d purchased a few short months ago. The place had seemed the right decision then, but on days like this he wondered about all his choices.
Michael struggled to engage Tati in their nightly bubble war. Though she was up to her eyebrows in the iridescent globes and only too willing to douse him as well, she wasn’t entirely happy about something. He didn’t press. She wouldn’t tell him until she was good and ready anyway. At least he’d learned that much about her.
His attention strayed too long. The bubble bottle slipped and it took ages to clean up the slippery mess. Another half hour to clean Tati off, get her into pajamas and dry her hair.
But once she was tucked in bed, pressed against his shoulder as he read her a favorite story, Michael couldn’t begrudge her one second. This was worth everything.
“Wanda says daddies and mommies are supposed to live together. Is that right, Daddy?”
“That’s the way God planned it, sweetheart. But sometimes things don’t work out like that.”
“Because my mommy is in heaven?”
“Uh-huh.” He so did not want to get into this tonight.
“Well, I don’t like it. I want a mommy to do things with me like Wanda has. Do you know her mommy made her a pretty dress for her birthday? I want to have a pretty dress, Daddy. One that’s white with frills and lots of ribbons. Just like Cinderella’s.”
Tati wouldn’t last two minutes in frilly white, but Michael only smiled and nodded. “Very pretty, honey.”
“Can I have a dress like that, Daddy?”
He studied the picture she indicated, wondering what the right answer was.
“Those dresses are for special occasions. Like Christmas and stuff. They’re not very good for finger painting, or for playing in Granny’s sandbox.”
“I know.” She flipped through the pages until she found the one she wanted. “Can I have a dress like this for Christmas, Daddy?”
He stared at Snow White’s layered organza perfection and wondered if children’s clothiers even made such a thing anymore.
“Tell you what, Tati, we’ll have a look in the store when they get their Christmas clothes in. But that’s a long time away. You might change your mind. How about if we think about it till then?”
“I guess.” She tilted her head back to study him. “Wanda says ‘We’ll think about it’ means her mommy won’t do it.”
“I’m not Wanda’s mommy,” he told her wishing the four-year-old fount of wisdom his daughter played with would, just once, run out of answers. “We’ll both think about it. And when it gets nearer Christmas we’ll talk about it again. Okay?”
“Okay, Daddy. I love you.” She reached up to encircle his neck with her arms and squeezed as tight as she could. “This much,” she grunted as used all her strength to show him.
Michael closed his eyes and breathed in as he wrapped his own arms around her tiny body. “I love you more, Tatiana,” he whispered.
They outdid each other in hugs for a few minutes until he caught her yawning. She said her prayers then hugged him once more.
“Goodnight, sweetie. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
She gave him one of her old lady looks. “Wanda says there are no bed bugs in Serenity Bay.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s this then?” He gently pinched her leg under the covers, grinned at her squeal. “You tell Wanda she better watch out.”
“You’re silly, Daddy.”
Michael leaned down, brushed his lips against her forehead. “I love you.”
“G’night.” She yawned, then curled into a ball under the pink bedspread covered with ballerinas. “Tomorrow for dress-up I’m going to be a lifesaver,” she murmured just before her eyelids dropped closed.
“You already are.” He flicked off the lamp so the nightlight shed its pale glow. He checked the window, made sure it was locked, cleared a path in case she got up in the night. Then Michael left the room, pulling the door almost closed, so he could hear if she called out.
He reached out to get the monitor from the dining room table, realized he’d left it in his studio. Again.
Michael unlocked the workroom door, pushed it open and flicked on the light. He paused for a moment, studying his work.
His critical focus rested on the last two carvings he’d done. These faces were his best. It had taken more than four years to get comfortable with his own particular style, but it had been worth the effort and time he’d spent to perfect his craft. His carvings now were nothing like those from his New York days, ones his mockers had called kindling.
He’d need another six or seven months to get enough of them to mount a showing in the city. Of course he had no idea how to go about something like that, but Ashley Adams might. Maybe that’s why God had sent her here, put her into his path—so he was one step closer to make his dream of working as a full-time carver come true.
The telephone rang.
He hurried to answer it, praying it wouldn’t wake Tati and regretting the intrusion, but happy to hear Piper Langley’s voice.
“Hello, Piper. It’s nice to hear from you. I enjoyed the fireworks display you organized for Labor Day. You received high praise from my daughter, too.”
He listened as she spoke, outlining a plan that, even for her, was big.
“Sounds like fun,” he agreed when she’d finished describing her winter festival ideas.
“I’m hoping I can persuade you to get more involved.”
“Me? How?”
“I’m using the history book of the area as a resource guide to organize some of the events. It was done several years ago and though we don’t have many trappers or woodsmen around anymore, I’m bringing in some people who can show folks what it was like.”
“Sounds like a lot of work.”
“Eventually we want to have dogsled races, trapper contests, the whole thing. For this first year, though, we’re counting on a few big names, maybe make some spectator events like snow sculptures and dogsled pulls for kids.”
“Okay.” He still didn’t get how it involved him.
“As a windup for the week of the festival, we plan to have a live theater event in the school auditorium on the last night.”
“Piper, I can’t act worth a hoot. And when it comes to costumes—”
“We need a set builder,” she interrupted. “For the play. There aren’t a lot of sets to be built and the hardest work will be painting them, for which I’ve already found volunteers. But we need someone to put them together. Jason and I thought that since you’re the shop teacher and already at the school, you might be able to help.”
“Harmon McTaggert would be a lot better at it than me,” he muttered.
“He’s willing to help you whenever he can, but a recent health scare has him taking things easy.”
“Morley French?”
“He’s organizing two of the events. And Steve Garner is working the publicity end.” She sounded apologetic. “I’ve exhausted my list, Michael. The only person I haven’t asked is you.”
“It’s a great idea, Piper, and I’d really love to help.”
“Great!”
“But I’m going to have to refuse,” he added quickly, before she got started thanking him. “I’m sorry, I wish I could take it on but it’s just not possible.”
“You’re sure?”
“Sorry, but yes.”
“I see. I’m sorry about that. I’d really hoped to persuade you.” She sounded tired. “I was just telling Ashley about the bins you helped the kids put together for the recycling program. It’s a great project.”
“Thanks.”
Ashley. Her name kept coming up. In his mind’s eye he could see her, slim and elegant, her hair looking tousled and windblown around those big gray eyes, though it had probably taken a salon hours to create the effect.
“Really, I wish I could do it, Piper. But with Tati to take care of and working at the school—I think I’ve bitten off just a little more than I can chew.”
She laughed, a soft musical sound that carried across the wires.
“Tati’s a sweetheart. One look from those big brown eyes and I’d be lost. I don’t know how you can ever say no to her.”
“I can’t,” he admitted.
They traded a few more words then Piper let him go, but not before asking him to dinner after church on Sunday.
“Nothing big, just a few of our friends. Jason and I want everyone to meet Ashley.”
“Oh, we’ve already met,” he told her. “Didn’t she tell you? She was going to call the cops on me.”
When they hung up Michael was grinning.
Let Ms. Ice explain that.
Chapter Three
“Everything for the winter festival is coming together so well. If I could just figure a way to get those sets built.”
“You will.”
Piper tossed her briefcase on a chair, flung off her shoes and smiled at Ashley.
“Such faith. Thanks, pal.” She sniffed. “Something smells wonderful. I love it when you cook on Fridays. Jason says it’s like the kickoff to a great weekend.”
Jason says this and Jason says that. During the month Ashley had been at Cathcart House, barely a sentence had left Piper’s lips that didn’t include her fiancé. Ashley felt a faint prick of envy for the couple. Theirs would be a wonderful marriage.
“Shrimp cocktail for starters. Prime rib and roasted potatoes. Corn from the farmer’s marker. Coleslaw from the cabbage in your garden, and apple betty crumble for dessert. How does that sound?”
“Like I should have brought another three guys.” Jason walked through the door, kissed Piper, then waved a hand. “Come on in, buddy. Hey, Ashley, I found Michael heading for his mother’s coffee shop and invited him to join us. Since he missed our Sunday get-together, I figured we owed him. Is that okay?”
Like she could say no now, with him standing there, grinning at her.
“Of course. The more the merrier.” Ashley sent a half smile in Michael’s direction then busied herself thickening the gravy. “It won’t take a minute to get everything on the table. I made some punch if anyone’s interested.”
“I ask you, could I have found a better roommate than this?” Piper poured four glasses, handed them round, then walked out onto the deck with Jason, laughing over something that had happened that day.
Ashley prayed Michael would follow, but God apparently had other plans. Michael leaned one hip against the end of the counter and took a sip of his drink.
“Cranberries, raspberries and a bite,” he guessed, licking his lips. “Cinnamon and bitters?”
She nodded.
“For some reason the changing leaves always make me think of cinnamon. Is it too strong?”
“It’s perfect. Like you.” He ignored her uplifted eyebrow. “I mean it. Look at you, after slaving all day in the kitchen your hair looks as if you’d spent the day at the spa. Your dress hasn’t got a spot of grease on it and as far as I can tell you haven’t broken a sweat.”
She had to laugh.
“It’s not exactly hard labor you know. All I did was cook a few things and set the table.”
“To me that is hard labor. Mostly I hope my mother invites us for dinner so I don’t have to go through the agony of cooking. Tati even asks Wanda to invite her so she won’t have to eat it.”
It was hard to tell if he was joking or serious. She began to dish up the meal. Without being asked, Michael carried each porcelain container to the table. When he saw her lift out the meat, he went to the door and called the other two.
Jason helped Piper be seated. Michael winked at Ashley as he held her chair, then promptly sank down in the one closest to her.
“Honey, do you want to say grace?” Piper asked, reaching out for Jason’s hand on one side of the table and Michael’s on the other.
“Sure.” Jason held out his hand for Ashley’s, watched Michael take the other one, then bowed his head. “Thank you God for friends and food and your love. Bless us now we ask. Amen.”
Jason released Ashley’s hand immediately but Michael held on so long she had to tug her fingers from his. He made a face.
“Couldn’t you think of a longer prayer, Jason?” he asked.
Piper and Jason chuckled. To hide her red cheeks, Ashley rose to retrieve the carving knife. As she handed it to Jason her gaze rested on Michael.
“It’s very sharp,” she said clearly. “You’ll want to be careful it doesn’t slip and hurt someone.”
Michael inclined his head. “She means someone like me,” he explained in a loud whisper.
Ashley pretended to ignore him and concentrated on her meal, listening as Piper expounded on her winter festival plans.
“Things are falling together so well. So far we’ve had a great response. It looks like we’ll have entries in every category. The trapper’s dinner has been taken over by two women who used to run a catering business, which is a huge relief.” She leaned back in her chair, her forehead wrinkled. “If it wasn’t for that play—”
“Still nobody to build the sets, I’m guessing.” Michael sipped his water, looked at Jason. “How about you?”
Jason’s head was shaking before he’d finished asking.
“Give me a motor and some tools and I can do great things. But with a hammer I’m a liability.”
“He’s telling the truth,” Ashley vouched, trying to smother her smile. “If you look above the piano you can see where he was going to hang a picture.”
They all turned to stare at the damaged plaster. Jason endured their teasing good-naturedly until Ashley cleared the dishes and served dessert. The subject changed to the timing of the festival.
“It’s got to be in January,” Piper explained. “We need the ice and snow to carry off the ice-sculpture contests. And the lake will still be frozen, which will allow us to have our family skating day and the community bonfire out there.”
“Not to mention the ice-fishing tournament.” Jason set down his fork. “I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed a meal so much. Thank you, Ashley.”
“Me, too,” Michael added, scooping up the last bite of apple betty. “You should sell this recipe to my mom. She’d pay a lot to serve this.”
“It has to be the spices,” Piper decided, savoring the taste on her tongue. “I know there’s cinnamon, but you’ve added something else that makes me think of apple trees just starting to form the apples. It’s delicious.”
“A hint of nutmeg. Thank you all.” Blushing, Ashley rose, began removing the dessert dishes.
“Oh, no. You cooked. We clean.” Jason lifted the plates from her hands. “Isn’t that right?” he asked Piper.
“Absolutely. Why don’t you take your coffee out on the deck, Ash? It’s a gorgeous evening. Jason even lit a fire in the firepit, just in case it gets cool.”
“I’ll go with you to make sure you won’t have to stand out there alone and stare at the stars by yourself,” Michael offered, grasping her elbow as if to lead her. “You understand, don’t you, guys?” he said over one shoulder, winking at Piper and Jason.
“I’ll let it go this time because I get to spend some more time with my girl, but I’m warning you, man.” Jason shook his head. “There will come a day when that smooth tongue of yours is going to fail.”
“Envy is a terrible thing.” Michael let Ashley tug her arm out of his grasp, and poured two cups of coffee from the decanter she’d left on a side table. “After you, madam.”
She went with him, because to refuse would be to create a scene. Besides, Piper and Jason needed time together without her in the room.
“You and Jason sound like you’ve known each other forever.”
“That’s what it seems like. Jason could be the brother I never had,” Michael admitted. “We clicked the day I arrived back here and he offered to help me move in.”
“He is a nice guy. I’m glad he and Piper found each other.”
“You two have been friends for a while, I take it?”
“The three of us, Piper, Rowena and I, were inseparable as kids.” She smiled. “We all came from here, went to boarding school together and stuck by each other through thick and thin. We still try and get together as often as we can. And we phone a lot.”
“Nice.” Mick handed her a cup. “This deck has the most fantastic vista.” He remained beside her, staring across the treetops. “Years ago people considered the view and built accordingly. Now it seems like we raze everything to the ground and then try to recreate nature. Most of the time we don’t do nearly as good a job.”
“Why won’t you help Piper with the play sets?” she asked, refusing to dance around the issue any longer. “She’s worked so hard on this, trying to get Serenity Bay on the map so people can live here year round and earn a good living. It can’t be that hard to build a few sets.”
Michael kept staring outward, as if he were ignoring her.
“Are you against the winter festival or against bringing more tourists to town?”
“Neither.” He did look at her then, surprise covering his face. “I’m for both. The more the merrier. I think Piper’s done a fantastic job of developing Serenity Bay.”
“But you’re against development, is that it?”
“Not at all.” He shook his head, frowned at her. “Why do you say that?”
“Well, you’re not helping, so—”
“It’s not that I don’t want to. I think the winter festival is a great idea. Bringing back some of the old ways to teach the kids, showing them firsthand how trappers worked—all of it is going to be very educational and fun. That’s the way kids learn best.”
“Not to mention the people it will bring to town just to see the contestants,” she murmured. She kept her focus on him. “So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is time. Actually a lack of it.” He sipped his coffee, then reached out, plucked a tumbling leaf from her hair. “I don’t have enough of it. I teach full-time. I have a young daughter to raise and a house to clean. I’m already struggling to keep up in all three of those areas, Ashley.”
It wasn’t the answer she wanted, and Ashley had a hunch it wasn’t the whole answer, either. There was something Michael wasn’t saying. What was he hiding?
“I finally remembered you,” he said quietly.
“P-pardon?”
“From when you lived here before. Ashley Adams. You lived in that big silver-gray house on the waterfront. I used to envy you.”
“Me?” Ashley turned to look at him. “Why would you ever envy me?” You had parents and sisters who loved you, a stable home.
“That’s easy. You could get up in the morning, walk a hundred feet and dive into the water,” he explained.
“So could you. Serenity Bay is almost surrounded by water.”
“Ah, yes, but I had to bike to get to the beach. You lived right beside it. You could swim anytime you wanted. For someone like me who is addicted to water, your house was perfection. It’s up for sale, did you know?”
“No, I didn’t.” The house she’d once loved had become a cold empty place. Her father wasn’t home much during the year so he’d only kept the sparsest of furniture. Summers he spent in the backyard or on his boat. By an unspoken mutual agreement, neither of them spent more than the necessary amount of time inside.
“Well, it is. I looked at it when I moved here last spring. It might need a bit of work but the location is still its biggest asset.”
“You weren’t tempted to buy it? Access to water and all that?”
“I wish.” Michael shook his head. “I couldn’t afford it. Anyway, it’s a place meant for a big family to enjoy and right now there’s only Tati and I.”
“She’s a beautiful child.”
“Yes, she is. Beautiful and headstrong with a tendency to spill stuff.”
Ashley remembered her own childhood. “Aren’t all kids clumsy, to some extent?”
He snickered. “You don’t know Tati very well. To some extent doesn’t begin to cover my child.”
There were several comments Ashley could have made just then, but none of them seemed kind. So she kept her mouth shut and after a couple of minutes of silence Michael described his daughter’s attempt to “help” him make dinner two nights before.
“Every smoke alarm in the place was ringing. I had to toss the toaster outside eventually. That’s when I found out she’d put cheese slices on the bread she’d buttered before she put it in the toaster. The house still smells.”
“Accidents happen,” she told him, suppressing her laughter.
“Once could be called an accident but yesterday I had to take my DVD player apart.”
“She put something in it?” Ashley asked, trying not to stare at him as his expression changed from chagrin to laughter.
“My socks. Tati claimed she was trying to make a video for her grandmother.”
“A video of socks?” Ashley frowned.
“To show Granny the holes so she could get me new ones for Christmas,” he admitted. “Tati’s a little focused on Christmas at the moment. She has her special Christmas dress all picked out.”
“Smart girl. It’s good to be prepared.”
His shoulder brushed hers. Since Ashley was in the corner of the railing she could hardly move away. Leaving would only prove—to herself most of all—how much he affected her. So she stood there.
“It must be fun to have a child in your life.”
“Fun, yes. Also very scary. Since you knew me back when, you might remember I was never an A student when it came to responsibility. Being the youngest kid does that, I guess.” He studied her. “Are you cold? Would you like to move nearer the fire?”
Ashley nodded, followed him to the lounge chairs. He waited till she’d sunk into one, then sat down on the end of it.
“What about you? Do you want children?”
“Someday.” She panned a look. “I’d like to get married first, though.”
“Smart lady.” He flicked her cheek with one finger, chasing away a mosquito. “If I remember correctly, you were always popular with the boys.”
“You remember incorrectly,” she chided, peeking up through her lashes. “Or you’d remember me hugging your mother’s ficus plant in the corner at her parties. I was usually the wallflower. Too shy, I guess.”
“You don’t seem the shy type.”
“But then you don’t know me that well.” She reached for the soft shawl she’d dropped on a side table earlier.
“I’d like to,” he said simply, meeting her gaze. “Know you better, I mean. Maybe we could go out for dinner one evening.”
“You’re too busy,” she reminded archly. “You can’t even find a moment to work on the sets.”
“Tati and her grandmother have a standing date on Friday nights. I’m free as a bird then.”
Ashley shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not really interested in dating right now,” she murmured, feeling hemmed in. “I came to Serenity Bay to relax and recuperate for a little while.”
“After your accident. My mother told me. Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Okay, then.” Michael folded his hands together in his lap, stretched out his legs and glanced around like an eager tourist taking in the sights. “Nice weather we’re having, isn’t it?”
She couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Now there’s a sound I haven’t heard in a while. Ashley laughing. I like it.” Piper walked onto the deck behind Jason who was carrying a tray with two mugs and a plate of cookies on it. She sat down on the swing, patted the seat next to her then accepted her cup. “What are you two talking about?”
“The weather.”
“Ashley not dating.”
Their simultaneous responses had the other two grinning.
“Maybe we should go back inside and let them settle this,” Jason said.
“Oh, I’d rather let them continue. We’ll just listen in.” Piper leaned back against Jason’s arm, slung across the back of her seat and passed the cookies. “Ashley needs a challenge, Michael. She’s kind of stuck in her ways. That’s why I’ve been begging her to help me with the festival. Did you know she contacted her former boss about setting up a gallery to display local artists’ work in town?”
Michael shifted, his attention intent on Piper.
“I didn’t know,” he said. He turned to Ashley. “Any luck?”
“No. He turned me down without even seeing some of the things that are produced here. But that’s okay. I’ll find someone else. I’m good at getting backers for artists who need to get their work to the public.”
“Are you?”
“Have you heard of Terrence Demain?”
“Who hasn’t?” Michael nodded, eyes wide. “Mosaics. Gorgeous walls of fantastic color.”
“Exactly. A friend of mine commissioned his first wall. The critics couldn’t get enough of his work and he took off.”
“That’s what Ashley does, you see. She finds the talent and then brings it to the light. Her former boss could tell you how good she is if he hadn’t fired her.” Piper smiled at Ashley. “How many times has Ferris begged you to come back, Ash?”
“I’ve lost count.”
“You don’t want to go back to your old job?” Michael studied her.
“Maybe. Sometime.” Ashley kept her face expressionless as she scrambled for excuses. The intensity of his stare was unnerving. “I need a break first. I’d been working nonstop for ages. It feels good to relax, putter around a bit. And Piper’s a peach for letting me come here. There’s nowhere like the Bay for reorienting yourself.”
“Mmm.” Michael tilted his head to one side, shrugged. “I guess.”
She watched him closely, framing her next words with care.
“You probably thought the same thing yourself. I mean, isn’t that why you’ve come back, after all these years? To start over with your daughter?”
“I guess you could say that.”
If she hadn’t been watching Ashley might have missed his wince. As it was, she couldn’t help but wonder what had caused it and why he was staring at her as if she held some secret he needed.
“Anyway, I’ll probably leave in a couple of weeks.”
“But you have to be here for our wedding, Ash,” Piper protested. “You and Row are my bridesmaids and I’m not getting married without either of you. I’ve got your dresses all picked out.” She threaded her fingers through Jason’s, her engagement ring flashing its fire. “Christmas isn’t all that far off, you know.”
Michael choked on his coffee. One look at his face and Ashley burst into laughter.
“What is so funny?” Piper asked.
“Apparently you’re not the only one who’s looking forward to Christmas,” Ashley told her.
“Or thinking about fancy dresses,” Michael added.
“Oh.” A furrow appeared across Piper’s forehead. She glanced from him to Ashley, then shrugged. “I’ll assume it’s a private joke.”
“It is,” Ashley assured her.
Michael winked at her, then rose.
“I’d better get going,” he told her, holding out one hand to Ashley. “Walk me to my car?”
She could hardly refuse. Ashley placed her hand in his and rose. “I thought you said you had Friday evenings free?”
“I do. I gave my students a test last week and promised I’d have their marks ready on Monday. People think teaching is nine to three but they have no idea about the overtime.”
“I guess not.”
“Thanks for hosting me, Piper. And Jason, anytime you want another dinner guest, give me a call.”
“Will do.” Jason and Piper stood together, arms wrapped around each other’s waists. “You know you’re welcome. Bring Tatiana next time.”
“We’ll see.” He walked toward the door. Ashley followed. “Good night,” he said as he stepped outside. “Thanks again.”
They waved. Ashley walked with him to his car without saying anything. Dusk had fallen. Across the road, some sixty feet away, a doe and her fawn were enjoying an evening lunch on a patch of grass. She touched his arm, pointed.
Michael watched for a while. Then he faced her.
“It was a great meal,” he said. “I enjoyed talking to you. Are you sure you won’t have dinner with me sometime, so I can repay your generosity?”
She shook her head, smiled. “I don’t think so. But thank you.”
“Why?”
The bald question took her by surprise.
“Because.”
“That’s not an answer.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, kicked at a stone on the ground before meeting her gaze.
“I’m not trying to trap you into anything, Ashley. I’m not looking for anything more than a friend I can talk to.” He shrugged. “Tati’s great but sometimes it’s nice to talk to another adult, discuss something other than her friend Wanda at day care.”
She smiled at the frustration that gilded his voice.
“I’m sure there are lots of adults you can talk to.”
“But not you?”
She shrugged. “I won’t be here that long. I’m going to spend some time helping Piper while I search for another job.” She struggled to explain. “I’m sure your mother told you I broke off my engagement recently. I guess what I’m saying is that I need time to put my world back together again.”
He nodded, his dark eyes melting with empathy.
“Believe me, I understand that.” He thrust out his hand. “If you get a moment and want to talk, phone me.”
“And you’ll make time in that busy schedule of yours?” she murmured as her fingers slid into his.
He held her hand, stared down at it cradled in his bigger rougher one, then looked at her. Ashley stared into his eyes, unsure if the zip of current she felt was only her imagination.
“I’ll make time for you,” he answered quietly. He lifted her hand, brushed his lips against her knuckles. “Good night, beautiful. I hope we cross paths again soon.”
Then he was gone and Ashley was left with the imprint of his lips on her skin. But it wasn’t only that he’d touched her physically. Something in her spirit recognized that he was seeking solace, just as she was.
She didn’t understand how or why she knew that, but Michael Masters’s effect on her was no different than the first time she’d visited the Louvre. Her knees were weak, her palms damp and she couldn’t quite catch her breath.
Sort of like a panic attack. Only better.
All the more reason to stay away from him.
Chapter Four
“Will you get me another mommy?”
Michael jerked out of his thoughts, found Tati staring at Carissa’s picture in the silver frame he’d placed on a shelf in her room. He regrouped quickly, picked up his daughter and hugged her.
“I don’t know if I can do that, sweetheart.”
“’Cause my mommy was special.” Tati nodded like a wise owl. “I know. She danced the best Swan Lake.”
She never failed to amaze him. “How do you know about Swan Lake?”
“Wanda.” Tati’s busy fingers brushed through his hair. “She said her mom didn’t believe my mommy was a ballerina so she looked on the Internet. Wanda’s mom said my mommy had rave reviews. Are rave reviews good, Daddy?”
“I’m very sure they are,” he murmured, kissing her cheek. But they didn’t compare to holding your child in your arms. “Did you get all your toys put away?”
“Uh-huh. Can we go to the Dairy Shack now?”
“We can.” He swirled her around until the giggles he loved to hear burst out of her, then he set her down. “How about getting your jacket?”
“Daddy.” Her eyes brimmed with scorn. “It’s boiling outside.”
“It is now,” he agreed, brushing her nose with his fingertip. “But it might not be so warm on the water later.”
Tati squealed with delight. “We’re going on a boat?”
He nodded. “The houseboat. Like we had for Granny’s birthday, remember? We’ve been invited to go for a ride with Piper and Jason.”
Her face glowed with excitement, but she said nothing more, simply headed for her room and her sweater. Moments later they were on the road and Michael was fielding her incessant questions, punctuated by expressions of delight. Tati would finally have something interesting to talk about at show and tell.
“Can I catch a fish?”
“I don’t know, honey. We’ll have to see.”
“I hope it’s a giant fish. A whale.”
“We don’t have whales in Serenity Bay, honey.”
“It could happen,” she insisted stubbornly then turned to stare out the window. “Wanda says lots of strange things happen.”
Wanda would know. Michael drove through the shedding trees, crunching over dry red and gold leaves toward the ice cream shop. His mind grappled with the same old problem. Assuming he could get some pieces finished by next summer, how and where could he arrange a showing? And was that God’s will or his own?
“Look, Daddy. Aren’t the flowers pretty?”
“Where?” He followed her pointing finger to a shiny convertible sitting next to a gigantic plastic cone advertising fifty-one flavors. Something about that car seemed familiar.
“In the window of that car. The nice lady’s there.”
Michael pulled into a parking spot, turned his head and saw Ashley Adams seated behind the wheel of her black sports car, facing straight ahead. A transparency of Van Gogh’s big yellow sunflowers had been stuck on the back side window.
“Let’s go say hello.” Michael released Tati from her car seat, took her hand as they walked toward Ashley. Though the roof was down, all her windows were rolled up. He tapped on one.
Ashley jerked, slowly turned her head to face him. Her face was a pasty white, her eyes stretched wide with fear.
“Are you all right?” He waited, and when she didn’t respond, reached over the window to unlock the door. He opened it, touched her shoulder. “Ashley?”
Her whole body jerked at the contact.
“Yes?” Her voice emerged a thread of sound.
“Is something the matter?”
“Is she sick, Daddy?”
Tati’s squeak of inquiry seemed to break the bubble Ashley had been trapped in. She drew in a deep breath and released her fingers from their death grip on the wheel.
“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”
“You don’t look fine,” he told her bluntly. She cast furtive glances to the left, then right, as if searching for someone. Or something.
“What’s wrong?”
“Wrong?” She blinked, swung her legs from the car. “Nothing’s wrong. I came to get a carton of ice cream. I’m going for a boat ride with Piper and Jason.”
“So are we!” Tati squealed in delight. “What kind of ice cream are you going to get?”
“What kind would you like?”
Her recovery happened faster than he expected, but it wasn’t complete. Michael knew from the way she closed the car door then checked the street that she was looking for something. Or someone.
“I like chocolate chip cookie dough. And tiger-tiger. And strawberry cheesecake and pistachio and—”
Ashley laughed. “Maybe I should have asked what kind you don’t like.”
“Oh.” Tati frowned, grasped Michael’s hand. “What kind of ice cream don’t I like, Daddy?”
“I don’t think there is one.” He motioned to the store. “Shall we go inside and look?”
“Sure.” Ashley walked along beside him. She wasn’t wearing her usual high heels but the cream linen pants and matching silk sweater still screamed money. Even her toes, poking out of woven rope sandals, were perfectly manicured and polished a soft blush pink.
Michael held the door, waited for her to pass in front of him.
“Your hand is shaking,” he said, softly enough that Tati couldn’t hear. “I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s nothing.” She tipped her head back to stare into his eyes. “Just some bad memories that won’t go away.”
Her hair was bundled onto the top of her head and held there by a silver comb, though wispy ringlets broke free and framed her face. A few longer tendrils caressed the long smooth line of her neck like an expensive pewter frame. She was gorgeous.
“I didn’t realize you’d be going on the houseboat today.”
“Or you would have begged off?” He smiled at her faint blush. “I can cancel if it will bring back that killer smile of yours.”
“Don’t be silly. Tati would be devastated.” She inclined her head toward the little girl peeking over the ice-cream freezer trying to choose her favorite. “You have a beautiful daughter.”
“Yes, I know. I thank God for her every day.” Since they were early Michael insisted on buying them each a cone, then suggested they wander across the street to the park to eat them.
“Color coordination down to a T,” he murmured, watching as she nipped at the top of her ice cream.
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