THE GREAT BETRAYAL

By Millenia Black

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Copyright © 2006 by Millenia Black, Inc.

ISBN:

All rights reserved. The characters and events portrayed in this novel are the sole property of Millenia Black, Inc. and no other person alive or dead. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

Acknowledgements

To God—thank you. For everything.

To my family. Thank you all so very much for your love and encouragement.

To Claudia Garner. Thanks so much for the guidance, advice, and support. They’re always invaluable.

To Miss Elizabeth. I have never forgotten you, or Trixie.

And finally, to Daddy. Timothy Aldred. Global. Without you, this wouldn’t exist. Here’s to “code green.” Love you always, Daddy.

PROLOGUE

Palm Beach, Florida

Summer 2006

They had no idea they were about to be discovered.

Their rendezvous locale was a posh, cozy residence the man had leased near the Intracoastal Waterway—nearly five years ago.

Since that time, the quiet comings and goings, as observed by a vigilant neighbor, suggested more than a little impropriety…the elderly neighbor surmised that the couple was having an illicit affair.

But tonight, even the neighbors would feel the shock waves.

The powerful shock waves of the forbidden.

•

Forty-five endless minutes.

That’s how long she lay in bed, anxiously awaiting her lover’s arrival.

When she finally heard the front door opening, the woman smiled, snuggling deeper into the fluffy pillows and cool, silky bedding. Her breathing steadied, tension disappeared, and her forehead relaxed.

He’d finally come.

They still had a solid hour to spend together, and he was now all hers!

But if she’d only known what was to happen on this night. That her secret was about to explode and change her life forever…she would not be smiling.

The nature of their affair made the explosion inevitable.

There was only so much sand in an hourglass, and now their time was up…tonight would be the last.

The last of the secret rendezvous.

•

As he entered the house, the man noticed the vanilla-scented candles illuminating the hallway that led to the bedroom.

What was he doing here with her? Again.

He’d tried to end it so many times…why couldn’t he?

Placing his briefcase near the door, he allowed the soothing atmosphere to combat the effects of the day, and took a deep breath.

Okay. One more time.

Inhaling the sweet ambiance, he removed his tie and tossed it over a barstool.

Quietly he strolled into the bedroom. And as always, there she was. Lying against the creamy pillows, waiting for him. No secrets. No lies. No past.

Just lying there wanting him.

Holding her gaze, he removed his clothes and climbed into the bed. He breathed deeply, trying his damnedest to release the burdens and disappointments of recent months.

Of recent years.

He took her into his arms and closed his eyes. “Tonight,” he whispered, spooning the now familiar curves of her naked body, “I just want to lay here and hold you.”

She laced their fingers. “You okay?” she asked, concerned. “Something wrong?”

“No more than usual. I just…” He hesitated, squeezing her. He couldn’t say too much. “Tonight I just want to lie here. Just need to shut out the world and not think too much.”

“Hmm.” Turning in his arms, she planted a gentle kiss on his lips. “Okay, just relax then. I’ll be right here.”

They nestled together, their legs intertwining. After a little adjusting, his head rested lower, cushioned by her breasts. They enjoyed the quiet tranquility they had begun to find here. They never suspected that—this time—it would not last.

•

“Oh, my God! Nooo!”

The violent, bloodcurdling scream broke them apart.

They both recognized the voice. It was her.

Her!

Holy shit.

With a deafening crash, the bedroom’s window shattered and shards of glass showered them on the bed.

They’d been discovered.

She—of all the people in the world—had found them!

They jumped from the bed.

PART I

Chapter 1

Clearwater, Florida

Early 1985

“Elvis? You’ve got to be kidding me, Jeff. We’re not naming her Elvis.”

“Come on, don’t be that way. Elvis could work for a girl.”

“Yeah, well, not this girl.” Leslie Phillips rubbed her eight-months-pregnant tummy. “She’d be the laughingstock of the entire universe!”

Jeffrey’s smile grazed her cheek where their faces touched.

They were sitting up in bed together, her aching back supported by his broad chest as she relaxed in his arms. Elvis Presley’s Moody Blue album played on the stereo as Jeff’s palms stroked her tummy.

On account of Jeff’s newfound adoration, their home was filled with all things Elvis, right down to the life-sized Elvis: That’s the Way It Is poster that hung on the bedroom door. And now Jeff wanted to brand their poor unborn child with his obsession.

He tried again. “Okay, then…How about Elvis-Ann?”

Heaving a sigh, Leslie shook her head.

“Elvissa?”

She trembled with laughter, Jeff’s hands jiggling atop her belly.

“Elvisalynn?” he continued, deep in thought. “Lynnelvis?”

Now Leslie cackled so hard the baby started kicking. “Oh, boy…you’d better stop!” Guiding his hand across her stomach, she snickered. “You feel that? That’s your Elvisalynn beating me up in protest of those ridiculous names!”

Feeling the firm thumps, Jeff feigned chagrin. “Well…what about the ridiculous name you and Mom want her stuck with? Audrey. Who the hell names their kid Audrey anymore? That’s so yester-century.”

Finally recovered, Leslie pinched his hand. “It is not. Audrey is a pretty name.” She gently began tracing Jeff’s nail beds, running her forefinger over them. “But, really, honey—you’re not serious about naming the baby Elvis, are you? You are just joking…right?”

He nibbled on her cheek. “Well…maybe calling her Elvis outright is a tad much…but what about something Elvis-related?” He bit his lip, thinking. “Hey, I got it!” He tapped her hand. “How about Grace? You know, for Graceland?”

Leslie turned her head, staring at him. “Jesus, Jeff. Is it that necessary to tie her name into him? If I had known you’d get this crazy, we never would’ve gone to Memphis to see Ingrid last year. You’ve seriously just been nuts ever since!”

She reached around for the phone, placing it in front of them on the bed.

“Oh, boy. There she goes. Calling for reinforcements.” Jeff made a face and stuck out his tongue.

Leslie dialed Jeff’s mother in Memphis. “It’s official, Ingrid. Your son’s gone completely nuts.”

Hundreds of miles away, Ingrid Armstrong laughed. “Why? What’s he done now?”

“Now he wants to call her Grace! Short for Graceland.”

“Oh, no. Put him on. I thought we settled on Audrey…”

Leslie gave Jeff the phone. He stuck his tongue out again.

“So, what is this?” he said sternly, pretending to be offended. “A wife-mother team up? What’s so wrong with Grace, ladies?”

That night the debate went on until well after midnight. In the end, though Jeff remained disgruntled, they reached an amicable compromise. It was perfect.

Audrey Grace Phillips.

•

The following Sunday was Jeffrey Phillips’s twenty-sixth birthday. To celebrate, a few of his closest friends planned a festive barbecue at Glen-Frost Memorial Park.

His mother, Ingrid, and younger sister, Beth, flew in from Memphis for the occasion.

•

Jeffrey Phillips was a tall, lean, blond-haired, blue-eyed young man with charming features. A senior in the top of his class at the University of Clearwater, he’d decided to apply to medical school after graduation. He wanted to pursue a degree in neurology.

Jeff’s father had been L. Humphrey Phillips, a successful real estate mogul who’d pioneered much of the major industrial districts in Memphis, Tennessee. Though he’d been married when he and Jeff’s mother met, they’d fallen in love and had two children together. Having always adored his second family, Humphrey had seen to it that they were very well looked after.

L. Humphrey died of a brain aneurism when Jeff was six, and Beth only two. To his credit, his will provided amply for his “illegitimate” children, ensuring a prosperous financial and academic future, and he did not deny them the right to his name.

Thanks to his late father, they’d led a very comfortable life, enabling Jeff to fulfill his dream of lounging on the beaches of Florida once he’d graduated from Memphis High, a move that ultimately led to his future wife.

Leslie Sanders was a high-spirited redhead with eyes Jeff called “emerald gems.” She was just seventeen when they met, in her last semester of high school, but before too long Leslie knew that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Jeffrey Phillips. He became her whole life, saving her from an unhappy upbringing.

He’d had a rare appreciation for the things that matter most in life, and it was so endearing that she’d gravitated toward him like no other guy before. Jeff Phillips exuded an air of vulnerability that clutched at Leslie’s own vulnerable heart. She’d grown up swooning with the greatest Hollywood love stories: Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall, Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy, Clark Gable and Carole Lombard. They were all seared into her romantic hopes and dreams.

And when she met Jeff, she seared another onto the list: Jeffrey Phillips and Leslie Sanders.

•

One afternoon, about a month after they’d met, Leslie left school early and accompanied Jeff to pick out furniture for the home he’d just purchased. Unbeknownst to either at the time, they were shopping for the home they would soon share together.

About a week after the furniture was delivered, when Leslie got home from school, there was a gift in the mail: a large poster featuring the entire cast of the hit show Dynasty. Jeff knew she never missed an episode.

The note read simply: Thanks for the “woman’s touch.” The place is beautiful.

•

When they had been dating about four months, Jeffrey began studying for finals, which limited his free time.

He asked Leslie to come over one evening to grill him on the material. They wound up working until two a.m., and Leslie was late for her first-period class the next day.

That night, after dinner, Jeff treated her to ice cream at Carvel’s.

“You know,” he said as they sat together in a booth, “you’re so special, Emerald Eyes. Some catch. I appreciate your staying up with me and the books last night.”

Later, when they were saying goodnight, Leslie couldn’t help herself. She took the plunge. “I’m in love with you, Jeff.”

“And I’m in love with you,” he murmured, staring into her eyes. And that was the night he had christened them his gems.

She’d been overwhelmed. Jeffery Phillips had genuine charm, polite sensitivity. He was a true gentleman—the first one she’d ever met.

Leslie was completely and totally enamored.

•

By the time her eighteenth birthday arrived, Leslie Sanders and Jeffrey Phillips were considered two halves of a whole. They’d become inseparable.

Jeff told everyone, constantly, how captivated he was with Leslie, how he loved her feisty but oh-so-tender spirit.

To celebrate her legal coming-of-age, he took her to dinner at a cozy seafood restaurant along Pier 60.

After dinner, as they walked along the pier in the moonlight, Jeff asked Leslie to be his wife. Without hesitation she’d jumped into his arms chanting, “Yes, yes, yes!”

And that night he became her first lover.

•

They had been married only three months when Leslie discovered she was pregnant.

Immediately packing up their station wagon, they’d driven to Memphis to break the wonderful news to Jeff’s family in person. This would be Ingrid Armstrong’s first grandchild, and Jeff knew she’d be ecstatic. The news was too good to share over the phone!

While in Memphis, Ingrid took them to visit Graceland, Elvis Presley’s venerated Tennessee estate.

Leslie Phillips had left Florida with a fairly normal husband. But when she returned, it was with an Elvis-saturated radical.

Overnight, Jeff became an obsessed fanatic. He’d bought every keepsake and collectible the gift shops had to offer, and declared Elvis Presley Boulevard the Eighth Wonder of the World.

Within a month there wasn’t an Elvis song he didn’t know or a book he hadn’t read. Their coffee table was covered with books, magazines, and videocassettes—all about Elvis Presley.

While cleaning up, cooking, or simply relaxing, Leslie enjoyed spinning Madonna, George Michael, or Cindy Lauper albums…but once Jeff was in the building, so was Elvis.

And he played his favorites repeatedly, nonstop, until Leslie, too, couldn’t help knowing all the songs by heart. She felt like she, herself, had written the lyrics to the likes of “Jailhouse Rock,” “Hound Dog,” and “Suspicious Minds.”

One day, she called Ingrid to complain. “If I have to hear ‘That’s All Right Mama’ spin one more time…”

“It’s that bad, is it?”

“Oh, it’s much worse, Ingrid. He’s possessed! He won’t let me listen to anything else. It’s maddening! He’s driving me nuts. I bet the baby comes out singing ‘Don’t Be Cruel’!”

They’d had a good laugh.

Chapter 2

That Sunday in April was a beautiful spring day, filled with vibrant sunshine and cool, tranquil breezes blowing in from the nearby beaches.

Glen-Frost Memorial Park was one of Clearwater’s biggest recreational prides. Named in honor of two World War II veterans, it boasted six acres of handsome landscaping and featured charming barbecue and picnic areas, blossoming shrubbery, and winding asphalt pathways.

They couldn’t have chosen a better place to have Jeff’s birthday barbecue. They’d invited all of their closest friends and neighbors, and while Madonna blared from a silver-toned boom box, everyone had an enjoyable time dancing, eating, and milling about.

Jeff and his buddies manned the grill, looking Crockett-and-Tubbs cool, while a very pregnant Leslie reclined in a lawn chair devouring barbecued chicken and hot dogs with Ingrid and Beth.

The three women had gone shopping for Jeff’s gifts the day before, and it was no surprise when they’d returned with heaps of bags that had nothing to do with Jeff. As a result of the minispree, Leslie now sported new maternity gear, complete with white leggings and a brand-new pair of jelly shoes, which were all the rage.

“May I tell you how sexy you are in that pink top?” Jeff whispered into Leslie’s ear. He had slipped away from the grills and knelt beside her.

She turned to face him and their eyes met. They shared a kiss.

On impulse, Beth pulled out her camera and snapped a picture.

When they didn’t break apart right away and began rubbing noses, Ingrid cleared her throat. “Hey, hey, you two. I’ll have none of that in my presence. Jeff,” she joked, “you’d better get back over there to that barbecue and light a fire under something else!”

“What?” He gaped at his mother. “No way! I’ve been working the grill since we got here, and it’s my birthday! No more work for me.” He planted another kiss on Leslie and stood. “It’s time to play, time for the fun! Hey, Brad,” he called out to his best friend, “when was the last time we rode skateboards?”

And off they went like a couple of high school kids, riding skateboards up and down a nearby path while the ladies resumed their chatter.

“It really is nice having you guys here,” Leslie was saying. “You should come down more often. Especially with the baby coming next month.” Rubbing her tummy, she sighed. “I’m so nervous! It would be great to have you both around to help out.”

“Oh, please, don’t you fret about a thing,” said Beth, sipping her Tab. “Of course Mom and I’ll come back down to help out when she gets here…Wow, I can’t believe it’s almost time,” she squealed. “It’s so exciting! My first niece!”

“I know—I’m nervous, but I can hardly wait to meet her. Thank you both so much…everything will be perfect since you’ll be here. I know Jeff will be a big help, but what with how giddy he’s been lately…”

“I know exactly what you mean,” said Ingrid. “That boy is so excited about being a father. He’s certainly giddier than I’ve ever seen him. Look at him over there,” she said, observing the men. “Making a fool of himself—skateboarding!”

They all laughed and turned to see that a few other guys had joined Brad and Jeff, revving around on the skateboards. Beth grabbed her camera, snapping more pictures.

“But don’t worry, dear,” Ingrid continued. “You’ll be a fine mother to little Audrey. A fine mother.”

“Thanks, Ingrid. And you’ll both be great company for me, too. It gets pretty lonely when Jeff goes to class. Before walking became a chore, I’d always end up at the mall to occupy my time, or at World of Babies. And Jeff’s constantly nagging at me for buying everything I see on sale!”

Beth laughed. “Well, we’ll definitely get along there, sister-in-law. I’ve been known to use a sale or two as an excuse to buy almost anything, myself!”

Ingrid tossed a napkin at the trash. “Leslie, dear, don’t you have any friends? And what about your folks? Do they live around here?”

Before Leslie could respond, they heard a commotion. All heads spun to see a few of the guys, Jeff among them, sprawled out on the pathway. They had fallen off of their boards. Everyone got up, teasing each other and laughing.

Everyone but Jeff.

When they noticed no movement from him at all, Ingrid and Beth shot from their seats, running over in alarm, with Leslie waddling behind.

Ingrid rushed to kneel over her son. “What the hell happened?” she cried.

Jeff’s eyes weren’t open.

“M-my wheel caught and got stuck on a dent in the path,” said Brad. “So then everybody just crashed into me.”

“Jeff?” Ingrid lifted his head, checking for blood. “Jeff, honey? Come on, open your eyes.”

Dropping to the ground, Beth tapped his jaw. “Jeff? Oh, good Lord, that must’ve been some fall!”

Panicked, Leslie grabbed one of the men standing next to her. “Somebody go call an ambulance—he’s badly hurt!”

But suddenly Jeff opened his eyes.

They all breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank Jesus,” sighed Leslie, cupping her stomach. “I was about to faint myself!”

“Ouch,” Jeff groaned, sitting up. “Did I black out? I landed right on the back of my head.”

As Brad helped him over to the picnic table, he joked, “Hey, somebody needs to learn how to skateboard!”

All the guys laughed.

“Jeff, this is no laughing matter,” Ingrid said, coming up behind him. “You were out for quite a few seconds. Let me take a look at that head.” She carefully parted his blond hair. “Sure enough, there’s a goose egg coming up. You need ice.” She glanced at Beth. “Honey, grab a towel and wrap some ice cubes. How do you feel, Jeff?”

“I feel fine, really.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Actually, I guess I feel a little dizzy, but I’m sure it’s nothing that sitting down a few minutes won’t cure. I’ll be fine. Back on the board in no time.”

He glanced about and saw that everyone had gathered around the table. “Hey, everyone, I’m fine,” he said, smiling. “Don’t let me spoil the good time. Eat. Drink. Be merry.”

When Beth brought the ice, Leslie took it and held it against the back of Jeff’s head. “How many fingers do you see?”

She held up four.

“Uh…” He squinted. “Is that eight or nine? I can’t tell…”

“What?” cried Ingrid.

“Eight or nine?” said Brad. “Hey, dude—maybe we really should get you over to Windmoor Memorial.”

“Not funny, Phillips,” Leslie said, thumping Jeff on the shoulder. “Look at his face—he’s faking! Don’t pay any attention to the man behind the curtain.”

Jeff laughed. “Look, you guys, I’m fine. Trust me. It’s just a little bump on the head, that’s all.”

But they were at Glen-Frost Memorial Park another three and a half hours—and Jeff never left the table. Although he laughed, joked, and talked to everybody who came over, he never left the table.

•

When they arrived home, Jeff said, “I think I’ll take a few aspirin and go straight to bed.”

“Honey?” Leslie called out, getting the aspirin from the kitchen. “Are you sure you don’t want to get that bump looked at?” Something was wrong. She sensed the fall had been serious—more serious than he was letting on.

“Yes, Jeff. Maybe you should,” his mother said, leading him over to the sofa. “Your eyes haven’t looked well since you fell off that skateboard, you know.” She sat him down, examining the bump.

It was the size of a small plum.

“Jeffrey, this thing is huge. Let’s not take any chances. We’re getting you to a hospital.”

“And you haven’t seemed all that steady on your feet either,” added Beth.

“No, I’m fine, really. Just have a mild headache…and feel a little dizzy…but it’ll go away.”

“But, honey,” said Leslie, handing him the aspirin with a glass of water, “your mom’s right—let’s not take any chances. After all, it is your head we’re talking about, and dizziness can’t be good. Let’s just drive over to Windmoor.”

He swallowed the pills in one gulp, and then got to his feet. “I’m telling you, you’re all overreacting…which is typical of women, I might add.” He managed a half smile. “I just need to lie down awhile. I’m sure the headache will be gone soon enough.”

They all watched, worried, as he slowly made his way toward the bedroom.

•

A few minutes later Jeffrey stood in the shower, staring down at the single bar of soap that he held in his hand.

He could see seven of them.

Determined not to be alarmed, he closed his eyes and leaned to the side, resting against the tiled shower wall.

Breathing deeply, he inhaled the hot, moist steam being generated by the spray of water, and waited patiently.

Thirty seconds passed. Then forty-five.

Sixty.

Jeff opened his eyes.

Only one bar of soap.

See? I’m fine.

Chapter 3

The following morning, after Jeffrey left for his eight o’clock class, Leslie told Ingrid and Beth that she was still very worried about that bump.

“He looked okay this morning, but he’s definitely not himself. Not a hundred percent. He took an awfully nasty hit on that pavement.”
“Well, just keep an eye on that goose egg,” advised Ingrid. She and Beth were scheduled to fly back to Memphis the next day. “It’s very swollen, and this morning he wouldn’t even let me get near it with the ice pack.”

•

They were in the nursery, the guest room Beth was sleeping in, going through all the baby things they’d bought on their shopping spree, when Jeff returned quite unexpectedly.

It was only eight forty-five.

They heard the front door close. “I need more aspirin,” he called out.

The three women looked at one another. More aspirin?

When they went out into the hall, Jeff was already in the kitchen, downing the pills.

“Jeff!” Leslie rushed over to him. “You’ve already taken two of those, just before you left. How come you’re back so soon? What happened?”

“Shit, I couldn’t focus on a thing for this blasted headache. I asked Brad to make a copy of his notes for me and drop them by later.”

His mother grabbed his hand. “That’s it. We’re going to a hospital. You have to get that thing looked at, Jeffrey. It could be serious.”

“No, Mother, really. The hospital wasn’t necessary yesterday, and it’s not necessary today.” He pulled away his hand. “The aspirin should do just fine. I just need to lie down…relax a bit.”

“No—you need to see a doctor,” Leslie insisted through clenched teeth. “I can’t take this, Jeff. You fainted, and I’m afraid something could be seriously wrong.” She grabbed him by the jaw. “Please, honey. I’m really scared about that swelling. Let’s just drive over to the hospital. Let a doctor tell you that you just need rest. Okay? Please.”

“Women,” said Jeff, dropping a kiss on her mouth. He walked to the entryway of the kitchen, shaking his head. “Okay. How’s this? I’ll make you guys a deal: If the headache’s not gone by tomorrow, we’ll go to the hospital. Just give it a few hours. I’ll lie down and give it some more time. How’s that?”

Though still apprehensive, they agreed. They watched him stroll off into the bedroom.

“I so don’t like this,” Leslie murmured.

“Me either,” said Beth as they headed back into the nursery.

•

For the remainder of the morning and into the early afternoon, they periodically looked in on him, making sure the swelling hadn’t worsened.

Around one o’clock, he suddenly emerged from the bedroom. “What time’s the flight tomorrow, Mom? When do you two leave for the airport?”

“Twelve forty,” Ingrid replied, eyeing him carefully. “We’re planning to leave the house around ten o’clock so we have plenty of time to check in once we drop off the rental. How’s the headache?”

“It’s actually not too bad now,” he said going over to rub his wife’s tummy. He nuzzled her neck. “How’s my little Grace?”

Beth and Ingrid balked immediately.

“Oh, I’m sorry—Audrey.” Jeff snorted. “How’s Audrey?”

“She’s great,” Leslie replied, laughing. “Just about ready to get out of there! This is way more uncomfortable than it looks! Oy.”

Jeff stared at her stomach. “You know what? I don’t give a damn what her birth certificate says—I’m calling her Grace.” He kissed his wife and straightened with a smirk. “Audrey sucks.”

They all threw sofa cushions at him in mock indignation.

“It does not!”

“Audrey’s a beautiful name!”

“Well, it sure beats Elvissa!”

Sprinting back to the bedroom, he called out, “Look, I don’t want to miss 60 Minutes tonight, okay? Roger that? Wake me if I’m asleep!”

•

Around five p.m., the ladies sat in the kitchen chatting and giggling over a dish of leftover key lime pie.

Glancing up at the clock, Leslie rose from the table, saying, “I’m going to check on him again.” She shook her head in concern. “It’s just not normal for him to sleep this much, and he hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast.”

“You think he might have a concussion?” ventured Beth. “Because I don’t think this much sleeping would be good for a concussion.”

Nodding in agreement, Leslie left the kitchen, her worry returning. When she entered their bedroom, she heard peaceful snores. But as she approached the bed, her breath stopped.

Jeff was lying on his side in a pool of vomit.

“Ingrid! Beth! Come quick; he’s vomited!” She rushed over, shaking him awake. “Bring towels!”

“W-what?” Jeff mumbled, opening his eyes. “W-what’s wrong?” Suddenly his forehead crumpled with apparent pain.

Ingrid and Beth came rushing in.

“Honey, you’ve puked all over the bed,” Leslie said, wiping his mouth with tissues. “We’re cleaning you up, and then we’re getting you to Windmoor. No more arguments.”

“Come on, sweetheart, into the bathroom,” his mother said, reaching the bed. “Let’s clean you up first.”

“W-wait,” he stammered, blinking rapidly. “Turn on a light. What time is it? H-how long have I been a-asleep?”

“It’s after five now,” said Beth. “You slept for about—”

“After five!” His eyes widened. He blinked. “Five a.m.?”

“No, five in the afternoon,” said Ingrid.

“Afternoon?” He turned about frantically. “Then why the hell is it so damned dark in here?” He brought his hand up and wiggled his fingers in front of his blinking eyes.

“Holy shit!” Now in a full-blown panic, Jeffrey gripped his wife’s arm. “I can’t see, Leslie! I don’t see a goddamn thing!!”

Chapter 4

They raced to Windmoor Memorial Hospital.

Beth rode shotgun while Ingrid drove the rental car like lightning through the residential streets of Clearwater. Since the hospital was nearby, they’d decided against waiting around for an ambulance, but now they had to tackle the heart of rush-hour traffic.

Holding her husband in her arms, Leslie gave Ingrid frantic directions from the backseat to avoid the main roads. Jeff had lapsed into an eerie quiet, clutching his head at the temples as if to shield against every bump in the road.

“Can you see anything now, honey?” asked Ingrid as she navigated traffic. “Anything at all?” She shot a quick glance at the rearview mirror. “Any bit of light?”

There was no response.

Leslie started crying. “Oh, my God!” She quickly kissed Jeff’s forehead. “Honey, can you hear us? Please say something, okay? Say anything.”

Slowly, his hand rose—but he did not speak.

“Jeff?” She lifted his head, looking his face over. “Honey? Jesus—can you talk? Say something. Let us know you can speak.”

“Head hurts…” he managed. Opening his eyes, he looked about blankly, without focus. “Still can’t see…just dark…”

Frightened and weeping, Leslie kept kissing Jeffrey’s forehead, clutching him very close until they finally pulled up to the entrance of the emergency room.

•

Once inside, the triage nurse immediately had Jeff carted off on a gurney. She asked the three frightened women to have a seat out front in the semicrowded waiting room.

Shortly thereafter, a security guard stepped through the sliding doors. “Excuse me, madam? You can’t leave your car out here in the entrance like this. You’ll have to park it.”

Ingrid rose, turning to Beth and Leslie. “If someone comes out, hold them here until I get back!” Then she rushed through the doors, the guard quick on her heels.

Leslie looked at Beth, their eyes locking in fear. They embraced each other.

This was not good.

They could feel it.

•

“He needs a cerebral MRI—stat!”

He heard the flurry of activity around him, but by now Jeffrey Phillips had lost the ability to speak.

As they wheeled him down the hall, all he could think of was his wife.

Leslie. That luxuriant main of auburn hair that fell just below her breasts. Those beautiful green eyes. The soft features of her lovely oval face. Her distended tummy…heavy with the child they had conceived in their love. Heavy with Grace.

Would he be able to see his baby when she was born? Would this damned blindness be permanent?

Just then a sharp pain ricocheted through Jeffrey’s head—a pain stronger than any he had ever felt in his entire life.

He could no longer think about Grace.

He could no longer think about anything.

•

Out in the waiting room, where they sat filling out insurance forms, Leslie’s apprehension grew. Her prayers were fast and urgent as the tears flowed.

Dear God, she thought, clutching her tummy, it can’t be good that he lost his sight. Oh, God…It just can’t be good…

“There, there,” Beth soothed. “Let’s not jump to the worst conclusions.”

Leslie flinched. She was unaware she’d spoken aloud.

“No…it doesn’t look good at all right now,” Beth continued, clinging to her mother’s hand. “But it has to be a temporary thing from the fall he took. He passed out, for Pete’s sake!”

Overwhelmed by fear, Ingrid began to weep. “I knew we should’ve brought him here yesterday—immediately after it happened and he passed out! He just didn’t look well. But Jeffrey’s so damned stubborn—he refused to listen!”

They lapsed into a sniffling, tear-filled silence, losing all sense of time.

They waited.

•

“Ms. Phillips?”

All three heads snapped to attention, and they rose to their feet.

Just how long had they been sitting there?

It was a stout, balding man in a long white coat. “I’m Dr. Saul Benedict,” he said. He was not smiling.

“I’m Mrs. Phillips,” said Leslie, shaking his hand. “I’m Jeffrey Phillips’s wife. This is his mom and sister. Is he going to be all right? Has his sight returned?”

The doctor’s gaze fell briefly, taking in her belly. He seemed to hesitate. “Would you ladies come with me, please?” He motioned toward a hallway. “Right this way.”

They were led into a small room behind the triage area. He closed the door behind them.

“I’m so very sorry to tell you this…but I don’t have good news.” He paused, his eyes sad. “Unfortunately, Mr. Phillips has died. It appe—“

Ingrid screamed. “No!” And collapsed on the spot.

Beth grabbed her as her own knees buckled.

The blood drained from Leslie’s face.

“D-died?” she managed. “Died? What do you mean ‘Mr. Phillips has died’? H-how could he…Dead?” Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Her voice became hysterical. “No, no, no! You’re making a terrible mistake! He was just talking to me in the car! He can’t be—”

“I’m so very sorry,” Dr. Benedict interjected, his voice full of compassion. Touching Leslie’s shoulder, he gently guided her toward a chair. “Perhaps you should have a seat, Mrs. Phillips.”

His voice droned on, explaining something about the occipital lobe and an acute subdural hematoma. He could scarcely be heard over the gut-wrenching wails of Beth and Ingrid, who had collapsed to the floor, bawling, clutching each other, devastated. They were inconsolable.

Shocked into silence, Leslie slumped into the chair, the girth of her belly preventing a fall to the floor. She stared up at the doctor, horrified.

Her brain turned to mush.

Chapter 5

Jeffrey Phillips was laid to rest at Serenity Gardens Cemetery, just west of the beautiful beaches of Pier 60. He had so loved Florida. Ingrid decided against taking him back to Memphis.

All of his college comrades attended the funeral. Family and friends had flown in from Memphis, every one of them unable to believe this had happened. His mother gave the eulogy with Beth by her side. Together they released half a dozen white doves in celebration and honor of his precious memory.

Leslie Phillips—prostrate with grief and in a palpable state of disbelief—merely sat staring at her young husband’s casket. She was lost. In a trance.

She hadn’t spoken since they’d all left the hospital—without Jeffrey—nearly a week before.

•

“Doesn’t she have any family? Any at all?” asked Beth, joining her mother in the kitchen. “Is there no one we can call?”

It was the day after the funeral, and a few neighbors had come by, offering warm food and heartbreaking condolences.

Beth had just given Leslie a bath and propped her up in bed.

“You know, it’s just the darnedest thing, but I can’t recall her ever making mention of any family. And I don’t think Jeff ever said anything about them either.” Ingrid paused, drying a dinner plate. “I just assumed we’d meet them sooner or later. But now…”

“Well, I’m really worried about her and the baby. I know the hospital told us to monitor her blood pressure and make sure that she eats, but...” She sighed. “Why won’t she talk, Mom? It’s been a week.”

Ingrid turned to her daughter, fresh tears in her eyes. “She’s in shock, dear. We’re all in shock.” The plate slipped from her grasp, shattering against the sink’s faucet.

“Oh, Mom!” Beth burst into tears and ran to her mother.

They clung to each other.

“I cannot believe this,” Ingrid sobbed. Her tears soaked Beth’s cotton blouse. “I just can’t believe it. How in the hell could this have happened out of left field like this? Twenty-six years old! How can my son be gone?” Pulling back, she locked eyes with her daughter. “Dear God, Beth. Is it punishment? Am I being punished after all these years? Is this my punishment for Humphrey?”

Unsure of what to say, Beth simply drew her mother into another embrace, reassuring her. They cried together until the kitchen grew dark as the sun made its crawl into the west.

Finally Beth rose and reached for napkins to dry their faces.

“So…what are we going to do about Leslie?”

“Merciful heavens—I don’t know. Maybe she has a phone book or something. Let’s look around. There has to be some way to get in touch with her parents or some other relative.”

But in the end, even after checking with the neighbors, they were unable to locate any information about Leslie’s relatives. There wasn’t even the slightest indication that she had any close friends.

Exhausting all possible alternatives, Ingrid decided they would simply take Leslie home with them. Given her late stage of pregnancy, they would have to drive back to Tennessee.

Jeffrey’s child would be born in Memphis.

And they would name her Grace.

Just as he’d wanted.

Part II

Chapter 6

Palm Beach, Florida

Christmas 2004

Until tonight they had been only platonically acquainted. He had preferred it that way.

Until tonight he’d never dared to consider the open invitation he’d seen in her eyes from the very beginning.

And so, with a meeting of the eyes, it began.

Eye contact was such a powerful medium. A full-blown conversation could take place within the rock-solid confines of a stare. And on this night, their conversation began.

Her look had posed the question. His, though initially surprised, had fallen under its spell. His had responded.

In her pointed gaze he saw the offering—the offering of what he wanted more than anything else. In her eyes he believed he was seeing exactly what he needed, but had been deprived of.

In those eyes, he saw her.

He had to get out of there. He had to get away, or…

“Can we talk?” She had followed him out into the garage.

Oh, God. Please. No.

That was all she’d said, but he’d heard so much more being offered in those three harmless words. So much more.

Before he could stop himself from telling her where and when to meet him—

He already had.

•

The man poured himself a drink. She was leaning against the wall, just inside the foyer. Watching him.

They had not spoken since entering the house.

The woman wasn’t sure she should speak at all. He looked as if he would change his mind at any moment. And she didn’t want that.

No. She wanted him. She had to have him. Her body tingled with the excitement of being with him, the anticipation of having this—the oh-so-forbidden.

He had actually brought her here. He’d obviously wanted this all along, just as she had.

It was hard to think clearly as she stood gazing at him. He was tall and lean, quite muscular, but not bulky. Deliciously blond. Strong jawline. Nice, full lips.

He was standing there, just three feet away from her, looking incredibly sexy in a solid black sweater and a pair of dark blue Levis.

And best of all…they were alone. She grew moist at the thought.

Why did this happen whenever she was near him? Why did her pulse quicken, her thoughts scramble, and her vagina throb all at the same time?

Why was she plagued by the same forbidden fantasy whenever they were apart?

Well, it might still be forbidden, but his inviting her here tonight made it quite clear that it was no longer a fantasy.

On that note she made the first move. Walking over to him, she took the snifter from his hand. He let it go.

She then began kissing him with a hunger that excited him ferociously. They began peeling off each other’s clothes, shuffling their way into the bedroom.

He was anything but gentle with her. He mauled her breasts without apology, as if to punish her for being a temptation to him. He bent, biting her nipples as his hand found her sex. He jabbed his fingers into her wetness.

She moaned. She would not complain. She was getting what she wanted, and nothing could be better than what was happening right here. Right now.

His body was firm and solid as a rock. His skin felt so good against hers. Covering her. Rubbing against her. He wanted her—very badly. Hell, he seemed to need her.

When he finally slipped into her body, the hesitation was brief before he completely lost himself in the pleasure, pounding his need all the way home.

He cursed.

His thrusts became even more punishing than she could’ve anticipated.

She would be sore, possibly walking awkwardly, for a month.

When he finally caught his breath, he quickly withdrew from her. “I don’t fucking believe this,” he said in disbelief. He looked down into her eyes. He dared not look down toward the sheets beneath them. “Please tell me that you were not a virgin.”

Chapter 7

West Palm Beach, Florida

Early 1990

Twenty-five-year-old Dawn Chadwick rushed to grab the phone as she downed the last of her coffee.

“Hello?” Her appointment was at nine thirty sharp, and she had traffic to factor into the commute.

“Hi, sweetheart. I’m glad I caught you.” It was her soft-spoken mother. “Just wanted to wish you good luck with the interview today. I have a feeling this is gonna be the one.”

“Thanks, Mom. I sure hope so, because you know Crystal Clear’s always been my first choice—getting in there would be perfect. Pray hard. I’m on my way out the door right now.”

“Knock ‘em dead, honey. Good luck.”

•

She arrived at the Crystal Clear office park with fifteen minutes to spare.

Dawn parked her Grand Am and flipped down the visor, doing a final check of her hair and makeup. Everything was perfect. Her foundation was flawless, her full lips colorful and sheer, her eyebrows perfectly arched. Her smooth, deep-brown hair grazed her jawline in a symmetrical cut, which had proven to be extremely high maintenance.

Accenting the generous curves of her five-foot-six figure, she wore a shapely forest green suit with a multicolored scarf, and a custom-made silver broach formed the initials MC. Her appearance screamed competent. Capable. Proficient. She was the consummate professional.

Well, let’s hope that’s what C&C thinks when I’m through with them, she thought, chuckling.

Dawn glanced at the photo of Michael that hung from her rearview mirror in a protective plastic sleeve. Leaning over, she dropped a kiss on it. “Wish me luck,” she told him.

Then, grabbing her purse and briefcase, she went to knock ‘em dead.

•

“Good morning,” Dawn greeted the receptionist. “I have a nine-thirty interview with Cynthia McFarley.”

“Okay, could you sign in here, please?” the woman said pleasantly, indicating the clipboard. “Then take a visitor’s badge and have a seat right over there. I’ll call HR to let them know you’re here. Someone’ll be out to escort you up.”

“Thank you,” said Dawn, adding her name and arrival time to the sheet. There were three other people seated in the elegant lobby. Dawn grabbed a badge and joined them. She wondered if they were all applicants, here for the same accounting position. Lord, I sure hope not, she thought. From where she sat, they all looked rather impressive.

Silently, she struck a deal with God. Dear Lord, if you bless me with this C&C position, I promise to get out more. I’ll even go to church with Mom and Brenda every Sunday…She paused. Okay, every other Sunday…

“Dawn? Dawn Chadwick, is that you? From Mr. Greer’s ecology class at PBCC?”

Startled, Dawn looked up, reaching for her briefcase. She immediately recognized that long mane of red hair. “Oh, my gosh—Leslie Phillips! I remember you—hello!” Smiling, they shook hands. “How’ve you been? You’re working for C&C now?”

“Yes, I’ve been here almost a year. Human Resources. It’s awesome to see you after all this time; you look great! Love the haircut. Come with me,” she said, turning back toward the desk. “I’ll be taking you up to meet with Cynthia.”

Dawn followed her to the bank of elevators, and they headed for the fifth floor.

“So how’ve you been?” asked Leslie. “It’s been at least two or three years since I last saw you, hasn’t it?”

“Wow. Has it really been that long? Time surely does fly. I’ve been well. Hanging in there. You?”

“Oh, you know how it goes. Work, work, work.”

When they reached the fifth floor, Leslie led her down a long hallway and into an empty conference room. “Here we are. Just have a seat and she’ll be with you shortly. And just as a heads up—she may have the finance director, Victor Crowne, with her. He likes to sit in on these interviews.”

“Oh, great—thanks for the warning,” Dawn replied with an appreciative wink. “It was great to see you again, Leslie.”

“You too. Good luck.”

Once Leslie Phillips had gone, Dawn took a seat and waited. She hated interviews, but this one she had to ace. She needed this job.

Crystal Clear was one of the largest pharmaceutical and retail health-product companies in the nation. They paid very competitive wages, had an excellent benefits package, and best of all, the corporate office park was only ten minutes from her apartment.

This job—if she landed it—would be her first foray into the workforce in nearly three years. It would also be her first attempt at starting over. Creating a new life with the New Year.

Life after Michael.

•

The news came five days later while she was working out at the gym. Thanks to her weekly dedication, everywhere she went most men did double takes.

Dawn was peddling uphill on the elliptical glider—sweating off the sweet-potato pie her mother had practically force-fed her the night before—when she heard the psychedelic chirping of her pager. She found a pay phone and called the number on the display.

It was Leslie Phillips at Crystal Clear. She’d gotten the job!

Chapter 8

It was two weeks before Dawn Chadwick ran into Leslie Phillips again.

She normally had a light breakfast at home before leaving for work, but that morning she’d overslept and had to rush to be on time. She saw the ever-stylishly dressed Leslie downstairs in C&C’s employee eatery, waiting in line at the breakfast grill.

“Hey, we meet again! Good morning!”

“Good morning, Dawn!” said Leslie, turning with a smile. “You know, I’ve been meaning to call you, see how things are going for you. Is everything coming along all right?”

“Oh, everything’s great, thanks. It’s awesome. Cynthia’s the sweetest person.”

“Oh, yeah?” Leslie laughed. “Well, let’s hope you still think so come month’s end. That’s when everybody in finance is pulling their hair out by the roots!”

“Hey,” the cook cut in hastily, looking at Dawn. “What can I get you?”

“Oh—fully loaded omelet, please,” she quickly replied. Glancing behind her, she saw that the line had lengthened considerably. Several people had come up on her heels.

Turning back to face Leslie, she resumed the conversation. “Well, now, month’s end…it can’t be all that bad, can it? Give me a call on the first and I’ll tell you how much of my hair is left.”

“So, what have you been doing for lunch?” Leslie reached for her order.

“Oh, I usually bring something, but yesterday a few of us went to the new Macaroni Grill. Why, is something special going on?”

“No, no, I was just going to invite you to join Melanie, Shirley, and me. We work together in HR and go out most days. You’re free to join us anytime.”

Dawn smiled. “Aw, thanks, Leslie. That’s so nice of you. Where are you guys going today?”

“We never know. Sometimes we don’t actually make up our minds until we get in the car!”

•

She joined the club. Dawn began lunching with the “HR gang,” as they’d been nicknamed by coworkers. She soon realized, as she got to know each woman, that of the three, Leslie Phillips was the most stable.

Melanie Burkis was the twenty-seven-year-old mother of four, whose boyfriend was currently serving a stiff sentence for turning their living room into a meth lab.

Shirley Wells was a thirty-two-year-old Cher wannabe who was engaged to husband number three after recently divorcing husband number two.

Leslie Phillips’s life was far less colorful. At twenty-four, she was single, lived with a roommate named Amber, had no children, and was “sort of” dating a guy named Paul who worked in IT.

It didn’t escape Dawn’s notice that aside from an occasional remark during polite conversation, Leslie was reserved about personal matters. So Dawn was quite surprised the afternoon Leslie put her on the spot—at least, that was how it felt—for the exact same thing.

They were at a table in Applebee’s waiting for their food in the middle of the lunchtime crowd. Melanie had just finished a rant about how her boyfriend called the house every night, which was sending their phone bill soaring through the roof. She was debating whether or not she should continue accepting the charges. After all, they’d long since run out of things to talk about.

“So, Dawn,” Leslie began, sipping her Pepsi. “I remember you were getting married to this hunk when we were in school—looked like he could give Mike Tyson a run for his money! How’s the hubby?”

Up to that point she hadn’t shared very much about herself. Only that she had no children, and lived ten minutes away from C&C…nothing more. It had been all she could manage with virtual strangers.

“Uh…” She hesitated. “Michael died. He was killed three years ago. Car accident.”

“Oh, my God.” Melanie gasped.

“Oh, you poor thing,” said Shirley, reaching for her hand.

Only Leslie said nothing. She just sat, staring at Dawn.

“It’s okay, you guys. I’ve learned to live with it, and it’s gotten a lot easier to talk about him. I feel like I have an angel in heaven watching over me. My Michael.” She gave a warm smile.

Finally Leslie spoke. “You lost your husband?” Her tone was unusually low, and she was visibly uncomfortable. “I’m…I’m so sorry.”

Dawn nodded reassuringly. “Thanks. It has been rough, but as my mother reminds me: I’m still here. I am still very young, and life must go on. I’ll always have Michael in spirit.”

The waiter came with their lunches then. By the time he left—to Dawn’s relief—Leslie had prudently segued into another subject. But she’d definitely seen something in the other woman’s eyes.

What was it?

•

Dawn was glued to her desk one afternoon, diligently crunching numbers, when Leslie phoned from downstairs.

“How much do you pay for rent where you live?” When Dawn told her, she continued, “I’ve decided it’s time to get a place of my own. Amber’s driving me crazy. She’s got a different guy coming in every other night, and as time goes by the choices seem to be getting worse. Last night it was another one she met at the nightclub, and he was as drunk as a skunk. He absolutely reeked—stank up the entire apartment. Disgusting.”

Her roommate, Amber Mancini, was a working girl. She stripped at a club called Jiggles and seemed to think that dating all the paying customers completed her job description.

“I’ve had enough,” Leslie told Dawn. “I need my own abode.”

“It must be awfully hard to live like that, having strangers parade in and out of your house every day. The rent’s a bit on the high end at my place, but since I live alone I like having the security of the gates, and there’s an alarm in the apartment, washer/dryer, private entrances, et cetera. It’s really nice. Suits me fine.”

“It sounds great. I’m planning to pick up an apartment guide and drive around this weekend…” Leslie hesitated. “I’ll go by your complex first. Do you think you’ll be home? I could drop by before I leave…”

“Oh, sure.” She told her the apartment and building number and they hung up. Before returning to her ledgers, Dawn tapped her number two pencil on the desk, deep in thought. Thus far, though they’d established a comfort level with one another, their acquaintance had not yet ventured beyond the Crystal Clear realm.

Dawn had grown quite curious about Leslie in the weeks since they’d become reacquainted. Who exactly was the well-coifed and trendy Leslie Phillips, off the clock?

Chapter 9

“Gee-whiz, sis. Must you buy everything in bulk?” Brenda Ross complained. “There’s, like, no more room in this pantry for anything.”

“But the stuff lasts longer,” Dawn replied, folding a plastic bag. “And I live to bargain-shop.”

The sisters had just finished putting away Dawn’s groceries. They often shopped together on Saturdays, and since Dawn’s place was on the way to hers, Brenda always stopped over to help her unpack. It was a routine that had started innocuously enough, but Dawn had always suspected there’d been a motive.

They—her mother and sister—felt a need to thread themselves into her life.

“So, any plans for the evening?” asked Brenda, peeling a banana.

“Umm. No, not really.” Putting away the rest of the grocery bags, Dawn joined her sister at the table and grabbed herself a banana. “A coworker of mine might be dropping by—Leslie. We had a class together back at PBCC, and now she works in HR at Crystal. I ran into her when I had my interview.” She took a bite. Then, with a mouthful, she continued. “She’s having problems with her roommate, so she’s shopping around for a new place. She might end up renting something here.”

“Well, what’s she like? Is she someone you could live with? Why don’t the two of you room together? You’d both save a lot of money, splitting the rent and the bills…”

Dawn shook her head. “Nah, I’m managing fine on my own, I don’t want to deal with the hassles of, you know, sharing space with someone else. Besides…Michael’s still here.”

Brenda Ross, a gentle-faced mother of two with short dark hair and deep dimples, looked affectionately at her sister. “But that’s just it, Dawn. Maybe it’s time to…Maybe a roommate would be a good thing. Not to replace Michael’s presence, of course, but to provide some other human stimulation, some other company in the house.” She hesitated. “What do you think?”

Dawn glanced at the drawing of Michael that hung above her kitchen table. It was a caricature they had gotten when they’d visited Busch Gardens in Tampa Bay—only one week before he was killed. One week after their wedding. Boasting a ridiculously wide and exaggerated smile, the likeness was dressed in Levis and a red V-neck. His muscular physique had been comically condensed by the artist’s skillful pencil. His dark hair was cut short, buzz-style.

Dawn stared at the painting, her heart trembling. She looked over at Brenda. “No roommates,” she finally murmured.

“Dawn…” Brenda sighed. “This can’t be healthy.”

She glanced up again, looking at Michael. “No roommates.”

•

Brenda was leaving just as Leslie Phillips arrived.

“Leslie, this is my sister, Brenda. Bren, this is Leslie from work.”

The ladies exchanged pleasantries before Brenda continued out the door. “Well, it was so nice meeting you, Leslie. Good luck on the apartment hunt.”

“Your sister seems so nice,” Leslie said, following Dawn into the kitchen and accepting a can of Coke.

“Oh, yeah, she’s the best. But I have noticed that she and my mom got so much nicer about three years ago…” Dawn chuckled. “Not sure if Michael’s death had anything to do with it.”

Leslie glanced around. “Is that him in all the pictures? Michael? He’s all over.”

“Oh, yeah. All over. I even have one in the car hanging from my rearview mirror, in my locker at the gym, et cetera. Keeping my angel visible at all times has helped me a great deal.”

“Well,” Leslie began brightly—perhaps a little too brightly—“I loved the apartment model they showed me here. This seems like a pretty quiet place, but would you like to drive around with me? Look at a couple others? I saw a few nice ones in the guide, and they looked pretty good, price-wise.”

“Sure,” replied Dawn, heading toward the hallway. “Just let me use the bathroom and grab my purse.”

•

By late afternoon they’d visited three apartment complexes around the perimeter of town before Leslie found a model in Palm Beach Gardens that she simply couldn’t refuse. The development was brand-new, the last two buildings undergoing the final touches of construction. It was called Solidity Isles.

With its colonial architecture, green stucco design, and beige trim, the complex was very attractive to drivers approaching from the palm tree-lined road.

Leslie chose a one-bedroom, one-and-a-half bath unit that had an attached garage, washer and dryer, and plenty, but plenty, of closet space. Her apartment would be in building seven (one of the two to be completed) and would be ready for occupancy in early February.

“I’m going to give Amber notice,” Leslie told Dawn as they were walking back to the car. “Then I’ll buy my way out of the remaining portion of the lease.”

“Will she be angry, do you think?”

Leslie snorted. “Hell, at this point, I really don’t care. She’s had plenty of warning, and I’m through beating up my gums. Let her get one of her countless strip-club patrons to walk her dog at night and help her foot the rent every month. I’m out of there.”

Chapter 10

They were heading to the Palm Beach Valley Mall in Leslie’s car, a late-model Toyota Celica, when it occurred to Dawn…

Leslie was an HR generalist, an entry-level position. As far as Dawn knew, they didn’t exactly break the bank with net pay. Still, Leslie Phillips seemed to have the finest of everything. New car. Designer clothes. Chic handbags. Stylish jewelry. And she’d just laid down a hefty deposit for a luxury apartment, complete with an attached garage. The rent was nearly double what Dawn was paying over at her place. And it didn’t even include water and sewage!

After leaving Solidity Isles, Leslie had suggested a visit to the mall, which, as luck would have it, was just a stone’s throw from the development.

Dawn glanced over at Leslie as she drove. How was she affording such a lush lifestyle? Did she work a second job? Have rich parents? Or perhaps her beau, Paul from the IT department, just happened to be an extremely generous lover? Maybe she just had lots of money saved?

Well, although her curiosity was piqued, Dawn decided against verbalizing her provocative questions, ever the diplomatic soul.

But even more than diplomacy, she thought, it’s simply none of my business.

•

“Oh, this is too gorgeous! I wonder if they have it in solid colors…It’d look terrific in blue.”

They were in Saks Fifth Avenue, browsing the Michael Kors collection.

Leslie was walking around a blouse rack holding a shimmering, multicolored top—scoop-neck style, with three-quarter sleeves. She shuffled through the hangers.

“Ah,” she said in satisfaction. “Found it in blue!”

“That is a pretty one,” Dawn agreed. “Gonna try it on?”

“Oh, no. I know my clothes—it’ll fit. I never waste time trying anything on…” She shuffled through the rack again. “Um. Now look at the green,” she said, lifting one from the rack. “Gorgeous, too, don’t you think? I think I have a pair of green sandals that would match this perfectly.”

“So, go with the green, then,” said Dawn, pointing at it. “Both colors look great.”

“Which one would you go for?”

Dawn looked back and forth between the two. “Hmm…I’d have to say the green. That jade really brings it alive…but the blue looks just as pretty also.”

“Well, that settles it then. I have to get both. Thanks.” Smiling, Leslie turned toward the register, which was in the center of the clothing racks. She had both tops in tow.

Dawn hesitated before following her. Goodness. She was going to buy them both! Seeing as they were Michael Kors, Dawn wondered what they cost. Lifting the sleeve of one of the tops on the rack, Dawn eyeballed the tag: IRIDESCENT ITALIAN SILK BLOUSE: $450.00

Dawn’s fingers went limp. The tag slipped from her hand.

Four hundred and fifty—times two.

Wow, thought Dawn.

Wow.

•

After strolling and perusing the mall shops for another hour or so—with Leslie buying a pair of blue pumps to match the new top—they were finally back on the road, making their way to Dawn’s apartment.

When they arrived Leslie found a parking space; then, turning toward the backseat, she reached around and grabbed the Saks shopping bag.

Pulling out the blue blouse, she wrapped it securely in the tissue paper enclosed and tossed it—sans bag—onto the backseat.

Then she placed the shopping bag on Dawn’s lap.

“This one’s for you,” she said quietly. “Just to say thanks for accompanying me today on the apartment hunt.”

For a moment Dawn was speechless. She had a flashback of the price tag.

Now, while she’d had a rather comfortable upbringing, never in her life had she worn a four-hundred-dollar shirt! Never. She couldn’t accept it.

“Uh, Leslie…no. It was really no big deal. I was glad to go with you. I can’t accept this—I saw how much it costs!” Taking it off her lap, Dawn placed the bag between them, resting it on the emergency brake. “If you seriously bought it just for me, it’s awful sweet and generous, but please take it back. I could never accept such a—”

“Dawn.” Looking at her pointedly, Leslie put the bag back on her lap. “No arguments. I’ll take offense if you don’t accept it. Don’t you know some folks are funny that way? You can’t not accept a gift.” She chuckled, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. “It’s quite rude.”

Hesitant, Dawn looked down at the bag. She shook her head. “Oh, Leslie…this is so sweet of you, but no, I couldn’t. I just wouldn’t feel comfortable. It’s far too expensive a gift. And it was no trouble at all to ride around with you today. Really. I was happy to do it.”

“You liked the blouse, didn’t you? You preferred the green one, right? Well, it’s yours.” As Dawn opened her mouth again to protest, Leslie quickly raised her palm. “End of story.”

•

A few minutes later, after locking and engaging the chain on her front door, Dawn went over to the living room window. She peeked through the curtain in time to watch the taillights on Leslie Phillips’s red Celica as it cruised out of the parking lot.

She stared after the car long after it disappeared down the street.

Going into her bedroom, Dawn sat on the bed and took the blouse from the bag. For a moment she simply sat staring at the price tag. This was too much to keep to herself.

A $450 blouse!

Grabbing the phone, she called Brenda.

Her sister answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Bren! You are not gonna believe this.”

Chapter 11

Moving day arrived. Leslie enlisted the help of the HR gang from work, along with her boyfriend, Paul, who recruited a couple of his friends to help with the furniture.

Since she was the only one who drove a stick, Melanie drove the U-Haul Leslie had rented, while Shirley and Dawn followed behind in their jam-packed cars.

“Boy, you sure have a lot for one person,” Shirley had remarked when they began loading the cars with garbage bag after garbage bag. “No kids, no husband. Are you a pack rat or something? Can’t throw things away?”

Leslie had laughed, waving her off. “Leave me alone!”

Now as they arrived at Solidity Isles, they saw a crew of workmen installing a large, stylish granite water fountain just inside the entrance gate. It depicted three cherubs through which the water circulation flowed.

“Oh, that’s beautiful,” said Melanie, maneuvering the U-Haul around the bend that led to building seven. “Gives the place a nice serene feel.”

“Yeah, it looks great!” said Leslie, admiring it. “Hey, just drop me off right here. I still have to sign the lease and get the keys, so I’ll meet you guys over there. You remember where it is, right?”

“Sure,” replied Melanie, stopping.

Grabbing her purse, Leslie jumped from the truck and headed toward the leasing office.

Where she would meet Luke Cavanaugh for the very first time.

And her five-year-old façade would have its first crack of reality.

•

Luke Cavanaugh was exiting the office, having just met with the property manager about the fountain installation, when a young lady with a mass of red hair was strolling in. When their eyes met, she gasped—practically screeched—causing everyone to stop and look curiously toward the doorway.

Now, Luke Cavanaugh knew he was no ogre, but he’d certainly never had a woman look as though she were going into cardiac arrest from the mere sight of him either.

Chuckling, he stepped back through the doorway. “Um…what is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! Do I know you?”

The girl said nothing, just stood there, staring at him. Then, blinking, she seemed to regain her senses—quite slowly, at that.

She stammered, “I-I’m so sorry. I mistook you for someone else. Gosh—I’m so sorry.” Then she continued walking, as if nothing even remotely peculiar had happened at all.

•

Luke Cavanaugh decided to wait for the girl outside. Something was off, and his curiosity was piqued.

Shock. Clear and present.

For a moment, her eyes had registered total shock.

•

Twenty minutes later she emerged. She was stuffing papers into her purse, her head down. She nearly collided with him before she finally looked up.

“What happened in there a while ago?” Luke asked, eyeing her warily. “Have we met before or something? Do I know you?”

“Uh, no…I-I don’t think so.” She was visibly uncomfortable. “Like I said, for a minute I thought you were someone else; that’s all. I’m really sorry for the happening.” She started to walk away along the sidewalk.

Casting a glance toward the workmen, he fell into step beside her. “Well, judging from your reaction, the idea of seeing that ‘someone else’ again must really scare you. Do you mind if I ask who it was? I have two brothers and we do look alike…quite a bit, actually.”

“No, forget it. Truly. It’s no one from around here.” She tucked a mass of hair behind her ear and looked up at him. “Look…I feel so foolish. I don’t know what I was thinking. I really am sorry if I alarmed you, but don’t worry about it. I was mistaken; that’s all.”

Luke took her in. Her sun-kissed skin was smooth, her face delicate and sweet. She was wearing a grass green spaghetti-strap tank top that bared her midriff. It also matched her eyes. Her jeans were stonewashed, with rhinestone studs lining each pocket. They fit her well. Like a glove.

“You know,” Luke ventured, “I think I’d be more inclined to accept that apology if you’d agree to have a drink with me.”

She stopped walking. “A drink with you?”

“Yes. How about tonight? Do you already have plans?”

She hesitated, thinking of Paul. “Well, I’m moving in today, and you know how moving goes—it’s so draining. So tonight’s definitely out. Then, of course, I’ll be unpacking for days, if not weeks.”

Luke grinned. “In other words, not now and not ever? Is that it? Trying to cut me off at the pass?”

Tentatively, she grinned back. “Not to mention that I’m currently dating someone, so I guess you could say that I’m not too available right now.”

“My loss then.”

Their eyes met.

“Thanks for the compliment.”

“So, who’s moving your furniture? Could you use some help?”

Chapter 12

“Leaving already?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow’s an early one.”

“Call me?”

“Sure.”

Planting a parting kiss on her lips and disengaging her clammy body from his, Luke Cavanaugh threw back the covers and left Janet Hale’s bed. In the darkness of the bedroom he retrieved his briefs, jeans, and shirt, and dressed quickly.

Escape. He had to escape before the damn talking started.

She’d never quite caught on that he just wanted to knock off after sex. No chitchat. No gabbing. Just a nice, serene float into blissful slumber.

Out in the living room, Luke grabbed his keys and gently closed the front door behind him.

•

The following day, on his way to meet with city zoning officials, Luke decided it was time to break ties with Janet Hale.

Sure, she was a great lay, but as with most women, emotions were getting in the way. And if there was one thing Luke detested, it was a clingy woman who wanted to bond and engage in deep, meaningful conversations in bed. He was partial to a self-reliant woman. A woman rooted in her own wherewithal.

A Leslie Phillips kind of woman.

They’d gone out on a few dates since the day he and the guys had helped her with her furniture.

Granted, she hadn’t exactly been enthusiastic about going out with him at first, but she seemed comfortable enough now. He’d made subtle attempts at getting her to talk more about the way she’d reacted when they first met, but in those waters she remained reticent, very evasive and tight-lipped. If Luke knew nothing else about her, he certainly knew she was a master at changing the subject, expertly segueing into another.

Luke liked Leslie. He liked her very much. He welcomed the challenge she presented. He would enjoy discovering who Leslie Phillips was beneath the cool, polished exterior.

Oh, yes. It was definitely time to say good-bye to Janet Hale. He decided the “it’s not you, it’s me” parting line was in order. Maybe he could even throw in one last roll in the hay, just for good measure. Why burn the bridge?

•

Live from Tokyo. Pay-per-view.

The weekend of the much-anticipated Tyson fight had finally arrived. The atmosphere bristled with the sheer energy and excitement of it all. As usual, the anticipation was quite infectious, and all anyone talked about was how they were looking forward to Mike Tyson KO’ing James “Buster” Douglas by round three.

As with every boxing event, Luke and his brothers congregated at their parents’ home for the benefit of watching the action on the gigantic sixty-inch television screen.

“So, who’s buying the beer?” he asked his brother Evan later that evening.

“You are, dude. Isn’t it your turn?”

“Heck, no.” Luke laughed. “I supplied the beer last fight, when Tyson pummeled Williams. It’s not my turn.”

They finally agreed that George, their eldest brother, would be charged with bringing the cold stuff.

“I’ve also invited this new girl I’m seeing,” he told Evan. “Her name’s Leslie, Leslie Phillips. She’ll be bringing a friend.”

•

Luke’s family fell in love with Leslie, and everyone had a great time watching the fight, which became one of the biggest upsets in boxing history. Pure excitement, every moment live from Tokyo, Japan.

Millions around the world watched in jaw-dropping shock as “Iron” Mike Tyson was—in his first loss ever—knocked out, defeated in the tenth round by James “Buster” Douglas. For weeks thereafter, it was all anyone talked about…or heard about.

The day after the infamous fight, while out for lunch at Bailey’s Steakhouse, the HR gang was buzzing about the upset.

As they cackled away, Dawn casually mentioned Luke—that they’d watched the fight with the delicious-looking blond guy they met the day Leslie moved to Solidity Isles. He was interning with the architectural firm that designed and built the development.

Melanie was all over it. “I knew it. I knew it. I knew it,” she said, smacking the table with a knowing smile. “Stevie Wonder could’ve seen the chemistry flowing between the two of you!”

Shirley chimed in. “Yep. Sparks were flying all over the place.” She dipped a nacho in cheese and fanned her face. “What a hunk. Don’t you think he looks a lot like that guy Lorenzo Lamas? You know, Lance on Falcon Crest? Umm…hunkola!”

Leslie reached for her Pepsi with an awkward giggle. “Girls, can we not make a mountain out of it? We’ve only been out on a couple dates…” She proceeded to change the subject.

Dawn nibbled a french fry, watching Leslie. The vibes were obvious—she’d said too much.

Chapter 13

By the end of the day, Dawn had developed a pounding headache.

She wasn’t sure whether it could be attributed to number crunching or…something else.

Her earlier observation was confirmed later that evening when she got home from work. There was a message from Leslie on her answering machine: “Dawn, it’s me. We need to talk. Could you please call me at home when you get this? Talk to you soon. Bye.”

Taking a few aspirin, she waited until late evening to return the call. She lay across the bed wondering, with some degree of anxiety, what Leslie was going to say to her. Finally, when the headache had abated, she reached for the phone and dialed the number.

“Hi, it’s me,” she said when Leslie answered. “Got your message. What’s up?”

“Hey, thanks for calling back.” A pause. “I was just a little surprised earlier when you told the girls about Luke and me. It…it made me feel a little uncomfortable.”

Dawn took a deep breath. “Yeah, I kinda picked up on that right away. I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize it was a secret. I mean, you spoke pretty freely about Paul with us sometimes, so I just thought—” she broke off, feeling a bit uncomfortable herself.

“See, I thought you understood,” Leslie continued. “I thought an understanding was there between us. At least in these past weeks since we’ve been hanging out, it felt like our friendship had developed to that point, you know?”

“No, I’m not sure I’m following you. An understanding of what, exactly?”

“Well…” Leslie trailed off, sounding hesitant. “Oh, never mind. I feel really silly now for even making an issue of this at all.” She laughed nervously.

“Oh, now, come on, Leslie.” Dawn shifted her weight on the bed. “We have become good friends, and the last thing I want is for you to feel like you can’t talk to me…but I guess we do need to make sure we’re on the same page about some things. So you were absolutely right—we did need to talk. Tell me why I should’ve known not to mention Luke.”

She heard a long sigh; then Leslie replied, “Oh, you couldn’t have known—obviously. I’m overreacting. Let’s just forget it.”

Silence drifted loudly through the line and hung between them.

Finally, Dawn decided it would be foolish not to make the most of the conversation. Who knew when a more appropriate time would present itself?

“Um…hey, Leslie?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…if we’re being honest, I can’t really say that I feel the ‘understanding’ you mentioned before. In fact, I’ve always felt like you’ve really been kind of distant…”

“Distant?”

“Yeah…emotionally. Like there’s a lot more going on with you than you let on.” There. She’d said it. There was no turning back.

“More going on?” Leslie repeated in an edgy tone.

“Well, what do I really know about you? Do you have any family? Any relatives at all? It’s just a strange feeling I get, because you don’t talk…or even behave like someone with a yesterday. It’s always superficial conversation with you…and it’s really weird. And now this…

“I personally think it’s wonderful that you met a great guy like Luke. He seems really nice and down-to-earth. He’s rugged and cute as hell. Why would it be a big deal to share that with Mel and Shirley? That we were invited over to watch the fight with him and his family?”

No response.

Dawn sat up. “Hello? You still there?”

“I’m still here,” Leslie answered. “I was just thinking about what you said.”

“And?”

“You know, it’s funny, but it just occurred to me as you were talking: This is exactly why I’ve never had any close friends.”

“Why?”

“Everyone has a past, Dawn…but not everyone talks about it.”

A bit unsettled, Dawn was at a loss for an adequate response. What did you say to something like that?

After another lengthy silence, Leslie continued. “Listen, it felt as if we really clicked when we ran into each other again at work. I guess I saw something in you I could trust—more so than the others. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that comfortable about anyone.”

“Well, I’m glad you feel you can trust me, but Leslie, how can I ever know that I can trust you? You seem to feel a closeness that I don’t—” She broke off. “Wait, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I meant that—”

“No,” Leslie cut in softly. “It’s okay; I think I know what you meant.”

“Oh, God.” Dawn flopped back onto the pillow. “Now I feel really bad.” This was going all wrong.

“No, don’t feel bad,” said Leslie. “I overreacted, is all. You’re right. It really shouldn’t have been a big deal to tell Mel and Shirley about Luke.”

Dawn couldn’t be sure, but her friend sounded close to tears. “Leslie, you said you felt you could trust me…Well, you can.” She paused. “Now, I’m no shrink, but I can tell something’s definitely wrong. Something big. Did anything bad happen to you?”

Silence.

Dawn waited patiently.

It seemed like ages before Leslie replied. Her voice was scarcely above a whisper. “Well…Luke just looks a lot like…like someone I used to know. That’s all. It bugged me for a while, messed with my head. It’s not a big deal.”

“Who, Leslie? Who does he remind you of? An old boyfriend? Your father? A brother? Who?”

Another deep sigh came through the phone.

“I can’t say any more just now, Dawn. Not right now.” Leslie coughed, sounding muffled. “I just can’t.”

“Okay, I won’t press it. But please know that I am your friend, and I’m here. Any hour of the day or night, if you want to talk, I’m here.”

“Thank you. You have no idea how much that means. Really.” Leslie paused. “Oh, and about what you said before…I hope you know that you can trust me, too. I know how important real friends are—and how hard they are to come by. No pretenses, no judgments. Just a genuine friend.” Leslie’s voice lowered and she added, “‘Not now’ doesn’t mean ‘not ever,’ Dawn. One day…we’ll talk.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Dawn replied, still feeling a little out of sorts. She decided to bring the puzzling conversation to an end. “So, I’ll ‘C and C’ you tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. I was thinking of calling in sick. Not sure I’m running on a full tank right now…I could use the break.”

“Oh…okay…Well, if I don’t see you, take it easy. No worries. Things have a way of working themselves out.”

“Yeah? Well, that’s probably what I’m most afraid of: things that are beyond my control.”

“Leslie?”

“Hmm?”

“Monsters hide in the dark.” Dawn paused. “My mother always said that.”

This time the silence that followed was deafening.

“I hope she’s right,” said Leslie finally. “Good night, Dawn.”

“Night, Leslie.”

•

That weekend, as they strolled through Costco, Dawn filled Brenda in on her recent conversation with Leslie Phillips.

“So, what do you think it could be?” Brenda said, tossing a bag of rice into her cart. “Maybe she’s an ex-con? Killed somebody?”

“Nah, I don’t think it’s anything that dramatic. I think she just doesn’t like talking about her past. I know one thing for sure—she hates it when I talk about Michael. I picked up on it, so I stopped. I think she must’ve lost someone, too.”

Brenda laughed. “Well, in her defense, you’d drive anybody bat-shit crazy talking about Michael. I know it’s supposed to be a healthy thing, but I wonder about you sometimes when—”

“Oh, shut up,” said Dawn testily. “That’s my way of coping.” She grabbed a bottle of olive oil from the shelf. “When you lose your husband in a senseless car crash the week after your wedding, you can talk to me about the healthiest ways to cope.”

“Okay—down girl,” said Brenda, adequately contrite. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“Anyhow,” Dawn continued, “she said she’d tell me about it in time, so who am I to push her? Her life, her business. Whenever she’s ready, she’ll talk. But I have a hunch that it’ll be a while before that happens. Whatever it is, the last thing she wants to do is talk about it.”

“Well,” Brenda said, eyeing the Betty Crocker cake mixes, “the minute you find out, call me. This I have to hear!”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

•

Later that evening—after Brenda had left, taking her animated and gossipy chatter out the door with her—Dawn worked out in the living room with Jane Fonda. The vigorous workout hit the spot, leaving her drained and sweaty. She showered and changed into a set of Michael’s enormous pj’s.

Drifting into the kitchen, she pulled the carton of Breyers mint chocolate ice cream from the freezer. It seemed exceptionally quiet in her apartment this evening. Why? Was there less traffic going by outside? No children playing? No dogs barking?

She took her bowl of ice cream over to the kitchen window and gazed out. No less activity than usual going on outside. There were a few kids running around playing, riding bicycles. A neighbor was unloading groceries from her car. The usual happenings. Yet her apartment seemed so still, so devoid of life. She missed Michael. Here it was a Saturday night and she was sitting at home in his pajamas like a cooped-up spider. What happened to her resolve to stop this? To start building a life again?

Her nostrils tingled and she realized she was crying.

Damn.

Leaving the ice cream on the counter, she found herself heading straight for her bedroom. She crawled into bed, covering herself with the thick, flowery comforter. The low hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in the room.

Unable to hold it in any longer, Dawn cried.

Who was she kidding? There was no starting over, was there? She reached for the photograph of Michael on the nightstand. Why did this happen? Why is he gone?

She lay there and cried the evening away—lost in the why of it all. Lost in the old grief. It felt never-ending.

•

When the phone rang she jumped, instantly panicked and disoriented. It was dark. Had she fallen asleep? When?

She groped for the handset. “Hello?”

“Oh, you were sleeping.” It was Leslie. “I’m sorry I woke you up. I’ll call you back tomorrow.”

Dawn sat up, blinking her bedside clock into focus. “What time is it?”

“Just after nine. Listen…go back to sleep; we can talk tomorrow.”

“No, it’s all right. What’s up?”

“Well…” Leslie hesitated. “To put it plainly, I’m being a hypocrite.”

Dawn switched on the lamp. “A hypocrite? How’s that?”

“Dawn—” She broke off. “I’ve never spoken about this. It’s been a constant struggle to live with, but after we talked the other night, it struck me that here I was expecting you to feel as close to me as I feel to you…but you don’t know about…”

“About what?”

“How could I be stupid enough to expect you to—”

Dawn cut her off. “Just say whatever it is, Les.” Her back stiffened with anticipation. She heard Leslie take a deep breath.

“I had a Michael,” she blurted. “His name was…Jeffrey. And I lost him”—another deep breath—“five years ago.”

Closing her eyes, Dawn clutched the phone to her ear, absorbing this news. “I think I’ve known it all along. It’s odd, but I think I sensed it.”

“Please don’t be upset with me for not telling you. It’s just that”—she hesitated—“well, it’s not exactly my favorite topic for conversation…”

“No, no, of course not—believe me, I know. I completely understand, so don’t give it another thought.” She paused. “I’m glad you called tonight. I’m glad you told me.”

When they’d hung up, Dawn lay back down, snuggled into the bed, and studied the ceiling. Her stomach fluttered with an odd sensation.

So, all this time, that was what she’d seen in Leslie eyes—her own pain staring back at her.

That night she dreamed of Michael, of introducing him to Leslie. Dawn’s inherent yen for isolation, for solitude to nurse her memory of Michael, dimmed.

She drew comfort from the knowledge that, all along, Leslie Phillips had understood. She’d known her pain.

They could start over together.

Chapter 14

She had done something to him.

Luke couldn’t figure out what it was, but he knew that he was hooked.

He thought about Leslie Phillips constantly. And this hadn’t happened to him since puberty. What the hell was going on with him?

Leslie’s gorgeous hair. Leslie’s fabulous smile. Her nice white teeth. Her endless legs.

Leslie. Leslie. Leslie.

And then, of course, there were those distant eyes.

Sometimes it was as if she had quietly retreated without even leaving the room, sinking deep within herself.

Where did she go? Was she in emotional pain?

Luke wanted to know.

•

One evening over dinner they sat for over three hours in a Chinese restaurant near Leslie’s apartment.

They talked about everything from music to movies to politics. They laughed. They ate. They smiled at each other.

Luke spoke about his parents, his brothers, his ambitions as an architect. How his dream was to establish his own firm. Leslie shared about her job, her hobbies, her new best friend, Dawn. They were getting a great sense of one another.

Or were they?

“So, where do your parents live?” asked Luke finally, their fingers entwined across the table.

He saw her hesitation.

“I was raised in a foster home. I never really had parents.”

“You never knew your real parents?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Just a foster mother and a house full of bad memories until—” She paused suddenly. Her gaze fell to the silver teapot in the middle of the table. “Can we talk about something else?”

Luke ducked his head, catching her eye. “Come on; don’t clam up on me now.” He smiled reassuringly. “Until what?”

“Until I left, moved out on my own.” She was clearly uncomfortable. Her palms became moist and her breathing changed.

The mystery swelled.

This time it was Luke who changed the subject.

•

One night at dinner with their parents, his brother Evan commented, “You’re definitely gone, bro.”

“I know,” replied Luke. “I think…I think she must be the one.”

“Well,” Evan ventured, for Luke’s ears only, “have you at least sampled the waters yet?”

“No, not yet.” Luke smiled. “But it’s only a matter of time.”

•

Only a matter of time?

The time came on their next date.

The emotions coursing through him were unlike any Luke had ever experienced. He’d never given a second thought to making love to any woman before in his life. His body was screaming for ball-busting sex with Leslie—he wanted to get her between himself and a mattress more than anything—but he found himself feeling self-conscious about their first encounter. Was he worthy?

Leslie Phillips was no ordinary girl. She was so grounded, gentle, and sweet, and Luke sensed that she wouldn’t settle for anything less than she deserved. Would he measure up?

His dick kept telling him he would; every single time he saw her—and sometimes even when he didn’t.

The mere thought of her and he’d get so hard he could write I want to fuck Leslie Phillips, right across the length of his shaft.

This night, after he’d driven her home, she’d surprised him. She gazed across the seat and touched his arm. “Why don’t you come inside?” Her eyes seemed to say more. They said, Pun intended.

“Are you sure?” he asked hesitantly, not wanting to…to what? He wasn’t quite sure why he wasn’t jumping her bones right there in the car.

She leaned over and kissed his lips, urgently. Like she meant it. “Yes,” she breathed against them. “Don’t you want me?”

And Luke was lost.

•

Upstairs in her bed, she introduced him to another woman. A woman who was in control. A passionate lover who knew what to give and how to give it.

He was on his back, naked and rock hard, his dick saluting her as she gently kissed her way through the hair on his chest. She gently licked a straight line down his stomach, finally reaching his groin.

Leslie paused there, the long tendrils of her hair caressing his skin, driving him mad. He knew what was coming.

She took him into her mouth.

Luke lost it.

She cupped his balls with one hand while the other began stroking the base of his penis. His ass lifted off the bed in exquisite pleasure.

Then, just before he exploded, Leslie straddled him, taking him into her inch by delicious inch.

She rode him like a Thoroughbred, driving him to near madness, then bringing him back again. Her sighs and moans of pleasure pushed him over the edge.

When he came, she fell onto his chest, breathless and panting.

From that point on it was all over for Luke. He wanted to die with this woman on top of him.

Chapter 15

Dawn was gaping at Leslie, completely mesmerized by her recounting of the events. She fanned her face. “Whew! I wish I’d had a night like that one last night!”

Leslie smiled. “Don’t worry—I’m sure you will soon enough.”

They were out in the parking lot at C&C, giggling like a couple of schoolgirls. Although Leslie had never spoken of her husband again, a wonderful, quiet affinity had ripened between the two women. They both valued the new depth of their friendship—each for her own reasons.

“So, it sounds like things have gotten pretty serious with you and Luke. Is Paul completely out of the picture?”

Leslie waved her hand. “Paul’s definitely out of the picture. I’m not letting go of Luke. If it doesn’t work out with him, I think I’ll swear off men for good…as it seems you have!”

Dawn feigned offense. “Ha, ha. I have not sworn off men!”
Ignoring her, Leslie continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’m so much more comfortable with Luke.” She thought for a moment. “It just feels right, you know? It feels comfortable to be with him…as if we’ve known each other for years. Like it was fate that made us bump into each other that day.” Her gazed drifted briefly, then suddenly snapped back.

“Now,” she said looking at Dawn, “we’ve got to find you a man.” She hesitated, growing serious. “Have you even been out with anybody since…?”

Quietly, Dawn shook her head.

Leslie nodded, an understanding look on her face. “I thought as much. Don’t worry. We’ll fix you up.”

•

That night, with the moon watching her every move, Dawn’s passion came with a new sense of urgency—an urgency she’d felt as she’d imagined Leslie and Luke’s lovemaking.

Her heels dug into the mattress. Her back arched from the bed.

“Oh, Michael…oh, Michael…” She chanted his name again and again as his memory stroked her. The beautiful sounds of ocean waves—Michael’s favorite cassette to make love to—purred from the stereo.

And this night, when she came, it made her body shudder…and shudder…and shudder.

Chapter 16

Memphis, Tennessee

The sky had been fittingly murky and dark. It was raining out. Leslie’s belongings were gone. She’d packed up her things and disappeared.

Without Grace.

“How could she?” Ingrid cried, flabbergasted. “Dear God. How could she just up and leave her little precious baby like that?”

“She’s a selfish bitch, that’s how!” Beth offered, equally shocked. “I just don’t see how Jeff could’ve fallen for a girl who could do such a thing…”

But once disbelief had settled, it was then time to face the baby. The precious little newborn baby. Beth’s niece, and Ingrid’s granddaughter.

What were they going to do?

Beth had said, “We’ll just take care of her, that’s all.” Lifting the tiny bundle from the bassinette, she cooed in a whisper, “I’ll just raise you as my very own.”

“Whoa, there,” cautioned Ingrid. “Leslie will come back. She’s just running away from the hurt and pain…You know she hasn’t been too right in the head since we lost dear Jeff. I guess she just needs some time away from it. Don’t worry. She’ll be back.”

•

Though they’d anxiously looked out the peephole for visitors, grabbed the telephone expectantly at the first sign of a ring…to their utter disbelief, one full year had flown by with no word from Leslie.

Then, before they blinked, it was two years.

Then three. Four. Five.

Five whole years. And nothing from Leslie. Grace’s mother.

The child was ready for school when Beth and her husband, Billy, who had been her high school sweetheart, took the necessary steps and adopted her. Ever so discreetly, she became Grace Cunningham.

As the years passed, all was quite well on the surface. Billy and Beth Cunningham were hardworking, upstanding citizens. They proudly maintained their family, raising their three children with care and love. Ten-year-old Grace was the oldest, eight-year-old Jude was the middle child, and three-year-old Mindy was the baby.

Now, unbeknownst to her, Grace was about to have her first encounter with the deep end of the Cunningham family pool.

What in the world were they going to do?

•

“But…why would they say that, Mommy?” the ten-year-old sobbed, her sea green eyes blinking in panic. “Why are they saying my daddy died?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. You can’t always pay attention to those mean-spirited kids at school—they don’t know what they’re talking about. Sometimes they’ll say anything to try to stir trouble where there is none, looking for excitement. And it’s because they have nothing better to do.”

Beth Phillips Cunningham cupped her daughter’s tear-streaked face. “Now, Grace Cunningham, you listen to me: You know your Daddy is alive and well. He’s out workin’ hard to make sure we have a good supper on the table each and every night. Don’t you listen to those mean kids another second!” She wiped away the child’s tears. “Don’t you give it another thought, you hear? It’s all lies. Just mean lies.”

•

From her bedroom doorway, Ingrid Armstrong shook her head.

Oh, poor Grace.

Ingrid stood listening to the exchange going on in the kitchen, just a few feet away from her bedroom’s doorway. Her thoughts ran into overdrive.

It was finally happening. Word had reached Grace!

With grim anticipation all these years, Ingrid had been waiting for it to happen—waiting for the inevitable dropping of the shoe, though fearful of how it would play out. She dreaded the details. The how. The when. The where and why.

The what’s going to happen next?

After all…there were so many people who knew what took place. And people always talked. Her grandfather had always said that a secret was no longer a secret once two people knew it.

Leaning against the doorjamb, Ingrid remembered. She remembered the heartbreaking evening they’d discovered that Leslie had gone. That she’d fled like a thief in the night.

Damn it, she thought, heading for the kitchen. We should’ve raised Grace right. We should’ve told her the truth.

Now look what lay before them. Look at the problem they now had on their hands! Grace having to hear from mindless strangers what her own family had a responsibility to tell her.

It wreaked havoc with Ingrid’s conscience. Beth and Billy would simply have to understand. It was time.

But was it the right time? Would she be doing more harm to Grace telling her so young? Should they wait until the child was a little older?

God, please tell me what to do? prayed Ingrid. I’ll wait for Your guidance…

Chapter 17

West Palm Beach, Florida

1995

Dawn Chadwick couldn’t think. Her mind was a complete blank. Why had she agreed to get herself into this?

Only one thought came to mind—Call Brenda. She had to call Brenda. If anyone would know what she should do about Victor Sellers, it would be her sister.

“Um…could you excuse me for a minute?” Dawn said politely, offering him her most dazzling smile.

“Sure,” he said easily enough.

Leaving Victor at the table, she walked toward the door of the restaurant and sprinted into the parking lot. Pulling out her cell phone, she dialed. Brenda’s husband, Carmine, answered. Brenda wasn’t home. She’d taken the kids to the movies to see Babe.

Dawn snapped her phone shut. Damn. Maybe I could just leave him sitting there…

•

“You mean you actually just left him sitting there?”

“Sure did.”

Leslie barely had a chance to get the Pull-Up over three-year-old Kathryn’s naked bottom before the toddler playfully ran from the bathroom, eager to continue watching Barney on the giant-screen TV they’d just put in the den of their new house. “I wanna watch Bawnee, Mommy!” she yelled, running down the hall. “Wanna watch Bawnee!”

Shaking her head with a smile, Leslie grabbed the soiled Pull-Up from the floor and headed for the garage. “I can’t believe it…He actually told you he had a boil on his ass?”

“A boil on his ass,” Dawn affirmed, following Leslie. “On the left cheek, to be exact.”

After she’d tossed the diaper, Leslie went into the kitchen to start dinner. Luke would be home soon, and he’d already called to place his order. He’d said he felt like steak tonight, so she was firing up the trusty new George Foreman grill.

Dawn could scarcely believe they’d actually gotten married nearly four years ago, and had a beautiful little baby girl. Their picture-perfect family was the envy of many a neighbor and co-worker.

Most notably of Dawn, Leslie Cavanaugh’s best friend. Her only friend.

“What the hell’s wrong with all the single men these days?” Dawn continued. “You know, I’m beginning to think that dumping Lyle was a big mistake.”

Lyle Burns was a handsome Wackenhut security guard from work whom she’d dated about a year before. They’d gone out on a few dates, fooled around a bit, but although he was interested in getting serious, Dawn had choked.

“You know what I think,” said Leslie, chopping onions.

Dawn rolled her eyes. “No, I’d never guess.” Her voice was laced with sarcasm. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“You still won’t let yourself like anyone that’s not…you-know-who.”

Dawn fell silent. In five years of friendship she could count the number of times Leslie had uttered Michael’s name. Dawn realized long ago that the subject of their widowhood was off-limits. Leslie had a firm wall in place, and it bothered Dawn.

To say that any reference to Michael or Jeffrey was taboo was putting it mildly. Reminiscing was still a painfully raw nerve for Leslie…but it was a lifeline for Dawn.

The bond they shared seemed inherently broken.

Leslie looked at her. “You can’t stay lonely forever, Dawn. Unfortunately he’s gone.” She paused. “But you’re not. You’re still very much alive.”

Dawn toyed with a place mat on the table. “I hear you, Les, but it’s easier said than done, you know? It’s hard to find anything that can compare to that. When you find true love…it’s like you don’t want anyone else. And I’m still just really pissed off that I lost him. ” She gave a heavy sigh. “I still miss him. A lot.”

Leslie’s head turned then, and she gazed out the kitchen window, staring out into the backyard. “Yeah…I know.”

Dawn watched her. As usual, she felt the urge to ask about her husband Jeffrey. What was he like? How did he die? Those were questions she’d never gotten answers to, even now.

There was a tacit understanding—Leslie did not talk about her past. And as the years went by, Dawn struggled to keep her curiosity under wraps, always reining it in out of respect for her friend’s feelings and privacy. But while Leslie’s life bloomed, Dawn’s languished. And she was finding it increasingly difficult to suppress the frustration.

She needed more from Leslie. She needed everything.

•

Later that evening, when Luke Cavanaugh pulled onto their street, he pushed off a touch of annoyance at seeing Dawn Chadwick’s car in the driveway yet again.

Why didn’t the woman just get a life? he thought crossly. No man. No kids. No nothing. From the day he’d met Leslie, Dawn Chadwick had been glued to her like a hollow tick.

Luke had no idea what upset him more: The fact that Dawn was always around, or the fact that she seemed to know his own wife better than he did.

Five years of marriage, and he still felt as if he were living with a virtual stranger. His torment was festering daily, because he loved that stranger so much it hurt, but he couldn’t quite explain why. And at times it infuriated him.

Over the years he’d waited—waited for time to strengthen her trust in him, and for the pieces of the puzzle to snap into place, finally.

Well, he was still waiting.

She was a wonderful mother to Kathryn. He loved the tenderness their baby had brought out in her. But a mysterious void still lingered, and showed no signs of disappearing with time.

The odd behavior remained. Whenever he tried to express his feelings, Leslie would shut him down. Change the subject. Tell him she didn’t know what he was talking about, that he was imagining things.

Well, his imagination was getting the best of him.

He had married a woman he did not understand. He’d married a woman he wasn’t sure he ever really knew at all.

Chapter 18

Palm Beach, Florida

Early 2005

The couple on the bed—slick with sweat and fucking like mad—had no business being there. At least, not together.

He knew it. And she knew it. But they couldn’t stop.

It was all about usage—each for their own purpose.

They were satisfying their needs; deep, hedonistic needs they both felt powerless to suppress—or control. It was what brought them back each time for more.

“You were a virgin,” he said gruffly as the dust settled. He still couldn’t believe it. He’d had no idea!

Last time she’d actually thanked him for being her first. Thanked him. He’d immediately run into the bathroom to shower, trying desperately to wash his self-disgust down the drain. It hadn’t worked.

And tonight he’d still come back for more.

“Why me, for Christ’s sake?” Confusion clouded his temper. “Why did you have to come after me?”

He rolled away from her, as he’d done before when the sex was over. The release seemed to decompress the storm of complex emotions plaguing him daily—but it was temporary. Once his head cleared and he descended from the clouds, the torment returned…and guilt burrowed in.

What in the hell were they doing?

At this point, did he even want to think about it?

No.

Hell, no.

Leaving the bed, he got dressed. Quickly.

“Where are you going?” Her disappointment was palpable.

“This can’t happen again,” he said, unable to look in her direction now that it was over. “Never again. No more. Understand?”

“Wait a minute!” she cried.

But he was already gone.

Chapter 19

West Palm Beach, Florida

Late 2000

“Harvey Nichols, the new MBR manager, stopped by when you were at lunch, Leslie. He wants to know if you can squeeze a brief meeting in this afternoon. Personnel issues.” Nichols was Crystal Clear’s newest employee. Hired as head of the Medical Bill Review department, he’d been with the company only a short while.

“What’d you tell him?”

“Well, I know you’ve got your hands full with the reports for legal, but I told him I’d see if you could give him ten minutes.”

Leslie smiled. “I should’ve known. My bleeding-heart assistant. What, are they giving him a hard time already? He’s only been here a few weeks…”

“Well, he didn’t elaborate, but he looked pretty uneasy when he came in, so I said I’d see what you could do. Be nice.”

Chuckling, Leslie moved toward her office doorway. “Call down and tell him to come up at four thirty.”

Monica nodded. Then she called out, “Oh! Almost forgot to mention the package that came for you today, in case you didn’t notice it. It was addressed to you, looked personal, so I put it on one of the chairs in front of your desk.”

“Okay, thanks, Mo.” She entered the large office and closed the door.

•

Leslie Cavanaugh was now the director of human resources at Crystal Clear. The last several years had been more than kind. Her dedication and hard work had paid off, and though it was a demanding post, Leslie truly enjoyed her work and the unique opportunities it provided to help others attain gainful employment, and to also build and steer careers internally.

This day had started off just like any other day. She’d gotten up and made a quick breakfast for Luke and Kate. This morning it had been cheese omelets and English muffins.

It was her turn for the carpool. She’d rushed Kate through the door so she could make the rounds and avoid being late for her eight-thirty meeting.

By midmorning, Luke had called to say he’d found the Neiman Marcus bags she’d left in the trunk of their BMW. He was pissed. So she knew exactly what squabbles awaited her when she finally made it home that evening.

As usual, she’d gone out for lunch with Dawn, who was now the head of the finance department (the HR gang had long since dispersed, as Melanie’s and Shirley’s jealousy had grown in direct proportion to her friendship with Dawn), and they’d chatted about plans for Thanksgiving, which was that coming weekend.

Yes, it had been a pretty normal day. As normal a day as any could be for Leslie Phillips Cavanaugh—because if she dared acknowledge the truth, she hadn’t had a “normal” day in fifteen years.

But when her eyes caught sight of the medium-sized brown box in the armchair, the air in the room stilled immediately, all illusion of normalcy permanently shattered.

Instinctively, Leslie knew. Even before looking at the postmark, she knew it was from Memphis.

Her knees nearly buckled.

It was from Ingrid Armstrong. Upon seeing the name printed on the label, Leslie knew it was all over.

The past…had finally come to pull the plug.

•

What had been slated as a ten-minute squeeze-in wound up eating up over an hour of her time. Once Harvey Nichols finally left her office, Leslie glanced at her watch. Five thirty-eight.

She rose and walked over to the door. She locked it. Monica had gone for the day, and the staff still working were in their respective offices.

The package was sitting there, begging to be opened, but she’d been avoiding it all afternoon, keeping busy.

Now Leslie placed the box on the top of her desk and slowly cut it open with a letter opener. There was a plain white envelope inside, on top of a compact plastic container. Her name had been printed in blue marker across the envelope.

Leslie Cavanaugh.

Her name.

For a moment she just stood over the box, staring at the envelope.

What lay inside? What would it say?

It wasn’t sealed, so she simply lifted the flap, and a photograph slid out. It landed atop the container inside the box.

Leslie gasped.

Speechless, she picked it up. Stared at it.

It was her as a teenager. The same wild auburn hair, a mass of unruly curls. Jade green eyes set in a face smiling cheerfully for the camera.

She stared at it.

Then suddenly her eyes closed. She closed them against the shape of the mouth. The striking bone structure.

Jeff’s mouth. Jeff’s jawline.

Dear God. Jeff’s smile.

It was Grace.

Leslie’s heart began to race, and her palms grew moist. Her legs felt unsteady, but she could not move to take her seat. She was stiff—stiff with shame.

The shame that had always been only a thought away all these years…an old, beleaguered friend always waiting to pay her a visit.

Now it crushed her outright. Shame.

Suddenly, unable to stand it any longer, Leslie broke free of the paralyzing trance and hurriedly took the container from the box. She unsnapped it, and the top popped open.

Inside were more photographs, several photographs held together by a large plastic paper clip. The first one caused her breath to catch once again.

It was taken the day of the barbecue.

And there he was.

Jeff. His lips locked with hers.

The tears came then. They, too, had always been only a thought away. Fifteen years and she still cried for Jeffrey as if he’d left yesterday.

The next picture was of him in mid-glide on the skateboard. His friend Brad could be seen not far behind, apparently trying to catch up with Jeff.

Suddenly Leslie’s phone rang. She looked at the screen display. DAWN CHADWICK x3279.

She couldn’t answer. Would Dawn’s feelings about her change once she finally knew about this? All these years she’d managed to conceal her worst deed. Her reason for hating herself. For scarcely being worthy of all that was good in her life—no matter how much she indulged in those things.

As close as they’d become—having keys to one another’s homes, taking vacations together, calling each other to discuss almost everything, and even to discuss nothing at all—there was still a gap, a silent distance that stood between them. A wall they both wished wasn’t there, though it was never discussed. But she knew Dawn felt it.

Her cell phone began to chirp. She glanced in the direction of her purse, kept in the bottom drawer of her desk. The intrusive noise seemed to ground everything all too well. This was it. The flight was finally over. They’d all have to know now. Everyone would.

Including me, thought Leslie. Including me.

Opening the envelope, she removed the note inside. It was brief and it was handwritten. There was no greeting.

It’s a very strange thing, Leslie, but in all these years I never thought you had gone back down to Florida…yet there you are.

It’s time to give an account. Your baby is now fifteen. I am enclosing all the pictures of her that I have kept over the years for your benefit, including a most recent one taken at her last birthday party. Isn’t it frightening how much she favors you? I’m not sure if I thought you’d ever come back after the first several years, but I knew this couldn’t go on forever.

I must express my shock at discovering you remarried and had another child. Do you ever think of your firstborn, Leslie? How come you never tried to contact her? Thanksgiving is coming soon. I’m contacting you now because after the holidays we are planning to tell Grace the truth, and she may try to find you. Rumors have been in her ear for years, and we owe the truth to her. Right now she believes Beth to be her natural mother, and that Jeffrey was an uncle who died just before she was born. Aside from all that, I have fallen ill.

Leslie, I don’t know when my time will come. But when it does, I want to go with a clear conscience. Beth is crushed, but I have convinced her that we must tell the child the truth. I love Grace very much, more than words can say. She is my first grandchild. I don’t want her to hate me forever.

There was no closing. Just, I don’t want her to hate me forever.

The pages blurred in her hands. The years in exile were finally culminating. All the years she’d spent staving off reality.

Now reality prickled her very skin.

The emotional floodgates opened, and Leslie slumped into her chair, the smiling face of Grace searing her brain.

She collapsed. And in that instant, she didn’t have the presence of mind to care who might hear the breakdown going on in her office.

There were moments, as she bowed to reality, where it felt as though she could cry out all the guilt. That if she sobbed hard enough, wailed loud enough, the corrosive shame wouldn’t suffocate her. So she tried it.

But she found out that she was wrong. Very wrong indeed.

•

It was a full twenty minutes before the dry hacking stopped.

From Monica Gross’s chair, Dawn watched through the glass as Leslie pushed the straightened chestnut hair from her face, and secured it atop her head with a large clip from her purse.

Rising, Dawn knocked on the door.

Leslie’s body jerked as if she’d been stung.

“Leslie?” Dawn called out, knocking again. “Open up; it’s me.”

Leslie looked up and saw Dawn. At once her face crumpled again in sobs. She couldn’t get up. She couldn’t open the door. She couldn’t even acknowledge her friend’s presence…even after ten minutes had passed and Leslie looked up to find Dawn still standing there, waiting patiently. Waiting with an anxious, frightened look on her face.

Leslie couldn’t move.

Chapter 20

When Dawn made it home that evening, her thoughts were all of Leslie.

She threw a couple chicken breasts in the oven, a load of white laundry in the washing machine, tuned into The Golden Girls on Lifetime, and decided not to worry about Leslie. As was her custom, when she was ready to, she’d talk. That is, after she’d run up a sufficient balance on her credit card to deflect the stress of whatever was bugging her, buying everything from napkin holders to Chanel No. 5, all in one Master Card swoop.

But later, as she sat half watching Inside Edition and cutting into the chicken breast, Dawn had to admit that she was worried.

Leslie could be quite emotional, tearing up while watching a Hallmark commercial, but Dawn could count on one hand the number of times she’d actually seen Leslie seriously cry.

The most bizarre and notable episode occurred about four years before, when Kathryn was about four years old…

•

They had taken an impromptu road trip with the toddler to visit Disney World. Luke hadn’t been able to join them, claiming short notice and blueprint overload.

On the drive back they’d stopped at a rest area near Hobe Sound to use the restroom. Before getting back on the road, Dawn suggested they get frozen yogurt from the TCBY.

After buying the cones, they went over to Popeye’s and found a booth. At that time of evening there was a light crowd, great food smells, and nice tunes playing from the speakers overhead.

No more than five minutes later, Dawn was stunned to see Leslie’s eyes suddenly fill with tears and her head go down on the table. Little Kathryn had stroked her mother’s hair as Leslie began to sob. For a time she seemed unable to compose herself. It was a strange and distressing happening. Try as she might, Dawn hadn’t been able to get Leslie to tell what prompted it, what had gone wrong.

Once back in the car, Leslie had apologized profusely, saying it was more than likely just PMS.

But, of course, Dawn had known better.

And after they’d gotten home and she’d called to tell him, so had Luke.

•

Deborah Norville was wrapping up the last segment of IE when the phone rang. It was Leslie. She was calling from home.

“I don’t think I’ll be in the office tomorrow,” she said.

“Are you okay? I saw you hadn’t left, because your car was still in the lot. Then I saw you crying, Les, and I’m very worried. My house in half an hour?”

“Oh, Dawn—”

“Come over; we’ll talk. I’m very worried about you. Scared, even. How can you be hurting so much and not let me in, not tell me what’s wrong? Have you at least talked to Luke about it?” Dawn was aware that Luke was largely in the dark about Leslie’s past. She was also aware of the silent expectation that she not reveal anything to him about Jeffrey Phillips.

Leslie gave a sharp laugh that was anything but amused. “Luke? Oh, God, poor Luke. No, not yet…but that’s inevitable now.” She sighed. “You know, I always knew the day would come, but…”

“Les, whatever it is, you know we’re both here for you. Whatever it is. I’ve told you before: Monsters live in the dark. Turn on the light. I’ll bet it’s not nearly as bad as you’ve imagined. People can be much more understanding than you’d ever think to give them credit for. Especially Luke. He loves you so much…”

There was a heavy silence. Dawn wondered whether or not Leslie would crack. What exactly was going on in that head of hers? What had happened today?

Finally Leslie spoke. “Meet me at the greenhouse. Half an hour.”

Then the line went dead.

•

Bennigan’s—or “the greenhouse,” as they had begun referring to it—had become their favorite spot for heavy discussions. The cozy booths afforded them a sufficient sense of privacy, and June, their regular waitress, always kept the cheese sticks and garlic rolls coming.

“Holy shit, Leslie,” said Dawn, gawking at her. “I can’t believe this is what you’ve been sitting on all these years!”

Leslie lowered her gaze. They sat in a busy silence. Anxiety filled the air. Dawn was practically speechless, digesting the information, and Leslie’s brain ran on a malfunctioning autopilot.

“Well…” Dawn began finally. “You definitely have to go see her.” Clasping her hands, she looked Leslie in the eye. “She’s your child—your daughter. My God, she’s fifteen years old now…and you haven’t seen her since she was born? My God…” She moved the straw around in her soda.

Leslie, eyes moist with embarrassment, absentmindedly toyed with the lemon in her water. Life was taking yet another a turn. A turn she had known was coming.

Then why had she spent so many years pretending it wasn’t?

Dawn pressed on. “You are going to see her…aren’t you? You know, I have to admit that this is more than I ever expected.” She paused. “This is why you pale every time I mention Michael, or would try to talk about Jeffrey. To this day I’ve never felt comfortable bringing Michael up, or talking about how much losing him has changed me; how much I still miss him. I’ve always felt I had to censor things with you.” She lowered her voice. “Now I know why.”

Leslie looked up, held her friend’s hurt gaze. “I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way…” She broke eye contact, staring down at her lemon. She lifted it from the glass, and peered at it, seeing nothing. “Never meant to at all.”

“You never meant to, huh? So did you not mean to abandon Grace either? Just saddled up and rode out of Memphis. Oops! Forgot my newborn.”

Leslie dropped the lemon. Water splashed onto the table.

Dawn cringed. “I’m sorry,” she said, regretting her bluntness. “Listen, I know you need me right now, but I just can’t say only nice things about this. You must’ve known this couldn’t stay hidden for the rest of your life, Leslie. Just what have you been thinking all these years? That you could marry Luke, have Kate—” She broke off, shrugging her shoulders. “And never think of that first child again? Didn’t you ever wonder about her? About what was happening to her? What had become of her? What was going on in her life all these years? Whether or not she was still even alive, year after year? My God. How on earth did you do it? Why did you leave her?”

The women stared at each other, both wanting to look away. But the weight of their friendship secured the stare.

Finally, without saying a word, Leslie reached for her purse and quietly left the table. Dawn watched her slip through the double doors and dash out into the night.

Another child.

Leslie had another daughter. Grace.

Dawn couldn’t believe it. All these years, that was what she’d been fighting to stifle. The loss of a husband…and a child.

Chapter 21

Leslie Cavanaugh turned her Lexus SUV onto the street where she lived, Primrose Terrace.

Theirs was a distinguished neighborhood. Very few of the large Victorian homes didn’t have gardeners—some even had tree surgeons on retainer. In addition, the Cavanaughs had become fortunate enough to have weekly housekeeping and a personal chef on speed dial. There’s was indeed a privileged home life—ideal for anyone looking to establish his or her own reality.

Ideal for Luke and Leslie Cavanaugh.

As she cruised by, passing the two sprawling homes that preceded hers, Leslie wondered about reality. What was it exactly? Was reality nothing more than perception? Did you create your own reality, or were you just a victim of it?

What in the hell was she going to tell Luke? And what in God’s name was she going to say to her daughter?

Turning into the driveway, she silenced the engine.

“My daughter?” she whispered. Her voice didn’t sound like her own. “My daughter.”

She relaxed into the leather seat and took a deep breath.

Suddenly it was 1984 and she was in Jeffrey’s arms.

They were lying in bed, chatting about the future. She told him she was pregnant, and she had never seen him beam the way he had that night, giddy with the thrill of it. She’d never seen him smile brighter. And she never would again.

They’d both been so excited. So proud to be starting their own little family. Oh, joy!

That was what life was all about, wasn’t it? Loving and being loved? And God, had she loved Jeffrey. Her heart trembled, even now, at the memory. The contrast between her life before, and after.

Leslie was no longer sitting in her Lexus in the driveway of the home she shared with Luke and Kate. She was in that hospital waiting room, clinging to Beth and Ingrid, waiting to hear that Jeff was only mildly injured. That his sight had returned. That he was actually going to be okay after all…

Damn.

•

From the window of his office, where he was ostensibly hard at work, Luke Cavanaugh had seen his wife drive up.

Once he’d sent Kate off to bed, he’d retreated there to deal with e-mail, draft a proposal, and maybe even work on some renderings.

At least, working had been his intention.

But he’d ended up swiveling around in his chair, thinking about her. About how she’d left over an hour ago without saying where she was going.

A habit she’d developed only in recent months.

When he’d seen her finally turning into the driveway—there was no need to pretend he hadn’t been waiting up for her—he’d gotten up immediately and gone out into the garage, raising the electronic door.

They had to talk.

Although she sat facing the garage, she hadn’t moved a muscle as the door lifted. Hadn’t even seemed aware it had opened.

For a moment Luke just stood staring at his wife. She was sitting in the SUV. Just sitting there with a look on her face that tore his heart out. He knew that look. It didn’t happen very often, but he’d seen it enough over the years. It was when she drifted off into those mysterious dazes, to the places he’d never been privy to.

Why couldn’t he reach her? What the hell was wrong with her? And how the hell could he deal with something he couldn’t understand?

Frustration propelled him forward.

He shot into the driveway, his long stride covering the distance between them.

He knocked on her window.

Obviously startled, Leslie opened the door. As the dome light came on, he could see that she’d been crying, but he steeled himself against her tears.

It was getting old.

“Where’d you go?” he demanded. “I want to know right now. Is the trunk filled with shopping bags? Are we ready for bankruptcy court yet? Pop the trunk. ”

“Luke.”

“No, seriously. Pop the trunk.” He stared her down.

In a flat tone she said, “Luke, I didn’t go shopping. We have to talk.” Getting out of the car, she walked into the garage.

He followed.

•

When they were upstairs in the privacy of their bedroom, Leslie explained her whereabouts.

“I went to grab a bite with Dawn. She had some things she wanted to talk over. I didn’t go shopping.”

Sitting in an armchair by the terrace doors, Luke said nothing. He waited.

Leslie dropped her purse on the nightstand, folded her arms, and leaned against the bedpost. She caught her husband’s eye—something she hadn’t been doing a lot of lately.

“Luke,” she began. “I was married once before. I was married to a man named…Jeffrey Phillips. My maiden name was actually Sanders.” She shook her head, trying to keep her voice steady. “Jeffrey died.”

Luke’s face was unreadable. Was that shock she saw? Speechlessness? Anger? Indifference? Leslie couldn’t decipher it. Her mind was in overdrive; it had skipped ahead.

“Why are you telling me this now?” asked Luke finally.

“Wait—there’s more. Much more.” She hesitated. “I was pregnant w-when Jeffrey passed away.” She took a deep breath to get hold of her nerves. “I g-gave birth to a little girl. She’s been living in Memphis with Jeff’s family since she was born. His mother sent me a letter yesterday. She says they never told her about me. She apparently believes that Jeff’s sister, Beth, is her real mother, but now Ingrid says they plan to tell her the truth, so she may try to contact me.” Leslie winced. “T-that’s why I have to tell you now.”

“Uh-huh.” Luke’s voice was just above a whisper. “That’s some story. You have another daughter. And you never, ever told me anything. All these years, that’s what you’ve been hiding.” His face hardened. “For the love of God. Why?”

“I don’t know. I can’t explain it. It was just easier that way.”

“How old is she? Why was she raised by his family?”

“She’s fifteen now. They raised her because I left her there. I knew she’d be well cared for. I thought I’d eventually go back. You know, when the pain lessened.” She broke into tears. “When the mere presence of her didn’t break my heart into a million little pieces. I could barely stand to look at my own baby.”

She expected Luke to come to her, embrace her as he typically would. But that did not happen. He didn’t leave his chair. Nor did his face show any signs of softening.

“Honey, I know this is big,” she sobbed. “I know you’ll probably not understand why I’ve never told you. But I simply couldn’t. And as time went by, it got to the point where I was too ashamed to go back. It seemed best to stay out of her life altogether.”

“Best?” he exclaimed. “Best for whom? For yourself? Did it ever occur to you that she would try to find you one day? That Kate and I—at the very least—deserved to know she was out there? I can’t believe this!” He stood up. “So, what do you plan to do now? Invite her to move in? Because if those are the lines you’re thinking along, you can forget it. It’s not fair to Kate—and it’s damn well not fair to me. I won’t have it.” He paused, his anger clearly getting the better of him. “Goddamn it, I don’t fucking believe this shit!”

Then, without warning—and in true Luke Cavanaugh fashion—he “quietly” stormed out of the room.

•

He flew down into the den.

He poured himself a scotch. He nursed it for more than half an hour.

It was more than he’d expected. A hell of a lot more.

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting—but this wasn’t it. A fifteen-year-old daughter was not it.

His wife had been married before. She was a widow. She’d just run off and left a baby behind. Never looked back.

How could she have done that? Women lost their husbands all the time, right? They didn’t abandon their children and simply start over.

Why had she?

He recalled what she said. The baby had been a reminder of what she’d lost. She hadn’t even been able to look at her.

And in all these years, she’d never had to look at her. So, what in the hell would happen when she did?

Suddenly the years of mystery suffocated Luke. The years of coveting his wife’s complete trust. Of coveting these very secrets. Of wanting—no, needing—her to open up to him.

Eventually needing it more than anything.

Luke’s eyes widened suddenly as a realization struck.

Now he knew exactly what his torment had represented.

The secret.

A humiliated anger bubbled inside his belly.

Downing the last of the scotch, Luke headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time.

How dare she! How fucking dare she.

•

Leslie had just emerged from the bathroom when the bedroom doors suddenly swung open. She’d showered, crying the entire time, feeling utterly alone and frightened of the future.

She’d cried herself out. Hurting for Grace. For Jeff. For Luke and for Kate. Even for Dawn. For the way she’d just left her friend sitting there.

But most of all, she’d cried for herself. There was nothing left to hide behind anymore. The secrets were told. And she felt terribly exposed. Who was Leslie Cavanaugh now? Without the veil?

Am I still the same person?

Just as she’d slipped into her panties and was reaching for her nightshirt, Luke came barreling through the double doors. He treated her to an angry stare.

“Leave it off,” he barked. Then he lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. “And get in the bed.”

Leslie was stunned. “What?”

Before she could move he came after her. Grabbing her arms, he pushed her onto the bed.

“Luke, what are you doing? Let’s not complicate things…”

But then he was covering her, crushing her under the full weight of his six-foot frame.

In one swift motion, he pinned her hands above her head and removed his jeans—all before Leslie even knew what had happened. He was moving quickly, with purpose.

His mouth crushed hers. She tasted the scotch. He roughly parted her thighs and swiftly freed himself from his briefs.

With one solid thrust he plunged himself inside her.

Leslie gasped…then she sighed. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she let him have his way.

Like a raging bull, he unleashed years of pent up frustration, banging her furiously.

How dared she be in mourning over someone else all these years?

Has she thought of Jeffrey Phillips every time Luke made love to her? Had she wished it were him lying beside her in bed every night? Waking up beside her each morning?

Had she?

Well, tonight, Luke was going to make goddamn sure she knew who her fucking husband was!

Chapter 22

The following morning, on the drive to drop her off at school, Leslie broke the news to Kate. Was it the best timing? Maybe not, but she needed to get it all over with.

At first she was very quiet, apparently processing what Leslie had just told her. She watched her daughter carefully. At eight, Kate was quite sensitive, and a little apt to taking things much too personally.

“How come we’ve never met her, Mom?” Kate asked finally.

Slipping on her sunglasses, Leslie steered the car out of their neighborhood and into the flow of the morning traffic. “Well, honey, it’s because she lives in another state and…and she doesn’t know about you yet either. But I’m pretty sure you’ll be meeting her one day soon.”

“How old is she, Mom? Is she way older than me?”

“She’s a bit older. She’s fifteen…and I haven’t seen her since she was born.”

“How come?” pressed Kate.

Leslie hesitated. “I had to leave her where she belonged…with her daddy.”

“She has her own daddy?”

Leslie had to fight back tears. “Yes, sweetheart. She has her own daddy.”

•

When she got into the office she immediately called Dawn, who always got to work at least an hour before she did.

She was either away from her desk or she was ignoring her call, because Leslie got voice mail. She left a message. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “We’ll talk at lunch, okay?”

She opened the vertical blinds behind her desk.

It was a typical Palm Beach morning. The sun was out. The palm trees were kissing the sky. The city streets were bustling.

But she felt completely out of touch with normalcy, a deep sense of disorientation. Who was she today?

Who was Leslie Cavanaugh the morning after?

•

Without being told, one can predict the occurrence of certain events. Be it intuition or gut instinct, one just knows.

Leslie had known to expect the call. She’d spent the morning awaiting it. She’d simply sensed it was coming.

It came just before lunchtime.

“Hello, Leslie.”

For a moment she was struck silent.

“Hello, Ingrid.”

“You should’ve had a box delivered, express mail. Did you get it?”

“Yes.” She glanced around the office, her palms beginning to sweat. “Yes, I did.”

“I had to hire a private detective agency to find you. I had no idea where you’d gone.” A pause. “You left your daughter, you know…”

Leslie closed her eyes. I know.

Another line beeped, lighting up. She ignored it.

“Ingrid, I-I’m sorry.” She hesitated. “I just don’t know what else I can say…after all this time.”

“Would you at least like to speak to her? To Grace?”

Leslie panicked. Her heart began to race. “Speak to her? What, like, right now? No, not yet. I’m not ready yet.”

“No, dear,” said Ingrid, sounding annoyed. “I didn’t mean right this second. She’s at school…and she doesn’t know anything yet—we don’t want to ruin the holidays for her. The plan is to tell her the first of the year. Just trust in God and let the chips fall where they may…once everything’s finally out.”

“I guess there is something more to be said.” Leslie finally opened her eyes. “Thank you, Ingrid. She’s beautiful, and she looks so happy…and so…so healthy. Thank you, and please pass on my thanks and appreciation to Beth and her husband.”

They lapsed into silence, the phone line heavy with words that needed saying.

Finally Ingrid asked, “Why did you leave her, Leslie? For God’s sake, why?

“Ingrid, I—”

“I will say that I never did judge you for it. For a time I even thought I understood. But when you never came back…”

“I know, Ingrid. I know.” Leslie pushed her hair from her face. Her hand was trembling. “I couldn’t…I couldn’t stay there. I had to get away. But then…too much time passed. And shame kept me from coming back. It seemed easier just to stay away.”

“Easier?” asked Ingrid. “Easier for whom?”

Now, where had she heard that question before? She changed the subject. “Your letter mentioned you were ill? I was very sorry to hear that. How are you?”

“I didn’t call to talk about myself. I think it’s a trifle too late for that with us. I just wanted to find you and see to letting you know that your daughter might likely be in touch with you soon.” Ingrid cleared her throat, and Leslie heard shuffling before she continued. “I hope you’ll be kind to her, and honest. She’s a good girl, Leslie. A fine child. She wants to do hairdressing.”

Leslie reached for the photographs she’d left in her desk. She stared at her daughter. She wanted to speak, but she couldn’t, so silence reigned again.

“We plan to give her your phone number, and address too, in case she wants to write to you. I hope that’s okay. It is her right to find you if she wants to.”

Finally Leslie found her voice. “Yes, yes, of course, it’s perfectly all right. You can even give her my e-mail address.” After relaying it to her, she managed a slight laugh. “I told my husband everything last night, so it’s all out in the open now.”

“Your husband never knew? Your other child?”

“No. I’ve never spoken of it. Not until last night.”

“Good God, child…”

In that moment Leslie could only imagine the thoughts going through Ingrid’s mind. She could only imagine. Part of her wanted badly to end the call now. Talking to Ingrid was proving to be a crushing experience. It was like having to stare into a fault-revealing mirror. The reflection hurt. It hurt a lot.

But…Jeff was also there in that mirror. Through his mother, she could see him as she hadn’t in over fifteen years.

“I’ve got to run now,” Ingrid said finally.

Oh, thank God, thought Leslie as relief showered over her. She could never have ended the call herself.

“You have a good Thanksgiving, you hear?”

“Thanks, Ingrid. Happy Thanksgiving to you, too. All of you. Thank you again for…well, for everything. Everything. I promise to be in touch whenever I hear from Grace.” She paused. “Gosh, I’m so nervous about it…I have no idea what I’ll say to her.”

“Well,” Ingrid began, “just tell her the truth. Whatever the truth is, that’s the best place to start. You’ll never go wrong with that.” Again, she cleared her throat. “Oh, and Leslie?”

“Yes?”

“It’s nice to hear your voice again after all these years. You were such a lovely young lady…and Jeffrey loved you a lot. I hope you haven’t forgotten him.”

“Oh, Ingrid.” Leslie lost the struggle then. The tears came as she replied, “How could I forget him? That’s why I just couldn’t stay!” she sobbed. “How could I have our baby without him? I didn’t know who I was anymore…so who was she? Who was this precious little—”

“Oh, honey, you would’ve been all right after a while. We were here, and you could’ve stayed as long as you liked. You never would’ve been alone. Besides…I lost my son. My son. If I could withstand it, surely you could, too.”

Leslie’s line beeped again.

“Anyhow…I’ll let you go so you can get back to your work. Take care of yourself, okay? Stay well.”

And then she was gone.

Chapter 23

Early 2001

In the blink of an eye, the fun and festive holidays were over and a new year had arrived. New Year’s resolutions were all the rage, and gift returns were even more popular.

It was an extremely tense time for Leslie, though, as she was now on alert.

She was waiting for Grace.

When would she call? Would she call, or would she write? Perhaps she’d simply show up one day, out of the blue?

With ardent anticipation that grew with each passing day of the new year, Leslie waited.

•

The weeks rolled by.

Luke grew more distant, spending less and less time at home. And whenever he was at there, he holed up in his office. Even Kate soon discovered that it was the official place to spend time with her dad.

To her dismay, it became extremely clear that he was avoiding Leslie like the plague.

By March, all the nervous anxiety Leslie felt turned to disappointment. She realized that for the most part, she’d actually been looking forward to getting in touch with Grace. The fact that Grace had not yet contacted her felt extremely…well…anticlimactic.

Had they decided not to tell her after all? Or perhaps they had told her, but Grace had decided she didn’t care to meet her birth mother…?

Leslie didn’t know whom she would ever admit it to, but the thought of that…well, it hit her where it hurt.

•

She spoke to Dawn about it the next day at lunch.

“Maybe you should call the grandmother, find out if they changed their minds about telling her.”

“You think so? Would that seem too pushy? I mean, what if they did change their minds? It wouldn’t be right of me to interfere. Would it?”

“Well, she is your daughter, Leslie,” Dawn said as she buttered a roll. “I think that’s enough of a right.”

Leslie adamantly shook her head. “No. I could never do that to them. I won’t usurp their rights in her life. They’ve earned them. As much as I’d like to meet her, have some interaction with her, find out who she is…her likes and dislikes…” Looking down, she hung her head. “No. I have no right. I gave it up…a long time ago.”

Reaching across the table, Dawn lifted her friend’s chin. She looked her in the eye. “Call them, Leslie.” Leslie looked away, but Dawn persisted. “At least try to find out what she was told. You said the old lady was sick, right? What if she passed away and her parents decided not to bother telling her about you? You have to find out.”

•

Memphis, Tennessee

“Mindy!” Beth Cunningham shouted over the hard-rock music her thirteen-year-old son, Jude, was blasting from his bedroom. “Forget the television and get in there and clean that room this instant, young lady! I’ve never seen such a—” Beth was interrupted by the shrill ring of the telephone. It rang only once, and then stopped. She stepped back into the kitchen where she’d just started dinner.

Before she could remove the receiver from the wall, she heard Jude yell, “Mom! It’s somebody for Grandma! Pick up!”

How in the hell did he always manage to answer so fast?

“Hello?” Beth held the phone between her ear and shoulder and began chopping vegetables.

“Hello—is that you, Beth?”

“Yes, this is Beth Cunningham. Who’s this?”

“Hi, Beth. It’s Leslie.”

Beth nearly dropped the knife.

Leslie.

“How’ve you been?” asked Leslie, as if they hadn’t spoken in only a few months, rather than in nearly sixteen years.

“Leslie—why are you calling? Grace wants nothing to do with you; she made that very clear. So just back off. Don’t stir up any trouble after all these years. Don’t you dare.”

Leslie said nothing.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes, I heard you.” A pause. “So she does know then? Ingrid said January.”

Beth sighed. “Yes, she knows…Oh, what an awful day that was. If only you could’ve seen the look on her face…seen the hurt in her eyes.” Beth began to cry. Why was Leslie calling? After all these years, why now?

“Oh, Beth. I’m so sorry. Really I am. I don’t guess it makes any difference now, but I never meant to hurt anybody, least of all Grace. I thought she’d be better off without me. I was in no shape to look after her…I just couldn’t.”

“That’s right—and you still can’t. Stay away from her, Leslie. There’s no need to try to right the wrong now. It’s much, much too late for that. She’ll be sixteen soon. She’s happy. She’s doing great in school.” Beth sniffled. “She gets on well with her brother and sister. She has a mother and father who love her very much. She doesn’t need you now. Please…just leave her alone.”

“Don’t worry, Beth, I have no intention of disrupting your family. I guess…I do owe you at least that.” She hesitated. “Is Ingrid all right? I noticed your son called for you when I asked for her…”

“Mom’s in the hospital. She’s on dialysis. She’s in a bad way.”

“Oh, no,” said Leslie softly. “I’m so sorry to hear that. She did tell me in her letter that she was ill. Please give her my best. I’ll keep her in my prayers.”

Beth frowned. She couldn’t help herself. “Your prayers?” she exclaimed. “You pray? Oh, really? Well, what on earth did you tell God about abandoning your own flesh and blood without so much as a backward glance? Do you talk about that when you pray?” She snorted. “Good-bye, Leslie.” Beth hung up the telephone.

Suddenly the kitchen felt different. The air was now tainted.

It would never be the same again.

•

From her bedroom, Grace Cunningham reached over slowly and returned the phone to its cradle. Dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, she’d been studying for a sociology exam when the phone rang.

Over the last six years she’d been deeply disturbed by all the gossip that her parents weren’t her real parents. It changed her. Grace had withdrawn, spending more and more time alone. Thinking. Wondering. Doubting.

In January, when they sat her down in the living room and told her that it was all true, it was strange, because Grace had known it all along.

Intuition was her best friend. Hers was a surprisingly sharp and accurate asset. Somehow she’d always known, even before the rumors began. Aside from the fact that she stood out appearance-wise, what with her deep red hair and aqua-green eyes, she’d always sensed an inherent disconnect.

Her mother loved her so much, and Grace could see the pain on her face as they told her they’d adopted her when it was clear her birth mother was not coming back. Such pain. How could Grace have said that she wanted to go find that mother? To get to know her? Find out why she didn’t want her?

Rising from the bed, Grace sat at her desk and booted up her computer. Grandma Ingrid had given her a folder. She found the e-mail address and phone number. She stared at them.

The woman had a smoky voice. At times it had sounded almost husky, but with a velvety sort of tone.

Her birth mother. Leslie Cavanaugh.

“Sorry, Mom,” Grace murmured. Her stomach fluttered. Ambivalence was such an awkward feeling.

The last thing Grace wanted to do was hurt her mom. But she needed to contact her…her real mother. She didn’t quite understand why. It was just something she needed to do.

Chapter 24

West Palm Beach, Florida

The following morning, Leslie was at her desk scanning the subjects of her numerous unread e-mails when she saw it. The subject line read: It’s me…Grace.

Time stopped.

Leslie took a deep breath.

Slowly she moved the mouse over the subject, but paused before double-clicking to open the message. She couldn’t do it. The sender was Grace. The miracle of Jeff and herself.

Her daughter Grace.

What would the e-mail say? What would a fifteen-year-old girl be saying in e-mail to a mother she never even knew existed?

It’s me…Grace.

Oh, my God.

Reaching for the phone, Leslie dialed Dawn’s extension.

“I need you to come down. I got an e-mail from Grace.”

•

By the time Dawn rushed through the door, she was as eager as Leslie to find out what Grace’s e-mail said.

Leslie rose from her chair and motioned for her to sit. “You read it,” she said, crossing her arms and leaning against the desk. Her back was to the screen. Her voice trembled. “Out loud.”

“Wow,” Dawn enthused, facing the computer. “She wrote to you.”

“Yeah—listen, the pointer’s already on it and everything; just open it.”

“Okay…here we go.” Dawn double-clicked, and the e-mail opened.

Leslie stopped breathing.

Dawn scanned the message, then began reading aloud.

To: Cavanaugh.Leslie@crystalcleargroup.com

From: Grace C. [mailto:russcrowelover2000@memphcable.com]

Subject: It’s me…Grace

Message: Dear Mrs. Cavanaugh,

I overheard you talking to my mom last night and decided to write this.

I don’t want to hurt my mom or anything, but I thought it would be okay to get in touch with you now. I’d really like to keep it secret for now, because, like I said, I don’t wanna hurt my mom’s feelings.

I guess the first thing I’d like to ask you is…why? Why didn’t you want me? What happened to make you not want to have me with you? I think I have some idea from what Grandma Ingrid says, but it’d be nice to hear it from you.

Hope you’ll write back soon.

Grace C.

Even before Dawn had stopped reading, Leslie had burst into tears.

“What the hell do I say to that?” she sobbed. Her fear was palpable. “Nothing could possibly come close to understandable.”

“How about the truth?” Dawn replied, getting up. “Just tell her the truth.”

“But the truth is so horrible,” cried Leslie, reaching for tissue. “I am so horrible!”

Guiding her back into her chair, Dawn smoothed her friend’s hair. “You’re not horrible now, Leslie. You made a bad decision when you were very young and in a lot of pain. But read that e-mail again…Don’t you see? You have a second chance. She’s reaching out, hon. Grab her, Leslie. Grab her and don’t let go ever again. You can fix this. I know you can.”

“Oh, God, only in my wildest dreams have I ever imagined that could be true.” She paused. “Do you really think it’s possible for us? Would you be able to forgive me if you were Grace?”

Dawn looked at Leslie. “You’re her mother. Of course she’ll forgive you. She wants to forgive you as badly as you want to be forgiven. Reply to her, Leslie,” said Dawn, patting her shoulder one last time. Then she headed for the door. “See you at lunch.”

•

Back in her own office, Dawn picked up the phone. She dialed the familiar number. It rang three times.

“Yeah,” Luke Cavanaugh answered. His deep voice electrified the phone line.

“Grace e-mailed Leslie last night. She just got the message this morning.”

“Really?” Luke sounded surprised. “Did she tell you what it said?”

“Well, she couldn’t read it herself. She called me down and I read it to her. She’s pretty shaken up, Luke. And I think it’s clear—now that the contact’s been made and everything’s out in the open—she wants to have a relationship with her…so brace yourself.”

She heard Luke exhale. She felt his pain. His angst. They’d been feeling it together now for quite some time.

Leslie’s revelation had only intensified the need, in recent months, to be in touch with Luke. To share the emotional overload.

“Thanks for the heads up,” he said. “I suppose she’s due for an impromptu trip to Saks or something now, eh?”

Dawn laughed. “‘Or something’ is right! Don’t worry. I’ll try my best to keep her out of trouble, Luke.”

“You do that.” He was silent for a moment. “You’re the best, Dawn.”

•

Lyle Burns was not giving up on her. But was he the man Dawn wanted?

They’d started dating again in the last few months, and though, at Dawn’s request, they usually met at restaurants for dinner, or at the beach for long walks to neck and chitchat, tonight he’d invited her over to his condo, ostensibly to have wine and listen to his Barry Manilow collection.

Though she’d never really felt much for him romantically, Dawn did have a great admiration for Lyle’s drive and ambition. He’d left his job with Wackenhut a couple years back to start a security company of his own, End of Insecurities, EOI, and it was thriving. He wasn’t a very tall man, but what he lacked in height, he made up for with his great smile and infectious personality. And she had to admit he was excellent company.

Now, as Barry crooned about who wrote the songs, Lyle was making his move. Dawn relaxed as she always did, and allowed him to kiss her neck and play with her breasts. But once his hands made their way down to her slacks, she stopped him.

“Goddamn it,” he muttered, moving off of her. “How old did you say you were?”

Dawn sat up in his leather sofa. She could see his erection straining against the material of his pants. “Sorry, Lyle. You know I’m not ready for—”

“I repeat: How old did you say you were? Because I’m extremely confused. I’m beginning to wonder whether I’m dealing with an underage teenager.”

“Lyle.” Her voice was stern, sterner than she’d intended. She reached for his arm. “Let’s not go down this road again. I’ve explained my situation. I can’t force you to understand.”

“You’re not the one who died, Dawn. Would he have wanted you to live a life of celibacy? How long do you intend to go without being with a man again? What exactly are you waiting for?” He shot from the couch. “You’re a young, vibrant, beautiful woman. And I want to love you in every possibly way…but you won’t let me.”

“Oh, Lyle—”

“I can understand the photos. I can understand the stories. I can understand that you’ll always carry his memory around with you in your heart. I can understand to a point, Dawn. But all these years, and you still only want to neck like teenagers.” He sighed dismally. “Why? And don’t tell me it’s out of respect for your dead husband. He didn’t die yesterday.”

Dawn returned his somber stare. “But it is out of respect, Lyle. I’m sorry, but it is. I’m just not ready…not yet. Please understand.”

Swearing under his breath, Lyle stood and walked over to the stereo. By then, Manilow was crooning “Looks Like We Made It.”

Lyle killed the music.

Chapter 25

Memphis, Tennessee

Grace Cunningham had been thinking all day about the e-mail she’d sent to her birth mother.

Would she get a response? If so, how long would Leslie Cavanaugh take to respond? What would she say?

The answers came that afternoon after school. During the day she’d gone to the library and checked her e-mail five times, but there’d been nothing from her. She’d immediately checked it again when she got home from school. Still nothing. Grace had begun to wonder…and worry. Suddenly she simply had to hear back. But what if she was ignored?

After making herself a sandwich, going over the day’s events with her mom as she did the ironing, and exchanging wisecracks with her younger brother, Jude, Grace had gone back into her room and checked her e-mail again.

And there it was. It had arrived at 6:08. Eagerly, Grace clicked it open.

To: Grace C. [russcrowelover2000@memphcable.com]

From: Leslie Cavanaugh [mailto:Cavanaugh.Leslie@crystalcleargroup.com]

Subject: Re: It’s me…Grace

Message: Dear Grace,

First, let me tell you how happy I was to get your message. I’m glad you wrote to me, as I may as well be honest and say that I don’t think I would’ve had the courage to write to you. Your mother made it very clear why I shouldn’t, and she has every right to feel the way she does. At any rate, I’m glad you wrote. I do owe you an explanation, and I hope you’ll understand. It was not so much about you as it was about me. I lost my hold on myself, Leslie Phillips, when your dad died. She died with him. I couldn’t face reality, so I had to get away. I never made a conscious choice to stay away…but it…Oh, boy. This is a lot tougher than I thought it would be. We should be having this conversation face-to-face. How about if I came to visit you? We could meet. Don’t worry, Beth wouldn’t have to know. I’d check into a hotel and e-mail you the details. You could meet me there and we could talk. Let me know how that sounds to you and we’ll make it happen, okay? Oh, and one more thing…I really am so very sorry, Grace. You have to believe that.

Yours always,

Leslie

Reaching out, Grace Cunningham touched the closing on the screen: Yours always, Leslie.

Chapter 26

West Palm Beach, Florida

Three days later

“I’m flying out to Memphis this evening. I’ll be on the first flight back tomorrow morning, but I won’t be home right away. I’ll have to head straight to the office. I have two afternoon meetings I can’t miss.”

“Memphis? Do I smell a tearful reunion with the long-lost daughter I knew nothing about until last November?”

Leslie’s hand stilled on the latch of her small suitcase. She looked over at her husband. “Luke, please don’t.”

He’d strolled into their bedroom to find her packing. They hadn’t spoken all day. She hadn’t called him. He hadn’t called her.

Luke didn’t know who was more affected by the change in their marriage: the two of them…or Kate. Children were extremely perceptive creatures, and Kathryn was very much aware of the heightened tension between her parents in recent months.

“Don’t what?” he snarled now, coming to stand beside her. He roughly grabbed her hands. “Don’t what, Leslie?

She didn’t look away. “Don’t make this harder for me than it already is. Gosh, I want so much to share this experience with you, to take down all the barriers between us, but you’re making it very difficult for me. Why can’t you be a little more understanding? A little more sensitive to my feelings?”

He gave a harsh laugh. “Your feelings? How sensitive have you been to mine?”

Now she did look away.

“Hmm?” Luke bent, moving to catch her eye again. “What about my feelings, for a change? Have you stopped for one minute to think about how this might be affecting me? Not to mention Kathryn?”

She looked at him. Her eyes softened. “Of course, Luke. I know this is hard for you…and for Kate. I can only imagine, but we have to deal with it, don’t we? We can’t just ignore it.”

“Can’t we? It seems you did a pretty decent job of ignoring it for fifteen years.”

Leslie pulled her hands from his. “Oh, don’t be cruel, Luke.” Then she stopped suddenly, struck by her words.

Don’t be cruel…

To a heart that’s true.

Elvis.

Her heart skipped a beat. A thin sheen of sweat broke out on her nose and upper lip.

“There she goes again,” Luke observed. “Zoned out.” He took her hands again, gently this time, and knelt before her. His face softened, and he begged, “Tell me. Please tell me what’s happening when you drift off like that…like just now. When I lose you. From the very first day we met in that leasing office, I’ve had to share you with whatever it is that triggers that look.” He held her gaze. “Where do you go?”

Leslie took a deep, calming breath. “You know that black shoulder bag I keep in the bottom drawer of the Chippendale?”

“Yes.”

“Get it.”

Luke rose and went into her large dressing room. He came back with the bag. Leslie reached in and took out some of the photos she’d kept.

“Here,” she said handing him one of the small ones. “This is Jeffrey. My…Grace’s father.”

Luke took the photograph. Stared at it. He was in shock.

He looked back at Leslie. “This is Jeffrey?”

“Yes.”

“Shit, Leslie. He looks just like Evan.” Luke’s younger brother.

“He looks just like you,” said Leslie. “When I first saw you, I thought I’d seen a ghost—the resemblance was creepy.”

“My God,” Luke marveled, staring at the likeness. “It still is.”

Suddenly he looked at Leslie. Was that why she’d married him?

Luke couldn’t bring himself to ask.

She continued, “He loved Elvis. The movies, the concerts, the songs. Especially the songs…My God, he spun the vinyl off the records.” She clasped her hands. “So, of course, whenever I hear an Elvis song…it just…I just can’t…” Leslie shook her head, unable to continue.

Elvis Presley.

Well, that explained a lot.

Luke recalled the “episodes,” Leslie’s odd and puzzling behavior over the years.

Like the Thanksgiving they’d spent with his family at his parents’ home down in Miami. Late that evening, with the football game running out of steam in the family room—their team losing—his father had started playing oldies in the den. For reasons Luke could never have understood until now, Leslie had vanished…simply vanished without saying a word. And everyone noticed it. When Luke found her, she was outside sitting in the car, looking like a lost kitten. Her reason for disappearing? A headache. He hadn’t believed her, but what else could it have been?

Now he knew.

Remembering, Luke dropped the photo and left the room.

Chapter 27

Memphis, Tennessee

When she arrived in Memphis, Leslie checked into the Courtyard by Marriott, ten minutes away from Beth and Billy’s home.

It was an eerie feeling, being in Memphis again after all the years that had gone by. She could feel the breath of the past in her lungs now, ever-present and heavy.

She had e-mailed Grace her arrival time, hotel, and room number, but her daughter had said she’d rather meet in the lobby, if that was all right.

All right? Leslie had thought. By now, the prospect of meeting Grace in the flesh was so precious, she’d have agreed to a meeting in Outer Mongolia if that’s what she’d wanted.

Settling into the room, Leslie flipped on the television. They were meeting at seven o’clock, so she had a good half hour to kill. Her fingers itched to go and buy something, but she resisted. She’d already stopped at Zales on the way to the airport before leaving West Palm and bought a silver necklace for Grace.

Grace had said she’d tell her parents she was going with a friend to the mall. Then she’d have the friend drop her off at the hotel.

Leslie could hardly wait to see her.

•

When she entered the lobby of the Marriott, Grace Cunningham didn’t know what to expect. She’d spent nearly an hour agonizing over what to wear, and finally settled on jeans and a tank top. She decided not to overdo it.

She spotted Leslie Cavanaugh almost instantly. Jesus, who could’ve missed her? She was beautiful!

She was wearing an elegant olive tunic over loose black slacks. Her hair was a long mane of deep auburn, deeper than Grace’s own hair. It was also much fuller and far more luxurious. She wore it up, secured by a long, silver butterfly clip. Several tendrils hung loose around her face. Her smile was so warm. So loving. She had risen to greet Grace the minute she’d stepped through the doors.

My God, her mother was gorgeous.

Feelings stirred inside Grace. This was her “real” mother. She could see herself in Leslie Cavanaugh’s face. She had definitely come from this woman.

Grace walked over to the sitting area to greet her. They stared at each other.

“Hello, Grace,” said the husky-velvety voice. The voice she’d heard on the phone. The voice she’d mentally filtered her e-mails through.

The voice of her mother.

Grace managed a timid smile. “Hello.” She felt like crying, but she didn’t know why. Her feelings were in disarray.

Leslie Cavanaugh held out her right hand. “It’s so nice to see you. You’re exactly like the pictures your grandmother sent—absolutely beautiful.”

So are you, thought Grace, placing her right hand in Leslie’s. Now they were touching. “It’s nice to see you, too,” she managed.

What was she saying? She had no clue. She’d left herself outside and was watching the whole thing from the doorway.

People milled about in the lobby; the elevator doors opened and closed; chatter filled the air. But Grace heard none of it. She truly felt outside of her body. This was happening to someone else.

“Grace, I’d really love to hug you…” Leslie looked at her pleadingly. “Would that be all right?”

Unable to speak, Grace nodded. She stepped closer, raising her arms, and before she knew what was happening she was melting into Leslie’s arms. Leslie held her tightly.

Her mother smelled so good: A mixture of honeysuckle, roses, and lavender all at the same time. Grace inhaled the scent. She didn’t want to forget it. Her real mother.

They were both in tears when they finally parted.

“I have to say I’m sorry again, Grace,” Leslie began, staring at her. “I’m so sorry. It never should’ve happened this way. I should’ve come back for you.” She embraced Grace again. “I’m so sorry.”

They had dinner at the restaurant in the hotel. Mother and daughter. Nearly sixteen years had passed since they’d last breathed the same air. But for Grace, time had stopped for the moment. Time did not exist.

She found herself committing Leslie Cavanaugh’s every move to memory. Treasuring her every gesture.

This sophisticated woman was actually her mother. She wanted to soak up everything there was to know about her.

•

“In your e-mail,” Grace began as they waited for their order, “you said you intended to come back for me…Why didn’t you?”

Sipping a ginger ale, Leslie took a deep breath. Here we go, she thought. Even if she leaves here hating you, at least you got to see and hug her.

“Well,” she began, “I thought that once I could deal with the shock and the pain of losing Jeff, and felt like a normal person again, I’d go back for my baby, bring her back with me to Florida.” She paused, toying with a napkin. “Wow.” She averted her eyes. “This is really hard.” She gave a nervous laugh. “I’m not sure I really know how to explain it so that it makes much sense.”

“Maybe it doesn’t make sense. I’m not sure it should…but I just want to try to understand what happened.”

“Yes,” Leslie agreed, admiring her daughter’s wisdom. “You’re absolutely right.” She cleared her throat. “Well, I guess it took such a long time for me to get used to my still being alive when Jeff was dead…and I just…too much time had passed. By then I was too ashamed to come back. Although I’d inherited more than enough to live on from your dad, I was restless. I got a job as a receptionist in a law firm in West Palm Beach and enrolled in classes to get my HR degree. Then I got an entry-level position at Crystal Clear Pharmaceuticals and moved in with a roommate to share expenses. Then about a year later I met my best friend, Dawn, dumped the tramp of a roommate, got a brand-new apartment in Palm Beach Gardens, and met my husband, Luke, the day I was moving in. Two years later we were married and pregnant with our daughter, Kate.” Leslie paused. “So there you have it. Right up until last November when a package arrived in my office…bringing you back into my life.”

Grace just sat looking at her. Somehow she felt more abandoned now than she had before. It didn’t make any sense. She didn’t understand what had happened at all.

But she wanted to. She desperately needed to make some sense of the abandonment.

So in that moment, Grace redefined the scope of sense.

The waitress arrived with their meals: shrimp scampi for Grace and chicken enchiladas for Leslie. Once the server left, Grace asked the burning question.

“Did you ever think about me through all that?”

Leslie didn’t hesitate. “Every…single…day.”

“Then how come you never even called…ever? No birthday cards, no Christmas cards. Didn’t you wonder what had become of me? You didn’t even keep in touch with Mom or Grandma.”

“Oh, Grace…I couldn’t…It just…How could I explain the fact that you weren’t with me? I had passed the point of being able to make a dignified return. And I guess I wasn’t strong enough to deal with that…and it was either going to be all or nothing. Losing Jeff changed me at such a fundamental level…I guess it was easier to live with the guilt of leaving you behind than it was to accept that I had lost him.” Leslie paused. “And, at the time, you were a constant reminder of that. It’s what I had to do to survive, to keep from going crazy. I ran.”

Grace frowned. “I just don’t understand why I got to fifteen before anybody told me I wasn’t raised by my real mother. That I was adopted, and that my mom was actually my aunt, and that Uncle Jeff who died was actually my dad. It really hurts. It makes me feel like I’ve been really stupid. Like I’ve been made a fool of all my life. Nothing was the way I thought it was at all…” She trailed off, looking down at the shrimp on her plate. “It hurts. Bad.”

“I know, honey,” said Leslie softly. “But you have to know that none of it’s your fault. It’s mine. You’re not a fool. Don’t blame your mom and dad for not telling you. They thought it was for the best. They never meant to hurt you at all.”

After they’d finished their meals, Grace agreed to go up to Leslie’s room so they could continue their discussion, but with a bit more privacy.

They sat together on the edge of the bed…and they talked.

“Tell me about my…about my father,” Grace said. “I’ve heard lots about him from Mom and Grandma, but…tell me about him.”

Leslie told all. She held nothing back. She told Grace just about everything—everything from how in love they were, to how happy Jeff was when they found out they were pregnant. From how his dream was to become a respected neurologist, to how in the last year of his life he’d developed an obsession with all things Elvis Presley.

Leslie even shared the fact that, to this day, she couldn’t so much as hear the name Elvis Presley without another little piece of her heart being chipped away. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get over losing your Dad, Grace.”

And as they talked, for the first time Leslie was able to laugh, swept up in a flood of memories. “And let me tell you something else!” she said excitedly, at one point, grabbing Grace’s hand. “Do you know what your father wanted to name you? Elvissa!”

Grace scrunched up her face. “What?”

“Yes,” said Leslie, chuckling. “He wanted to call you Elvis outright, claiming it could work for a girl, but we had to put our foot down. So then he came up with all these ridiculous variations: Elvisann, Elvissa, Elvisalynn!” Leslie flung her head back, laughing. “And the funny part is that he was serious!”

Grace doubled over in laughter.

“Finally, he said, ‘How about Grace, for Graceland?’ But we wanted to name you Audrey—”

“Audrey as my first name?” Grace made a face.

“Yep,” said Leslie, nodding. “What? You don’t like Audrey either?”

“Heck, no. I’ve never liked it. Do I look like an Audrey?”

Now it was Leslie’s turn to crack up. “Figures! Jeff didn’t like it either. In fact, he hated it. He said it was an old person’s name—too ‘yester-century,’ to quote him.”

“They’d always told me I was named for Graceland, that my uncle Jeffrey was a card-carrying Elvis freak…” She drifted off, her smile fading. “But they never told me anything about…anything about you.”

“Oh…” Leslie, no longer smiling either, boldly reached out and cupped Grace’s jaw. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I hope that maybe one day…maybe someday…you’ll be able to forgive me. That somehow you’ll be able to understand.”

At first Grace said nothing. A battle seemed to be taking place in her eyes. Then, without warning, she put her arms around Leslie and said, “Could you promise me something?”

“Oh, Grace, anything.”

“Let’s wait awhile before we…I mean, I really have to go easy with this because my mom…I can’t hurt her feelings. So let me find a way to explain it to her. I think she’ll understand…eventually. I’ll write to you when the coast is clear.”

“Sure, honey,” Leslie said, returning the hug. “I promise. I promise. I promise. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

•

Just before she left, Leslie took the jewelry box from her travel bag and handed it to Grace. “This is for you. I sure hope you like it.”

Grace sat on the bed. She opened the box and took out the necklace. It had a shimmering pendant, a cute cherub complete with a bow and arrow. Her face lit up. “Oh, this is gorgeous!” she exclaimed. “Wow, I’ve never had any jewelry this nice before!” She looked up at Leslie. “Thank you so much!”

“Oh, you’re more than welcome. I so hoped you’d like it.”

“Like it? I love it!”

They hugged one final time, birth mother and daughter. They promised to keep in touch. For the time being it would be their special secret. Their quiet connection.

“It was so good to see you,” Leslie whispered, holding her tightly. She hesitated. “I do love you, Grace. I always have.”

After a lengthy, emotion-laden hug, Grace finally pulled away. “It was really, really good to see you, too.”

And then she was gone.

Chapter 28

West Palm Beach, Florida

The flight back to West Palm the following morning was a smooth one. They had taken off on time and were scheduled to land at Palm Beach International at nine twenty.

Leslie had a window seat in first class, and she was thankful the seat next to her was empty. She sat gazing out at the pale blue morning sky, reliving every second of her meeting with Grace. In her wildest dreams she hadn’t expected what took place. She had expected anger, resentment, rage…but she’d gotten none of those things.

Her heart was heavy with oodles of new feelings. Meeting Grace changed everything—everything that mattered. Her daughter was back in her life and had come not with hate or bitterness, but with a spirit of forgiveness…and hope. Leslie dared to share that hope.

Somehow she had to make Luke understand. Once he calmed down and digested her past, things could work themselves out.

They simply had to.

•

When Leslie arrived at the office, Monica greeted her with a dozen messages, all marked URGENT. In reality, only about half were actually of an urgent nature, but for the remainder of the morning and throughout the duration of her meetings in the afternoon, Leslie had very little time to think about anything but the day’s agenda at C&C.

Returning to her office after the final meeting, she found a note from Dawn scrawled on a sticky. She had pasted it on Leslie’s computer screen.

Thanks for telling me you wouldn’t make it to lunch...and I’m waiting for the details.

Dawn 

Leslie glanced at her watch. It was a quarter to six. Dawn would probably have already left for the day. She’d call her later, before going to bed.

Just as she was about to shut down the computer, Leslie paused and reopened her e-mail program. She clicked on the very first e-mail she’d received from Grace. She read through it once. Then she read it again, slowly. Grace loved Beth very much; she could tell. It was then that Leslie realized she dared not let hope run wild.

Beth was, after all, Grace’s mother.

Leslie had simply pushed her out into the world—and left her there.

•

When she got home, Leslie found Kate playing outside with a couple of kids from the house across the street. Pulling into the garage, she got out of the car and called out to her, “Kate—it’s getting dark! Time to come inside!”

“Okay!” She came running into the garage and threw her hands around her mom, giving her a big hug. “Mommy, where’d you go? Daddy wouldn’t tell me.” She coughed. “And you didn’t call me like you always do when you go away on your business trips. Daddy’s been acting really weird since you left, Mom. Really sad.”

“I’m so sorry, honey. I know I should’ve called you guys, but this wasn’t business. I went to Tennessee to go visit your sister. The one I told you about, remember? Your sister, Grace? And I guess your dad’s upset because he didn’t want me to go.”

Leslie went around to the truck and pulled out her suitcase. As they walked into the house, she asked, “Where is Daddy?”

Kathryn cocked her head, coughing. “Dumb question, Mom. You know he never leaves his office.”

“What did you eat today? Did Daddy cook? Or did he call Evelyn over to make dinner?” Evelyn Tremaine was their chef extraordinaire. Although Leslie did enjoy cooking from time to time, there were days when the daily grind got the best of her and she didn’t have the energy to face the kitchen. That was when Saint Evelyn worked her magic.

“Nope, he didn’t cook, and Evelyn didn’t come. We ordered pizza. Two boxes, so there are plenty of leftovers for you.”

“Oh, that’s sooo cool,” said Leslie, sounding cheerful. “Okay, you run along and get a shower. Is your homework done?”

“No,” Kate replied. When she saw the look on Leslie’s face, she quickly added, “But don’t worry—I’m on it!” Sniffling, she ran for the stairs.

“You know the rules, young lady,” Leslie called. “No playing and no TV until the homework’s done!” Leslie made a mental note to give her something before she went to bed. It sounded like her daughter was catching cold.

Dropping her suitcase at the bottom of the stairs, she walked down the hall toward Luke’s office.

She took a deep breath. He’d been so angry when she left.

•

Luke had been waiting for her.

He loved his home office. It was nearly six hundred feet of large, open space. When they’d moved in, Leslie had volunteered to be his personal decorator, doing her best to capture his personality with every touch. A marble coffee table sat in the middle of the room, flanked by cushiony, oversized, forest green chairs. His desk was a long, rectangular pane of emerald marble. There were large pictures about the walls featuring the most prized buildings in his firm’s portfolio. The Falls Medical Group Complex in Lantana. Red Door Hotel and Resort in Palm Beach. The Galleria at Heather Glen on South Beach. He liked to remind himself that he and Evan had much to be proud of. They’d certainly come along way from their apprenticeship, when they’d spent most of their time running around to meetings with zoning officials.

When Leslie finally arrived and walked into the office, he looked up, the sight of her having its usual effect.

God, he loved this woman.

But he’d give anything to stop.

She didn’t speak right away, just stood in the doorway staring at him with an expectant look on her face. What exactly was she expecting? He didn’t know.

Luke continued packing up his materials.

He was in the middle of sliding his laptop into its case when she finally spoke.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes.” He folded the cords. Tucked them into the pocket.

She folded her arms across her middle. “Luke. Please don’t do this. Please.”

Disgust washed over his handsome face. “The only reason you married me is because I reminded you of him.” His voice cracked. “You married me because I look like him.”

“No.” Her denial was weak. Even she must’ve heard just how weak. “No, Luke. You’re overreacting. Being silly. I married you because I loved you. We were in love…”

Luke threw the strap of the laptop carrier over his shoulder and gathered the remaining blueprint containers under his arm. He was ready to go. He had already moved out a fair amount of his clothes and office materials.

He pushed past her at the door and walked down the hall, toward the garage.

“Luke, wait!”

He stopped in his tracks, but didn’t turn around. He hadn’t wanted to stop, but—damn her—he had.

Luke waited. He squared his shoulders, determined not to weaken his resolve. She’d made him feel like a fool. Shredded his pride to damn near nothing. Hell, he was a fool, wasn’t he? The day in the leasing office, when they’d first met…

She had found a stand-in for Jeff.

“Please,” she said finally. “Please, Luke. Please don’t walk out on—”

He was gone.

Chapter 29

Dawn jumped up with a start.

Something was ringing. After a few seconds she realized it was the telephone. Did the phone ever ring in the middle of the night to bring you good news? Her disoriented thoughts scrambled all over as she saw images of her mother, sister, niece, and nephew…and Michael.

“Hello?” she croaked, her mouth desert dry, her heart racing.

“It’s me,” said Leslie. “I’m sorry to wake you.”

Dawn released the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. Her pulse slowed, and saliva flowed back into her mouth. “Jesus, Leslie—the phone scared the living shit out of me. What’s up?” Leslie sounded as if she’d been crying…a lot. Dawn sat up, flipping on the bedside lamp.

“Oh, Dawn…everything’s falling apart.”

Dawn rubbed her eyes, collecting her thoughts. Leslie had gone to Memphis yesterday. Dawn had gotten a call from Luke, so she could guess what Leslie had faced when she’d returned home. He hadn’t been happy at all. “Where’s Luke?”

Leslie began sobbing. “He left. He packed his bags, packed up his office…and he left. He moved some of his things while I was gone and…he’s basically moved out of the house.” She sniffled. “Shit, Dawn, what the hell am I gonna do?”

Glancing at the clock, Dawn saw that it was nearly midnight. “Do you know where he might’ve gone?”

“Katie says he took her with him to some house down by the Intracoastal”—Leslie’s voice was heavy with emotion—“but he wouldn’t tell her why he was bringing all of his things out there, why he was moving out.”

Dawn threw back the covers, getting up. “Go ahead and keep a lookout for me, Les. I’ll be right over.”

•

Dawn pulled into the driveway of Leslie and Luke’s house about twenty minutes later. She knew Leslie like a book, so she wasn’t surprised to find that the front door had been left unlocked. Dawn entered the house, locking the door behind her.

It was mostly dark inside, the only light coming from a night-light burning in the hallway. Dawn headed toward the stairs.

“Les?”

Leslie’s voice came down the dimly lit hallway. “I’m out here, in the garden.”

Dawn went out on the porch and out the screen door. Dry leaves crackled under her flip-flops as she walked through the night air over to Leslie. She joined her on a lounge chair where she sat near her favorite rose bush, crying her heart out.

At first they communicated in silence—years of friendship at its best.

I’m crushed, Leslie seemed to say.

I know, and I’m here, Dawn replied in kind. Whenever you’re ready, start talking. I’m here.

When Leslie finally spoke aloud, she said, “I can’t lose, Luke. He’s my whole life now.” She paused. “I never thought I’d have one again after Jeff died, couldn’t even imagine an adult life without him…I can’t lose it again.”

Dawn reached for her friend’s hand. “Tell me what happened.”

In a hushed, aching tone, Leslie relayed her brief exchange with Luke after she’d come home.

“He’s just angry,” Dawn assured her. “He’ll be back.”

“But what if he wants a divorce? What if he can never accept Grace? Dear God—what if he makes me choose?”

“Come on, Leslie. You know Luke; he’d never do that. That’s not who he is. Once he’s had some time to think and put things in perspective, he’ll be back. You both love each other very much. Anyone with eyesight can see that.” She paused. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

Leslie shook her head. “No. I don’t think it would do any good right now. I’ve never known Luke to be so cold. Since I told him about my past…the secrets…he’s been ice-cold. Very distant.”

“Well, surely you didn’t expect him to whisk you away to the staircase—like Rhett and Scarlett—and spend the rest of your lives in bed, did you?”

“Well, I don’t know about spending the rest of our lives in bed, but he certainly pulled a drunken Rhett Butler on me that night.”

Dawn looked at her, startled. “Really?”

“I don’t know what got into him,” she sobbed. “It’s as if he wanted to punish me or something…I don’t know. It was confusing…but I sure wish that’s what he had done when I came home tonight. Instead he packed up and walked out on me.”

“You never told me about that. Mind if I ask what happened that night?”

Using tissues to wipe away her tears, Leslie shrugged, saying nothing at first. Then she said, “He just wanted to punish me, I think. He was very rough.”

“So tell me about the visit with Grace,” said Dawn, switching gears. “How did that go?”

Leslie managed a slight smile and said softly, “Oh, she’s beautiful, Dawn. She blew me away. I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t believe it. She just wanted to know why, just like in her e-mail. Why I’d left without taking her with me.”

“And what’d you say?”

Leslie took a deep breath. “I simply told her the truth. I tried to explain how I was feeling at the time. That I was just too ashamed to come back for her…and very afraid. After a while it seemed easier to leave things as they were.”

“And now?”

“Now I have to face it. I have a beautiful daughter…” Her thoughts drifted. She murmured, “Oh, Jeff, if only you could see her…”

Dawn fell silent.

“Anyhow…she made it clear that she doesn’t want to hurt Beth’s…her mother’s feelings.”

“That’s understandable. She’s a good girl. She obviously loves her, and she’s loyal.”

“Yes, as well she should be.” Leslie hesitated. “But, I can’t help it now—I do want her to love me, too, you know? And I daresay that I saw it on her face yesterday, Dawn. I saw it in her eyes.” Leslie’s own eyes filled with tears. “She wants to love me, too. As a mother.” She hiccupped. “But do I deserve it?” She shook her head from side to side. “Dear God—do I dare believe I deserve it?”

“That’s nonsense,” said Dawn, squeezing her friend’s hand. She left her chair, putting her arms around Leslie. “Of course you’re deserving, Les. Like I said before, you’re her mother. Of course she wants to love you. Beth may have raised her, but you’re her real mother. Nothing can ever challenge that connection, Leslie.” Stepping back, Dawn caught her eye. “Nothing.”

Leslie nodded, but it was slight. She seemed unconvinced.

“Listen, it’ll be okay, Les. Believe me: The worst is over. Now that the truth is out, the dust can settle.”

They stayed out there, enjoying the quiet, until around two a.m. Dawn finally got Leslie to agree to try to get some sleep. With an arm around her for support, Dawn walked her into the house.

“I feel so hopeless,” Leslie wept, sounding miserable. “I still can’t believe he left. It’s like it just neutralizes my hopes about Grace coming back into my life…”

“Shhh, shhh, shhh,” Dawn soothed. “Tomorrow is another day. Let’s get you to bed and we’ll take it one day at a time, okay?”

They went up the stairs, and Leslie crawled into bed, the tears coming once again. “Would you do me a favor?”

“You know I will.”

“Come stay here with us until Luke comes back? I just can’t bare it alone…him being gone like this.”

“No problem,” Dawn said without skipping a beat. She smiled. “Where’s my room?”

Chapter 30

Hallowed Presbyterian Church, much like any large, prestigious organization, was a well-built and well-oiled machine. The congregation was populated with people and families from all walks of life, from every social class. There were doctors, nurses, attorneys, and politicians, alongside sanitation workers, plumbers, landscapers, and cashiers. They were all faithful churchgoers—faithful to Hallowed Presbyterian and their fellow brethren.

They were also very punctual. Sunday morning services began promptly at eleven thirty a.m.

Brenda Ross stood waiting on the front steps, wondering why in the hell her sister could never manage to drag herself to church before noon.

When she finally spotted Dawn’s car, she folded her arms, her facial expression cross. She was eager to hear this week’s excuse.

Brenda began tapping her watch as Dawn approached. She looked great as usual, wearing a dark green dress, a matching broad-rimmed hat, and dark sunglasses.

“Don’t you have a watch?”

“Yes, I have a watch,” replied Dawn, smiling. Ignoring her sister’s folded arms, she hugged and kissed her. “It’s good to see you, too, big sister. Love the dress.”

Inside, Dawn kissed her niece and nephew, squeezed into the seat her mother had saved, and settled in for the final moments of the service.

•

After church, they’d gone to their mother’s house for a filling dinner: roasted pork, split-pea soup, yellow rice, and warm corn bread. Dawn even threw together a quick salad, and they’d all sat around and had an enjoyable Sunday dinner.

“I’m worried about her,” Brenda said later that evening, after Dawn had gone. She was helping her mother with the dishes. “Can you believe she’s staying at Leslie Cavanaugh’s house? She said that’s why she was late to church. They live way out west somewhere.”

Their mother, Janice Madison, a short, stocky lady with a warm, pleasant face and a mop of gray hair, had long since shared her eldest daughter’s concerns.

Ever since the sudden and tragic loss of Michael, when Dawn was still so young and inexperienced, they had been more than a little worried about her.

When she had finally geared up and decided to go back out to work, they’d been so happy—hopeful that it meant she was heading back to some sense of normalcy. That she had seen her way to getting on with her life.

But that was over ten years ago. And from what they could tell, Dawn still had yet to spend more than twenty minutes with any other man. Over the years they had both tried their hands at matchmaking, set her up with all sorts of men, but none ever satisfied Dawn. There was always something in the way. Or someone.

“Well, she can’t go on like this another ten years, Brenda,” Janice Madison said now. “She’s a healthy, gorgeous thirty-six-year-old woman with so much to…Maybe it’s time we recommend she get some help. You know…professional grief counseling.”

Brenda’s eyes widened. “You know she’ll only shoot it down. The minute anybody so much as mentions anything about Michael, she balks.”

Janice nodded. “Yes, I know. But don’t you see what I see? She’s too wrapped up with Leslie Cavanaugh’s life. Everything’s ‘Leslie this,’ or ‘Leslie that.’ ‘Leslie and Luke this,’ or ‘Leslie and Luke that’. Dawn needs to get her own life. I know they’re friends and all…but moving in because the woman’s husband left her? That’s taking it a trifle too far, don’t you think?”

Brenda nodded. “Yeah, I did think that was weird when she told us. If she had children or a husband to look after, she wouldn’t be able to do crap like that.”

“Exactly.”

“Whatever happened to that guy Lyle Burns?” asked Brenda, wiping off the countertop. “Did she finally run him off for good?”

“Lord, I hope not.”

Chapter 31

Leslie had flowers sent to Ingrid at the hospital in Memphis. She wanted to call her—even going so far as picking up her office phone several times throughout the day, fingers poised to dial—but she couldn’t. Over a decade of shame, dripping from her every pore, kept getting in the way.

•

A week had passed since Luke left.

Leslie was a wreck. She didn’t know how she’d cope if Dawn had not been there to catch her every time she nearly fell into a well of self-pity.

When she was at her worst, not even Kathryn could cheer her, and Dawn had cautioned her about letting the situation affect Kate more than was necessary. It was sage advice, Leslie knew. But how did one deal with their husband walking out?

She hadn’t heard any more from Grace, either, and she was afraid to write to her. But should she? Would it seem like she didn’t care if she didn’t? Dawn said no, that Grace would reach out in her own time.

Luke had not returned to the house since that night. He hadn’t so much as called, but on two occasions Kate came home saying her father had come to school that day and taken her out to lunch.

“When’s he moving back home, Mommy?” she asked one night as Leslie took her temperature. To Leslie’s dismay, the cold seemed to be worsening. “What did you do to him?”

Leslie could only kiss her eight-year-old daughter’s forehead, resting her head upon it.

It was all she could bring herself to do.

•

By the end of the following week, it was clear Kathryn needed to see Dr. Granado, her pediatrician. The cough had worsened; she was wheezing and burning up with fever.

When she took her in, the doctor examined her, and before Leslie knew what happened, Dr. Granado was calling the hospital. What started out as a simple cold was now very likely pneumonia. Kate had to be admitted right away.

To the hospital.

Leslie froze immediately. She simply could not move. Her brain seemed to malfunction.

The hospital.

“Mrs. Cavanaugh?” Dr. Granado looked up from the notes she’d been scribbling. “Did you hear me? You can drive her right over to Palm Beach Children’s. They’re getting a bed ready for her now.”

Slowly, Leslie moved into action.

In the car, she called Luke’s cell phone, leaving a message on his voice mail. “Luke, it’s me…I’m on my way to Palm Beach Children’s Hospital with Katie. I took her to see Dr. Granado and it looks like she’s come down with pneumonia.”

Then she dialed Dawn’s direct number at C&C.

“Good morning; this is Dawn.”

“It’s me. Dr. Granado says it looks like pneumonia. Can you come to the hospital? Please?” She told Dawn where to meet her and then she snapped the cell phone shut.

“Don’t worry, Mommy,” Kate said on a wheeze, seeing her mother’s panicked state. “I’m gonna be okay. Cindy Plankton went into the hospital last month to get her tonsils out, and she came out all better.” The Plankton family owned the largest home on their street.

Leslie looked over at her daughter.

“I’m so very sorry to tell you this…but I don’t have good news.” A long pause. It had seemed an eternity before he said it. “Unfortunately, Mr. Phillips has died…”

•

When she turned in to the hospital, Leslie’s palms moistened. Aside from when she’d had Kate, Leslie had been in a hospital only twice before.

Sweat broke out on her brow. Her hands began to tremble.

She just couldn’t do it again…she simply couldn’t.

•

When Dawn arrived, she spotted Leslie’s Lexus sitting in the turning lane of the hospital’s entrance. Cars coming in from behind realized the SUV was at a standstill, so they were driving around it.

Pulling up alongside her, Dawn blew her horn and rolled her window down. Leslie sat motionless, her head turned toward the passenger seat.

Moving out of the street, Dawn parked along the swale and ran over to knock on the window, her gaze on Kate as the child huddled in her seat. “Leslie?”

Leslie’s head turned and Dawn saw tears on her face. The window came down. “I can’t do it,” said Leslie in a chocked voice. “I can’t take her in!”

•

“Do you know where she went?” Luke asked when he arrived.

Kate had been admitted and settled into a private room, at Luke’s request. He also asked for a cot, so he could stay with her overnight. He phoned his parents, and left messages for his brothers, telling them the news, and they were all on their way. His partners at the firm also promised to come visit Kate. Everyone was worried. Everyone wanted to be at the hospital.

Everyone except Leslie. Everyone except Kate’s mother.

Dawn shook her head. “She just drove off after I took Kathryn from the car. She touched her face, told her she loved her, and asked me to stay with her. Then…she just drove off.”

Luke swore.

“I’m really worried about her, Luke,” Dawn continued. “I think she needs help. Some kind of grief counseling. It’s a long time coming, but I think she definitely needs it.”

“Fuck that,” Luke spat. “This is her daughter! Her daughter! She’s sick as a dog and Leslie just drives off and leaves her in the goddamn parking lot? Un-fucking-believable!”

Chapter 32

The following morning Leslie was at her desk working, checking voice mail when Monica buzzed.

Luke was there to see her.

Leslie’s face went pale. “L-Luke?”

“Uh-huh.”

Her eyes flew to the door. “Uh, s-send him in.”

She stared at the door. Oh, God.

Suddenly it opened and Luke stepped in. He closed the door quietly behind him.

When he spoke, his voice was low and even. She could tell he was working overtime to keep his anger in check. “Why aren’t you at the hospital?”

She stared at him. How could she explain?

He asked again. This time she knew she had better answer.

“Luke, I…I was afraid. More afraid than I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

He walked toward her, rounding the desk. Kneeling before her, he rested his palms on her knees.

The sunlight filtered through the blinds and fell across his handsome face. That terribly familiar face.

“Our eight-year-old daughter is in the hospital with pneumonia—a very serious illness—and you leave her in the parking lot and drive off? Leslie…” He paused, confusion in his eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Her intercom buzzed. “Leslie? Just a reminder that you have the compensation meeting at nine thirty. Room three-oh-one.”

She glanced at her watch and buzzed back. “Monica, call upstairs to Jerry Weiner and tell him to hold the start for me. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

She faced Luke.

“I’m sorry,” she said, taking his hands. Their eyes connected. “You know I love Katie very much…It’s just that…” She tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let her. “I’m just afraid of hospitals. People go in but they don’t come out. You know who comes out instead? The damn doctor. He comes out in a white coat with a dreadful look on his face because…he’s coming to tell you…”

To tell you Jeffrey is dead! she wanted to shout—but she didn’t. She didn’t dare.

Shaking off her hands, Luke stood up. “Kathryn isn’t going to die, Leslie. But she needs her mother. She can’t understand why you just left her there. She can’t understand why you’re not there now.” He held her gaze. “Your daughter needs you,” he whispered. “She’s not going to die. Come with me to the hospital.”

Leslie looked away.

“Right now.”

“Who’s there with her?” she asked. “Is she all alone?” Leslie felt terrible.

“Of course not. Mom’s there now. She’s there with Gillian.” Gillian was his sister-in-law, his brother Evan’s wife. “You should be ashamed—you left her in the goddamn parking lot.”

Anger flashed in Leslie’s eyes. “Will you stop saying that? I did not leave her in the parking lot. Dawn was there. Dawn brought her in.”

Luke’s jaw flexed. “Dawn is not her fucking mother.”

Leslie flinched.

“She’s not my fucking wife, either,” he said. Almost to himself.

Leslie stared at him, stung.

Running his hand through his thick blond hair, he made for the door. “Let’s go. Now. Cancel your meeting. Katie needs you.”

No longer able to deal with the struggle going on within her, Leslie got her purse and followed Luke through the door.

As she passed Monica’s desk she said, “Call Jerry again…tell him to reschedule the meeting. My daughter’s in the hospital.”

•

By the time Kathryn was well enough to leave the hospital, Luke and Leslie had reached an agreement: They would never again argue in front of their daughter. They agreed not to allow their problems to encroach on Kate’s life, or adversely affect her in any way. She would not pick up the tab for their problems.

They had nearly come to blows just outside Kathryn’s room the morning Luke had gone to Leslie’s office.

It got so explosive that Dawn had pulled them both aside, down the hall, and admonished them for behaving so badly. Even the nurses had been shocked. Luke’s anger was becoming increasingly worse. It seemed the mere sight of Leslie sparked is fury.

And his love.

Because no matter how venomous his tone, no matter how scorching his words, it was clear to all who witnessed these arguments: He loved her.

Luke could never keep the love out of his eyes.

Chapter 33

Yet another day, and yet another struggle.

And yet another night without Luke.

The house felt so barren, so empty with him gone. Even with Kathryn and Dawn there, Leslie couldn’t shake the hollow void of Luke’s absence.

Late one evening, when she sat in her office pouring over resumes for a new benefits coordinator, her thoughts inevitably turned to her husband. To Luke.

It had been more than a month since he’d moved out. More than a month.

It had also been more than a month since her trip to meet Grace…and she still hadn’t heard from her daughter. Not a word. Both disappointments weighed heavily on Leslie. The separation from Luke had even begun taking a toll on her appearance. She was swimming in all her designer clothes. She must’ve lost ten pounds since he left.

As the weeks crawled by, she felt guilty about having Dawn stay at the house—practically mothering Leslie and Kate—when she had her own life to tend to. Even Lyle Burns had taken to dropping by on occasion. So she assured Dawn that she had stabilized; her friend really didn’t have to stay any longer.

Not fully convinced, Dawn continued to drop by when she left the office each evening, and helped Leslie with dinner on Evelyn’s days off. Sometimes instead of cooking, they’d pick up takeout and rent chick flicks from Blockbuster.

Eying the clock and deciding to cut out early, Leslie closed her employee database program and decided to quickly scan through the mountain of e-mails inundating her in-box.

Within seconds, she spotted the e-mail from russcrowelover2000.

Grace!

Leslie’s pulse quickened with a jolt of excitement. She rushed to click it open and read.

To: Cavanaugh.Leslie@crystalcleargroup.com

From: Grace C. [mailto:russcrowelover2000@memphcable.com]

Subject: Still too soon

Message: Leslie,

I’m really sorry, but my mom’s so not ready for this. I can see how much pain it’s causing both her and my dad every time I bring you up, and I can’t do that to them. It’s not really what I want to do, but I think it’s the right thing for now not to be in contact with you, out of respect for them.

Yeah, I know technically my mom is my aunt, but she’ll always feel like Mom to me. I hope you can understand all this. I hope I’m saying it the way I mean it. I do want to get to know you better, and my sister and your husband, but this just isn’t the right time yet. Please understand where I’m coming from.

Thanks,

Grace

The excitement disappeared. Leslie clicked off the computer, no longer able to focus on the other e-mails.

Well? What had she been expecting? She didn’t have the right to any expectations where Grace was concerned.

She thought to reply and ask whether or not they could just keep in touch via e-mail, their little secret…

But no.

Her daughter was obviously a loyal child. Her feelings were clear: It would be a betrayal of the people who had raised her, and she was not willing to do that. It made Leslie yearn all the more for a relationship. A principled daughter. She would make any parent proud.

Leslie packed up and walked out of her office, an awful feeling knotting her stomach. She didn’t even bother calling Dawn’s office to see if she’d already left.

Bloomingdale’s. Yes. That would take the edge off. Besides, wasn’t it time she bought clothes that fit?

Leaving the C&C parking lot, Leslie drove directly to the Palm Beach Town Centre.

•

The saleswoman beamed as the classy-looking lady approached the desk, an armful of designer threads on hand.

“Will you need some help getting everything to your car, ma’am?”

“Um…” Leslie assessed her purchases as she laid them over the counter. “No, I think I’ll manage.”

She eyed the Godiva chocolates positioned ever so temptingly on the checkout counter.

Twenty minutes and five shopping bags later, as dusk fell over the Palm Beach sky, she was back out in the mall’s parking lot, stuffing the bags into the trunk of her Lexus. She drove home savoring a silky, delicious chocolate bar while listening to Streisand croon about being a woman in love.

Did she feel any better?

Not anymore.

•

When she got home, Dawn was already there.

And—to her surprise—so was Luke.

At the sight of their cars, she was sure to leave the mass of shopping bags in the trunk.

They were in the kitchen. Leslie could hear their voices as she approached.

“Hi,” she said, joining them. They were standing together near the sink, both showing marked signs of discomfort.

“Hi,” Dawn replied. “What happened? You left without me. I came down and you were gone.”

“Uh…I had a late dentist’s appointment,” she lied. “Lost a filling.”

“Oh. Well, I guess you won’t be eating anything tonight, then…at least not for a few hours.”

“Right,” said Leslie, getting ice and water from the fridge. “I’m wicked thirsty, though. Where’s Katie?”

Her husband remained silent. He simply stood with his arms folded, leaning against the sink, watching her.

“She’s doing her homework,” replied Dawn with an amused look. “I believe she ran up the minute she heard your car door slam.”

Leslie managed an uneasy chuckle.

“Well…uh…okay, then,” Dawn said, moving toward the door. “I think I’ll mosey on out of here and leave you two alone. I picked up Thai food tonight,” she added, indicating the take-out containers.

“Thanks so much, Dawn. You are such a lifesaver.”

Once Dawn was out of earshot, Leslie turned and looked back at Luke, hungry for time alone with him. Their eyes locked over the kitchen table.

“Hi,” she said quietly. It was a plea. She was so glad to see him.

“So…” Luke’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Where did you really go tonight?”

Well, he obviously hadn’t bought her “filling at the dentist” story.

Leslie’s offensive kicked in. “Why are you here tonight, Luke? If you’re not here to tell me that you’re putting an end to this madness and coming back home, then please just go back to wherever you came from—and take your questions with you.”

“Do you really want me back home?”

Leslie frowned. “What kind of question is that? I didn’t ask you to leave.”

“I came to see Katie.”

She looked at him, her eyes pleading, begging him to soften. “Only Katie?”

He didn’t answer.

“Luke, I’m more than willing to beg your forgiveness. There are no more secrets. Can’t you at least try to understand why I couldn’t say anything all these years? I simply couldn’t. Too much time had passed. It was old, buried history.”

Slowly she approached him. God, but he was gorgeous.

Leslie wondered if this was how Jeff would’ve looked, aged fifteen years. Her eyes glazed over, as they did whenever her thoughts turned to Jeffrey.

She reached out, gently laying each of her palms on Luke’s chest. “Please forgive me?”

He was wearing a suit and tie. Armani. He must’ve had a client meeting or other such engagement today. He looked good. He smelled good.

She placed her hands inside his jacket and ran them over the taut muscles of his chest, caressing them. “I miss you so much. You know I do.” Tears filled her eyes. She was so tired of tears. Tired of coping. “Please stop this torture. Come back home where you belong. I need you. Katie needs you.”

He actually laughed. “That’s it? Just a few sweet apologies and a few quick rolls in the hay make the sins of the past go away?”

A hurt look crossed Leslie’s face. Her hands dropped to her sides. “You’re mocking my pain.” Shrinking in the face of his bitterness—she hadn’t the strength to withstand it—she turned to leave the kitchen. “I’m going to check on Kate. We’re not going to argue this with her in the house. You know the way out.”

With that, she quietly walked out of their kitchen, leaving him standing there, having only the strength to watch her go.

•

“Hi, honey.”

“Hi, Mom,” said Kathryn.

Leslie entered her daughter’s bedroom and switched off the television. “How can you concentrate on your homework if Jimmy Neutron’s buzzing all over the place on the television screen?”

“It’s easy,” Kate said, tapping her pencil against the palm of her hand. She was sitting up in bed, Indian-style, with her notebook and science text opened in front of her.

“Hey, Mom, did you know ‘prepitation’ means the same thing as rain? And there’s, like, lots of different types of clouds up in the sky? I always thought they were just big white balls of cotton or something, but they all have a different name.” She then proceeded to show off her cloud knowledge—pronouncing the majority of them incorrectly, of course.

Leslie laughed. “That’s great, sweetheart. Is that what your homework’s about today?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, good girl,” she said, kissing her forehead. “You finish up and leave it on the desk so your dad and I…” She paused. “So I can check it when you’re done.”

“Did Daddy leave again? Without saying good-bye to me?”

“Um, yeah, I think he probably is gone by now, honey.” She smoothed Kate’s hair. “But you can always call him up tomorrow and yell at him.”

“Is he ever gonna come back and live with us again, Mom?”

Leslie didn’t know what to say. So she told the truth.

“I don’t know, honey. I really don’t know.”

•

When her mom left the room, Kate Cavanaugh quickly tossed her books to one side and went to peer out her bedroom window.

Her dad’s Porsche was still sitting out in the driveway.

Smiling, Kate dutifully went back to her homework.

Chapter 34

Luke had not been able to drive away.

Shortly after Leslie walked out, he too had left the kitchen and gone out to his car. Angrily, he’d slid into the front seat, jammed the key into the ignition…

But he’d been unable to turn it. Unable to leave.

Damn her. Damn her straight to hell!

Not knowing how to handle the onslaught of feelings coursing through him, he’d reached for his cell phone and called Evan.

“Well, you know what I think,” his brother had said for the umpteenth time. “Divorce her, Luke. There’s always been something a little off about that woman. Now we find out she has a kid no one ever knew existed…with a dead husband who could damn near pass for your twin brother. Not to mention what she did at the hospital the other day. I say get out while the getting’s good. Hell, get out while you’re still sane!”

He’d hung up after the ten-minute call feeling even worse, and he hadn’t thought that was even possible.

Leaving made perfect sense. He’d done that.

Divorce made even better sense. But was he ready to do that?

How could he ever trust her again? And what kind of woman abandoned her own baby when it needed her most? The kind of woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with? The kind he had married?

Before he could stop himself Luke had left the car, set the alarm, and slipped back into the house.

•

Once back inside he stood at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the banister. Thinking. Trying to think.

She said she wanted him back in the house. She even looked like she had been missing him, her sudden weight loss evident. She wanted their marriage to work. Wanted him to forgive her. But could he? Was she hiding anything else?

Had she essentially married him only because he bore a striking resemblance to Jeffrey Phillips?

Their entire marriage flashed before Luke’s eyes, the familiar pang of pain surging through him again.

He could not bear the thought. The idea that his wife had spent the last eleven years using him as some sort of twisted coping mechanism…

Taking a deep breath, he started up the stairs, loosening his tie as he went.

When he entered their cozy bedroom, the lamps were on, but the room was empty. He found her in her dressing room, brushing her hair at the vanity. She was virtually naked, clad in only a light blue silk bra and matching thong panties. Her smooth, pale skin shimmered under the lights.

After all these years, he still had a deliciously feral reaction to her body.

Leslie jumped when he walked in, gasping as her eyes caught his in the mirror.

Their gazes locked and held.

“What are you still doing here?” Her breathing was uneven. She was surprised, but visibly glad to see he hadn’t left.

“Am I the one you’ve loved all these years?” His tone was low, laden with desperation.

Laying the brush on the vanity, Leslie stood and came to stand in front of him. “Oh, Luke.”

Luke felt his entire body tense. His breath caught as he stared into her eyes. She was too close, damn her. Too close.

Softly she said, “Of course I’ve loved you, Luke. Please stop doubting that. Don’t ever, ever doubt our love and what we’ve shared. You and I.”

God, he wanted to believe her. He needed to believe her.

Raising his arms, he pulled her toward him, settling each hand on the curves of her shapely hips. “I hate myself right now. I hate myself for loving you so much.”

“Don’t,” she whispered, her eyes pleading with his. “Don’t hate yourself. I’m your wife. I’m all yours.” She pulled his head down and gently kissed his parted lips. “And I always will be.” Then she melded their mouths.

Luke groaned, and his hands left her hips, slipping around to her buttocks. Kneading the supple flesh, he drew her up against him, settling her middle against his and crushing her breasts against the rock-solid wall of his chest.

As their kiss deepened, Leslie rubbed herself against his hardness. “Take me to our bed, Luke.” She started to pull away, her green eyes smoky with need.

He ignored her.

Undoing his pants, Luke backed her into the opposite wall.

He yanked off her silk thong, his fingers finding her clit, moist and at attention.

Inhaling swiftly, Leslie’s eyes closed.

He began caressing it, watching her every expression as pleasure rippled through her.

Her moans made him grow harder.

Luke pinned her against the wall. “Who am I?” he asked roughly.

She parted her thighs, ready for him. “Luke,” she breathed.

“Look at me.”

Her eyes fluttered open, her pupils drunk with pleasure.

“Who am I?”

Leslie pressed her lips against his. “Luke,” she murmured. “Luke, Luke, Luke.”

She reached for him.

Raising her leg, she guided his penis to her dripping vagina. She stared into his eyes, her gaze raw and hungry. “I know who you are…but why don’t you show me anyhow?”

With one deep, swift stroke, Luke showed her.

Her arms went around his neck and she panted, “Oh, God, yes. It’s been too long, Luke.” Her voice lowered in pleasure. “Too long.”

He began moving inside her. Her body tightened rhythmically, suckling him. Luke thought he was going to die. No woman had ever felt the way Leslie did. Entering her body was like entering her mind…for an all too brief time.

They kissed. They tongued.

He whispered how good she felt as he ground into her again and again. She whispered how much she missed him. How much she loved and needed him. She begged him not to leave her again.

When Luke came, it gushed so hard he saw stars.

And with that sweet, soul-draining release, the conflicting emotions seemed to flow right out of him.

Only the love remained.

•

“Feel better?” she asked, caressing the small of his back. He was still snugly nestled inside of her.

He chuckled. “What do you mean?”

“You looked pretty bad when you came in.”

“I felt pretty bad when I came in.”

“So…I’ll ask again. Feel better?”

His face became serious. “Yes,” he said softly, dropping a kiss on her lips. “I feel a lot better.”

Leslie kissed his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t say that enough.”

“Do you have any more secrets, Les? Anything else I should know about?”

She shook her head. “No more secrets, Luke. I promise. But—” She broke off.

He raised himself up, searching her eyes. “What?”

“Grace may want a relationship with me one day, Luke.”

“What—so she doesn’t now? What happened when you went to Memphis?”

“It went well when we met, but…she sent me an e-mail. In it she explains that she tried telling her parents about being in touch with me, but they didn’t react well. She says she doesn’t want to hurt them, so we should give it some time.”

“Well…that’s understandable, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, but—”

“But what? You need a relationship with her.”

She nodded. “Yes, Luke.”

“I don’t get it. What if Jeff’s mother had never contacted you? Why is this suddenly so important?”

“I don’t know. I can’t really explain it, but now that I’ve met her, now that she’s real again…I can’t help but want to get to know her, honey. And have her get to know me.”

Get to know you? thought Luke. I can’t even get to know you.

“And, of course…I feel so damned guilty. I couldn’t bear the thought of her hating me. When she was in the past, it was one thing…but now that she’s back in my life—”

“It makes it all too real.”

“Exactly. I feel awful for leaving her. She was my baby. I should’ve taken her with me, Luke.”

Luke said nothing. Though he knew better than to admit it, he was glad the kid had opted to stay away. He didn’t think he was quite ready to face Leslie’s skeleton head-on. To have the ebb and flow of their lives so dramatically disturbed.

Not to mention Kathryn. Luke worried about the effect it would have on their daughter. Since her birth she’d been the center of her mother’s attention. Her sole focus. How would she feel about an older sister—her mother’s true firstborn child—entering the family?

Leslie was kissing him again. “Hmm. I’m so glad you stayed tonight.” She pressed her hips against him. She felt him growing hard, deliciously stretching her body once again. “Make love to me again, Luke,” she breathed. “Make love to me until the sun comes up. I’ve missed you so much…”

Lowering his head, Luke drew a dark, pink nipple into his mouth.

Leslie sighed his name.

My name, he thought, claiming her. And my wife.

Chapter 35

The following day, Luke moved back home.

Kathryn was thrilled, Leslie relieved. She didn’t know how much longer she could’ve weathered the strain of Luke running out on her. Even the neighbors had begun to wonder. She’d taken to telling everyone who asked that Luke had been traveling a lot, scouting sites for his next big building project. She had even told that to their cook, Evelyn Tremaine, keeping her at bay out of shame. Thank goodness Dawn had been around to help out with dinner every night.

As the months flew by and they resumed their daily routines, Leslie’s thoughts often turned to Grace. How was she doing with school? Did she have a boyfriend? Was she still getting along with her parents?

When her birthday rolled around in May, her sixteenth, Leslie wrestled with the idea of sending her a gift.

Would it be welcomed? Now that they were in touch, would it be seen as neglectful if she didn’t send something? Acknowledge it in some way?

“Why don’t you send her a gift certificate? Online,” Dawn suggested.

“You mean, like, to her e-mail address? Why, yes, that’s a great idea! That way I don’t have worry about Beth seeing any packages from me.”

Uncertain of Grace’s tastes, Leslie wasn’t sure where to purchase the certificate. “Would it be tacky to send it from a restaurant, someplace that has a chain in Memphis? Like Chili’s or TGI Friday’s?”

“Yeah…you could do that, but what about Amazon? They sell everything from CDs to clothing. She could use it to buy almost anything she wanted.”

Tilting her head, Leslie smiled appreciatively at Dawn. “What would I do without you?”

“I don’t know,” said Dawn, laughing. “Let’s hope we never have to find out!”

•

Two days later, she got a response from Grace.

Leslie had decided to send two $500 gift certificates: one from Amazon.com and the other from one of Leslie’s favorite spots for beauty products and perfumes, Sephora.com. Teenagers loved that place.

Delighted to get such a quick response, Leslie clicked open the e-mail.

To: Cavanaugh.Leslie@crystalcleargroup.com

From: Grace C. [mailto:russcrowelover2000@memphcable.com]

Subject: Re: Leslie Cavanaugh has sent you a gift certificate!

Message: Dear Leslie,

Thank you so much for the birthday gifts. I love gift certificates! Especially Sephora, it’s awesome! Absolutely the coolest place…it’s, like, the first place my friends and I go to when we hit the malls. Thanks!

My mom threw me a great party and it was a blast. All my friends were there, and my boyfriend, CJ, got to come, too. My dad’s been giving us a hard time, but he says now that I’m sixteen, he’ll lighten up, so they let CJ come, and it was cool. I guess it’ll get easier for us to see each other now.

Anyway, I was a little sad last month on my uncle Jeff’s birthday. I remembered. It’s really weird to think of him as Dad because I grew up thinking of him as uncle Jeff. Anyway, knowing he died the very next day made me sad, I guess. I looked at his picture a lot that day…I have it on the mirror in my room. I wish I’d known him. Grandma’s always missed him a lot. Now I miss him like that, too.

Anyway, I’m rambling in this message, I know, but thanks again for remembering my birthday; it means a lot. And thanks for not mailing anything to our house.

Sincerely,

Grace

Should I respond? Leslie wondered. No, don’t push it.

But she was filled with a sense of sadness. She had a sixteen-year-old daughter with a full, active life.

And it was going on without her.

•

“I got an e-mail from Grace today.”

Luke froze.

They hadn’t spoken of Grace—or her father—since Luke had moved back into the house. He would have preferred to keep it that way. Luke could more than do without the reminders.

He feigned interest. “Oh, really?”

“Yes. Her birthday was on the eleventh and I sent her a couple of online gift certificates.”

“That was thoughtful of you.”

“Thanks,” she replied, winking.

They were in Luke’s car, driving back from taking Kate to a sleepover with a friend from school, Holly Samson. They now had the house all to themselves.

“You know,” said Leslie, changing the subject. She must’ve sensed his discomfort. “I have some vacation time. Let’s go somewhere…How about we take a trip to Acapulco? Or the Bahamas?”

Luke thought about it. “Would we bring Kate along?”

“No, no, no—this is just for the two of us. I’m sure Dawn wouldn’t mind having Katie stay with her while we were gone. We could go for a week, maybe even two.”

“I don’t know. Things are pretty busy right now. Evan and I have several university seminars and lectures lined up, and don’t forget the Silver Towers Complex,” he said, referring to the pavilion his firm, Kateslie-Evans Architects, Inc., had envisioned and designed, and were in the process of erecting. “I’m keeping a very close eye on that project.”

“Are you telling me that Evan can’t keep the wheels spinning for you so you can have two weeks’ vacation with your wife? You could always keep in touch, Luke. Bring your laptop even…just come away with me. Let’s go have some fun.”

•

“Aunt Dawn? How come you live all alone? All by yourself?”

Luke and Leslie had taken off for the Bahamas, and Dawn had just picked Kate up from her friend Holly Samson’s house, where she went after school. They had stopped off at Papa John’s to get pizza for dinner.

“Well…” Dawn said, caught off guard, “I like living alone, pumpkin. And I have my husband, Michael, with me, so I’m not really all alone.”

“Michael? But isn’t Michael dead?”

What in the…? Dawn took a deep breath.

Goddamn it. Was the kid taking lessons from her mother on ways to rub it in? “Yes, Katie, he died a while ago, but he’s still alive to me. I keep him alive in my heart.”

“Oh,” Kate replied, her forehead relaxed with understanding. “Is that why you have his pictures up everywhere?”

“Yes, it keeps his memory alive.”

“So how come Mom doesn’t keep pictures of her dead husband around?”

Dawn couldn’t help a chuckle. “Well, I don’t think your dad would appreciate that, do you?”

Thinking about it, Kate should her head. “Probably not. He might get jealous! Like Bobby Franco got jealous when I drew a picture of Scott Gallagher in class!” She giggled.

“You like Scott Gallagher?”

“Yeah, he’s cute.”

“Does he like you?”

Kate shrugged. “I don’t know. Holly says she likes him too, but I don’t want him to like her. I want him to like me.”

“Don’t you think you’re a little young to want boys to like you?”

Kate blushed.

Smiling, Dawn tousled her curly, blond hair. “Don’t worry, squirt. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Chapter 36

Memphis, Tennessee

“Daddy and I would prefer if you didn’t, Grace…and we’re only trying to look out for your best interests here.”

Grace smiled at her mother. “I know, Mom. I just really wish you guys could understand why I’d like to get to know her some.”

“But what if you end up getting hurt, or let down?” her father, Billy, said, shifting on the sofa. “Remember she didn’t get in touch with you. If your grandmother hadn’t tracked her down and gotten in touch with her, she’d still be down there in Florida sittin’ pretty with her new life. Doesn’t that count for anything, Gracie?”

“Look, I know all that. But…she called, didn’t she? She remembered my birthday and she sent me gifts. Doesn’t that count for something, at least?”

“She sent you gifts?” Beth asked, her eyes widening in surprise. “Well, when was this? What’d she send you?”

“She sent me a thousand dollars in gift certificates. I thought it was really nice of her.”

“Nice of her?” her father thundered, now very angry. “Nice of her? How nice of her was it when she ran off and left you here in Memphis without so much as a phone call to see if you’d had SIDS, or gotten smothered in your sleep or something? Not one phone call in fifteen years, and now a gift certificate and a few apologies are supposed to erase all that?”

Her mother started to cry.

“Think, Grace,” said Billy, quieting down. “She didn’t try to find you. She did not contact you. For all you know—for all any of us knows—she probably never would have.”

Grace turned her head and she, too, started crying. She stared down at the living room carpet. It became a blur.

Needless to say, her dad’s words stung. They were too true. What would have happened if Grandma Ingrid hadn’t contacted Leslie? The question had been haunting Grace since meeting her birth mother.

What if Leslie Cavanaugh hadn’t gotten that call? How long would Grace have remained in the dark?

Grace had fantasies about it. She liked thinking that her grandmother had simply beaten Leslie to the punch. That she’d just been waiting for Grace’s sweet sixteen to make contact, or to call and check up on her. That had to be it. It simply had to be. She seemed like such a nice woman. She had only been waiting for the right time…

Right?

•

That night, while lying across her bed clutching printouts of Leslie’s e-mails, Grace made the decision.

Her parents would just have to understand. She was in no way ungrateful for what they’d done for her, and she would never do anything to hurt them. She loved them very much, and nothing would ever change that.

But something inside was calling out to her real mother. Something organic and strong. She needed a connection with her. Needed to know who she was. Needed to somehow become a part of her life.

Grace remembered the beautiful woman that was her “real” mother. The way she smiled. The way she held her head to one side as she listened. The expensive clothes, the regal air about her. The unforgettable laugh.

She remembered Leslie Cavanaugh.

Her mother.

Chapter 37

Abaco, Bahamas

They were in paradise.

Their travel agent had found them a hideaway on a bluff high above the Atlantic Ocean. Bluff House Beach Hotel was the perfect place for Luke and Leslie to seclude themselves for a period of rest, relaxation, and intense lovemaking.

They occupied a private villa nestled among beautiful hibiscus, chrysanthemums, and exquisite landscaping.

There was no television. No distractions. Just a beautiful private beach, breathtaking sunrise and sunset, and the two of them—alone for ten fun-filled days and ten sex-filled nights.

Luke had brought along his laptop, but as he’d promised, he kept his use of it to a minimum, which was likely due to the fact that Leslie used his computer time to shop at the hotel’s attractive boutiques. Sometimes she’d even rent a golf cart and go cruising through town, sightseeing. Somehow, she always managed to find a shop with some great, unique trinket she simply had to buy.

Hence, Luke was sure to keep his work time to a minimum.

•

“What do you think about having another baby?” Luke asked one night after they had made love. They lay listening to the rhythmic whoosh of the ocean waves lapping the shore. Her back was tucked snugly against his chest. “I’d love a son.”

Leslie turned in his arms, her fiery hair framing her face. “I’m thirty-five now, Luke. I think I’m past the bottle-and-diaper stage. And look at you,” she said, smacking his bottom. “You’ll be forty next year.”

“Forty-year-old men have babies all the time, Leslie…and so do forty-year-old women, for that matter.”

She laughed. “Yeah, and when the kid’s ten, they’re fifty! Um, no, thank you. If you wanted a son, you should’ve spoken up a couple of years ago. I’m over-the-hill now.” She kissed him. “Sorry—can’t fill that order.”

“Well, you never know,” Luke murmured against her lips. “We’ve been screwing like minks—it could happen.” He cupped her breast, gently rolling the nipple between his fingers.

“Hmm…” Leslie sighed, her thighs parting for another round. “Yeah…I suppose it could.”

It was the perfect getaway. And they felt closer to each other than ever before. Their spending this time completely alone together had been just what their marriage needed.

Luke forgot all of his fears and insecurities regarding Leslie’s reasons for marrying him. And Leslie’s anxieties and worries over losing Luke to the secrets of her past disappeared. They couldn’t have been more satisfied and relaxed with each other.

That is, until they left the magical island of Abaco, and returned home.

•

West Palm Beach, Florida

The delicate truce was ruined in short order.

Their return from the Bahamas ushered in the return of the fears and insecurities, back to gnaw away at Luke’s trust in Leslie—and Leslie’s faith in Luke. Now the waves of peril threatened to drown the family.

Upon their homecoming, Leslie received another e-mail from Grace.

She wanted to visit her father’s—her real father’s—burial site, and she was asking Leslie to accompany her. She wrote:

I already got my parents to understand why I have to do this. I guess I need to fill in the blanks so I’m sure I know who I really am, you know? My mom offered to go with me, but I told her it was a trip I needed to make with you. She didn’t understand that at first, and it still hurts her feelings and I’m sorry for that, but she’ll see that it won’t change anything between us. She’ll always be my mom. Do you understand it? I hope I’m making sense.

Anyway, would you be willing to take me to Clearwater? Or I could fly there directly and we could meet at the cemetery? I hope it’s not too much to ask, but I’d really like to visit him.

Sincerely,

Grace

•

“I don’t like it,” said Luke stiffly.

Leslie had gotten hold of him on his cell phone to read him the e-mail.

“What difference does it make,” he asked, “whether she goes with you or with her mother?”

“I am her mother, Luke.”

“Yeah? Since when?”

That stung. Leslie hung up the phone.

•

Later, shortly after tucking Kate in, Leslie took a bath and went to bed early. Luke was downstairs working in his office. They had been very cool with each other the entire evening, and naturally Kate had picked up on it. It amazed Leslie how perceptive her daughter was.

At dinner she’d asked, “Are you and Daddy mad at each other again?”

“No, honey! What would make you think that?”

“Nothing,” she’d replied, but her downcast eyes and body language said otherwise. But neither Leslie nor Luke had had the heart to take the issue any further.

Now, as she lay in bed with a Tess Gerritsen paperback, Leslie thought about Grace’s request.

Could she do it? Could she actually visit Jeffrey’s grave? She wasn’t sure.

In all the years since he’d been gone, the thought had never so much as crossed her mind. She’d never once thought of going within ten miles of Clearwater, much less going anywhere near Jeff’s grave.

But things needed to be different now, didn’t they? At least for Grace’s sake.

“Listen, I’m sorry about today.”

Leslie jumped at the sound of Luke’s deep voice. She hadn’t heard him come into the bedroom.

“I guess I’m not a hundred percent used to the idea of…well, you know…” He trailed off, clearing his throat. He looked at her. “To be honest, I don’t know if I ever will be.”

Leslie closed the book, placing it on the nightstand. “So, what exactly are you saying?”

“I’m just saying that it’s a tough pill to swallow. Here we had our nice little china shop and your past comes crashing through like a bull—destroying everything.”

“Luke, didn’t our time in the Bahamas mean anything? We talked so much about all this. About my feelings for Grace…and even for Jeffrey. I thought you understood. I thought we’d achieved some sort of”—she waved her hand around, groping for the right word—“I thought we’d reconciled this.”

Luke nodded, agreeing. “You’re right. I’m overreacting. It’s entirely up to you. If you want to go with her to Clearwater, I won’t try to stop you. Go ahead and go.”

The tension left Leslie’s face. She sighed in relief. “Thank you. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“So, did you reply to her?”

“Not yet. Partly because of you…but also…” She shrugged.

“What?”

“I…I just don’t want to open a door that might invite more strain on our marriage,” she lied. Well, it wasn’t actually a lie, but Leslie realized it would be a dreadful mistake to admit her fear of facing Jeffrey again after all these years. It would be a bitter, dreadful mistake. She could never tell him that.

“Well, as I said, it’s completely up to you. I’ll stay out of it.”

“I think I’ll go,” she said pensively. “I figure it’s the least I can do under—”

“Yeah,” Luke said, heading for the shower. “The least.”

Chapter 38

“Didn’t it freak you out at first? How much your husband looks like Uncle Jeffrey?”

“Yes,” Leslie answered, remembering. “It did. Very much.”

If Grace had thought to ask any more about it, the look on Leslie’s face must’ve made her decide against it. Instead she said, “I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“Oh?” said Leslie, feigning surprise. “What gave you that impression?”

Grace shrugged. “Uh…not sure. He just seemed…he seemed sort of standoffish, I guess.”

“Ah, don’t think anything of it. That’s just how Luke is. I assure you it’s nothing personal.” But in truth, Leslie had cringed at just how standoffish Luke had been, meeting Grace for the first time.

Leslie had suggested Grace fly to West Palm so she could meet Luke and Kate; then they’d make the nearly four-hour drive up to Clearwater.

Despite his consenting to having Grace come to their home, it was obvious that Luke was in no way ready to accept Grace as part of the family. He’d greeted the girl stiffly; curt but polite.

Even her dear, sweet Kate, apparently attuned to her father’s vibes, had been reserved, although gracious to her half sister. Kate had been unable to hide her curiosity about Grace.

Leslie had simply stood there, feeling terribly uncomfortable. She’d felt badly for Grace, who’d seemed so excited to meet her husband and daughter. She had been very gracious and bubbly, jazzed about being in Florida. She told them that it was her first visit to the Sunshine State.

Now, as Leslie’s Lexus sailed westward bound along the interstate toward the opposite coast of Florida, Grace sitting beside her, she noticed the cheerfulness had vanished. Grace was now subdued and quite distant. Her head rested against the headrest, and she was gazing out the window.

“What are you thinking about,” asked Leslie cautiously.

She turned to look in Leslie’s direction. “Oh…nothing much.” She hesitated. “About my dad, I guess.”

Leslie smiled. Her face lit up like it hadn’t in years. “Oh, Grace…your dad was the best. I’ll never forget the day I first met him. It was at a college party—which I had no business being at, by the way—but I always knew that it was fate. I snuck out of the house that night to be there so that Jeffrey Phillips and I could meet. It was—”

She broke off suddenly, surprised at herself. At her candidness. She gripped the steering wheel.

She’d never spoken of these things with anyone. Ever.

“It was what?” asked Grace. She’d obviously been engrossed in Leslie’s reminiscence.

Leslie blinked several times, the memories hitting her like a physical assault. “Um…” To her horror, tears filled her eyes. Before she could stop them her face was wet.

Grace touched her hand. “Hey, I’m so sorry. Please don’t cry. We don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want to. It’s okay…Hey; we can just talk about something else. I’m sorry I mentioned him.”

“Nonsense,” said Leslie dismissively. She reached into the armrest and pulled out some tissue. “We’re going to visit him—what else would we talk about?” She dried her face. “No, it’s fine. I don’t mind talking about Jeff. It’s just painful…even now. That’s all.”

“To be honest, I’d really like to hear more about your time with him. Maybe then I can get to know him better as my dad…rather than an uncle.”

Pulling herself together, Leslie collected her thoughts. She glanced over a Grace, briefly taking her eyes from the road.

Jeff’s daughter.

Leslie could see Jeff’s mouth and jawline in her profile. She was so gorgeous. This was their child. This was the baby she’d been carrying in her belly. All the nights they’d been up, sitting in bed, Jeff caressing her stomach and, in the later months, massaging her aching back.

Here she was. Grace.

“Well,” Leslie began in a quiet voice, “your dad rescued me. I don’t think he ever really knew it, but he had. He so understood me. And he appreciated every little thing. If you held a door open for him, he’d want to buy you lunch or something. He was just that thoughtful and kind. When I met him I was going through hell at home. I lived in foster home. My mother had me while in prison—I’m not sure what for—but I was turned over to the state, and I later heard that she died shortly after I was born. I guess it must’ve been from complications of the birth, but anyhow, I ended up in foster care, and it just so happened that I wasn’t bounced around like a lot of other kids. The Brenners were the only parents I ever knew.”

“Were they nice people,” asked Grace. “Good parents?”

Leslie grimaced. “You know…sometimes I wished I had been bounced around. No, they weren’t nice people. Mrs. Brenner—I could never bring myself to think of her as my mother—she was a drunk. All she did was drink her sorrows away. She drank when the sun was up; she drank when the sun was down. And when she drank, she was mean, so you can imagine what she was like to live with. Then Mr. Brenner…well, he was never home. I think he just couldn’t deal with the drinking and the meanness. So we kids—there were five of us total—just had to learn how to get through each day.” Leslie paused, drained by the memories. She had never spoken of that time in her life with anyone before…except Jeffrey.

“So,” she continued. “When your father asked me to marry him, I simply left. I packed my bags, changed my address at the post office, and never looked back.”

Leslie thought she saw Grace flinch, but couldn’t be sure. She herself wished that she could take back that last part. It had been an insensitive thing to say.

There was an uneasy silence.

Leslie did not know how to continue. Should she apologize? Or would that serve only to call superfluous attention to the statement?

To her relief, Grace said, “That must’ve been great—finally getting out of that unhappy house.”

“Oh, it was, Grace. It was. Jeff and I were so happy. We were perfect for each other. Then I got pregnant. He was beside himself. Started acting like a complete idiot.”

“They always told me that my Uncle Jeff was an Elvis Presley nut. Tell me about that.”

Leslie’s heart fluttered. Would that ever stop? “We went to Memphis to surprise Ingrid with the news that I was pregnant. Jeff thought it would be a fun idea. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when we told her.” She paused, remembering. “The next day, Ingrid asked if I’d ever been to Graceland, and I hadn’t, so we went. Well…the shuttle bus picked us up from across the street and drove us over. Those big music gates opened and we went up this long winding driveway that led up to the front of the mansion.

“We went in, and there was a nice, chubby lady acting as a tour guide. It was very nice; I really enjoyed seeing where the King lived. I was about ten or eleven years old when he died, and I remember Mrs. Brenner saying that the Colonel had caused the undoing of Elvis. I never knew what she meant and didn’t much care to know, really, but after your father went through those gates and toured that house and Elvis’s grave, he soaked up any- and everything there was to be known about Elvis Presley. Then he started explaining about his relationship with Colonel Tom Parker, his Memphis Mafia guys, blah, blah, blah. Let’s just say I learned a lot more about Elvis Presley than I had ever wanted to know, much more than was necessary.”

Grace laughed. “I know. I kind of had the same thing happen to me. Since I was named after Graceland, I’m sort of…I don’t know, it’s kinda weird…I’m, like, drawn to it. My mom took me there when I was younger, and I still go there, like, once a year with some of my friends. Now it’s a self-guided tour; they give you headsets and you hear cool stuff in Elvis’s voice and his daughter Lisa Marie’s.”

Leslie smiled. “Oh, now, Jeff would’ve loved that. Yes, it is a lovely place. And your father sure fell in love with it. He said Elvis Presley Boulevard was the Eighth Wonder of the world!”

As they ate up the miles, the conversation shifted toward Grace and her life growing up in Memphis. She loved her brother and sister. As with most siblings, they didn’t always get along, but they’d had a great childhood. They always had big family gatherings at Thanksgiving and Christmas. They had parties for everyone’s birthday every year, and they took yearly family vacations.

Her best friend was the one who had driven her to the Marriott that evening to meet Leslie. Her name was Cindy Aegean, and she’d just turned eighteen. Grace confessed that she was counting the days until she turned the big one-eight.

“Honey, don’t rush it. I promise you—it’ll come and go so quickly you won’t know what happened. I was nineteen when I had you…Where does the time go?”

Grace fell silent.

“So…” Leslie said, wanting to get her talking again. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Well…we’re in a snit right now, but yeah. Remember I wrote you about him coming to my party?”

Leslie slapped her forehead. “Yes, of course—CJ. I remember now. What happened?”

“He’s pushing me to…you know. And we got into an argument.”

“Oh! Believe me, I know about that. Don’t let him guilt you into it, either. It has to be with the absolute, no-doubt-whatsoever, right one. I waited…and I ended up having Jeff be my first. I’m glad for that.”

“You really loved him, didn’t you?”

“More than you know.” Leslie stared at the road. It was a beautiful, sunny Saturday morning.

She remembered Jeff as he’d been that day in the park: happy, full of life, full of energy…

Grace started talking again, drawing her attention back to her life in Memphis. Billy and Beth had apparently been model parents.

“They did tell me that my uncle Jeff had left a trust fund for me because he hadn’t had any children of his own…” Her voice faltered. “Boy, it’s amazing when I think about it. All those years…nothing was the truth, really.”

“I can imagine it must have been quite a shock,” said Leslie, her eyes trained on the road, “when they told you everything. Quite a shock.”

She saw Grace nod. “Yep. It sure was. Such a shock that at first I thought they were kidding. But they weren’t kidding at all. I’d been lied to my whole life. I don’t even see what the big deal was. Why couldn’t they have just told me the truth? That my mom was my aunt. That dead Uncle Jeff was really my dad. Even after all the rumors I heard growing up.”

She regressed into the quiet pensiveness once again.

Leslie focused on driving. She didn’t trust herself to say anything more.

•

After Leslie and Grace had driven off, Luke had looked down at Katie.

“Well...” he began, searching for appropriate words. “She was nice enough…right, sweetheart?”

She nodded, wringing her hands. “Yeah, nice…And did you see how she looks just like Mom? How come I don’t look like Mom the way she does? She has the same green eyes and everything.” Kate sulked. “I was her daughter first.”

“Actually, honey,” he said, stooping before her. “Grace was her daughter first, because she was born before you were and she’s older than you are. But that has nothing to do with how you both look. Grace just happened to get more of your mom’s features, and you got more of mine.”

“Oh,” Kate had said, as if she understood. But in her eyes, Luke saw that she didn’t understand at all.

•

“She was extremely bothered by it,” he told Dawn. He’d gone into his office to phone her.

“She’ll be fine. She’s young; it’s natural for her to feel a bit jealous about it.” Dawn paused. “So…Grace favors Leslie that much in the flesh, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Luke, booting up his laptop. “She’s definitely Leslie’s daughter. No question there. I’m just concerned about where this is headed, you know? How it’s likely to start affecting us…”

Dawn was silent for a moment. “Don’t worry. I’ll call her in a little while to see how things are going. It’s a long drive—they have plenty of time to talk. So it’ll be interesting to hear what’s discussed…and what isn’t.”

“Thanks, Dawn. I think it’s safe to say you’d probably get more out of her than I would at this point. Keep me in the loop.”

“Will do…Good-bye, Luke.”

•

Dawn dropped the cell phone into her purse. She decided to wait a bit before checking in with Leslie.

Toying with the box of Cheerios in her hand, her sister eyed her suggestively. They were out doing their usual Saturday-morning shopping.

Dawn bit the bait. “Okay, what?”

“What do you mean ‘okay what’?” Brenda tossed the cereal into her cart.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Dawn snapped in irritation. She continued pushing the cart down the isle.

“Why are you so involved with those people’s lives?”

“Why are you so involved with mine?”

“That’s just it,” Brenda retorted. “Maybe if you had a life of your own, you wouldn’t always be in theirs. Every time I turn around…” She trailed off. “By the way, does Leslie know you spend so much time talking to her husband—behind her back? Does she know you’re like his little spy or something?”

“What are you talking about?” Dawn demanded, incredulous. “I’m not a spy.”

“Well, I’m not convinced,” said Brenda, tossing a couple boxes of Quaker oatmeal into the cart. “What was that call about just now?”

“Mind your business, Brenda.”

Her sister said nothing more. They continued shopping in silence, neither one trusting herself to speak further.

When they got out to the parking lot, Dawn finally caved. She realized an explanation was needed. “Okay, listen,” she said as they packed the groceries into their car trunks. “He just worries about her, that’s all—and I do, too. I guess you could say that I’ve become his friend as much as Leslie’s. Does that make any sense?”

Brenda looked at her. “I’m worried about you, Dawn. I’m worried that you’re wasting your life away.” She hesitated. “It’s like you’re using the Cavanaugh’s problems to occupy your time…to fill up your life. You don’t even keep in touch with any of your old friends. Everything’s about Leslie and Luke Cavanaugh.”

Dawn inhaled deeply. Her sister had a point. It did seem that way, didn’t it?

She had to do damage control. And fast.

“You’re right,” she finally agreed, her tone solemn. “You’re absolutely right.”

It was time to put a call in to Lyle. Dawn hoped he hadn’t given up on her for good this time.

•

“Gosh…I really wish I could’ve known him.”

“Me, too.”

They had reached the graveyard around noon and were now standing over Jeffrey Phillips’s granite headstone, both in tears. Though there were a few visitors scattered about, the atmosphere was calm, serene, and very, very quiet.

The stillness of a graveyard was very unique, certainly unlike any other. Leslie could feel an overwhelming reverence for the dead, just hanging in the air. Despite the brightly shining sun, the rustling of the trees with the wind coming off of the nearby sea, an eerie quiet prevailed.

They both spent a few silent minutes staring at the headstone.

In Loving Memory

JEFFERY ROY PHILLIPS

April 14, 1959 - April 15, 1985

“Wow,” Grace said dramatically, her eyes glistening. “I didn’t think I’d get this emotional.”

Leslie remained silent. She couldn’t have spoken if she’d wanted to. And she didn’t. She was gone, back to that day. That awful, terrible day. The day she’d lost her grip on how to live, it seemed.

The feelings overwhelmed her and, unable to control them, she walked away, giving Grace time alone with Jeffrey. Her father.

The precious young father…whom she never even knew.

•

“Are you okay?” asked Grace. “You were awfully quiet back there.”

Adjusting the strap of her seat belt, Leslie prepared for the return trek home.

No, she was not okay. She didn’t feel okay. She had just relived the day Jeff died. One day they were together; so happy, so full of hope; life was so perfect…and the very next day—the very next day—he was gone. Just like that. Dead, and with her no more.

The memory still left Leslie numb to the core. Numb in all the places that mattered most. The largest piece of her life had been ripped away, leaving a gaping, and as yet, unhealed wound.

“It was hard,” she finally said, after several pregnant moments. “Going there.”

“Yeah, it was,” Grace agreed. “Is this the first time you’ve been back since he died?”

“Yes,” she murmured, nodding. She started the engine.

“Well, thanks for bringing me. I’m really glad I came.”

Leslie hesitated before driving off. “Would you like to see where we lived? Our old house?”

Why had she said that? She wasn’t sure, but there it was.

Grace’s eyes lit up. “Really? Yeah, of course, that would be awesome!”

•

She heard the front door open and smiled. He was home.

“At long last—the lord of the manner is home!”

They’d just been married, and Jeffrey arrived from school to find Leslie in the kitchen preparing dinner—baked chicken, sautéed vegetables, mashed potatoes, and garlic bread. All of his favorites.

“Mmm…something sure smells good,” he said appreciatively, entering the kitchen. He came up behind her at the stove and enfolded her in his arms. “Hi, Emerald Eyes.” He planted a kiss on her cheek.

“Hi,” said Leslie, and returned the kiss. Her head was still in the clouds. Life was bliss.

She couldn’t believe she was Mrs. Jeffrey Phillips. She had dreamed of the fairy tale. Of being Cinderella or Snow White, but never in a thousand years could she have imagined it would be like this. Magic. She was so in love with this man, and she could feel his love for her in everything that he did. Jeffrey was not only incredibly charismatic and gorgeous, but he was one of the most kind-hearted and thoughtful people she had ever known.

“How’d I get so lucky?” she asked dreamily.

“No—how’d I get so lucky?” he said, nuzzling her neck.

“No really, it’s so amazing, Jeff. I feel like I’ve known you all my life. Like everything I’ve experienced happened just so that I could be led to you. It’s totally weird.”

Jeff turned her around to face him. His eyes were serious. “We must be soul mates.” He toyed with a few loose strands of her luxurious auburn hair. “I feel the exact same way. I always had this passion for living in Florida…maybe I heard you calling.”

Leslie smiled with contentment only love could bring. She touched her forehead to his.

“You hungry?”

“Hmm…what do you think?”

They made love on a kitchen chair, Leslie straddling Jeff and bringing them both to a mind-blowing climax.

“I love you so much,” she breathed against his lips.

“I love you more, Emerald Eyes.”

•

“It’s okay; we can go,” Grace said, reaching across the seat to touch Leslie’s hand. “I think it was probably a mistake to come here anyway. The memories are obviously too tough for you.”

Leslie had broken down into sobs the minute the car stopped in front of the house. It took time for her to regain her composure.

It looked exactly the same. Nothing had been changed over the years. The same pale green and beige trim. The same white picket fence. The same big oak tree in the yard.

“This was to be your home, Grace,” Leslie said, crying. “This is where you spent most of the time growing inside of me. We couldn’t wait for you to be born; couldn’t wait for the months to pass so we could meet you, count your little fingers and toes. We sat up in bed almost every night, imaging what you’d look like. Jeff said he wanted you to look just like me if you were a girl….” Her eyes left the house and she turned in her seat to look at Grace. “And it’s almost as if God was listening…because he certainly got his wish, didn’t he?” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Oh, God, why did he have to die? Why did he have to die right before you came? He never even got to see you, to hold you. My God it’s so unfair!” Leslie shouted, breaking down into sobs, mascara and eyeliner streaking her face.

Grace rubbed her shoulder, saying nothing, letting her cry. It must’ve been pretty obvious…the feelings were long over due for release.

Once Leslie calmed down, Grace said, “Thanks again for coming with me. But I’m sorry it brought back all the painful memories for you.”

“No, it’s…it’s okay. I should really be thanking you. I needed this. I should’ve come back a long time ago.” She paused, choking back more tears. “Just as I should’ve come back for you when you were a baby.”

“Well,” Grace said optimistically, “we’ve found each other again now. I guess that’s all that matters.”

Slowly, Leslie nodded. “Yes, you’re right. That is all that should matter.”

Mother and daughter shared a tender gaze.

Smiling, Leslie finally said, “Okay, Elvissa. Let’s hit the road. Let’s go home.”

Chapter 39

As the months following their trip flew by, Leslie made every effort to keep in touch with Grace.

Speaking on the phone only occasionally, they communicated primarily via e-mail. She had given Grace her personal e-mail address and told her to write anytime, for any reason. And Grace did. She wrote to her about school, friends, and boys; her younger brother and sister, Jude and Mindy; and sometimes even about fights she had with her parents.

At first Leslie tried to share Grace’s anecdotes with Luke, hoping it could bring them closer together. That he would see she was being completely open with everything now, that she no longer had anything to hide.

But over time, and to Leslie’s profound disappointment, it became clear that all had not been forgiven. He was firmly rooted in his resentment for the years he’d been kept in the dark. The mere mention of Grace made Luke cringe. She noticed that any reminder of her past, her hidden self, made him visibly agitated.

One evening while they were at the gym, she mentioned it to Dawn. “You know what I think? I think if he never heard Grace’s or Jeffrey’s names again, it would work no hardship on him.” She sighed heavily. “What do you think I should do?”

“Talk to him about it,” Dawn replied, using a towel to wipe her sweat. “Tell him how you feel. You should be able to discuss Grace with him. After all, she is a part of your life now, which makes her a part of his as well. She’s not going anywhere. It’s time he got used to it.”

“No. I don’t think talking about it anymore will do any good. He said he forgave me. That we could move on, start fresh. I guess there’s only so much I can expect from him on this. So I just won’t discuss her with him anymore.” She stepped off the treadmill and grabbed her gym bag, out of breath. “Let’s go. I’m beat.”

•

A few nights later, over dinner at a nearby Thai restaurant, Leslie broached the subject of Grace coming to visit for Thanksgiving.

“She e-mailed that she’d like to come and spend it with me, if it would be okay. She thinks Beth and Billy are gradually becoming more used to the idea of our being in touch with each other.”

At first Luke said nothing. He obviously hadn’t expected the conversation to take this turn. “Uh…Thanksgiving? Aren’t we going to be at my parents’ this year? Isn’t it their turn for Thanksgiving and ours for Christmas?”

“Yeah, I suppose so, but…would that make any difference? You don’t think your mother and father would have a problem with Grace joining us, do you?”

He twirled noodles onto his fork, his face unreadable. “No, no, of course not. Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that there’d be a problem. They have to meet her sometime, right? Why not at Thanksgiving?” He took a sip of water. “Should be a blast.”

•

That evening when they got home, Leslie signed onto the computer in their den. With a broken heart, she replied to Grace’s e-mail.

To: Grace C. [russcrowelover2000@memphcable.com]

From: L. Cavanaugh [mailto:emeraldgems83@wpb.com]

Subject: Re: Thanksgiving

Message: Hi, Grace,

It would be so wonderful to have you here in Florida for Thanksgiving! We will definitely get to do that at some point in the future. However, I’ve given this a lot of thought and I think that, at least for the time being, let’s give everyone a bit more time to digest this, okay? I know your parents could use it, and so could Luke and Kate. I don’t think everyone’s quite ready to move on and make the best of things…at least, not just yet. It’s still a very difficult and delicate situation for all concerned…but in time, hopefully before too long, we’ll be able to have our special times together—just the two of us!

In the meantime, please don’t stop writing to me! I love getting your e-mails and look forward to reading them every single day!

Yours always,

Leslie

With tears in her eyes, Leslie clicked send. She sighed heavily, pressing her palm against her mouth.

Luke still needed time. And their marriage needed more time to recover from the blow of Grace. If she pushed for more than Luke was ready for, like having Grace join in on Thanksgiving with his family, she might be putting her marriage in jeopardy. So it wouldn’t hurt to wait a little while longer to take that step, would it?

Their moment would come, hers and Grace’s. Of that Leslie was sure. Only then, given enough time, would Luke and Kathryn be better able to accept and appreciate her daughter, to value her and realize that she was the missing member of their family.

Chapter 40

Memphis, Tennessee

Her grandmother was not doing well.

They had just returned home from the hospital, where they’d visited Ingrid, and from what her doctors said, there was little hope she’d live long enough to see 2002.

The entire family—Beth, Billy, Grace, Jude and Mindy—left the hospital clinging to one another, in tears. Ingrid Armstrong had always been the backbone of the family—the best chef and baker in the house, not to mention their bottomless well of wisdom and strength. Losing her was unthinkable.

So it was in this frame of mind that Grace Cunningham sat down at the desk in her room to check instant messenger and read her e-mails.

When she saw the reply from Leslie, her heart felt like it stopped beating. It was hard to get air. She read it a total of three times before she could begin to sort out the myriad of feelings that washed over her.

Doubt, confusion, panic, disappointment…anger. The anger pooled in her belly and saturated her chest.

Parents were supposed to love you unconditionally! More than anything in the world! Why the hell did she need digesting? What was she, a bad meal or something?

The container of silver paper clips on her desk caught her eye. Moving slowly, as if dreaming, Grace reached across the keyboard and fished one out. She pushed the open side up, bending it in the opposite direction so it pointed straight toward the ceiling. Like a dagger.

It had been a long time since she’d done this—since junior high—but she pushed that thought from her mind as she jammed the sharp end of the paper clip into her forearm. Grace winced in pain—and relief.

The blood pooled around the hole in her skin, the shiny silver of the paper clip now slicked a deep red.

It hurt.

She couldn’t help it, and she hated that it did—but it hurt.

How could she? How could you not want me with you no matter what? How? Mom and Dad were right about you!

She’d been left all over again. Abandoned for convenience, yet again.

Grabbing a Kleenex to staunch her bleeding arm, Grace crawled into her bed. She ignored the near-constant buzzing of instant messages from her school buddies online. Crawling under her blanket, to her own surprise, she cried like never before.

•

“You were right,” Grace said, coming out into the backyard.

“Right about what, sweetheart?” Beth Cunningham looked up from watering her vegetable patch.

“About Leslie Cavanaugh. She’s nothing but a selfish bitch.”

“Watch your mouth, Grace Cunningham.”

“Sorry.”

“What happened?” Beth tossed the hose onto the grass and came to join her daughter, where she’d plopped down at the patio table. Her face was unusually hard, sterner than Beth had ever seen it.

“She sent me an e-mail yesterday brushing me off for Thanksgiving. She says her precious little family needs a little more time to digest me. Can you believe that?”

“Oh, Grace. Honey, I’m so sorry…but we did try to tell you.”

Grace gave no reply, just stared out into the yard.

“Honey…now do you see why it’s best to stay away from her? What more can you expect from a woman who left her baby and never knew whether you were dead or alive for fifteen years?” She reached over, smoothing Grace’s sleeve. “Do you see? This is exactly what we wanted to protect you from. Exactly. It’s killing me to see that hurt look on your face.”

Grace bit her lip. Her eyes filled with tears.

“I can tell you’ve been crying; your face is all blotchy and puffy. I’m sorry, Grace…so sorry. We wanted to spare you from going through this very thing.”

That night Grace never finished her dinner. She barely touched it at all, which was a first. She simply sat there, quietly pushing the food around with the fork. The change in her behavior immediately worried Beth and Billy.

“I knew something like this would happen, Billy; I just knew it!” Beth squeezed dishwashing liquid onto the sponge and began vigorously scrubbing the dishes after dinner.

Everyone had just cleared the table and gone their separate ways. Jude and Grace had taken off for their respective rooms, and Mindy was in the den watching Friends.

“Why did we let my mother convince us that contacting that woman was the right thing to do? Nothing good could’ve come out of it. And now it’s been proven! Now that selfish bitch—Grace’s words, not mine—has left her heartbroken, devastated. The poor child can’t even eat! I’ve never seen her like this.” She threw the cup she was scrubbing into the soapy water. “Damn and blast that Leslie!”

Billy Cunningham, a lanky slim-jim of a man with a kind, careworn face, put a comforting arm around his wife. “I know how you feel. I saw it coming, too. Just as plain as the crooked nose on my face.” He sighed heavily. “Well…I guess she just had to find it out on her own, eh? Nothing that we could’ve said or done was gonna bank her fires to get to know the woman. ’Least now she knows what’s what. It’s finally over. And she knows who her real mother is.”

“You’re right, Daddy…I certainly do.”

They both turned at the sound of Grace’s voice as she came back into the kitchen.

She walked right up to Beth, slipping her arms around her. “And I’ll never forget it. I love you, Mommy. I hope I never did anything to make you think I’d ever choose her over you…or hurt your feelings.”

“Thanks, honey,” Beth said softly, returning the hug. “Well, you know I didn’t like it much, not at all, but I guess I tried to understand why you wanted to get to know her. I’m just hoping you can put this all behind you now. Just forget about Leslie Cavanaugh.”

“Positively forget her,” said Billy, chiming in. “No doubt she’s already well on her way to forgetting you…just like she did fifteen years ago.”

Before they knew what happened, Grace was biting into her lip so hard she drew blood.

•

Later that night—after she’d spent nearly two hours convincing her parents that she wasn’t losing her mind—Grace decided she had to reply to Leslie Cavanaugh’s e-mail. Her father’s words had pushed her over the edge.

No doubt she’s already well on her way to forgetting you…just like she did fifteen years ago.

She told them she’d forget about Leslie. That she no longer had any interest in her birth mother. They had been right all along. But, of course, her words were only to pacify them—nothing could be farther from the way she really felt. The needs churning within her.

Grace didn’t trust herself to say too much, but she wanted to say something. Leslie Cavanaugh simply could not forget her. She just couldn’t.

She had always said that she never had. She said too much time had passed before. Too much time.

So time was the enemy.

To: L. Cavanaugh [emeraldgems83@wpb.com]

From: Grace C. [mailto:russcrowelover2000@memphcable.com]

Subject: Re: Thanksgiving

Message: I won’t stop writing to you as long as you don’t stop writing to me. I get it about your family. They aren’t ready to accept me yet. I hope one day they will be, and I can fit in somewhere. And like you said, hopefully before too long.

Bye,

Grace

She’s still my mother, Grace thought as she clicked send on the reply to Leslie’s message. I’m her flesh and blood—I can’t let her forget me again. Not again.

Part III

Chapter 41

Palm Beach, Florida

Early 2006

The man had just come, but he was still hard. He was still inside her. And she was soaking wet.

Rising onto his elbows, he stared down into her face. His eyes pierced hers. His forehead creased and glistened with sweat.

She could see his torment. She could feel it, though she didn’t fully understand it.

“We can’t keep doing this,” he whispered fiercely. Then he pressed into her. Slowly sliding in again. Sinking deeper.

“Christ…this feels so damn good.” He closed his eyes at the sensations coursing through him. He nuzzled her neck.

She raised her hips to meet his thrust. They both moaned.

It felt so good.

“Damn it. This is crazy,” he murmured. “Why do you keep coming to me? We have to stop this…” He clenched his teeth, the feelings taking over. He bent to kiss her deeply.

Slowly…he began stroking her again. But before she knew what hit her, his thrusts became harder. Angrier. Far more intense.

Fast and hard. He pounded her like a jackhammer, frantic with a maddening need for release.

As always, she came first. She moaned into his mouth, her nails digging into the flesh of his firm ass as it continued to move.

Her climax sucked him into his own release. Cupping her buttocks he bit his bottom lip and took one final plunge. His back arched sharply. He cried out in pleasure. And pain.

Then…he died a little. Another small part of himself.

Gone.

Chapter 42

West Palm Beach, Florida

Late 2005

Lauren Samson loved money.

She also loved independence, and very early in her life she’d learned that money was the one—and only—key to having it. Lauren Samson was committed to making sure she always had plenty of both.

Hers was a wealthy family, a family of esteemed professionals. Her parents ran their own multimillion dollar accounting firm, her older brother was an award-winning chemist working in French fragrance development, and her aunts and uncles were a similar breed of overachievers, from an aunt who practiced gynecologic oncology to an uncle who practiced entertainment law in Hollywood.

Yes, theirs was a family of respected professionals, and Lauren simply loved being a member of the Samson dynasty. Their achievements were inspirational, their standard of living distinguished. They had all inspired Lauren to strive for excellence and be the best that she could be in whichever line of work she chose.

So when Lauren had enrolled in cosmetology school and studied hair, nails, and permanent makeup, intent on launching a chain of salons around the Metropolitan Palm Beach area, her entire family had been suitably proud. Proud and fully supportive. They could scarcely contain their pride once she graduated and opened up her first salon: Lauren Samson’s Chalet of Beauty.

With great advertising and a few key connections, the first location became an overnight success, yielding more profits than anyone would’ve believed. Within a year Lauren had a second salon open near the beach—an excellent locale for catering to tourists.

Business was great. The profits rolled in. She was doing her family proud.

Or was she?

Because all was not what it seemed at Lauren Samson’s Chalet of Beauty.

Lauren Samson had a secret. A secret that could cost her the very fortune and independence she treasured more than anything in the world. A secret that could ruin many lives.

A secret Kathryn Cavanaugh might not even live to tell.

•

“So, did you figure out what you’re wearing to Holly’s party tonight? I’m going with the pink dress I got in Rave yesterday.”

Thirteen-year-old Kathryn Cavanaugh moved about her bedroom gathering her dirty clothes and tossing them into the hamper. Her best friend, Jodi Lapeer, was on speakerphone.

“Ah, I’m not even sure if I’m still going or not,” Kate admitted. “I got my period today and I’m feeling kind of crappy.”

“Bummer,” said Jodi sympathetically. “Well, if today’s day one, just stick in a tampon, pop a few cramp pills, and be done with it. Come on—it’ll be fun! You can’t stay home on a Saturday night!”

Kate sighed. “I don’t know. Let me see how I feel later on. I’ll call you.”

After ending the call, Kate tossed the last of her laundry into the basket and flipped on the television. Throwing herself across her bed, she surfed over to MTV.

She really did not feel like going to the party. Her sister was in town, and Kate wasn’t sure how long she’d be staying this time around. Grace’s grandmother had recently passed away, and Leslie had been inspired to invite her to Florida for Thanksgiving, her second visit this year. She’d visited just after her twentieth birthday in May.

Kate couldn’t control her feelings. She hated Grace.

Her visits turned her mother into a completely different person, almost as if Grace were the only child she’d ever had. The only one who really mattered.

•

When Luke arrived at the restaurant, Leslie, Dawn, and Grace had already been seated. They sat perusing their menus and were engaged in animated chatter.

Before approaching the hostess, he stood just inside the entryway, observing them through the glass partition. His wife had a smile on her beautiful face, and she was laughing and giggling with her daughter as if they were a couple of school kids.

She was so happy when Grace came to town. How come she never shared that side of herself with him? Or with Kathryn? Sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks, Luke stood observing Leslie. Why weren’t they enough?

In the years since they had learned about Jeffrey and Grace, and Leslie had made her pilgrimage to Clearwater to visit her dead husband’s grave, nothing had been the same. Their daily lives were stifled by the weight of Leslie’s skeletons.

Luke had tried to be supportive, tried to encourage her communication with her daughter. It hadn’t worked. Luke’s heart had never been in it. He wanted her past to stay buried. He didn’t want to remember that he was a dead ringer for Jeff Phillips.

For years he’d thought that knowing his wife better would bring them closer together. He could never have known it would only serve to drive them farther apart.

Now they shared the same bed, made love frequently enough, and put forth great effort to provide a stable and balanced life for their daughter Kathryn. But nothing was right. Everything was askew. If Luke had felt insecure in the marriage before, he was much more so now.

“Hey, handsome.”

Luke turned his head. Before him was an attractive woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties, with shoulder-length blond hair lined with dark streaks. Her makeup was flawless, and her eyes conveyed a clear invitation. Where had she come from? He’d obviously been too wrapped up in his own thoughts. How long had she been standing there? How long had he been standing there?

“I’ve noticed you waiting here for quite a while. Would you like to join my girlfriend and me for a drink? Are you waiting for someone?”

“Uh…” He glanced toward Leslie’s table.

His BlackBerry buzzed. Unhooking it, he read the incoming message. It was from Dawn.

Why are you just standing there? We’re waiting.

Luke hadn’t realized they’d spotted him. Feeling as though he’d been caught spying, Luke managed a half smile at the lady in front of him. “Well, uh, that’s awfully nice of you, but I’m actually meeting my wife. I, um…I was just waiting for a message. Just got it, so I’ll be joining them now.” He glanced toward the table again. All three women were watching him.

The pretty blond looked dismayed. “Aw, too bad, you’re married.” She shrugged, preparing to walk away, but not before slipping a card into the pocket of his blazer. “But just in case.” She winked.

Luke watched her saunter off before finally turning to enter the dining room.

•

“Who was that?” Leslie asked less than two seconds after he sat down and greeted everyone.

“Don’t know. She just walked up to me on my way in.”

She decided not to press the issue—at least for now. She was used to the appreciative stares Luke got from other women; he was tall, blond, and deliciously handsome. But lately…he seemed to be returning the stares, his eyes lingering longer than usual. Given the vulnerable state of their marriage, Leslie’s mind had begun to wonder…

“Where’s Kathryn?” she asked. “How come she’s not with you?”

Luke shrugged. “She didn’t feel like coming.”

“Is that what she said?” Leslie asked, annoyed.

He nodded. “I knocked on her bedroom door and she said, ‘I’m not in the mood to go, Dad. Go ahead without me.’ So…here I am.” Luke opened his menu. “So what’s good here?”

Leslie turned to Grace, who’d been quietly watching the exchange. “I’m sorry about Kate. She’s been so moody lately.”

Grace waved it off, but her expression gave her away. She was disappointed. “It’s okay. She’s made it pretty clear how she feels about me, but…well, I guess…” She shrugged. “I understand.”

Luke jumped in. “I’m sure it’s nothing personal, Grace. It’s just…well…you know, at that age”—he gave an awkward laugh—“they get that way sometimes.” He cleared his throat.

“Yeah,” Grace replied, not sounding very convinced. “I suppose so.”

“We were just talking about Christmas, Luke,” Dawn said, apparently attempting to lighten the mood. “Grace was saying it would be nice to go to Disney World, bring her brother and sister. Her parents might even want to come.”

Luke looked up from his menu. “Hmm. Yeah, I guess that would be nice.”

Their waitress appeared and took their orders. They then spent the next forty-five minutes eating in unusually long silences, with Dawn and Leslie making awkward attempts to fill them. A wave of relief swept the table as they wiped their mouths and finished the last of their drinks.

“See you at home?” Leslie said as they were exiting the restaurant. Dawn and Grace had gone ahead, already in the parking lot.

“I may actually be late tonight. You probably shouldn’t wait up.” Luke bent and kissed her cheek.

“The beach house?” Although she had only a vague idea of its location, whenever they argued and tension yawned between them, Luke had begun taking refuge at the house he’d bought out east, near the beaches. He would simply call, saying he had work to do and would be spending the night there.

“Maybe,” he replied, reaching for his sunglasses. “Evan and I have some proposals to go over…It’s likely to be a late night.”

Their eyes locked, and held.

“Luke—” she began.

“I’ll call you later.” He slipped on his opaque shades, and walked away.

•

Leslie didn’t know what to do. She was torn.

Why were they making things so difficult for her? Couldn’t Luke and Kathryn just accept Grace as a member of the family?

Giving it time had not worked. For four years she’d kept Grace at bay, delaying her desire to visit Florida, to spend more time with Leslie and get to know her family.

What more could she do? How were things supposed to get better?

•

When she got home, Leslie found Kathryn in her room, lying in bed. Matchbox Twenty blared on the stereo. She was glad to see that the mess of T-shirts, hip-huggers, and tank tops had been cleared from the floor.

“Kate, why didn’t you come with your dad to lunch? You know Grace is going back to Memphis this evening.”

“Didn’t feel like it, Mom,” she replied without meeting her eyes. “Besides, I’m sure I wasn’t missed.”

“This attitude isn’t helping matters, young lady. Why can’t you just give her a chance? What has Grace done to you? This is hard for her too, you know.”

Kathryn sat up. “Is it really? Gee, I don’t see why, because now she’s got two mothers…half the time I’m not even lucky enough to have one.”

Leslie stepped into the room. “Katie, that’s not fair. You’re always pulling that card to play the victim when it’s ridiculous. Grace has been here only twice before. How has that affected our relationship? I’ve never stopped being your mother. It’s because of you and your father that she wasn’t able to visit sooner. It’s because I’m thinking of you that she stays with Dawn instead of here with us! I’ve always tried to put your needs first.”

Kate sighed. “Forget it, Mom…because now you’re playing the victim.”

“What can I do, Kate?” Leslie asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. “What do you two want me to do? Ignore Grace and pretend she doesn’t even exist?”

Kate gave her a pointed look.

“Okay. Touché.” Leslie touched her daughter’s arm. “We all make mistakes, Kathryn. You’re young yet, but you’ll see. Sometimes it’s much easier to forgive than to hold on to bitterness and anger. Can’t you at least try to forgive me? Can’t you see the bright side? You have a big sister!” she said, smiling. “And she wants to get to know you better. She wants to become a part of your life. Gosh, after all the years that have passed, can’t you try to get used to the idea? Embrace it, and give Grace a chance?”

Kate remained silent, thinking. Then she said, “You say that like it’s so easy to do.”

Leslie tossed her head to the side in frustration, her gaze falling on the enormous Justin Timberlake poster plastered on the wall above Kate’s pink bureau. Why the hell was she making this so difficult?

“Somebody comes in,” Kate was saying, “out of nowhere, disrupts everything, and everybody’s just supposed to jump up and down for joy? Go with the flow? Why can’t she just stay where she belongs? It’s because of her that you and Dad don’t get along. It’s because of her that—” She broke off.

“That what, Kate? What?”

“Nothing, Mom. I don’t want to talk about Grace anymore. Could you just go, please? I have to get ready for Holly’s party.”

“I don’t think so.” Leslie stood up. “You didn’t feel like coming to lunch; you certainly shouldn’t feel like going to some party.”

Kate looked up, her jaw stubborn. “What do you mean? I can’t go?”

“No. You can’t go. I think you should stay in tonight and think about how difficult you’re selfish attitude is making things for this family.” She left the bed. “It also wouldn’t hurt for you to do some studying, young lady. Your grades haven’t exactly been the best of late.”

“But, Mom—”

Leslie left the room, closing the door behind her with a snap of finality.

She needed to stop coddling Kathryn. Ditto for Luke. Maybe then they would both realize it was time to stop wallowing around indefinitely in martyrdom!

Leslie didn’t realize the irony of her desire.

Chapter 43

Fourteen-year-old Holly Samson was best known around West Palm Academy for two things: Giving the best blow jobs—on account of the fact that her mouth was the size of Aruba—and throwing the coolest parties in her parents’ white-picket-fenced backyard.

When Kate and Jodi arrived at the party that evening, Green Day blared from the speakers as kids drank, ate, danced, and screamed into one another’s ears to be heard over the music.

They had arrived together, looking stylish in figure-hugging designer dresses, and greeted everyone as they made their way through the house. Ever the perfect host, Holly Samson worked the room like a future debutant in training.

Navigating through all the other kids, Kate and Jodi managed to work their way over to the grill and grabbed a couple of hot dogs.

Suddenly Jodi shrieked, “Oh, my God!” She nearly spilled her punch as she tugged on Kate’s jacket, gawking over her shoulder.

“What?” Kate said, turning to look.

“Adam’s here,” Jodi breathed, practically salivating. The love of her life…at least the current month of said life.

Watching Adam as he strolled in, Kate grinned. She turned back to her friend. “You gonna make out with him tonight?”

Jodi smiled. “I don’t know…maybe.”

They giggled.

Kate became serious for a moment. “Does he know about the Chalet?”

“Heck, no,” replied Jodi. “Are you nuts?”

Before long Jodi disappeared with Adam, leaving Kate to suffer the company of his dorky friend Horace. She danced with him for a while, just to be polite, but once he started behaving as though he thought she was interested, Kate told him she had to use the bathroom and sought refuge in the house.

Kate was sorry she had come. Instead of sneaking out, she should’ve just stayed home and rested up for work the next day. Settling onto a barstool just inside the patio door, she saw Holly Samson coming in.

“Katie! What’s doing?” she said happily, joining Kate on a barstool. “You sure don’t look like you’re having a good time…but I saw you dancing with Horace a few minutes ago, so…” She winked. “I guess that explains why, huh?”

“Gosh, did you see that?” Kate asked, rolling her eyes. “I think he actually thought I was into him or something. Gimmie a break,” she said, waving a hand.

Holly turned serious. “So aside from geeky Horace…is everything else good?”

Kate looked at her, a little surprised. “What do you mean?”

“Sister gone yet?”

“Thank God,” she replied, twirling her finger in her drink. “All my mom does is fawn all over her now that she’s visiting. It totally sucks. It sucks royally.”

“I know,” said Holly, offering sympathy. “I still can’t believe you and your dad never knew about her all that time. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if it were me.”

“Yeah…and now my mom wants to tack her onto our family tree and make nice, like it wasn’t a completely fucked-up thing that she did. My Dad’s so hurt about it. Sometimes I wish he’d just leave and take me with him.”

“Really?” said Holly, riveted.

“Really. He has another house, you know? When all this first happened he moved out. But he kept the place even after he came back home. He used to take me there sometimes, and we would just hang out and watch movies and talk about stuff. Just the two of us…He doesn’t really like Grace either.”

As always, Holly listened and didn’t judge…unlike Jodi, who, the first time Kathryn had told her how she felt about Grace, had said, “You’re just jealous. You thought you were an only child, your mom’s only daughter, and then—wham! In comes Grace, and you’re jealous.”

That made Kate angry. She was not jealous! At least, not completely. She was just really pissed off. She hated how Grace made her mother so happy and excited, how her face glowed when she talked about her. It was nauseating.

And it was painful.

Shaking the subject off, Kate said, “Is Lauren coming? Is she here? I might not be able to make tomorrow’s shoot. I just know my mom’s going to pop a vocal cord when she finds out I snuck out of the house tonight.”

“You snuck out to come here?”

“Yep.”

“Why would you do that?” Holly said, shaking her head. “Lauren’s gonna be pissed if you don’t come tomorrow. She’ll lose money.”

“I know—I wasn’t thinking. Mom just made me so crazy going on and on about being nice to princess Grace.” Kate made a face. “I didn’t go to their stupid lunch date, so she said I couldn’t come to your party.”

Holly looked worried. “I’ll try to explain it to Lauren, but you know how she is. You’d better lie low until Monday.”

•

Ever the conciliator, Leslie had ordered a meat lover’s pizza, Kathryn’s favorite, hoping it would help improve her mood, strike a truce.

When it arrived, she’d called up to her daughter from the bottom of the stairs. But when Kathryn didn’t answer or come down after the third call, Leslie had stomped up the stairs, only to find Kathryn’s bedroom empty.

She checked her bathroom. The oval mirror still bore steam from a recent shower and the curling iron was still warm. Her favorite clogs were also missing from her shoe rack.

Kathryn had gone to the party!

Well, Leslie thought, slapping her hand against the banister and slumping back down the stairs, I fucking give up.

•

“Your daughter disobeyed me,” Leslie complained, reaching Luke on his cell phone. I told her she could not go to Holly Samson’s party tonight, but still she showered, got dressed, and sneaked out of the house…all while I was here surfing the Internet.”

Luke replied, “What were you doing on the Internet? Driving up the balance on a MasterCard?”

“That’s not funny, Luke. Kathryn’s becoming more and more rebellious, and now she’s sneaking out of the house! That’s it. I give up. You have to take over.”

“Why did you tell her she couldn’t go to the party?”

“Well, if she didn’t feel well enough to come with you to have lunch with us, what’s she doing going to a party?”

Luke sighed. This was getting old. “She’s thirteen, Leslie. Welcome to the wonderful world of raising a teenager.”

“No, I mean it. I give up. I’m done trying to reason with her. She’s all yours.”

“Leslie, you don’t get to give up. I’ll talk to her, but she’s your problem just as much as mine.”

“Why weren’t you nicer to Grace earlier? She’s not stupid, you know; she can tell you don’t like having her here.”

“I can’t talk about this right now. I’m in the middle of a sketch, and Evan’s on his way over.”

“Luke…we haven’t made love in nearly two weeks. Are you sure it’s Evan who’s on the way over?” She paused. “How do you think it makes me feel to know you never sold that house? That I’ve never even seen it, don’t even know where it is!”

“How do you think it makes me feel to know you spent the first ten years of our relationship hiding a dead husband and a child?”

“This is never going to end, is it? You’ll always bring it up.” She sighed. “I don’t even know what’s holding our marriage together anymore.”

Luke’s fire died. The desperate tone in Leslie’s voice killed it.

He had no idea what else to say. What exactly did he want from her? Could she even provide it? Could he ask her not to want something that was perfectly natural? Not to have a relationship with her own daughter? Could he make her see how it was a constant reminder that she was never completely his? And possibly never could be?

No. He couldn’t ask for what he wanted.

“Luke?” she said, her tone suddenly firm. “I think you should come home and deal with your daughter. I’m going to Vegas.”

Dial tone. She’d hung up.

Closing his eyes briefly, Luke tossed his BlackBerry onto the kitchen table and picked up the kitchen phone. He called Kathryn’s cell. The blare of rock music could be heard in the background when she answered. “Katie, what happened this afternoon with your mother? She says you snuck out of the house, and now she’s running off to Vegas in a huff.”

“Man!” he heard Kathryn grumble. “She always does this! She always has to make everything about her. Why must she up and take off all the time?” Luke heard a mixture of anger and hurt in his daughter’s voice. Leslie’s unpredictability had begun taking its toll on Kate…especially now that she was a teenager. It was almost as if she’d begun testing her mother’s loyalty, just to see if Leslie would pass.

“Don’t worry about it, honey. I’ll be home later tonight. Why don’t you go home now? Maybe if she sees you she’ll change her mind.”

“No,” said Kate, her voice sounding choked. “Let her go…” Then she paused. Finally she added, “I won’t make any difference—I’m not her precious Grace.”

“Don’t say that, Katie. She loves you…you know she does. You should not feel like you’re in competition with Grace.” He hesitated. “You know what? Get home. We’ll talk more when I get there.”

Just as he hung up, he got a message on his BlackBerry. It was from Dawn.

She just called me. She wants to go to Vegas. We’re flying out tonight. I thought you were going to be keeping things under control?

Yeah, right, thought Luke, unable to shake the irony of it all. So did I.

Chapter 44

Leslie had always loved Palm Beach in December. It was pure heaven. While northern folks suffered the frigid temperatures of the winter, the residents of South Florida got to relax on the coastlines, enjoying the beautiful weather from beneath the cool shade of towering palm trees. Perfect beaches. Crystal-clear waters, blue, warm and inviting. Never-ending sunshine. Pure heaven.

As Christmastime approached, Dawn and Leslie made the rounds shopping for gifts. Having already bought presents for everyone, they were now walking through Nordstrom as Dawn contemplated buying something for her on again/off again beau, Lyle Burns.

“Things have been going so well between us lately…I want to get him something nice,” she said, browsing the cologne counter. “Without overdoing it.”

Leslie gave a concerned look. “Overdoing it? Dawn, you’ve been torturing him for over ten years now. I’m still wondering why he even bothers with you anymore.”

“Look,” Dawn retorted, “we’ve grown a lot closer lately. Lyle’s a really nice man, and I’m appreciating him more. Letting him in slowly. We enjoy each other’s company and have really good conversation—”

“Don’t forget the sex…” said Leslie, her eyes narrowing mischievously. “That must be pretty hot, too…right?”

Dawn pointed to a display in the glass case. “May I smell this one?” she asked the smiling woman behind the counter. Her nametag read MAGGIE. Her hair was dyed tar black, and she was wearing far too much of a bright reddish orange-colored lipstick that did nothing for her porcelain complexion, but her smile was pleasant and warm.

“Sure!” Maggie replied, sliding the door back. “This is one of our latest ones. Very popular, let me tell you! It’s Canali. Eau de Toilette. It’s got a very unique scent…the freshness of bergamot and apple with a hint of coriander and nutmeg. It’s simply splendid! Try some.” She sprayed a small white card with the fragrance, fanning it in the air before handing it to Dawn.

Dawn sniffed it, then held it to Leslie’s nose. “What do you think?”

Leslie breathed it in. “Hmm…I like.”

“Great,” said Dawn, turning to Maggie with a smile. “I’ll take it.”

•

Leslie hung up the phone smiling, filled with excitement.

December had started out on a rather ominous note, but things were now looking up!

Grace had just called to say she’d decided to spend Christmas in Florida after all. She was flying in on the twenty-third. She wanted to bring her sister and brother along so they could all visit Disney World, but Beth had objected to them leaving her and Billy alone for Christmas. Unfortunately, time had not yet lessened Beth’s angst over the growing bond between Leslie and Grace.

By now they were having several e-mail communications back and forth daily, and Leslie found that, with the friction at home, sitting down to read Grace’s e-mails had become the highlights of her day—often the best parts.

She no longer spoke to Luke about her daughter, and he inquired about Grace only on occasion, seemingly more out of a sense of decorum than because he had any particular interest in her welfare.

Now that Grace would be spending Christmas with them, Leslie hoped the holiday spirit would help to foster the kind of healing their family was in such desperate need of. Kate should get to know her sister, and it was time for Luke to accept that he had a stepdaughter, a very important part of his wife’s life.

Jeff…our daughter is twenty years old, thought Leslie, staring down at the receiver she’d just placed into its cradle.

She missed Jeffrey so acutely now, at Christmastime, almost as much as she did in April…when that awful day came back to suffocate her.

•

Memphis, Tennessee

Grace Cunningham had not been raised with the capacity to weather emotional storms. Unlike many of her friends, she’d had one of the best childhoods any kid could dream of. Her parents had lavished love and affection on her and her siblings, and had done their best to shield them from conflicts of any kind.

Until Leslie Cavanaugh reentered the picture.

Not for lack of wanting to, but for lack of knowing that, this time, the conflict would get bigger than they could imagine. Their daughter was drowning in a sea of heartbreak. Leslie Cavanaugh had entered her life, and there was nothing Beth and Billy could do to protect Grace from the onslaught of turmoil that came with it. A storm was raging within her, urges she didn’t know how to control.

She’d decided to spend another Christmas in Florida.

“Why bother, Grace?” her mother had asked when Grace informed her. “Can’t you see you’ll never fit in? You’ll never be a real part of that family. Don’t you see you’re only asking for more disappointment and pain?”

“I don’t expect you to understand why I can’t just let it go. Why I can’t just go on with my life and pretend she doesn’t exist—you weren’t abandoned by your birth mother.” Grace paused. “You could never understand the kind of feelings that well up inside of me. They push you; they gnaw at you until…” She faltered. “I wish I could just make them go away, Mom. But don’t you see? I can’t!”

Now, as she hung up the phone after the conversation with Leslie, Grace put her arms around her waist and hugged herself so tightly she could barely breathe. Slowly, she went to stand near her bedroom window. Winter was making an early entrance this season. The Memphis skies were heavy with imminent snow.

What was she going to do with all the pain? Why did it still hurt so much? When would it go away?

It’ll go away when I’m all that matters to her, Grace thought as the hurt flared into anger, bubbling in her soul. When she knows what she did to me. When she sees that I deserve to come first!

•

West Palm Peach, Florida

“Hi, Evelyn,” Kathryn said, entering the kitchen. She was dressed in low-rise Honey jeans and a nylon soft-mesh designer halter-top. The Calvin Klein wedge sandals she wore made her almost as tall as Leslie, who was sitting with Evelyn, planning Christmas dinner.

“Hello, sweetie,” Evelyn Tremaine replied, looking up from the recipe cards, her always pleasant voice filling the large kitchen. For a petite woman with small, delicate features, she had quite a commanding voice. “Going out tonight with your girlfriends?”

“Yeah, Lauren Samson’s dropping us off at the movies,” said Kate, grabbing a Diet Coke from the refrigerator. “We’re going to see the remake of King Kong. It’s supposed to be good.”

“Make sure your dad knows what time you plan on coming home,” Leslie said, regarding her coolly.

Kate didn’t miss a beat. “Already did,” she tossed over her shoulder, and sauntered from the kitchen.

“Damn,” said Leslie, shifting on her stool next to Evelyn. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her lately, but she’s become impossible to deal with. Anyway…back to Christmas dinner.” She flipped through a few of the cards. “Cinnamon rolls would be nice with breakfast in the morning, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, sure, I could do that,” said Evelyn excitedly. “It’d make the house smell just heavenly…but have you thought any more about dinner? Turkey or roast?”

“Roast,” Luke said, entering the kitchen with a smile. “Hi, Evie.”

“Hi, Mr. Cavanaugh.” She returned the smile. “So you’d prefer a roast?”

“Yeah. I’ve never been much for turkey.”

“Did Kate tell you she was going to the movies tonight?”

“Yeah, Lauren Samson’s picking her up. Nice lady, isn’t she?”

“Yes, very,” replied Evelyn. “She’s such a successful businesswoman—her salons are all over the place, and she does so much for the girls—spoils them rotten if you ask me—so naturally they just love helping her out in the shops! She’s all I ever hear them talk about.”

“How about this one, Evelyn,” Leslie said, eagerly showing her another card.

“Oh, yes…that one looks good. I remember my mother used to make it for us when we were little.”

“Where is your family, Evie?” asked Luke. “Do they live here in West Palm?”

“No, they live in Jersey. My brother and I are the only ones who couldn’t stand the hellacious winters anymore. Who needs that crap every year when you can live in a tropical paradise?”

“Amen to that,” Luke said, smiling.

It had been a while since Leslie had seen him smile like that. Such a carefree smile, free of all uncertainty. It was nice. She’d missed it.

“Do you have any other special requests for Evelyn, honey?” Leslie caught his eye, and she saw his smile falter as his eyes left Evelyn and looked toward her.

“Uh…” He began backing out of the kitchen, as if he’d forgotten something. “Not offhand…but if I think of anything, Evie, I’ll let you know.”

Leslie watched Luke stride from the kitchen. Well, here we go again, she thought. She’d told him earlier about Grace’s call. Here we go again.

Evelyn was watching her. She forced a smile, saving face. “So…” she said, peering down at the recipe cards once again. “Where were we?”

•

That night when they went to bed, Luke put It’s a Wonderful Life in the DVD player and they lay watching it until Leslie heard faint snores coming from his side of the bed. He’d fallen asleep.

She stared at her husband’s face. It had been so long since things had been happy between them. And Luke seemed more determined than ever to sustain the pretenses that were choking the life from their marriage. Why?

On the television screen, a distressed George Bailey began venting his frustrations on his poor children as his wife, Mary, looked on in alarm.

Lowering the volume, Leslie reached over to touch Luke’s gorgeous face. She tenderly admired his finely chiseled features. Those eerily familiar features. Taking his hand, she began tracing each of his fingers, each nail bed. What did he want from her? Should she tell Grace not to come after all? Should she just give up on having a relationship with her? Was that the price she had to pay for hiding her daughter’s existence from him all those years?

Suddenly Luke’s eyes popped open, focused on her. The low hum of movie dialogue was the only sound in the room, as they held each other’s gaze.

She tried to read his expression, but couldn’t. What was he thinking? Where did he want them to go from here? Surely things couldn’t continue as they had been for the last five years.

Leaning down, she kissed him and laced their fingers. “I love you,” she whispered against his lips. Her eyes never left his. There was a plea in them: Please stop letting my past nibble away at our marriage. Please accept my daughter.

For a moment his eyes softened. His arms came around her and he pulled her on top of him. Leslie straddled him and felt him harden between her thighs.

“Please stop,” she whispered. The words were out before she realized she’d spoken. They were forced out by feelings, overwhelming feelings. Fear. Confusion. Doubt. Mistrust. Luke was slipping away from her, growing more and more distant each day.

She sensed the change in him almost immediately. His breathing changed and his touch lost its tenderness. Then, out of nowhere, he began to sing: “Love me tender…Love me sweet…Never let me go. You ha—”

Leslie recoiled, as if she’d been slapped.

And in many ways, she had. She burst into tears before she could so much as think to check them. She couldn’t handle it. It was too real. This time he was going too far.

What was he trying to do to her?

Jumping from the bed, she grabbed her silk robe and left the room. And that night, for the first time in their marriage, Leslie slept in one of the guest rooms.

•

Luke slammed is head into the pillow when the door closed behind Leslie. “Fuck.”

Looking up at the plasma screen, he saw Jimmy Stewart preparing to jump over the bridge. “That’s just about how I feel right now, too, Jim.”

He felt awful. Just awful.

Why was he constantly testing her? Especially when, deep down, he knew she would always fail. Big-time.

She did not love him.

Chapter 45

On the morning of the twenty-third, Leslie arrived at Starbucks and took a seat near the front window. As she waited for Grace to arrive, she ordered a Caffé Verona and watched the passersby strolling along the sidewalk out front. Christmas cheer was everywhere. Wreaths adorned the front grilles of almost every car in the parking lot.

They’d had a cold front breeze through the night before, and its lingering effects had forced many people to grab their sweaters before leaving the house.

As she sat quietly, taking it all in, Leslie’s cell phone rang. Looking at the display, she saw that it was Kathryn. What did she want? Leslie had invited Kate to accompany her to meet Grace but, of course, Kate had declined.

“Hello?” Leslie said curiously.

“Hi, Mom. I forgot to ask you…” She hesitated. “Did you want something special for Christmas?”

“Aren’t you cutting it rather close, Kate? Only one more shopping day left.”

“Mom,” she whined. “Do you want something or not?”

Just then a car pulled up and parked directly beside Leslie’s Lexus. It was Grace in a rental car. She’d come directly from the airport.

“Katie. Do you really want to know what I’d love more than anything else?”

“What, Mom?”

“You.”

“Huh?”

“I want my daughter back. I want you. I want us to get our closeness back, honey. Like when you were younger. I’ve missed that. Don’t you miss that?”

Just then Grace walked in and waved. She signaled that she was going to the counter to place an order. She was dressed casually, in a red top and blue jeans, but carried herself with such poise. Leslie marveled at how much of herself she saw in Grace.

Kate was silent for a while. Then she said, “Yeah. I do, Mom. I really, really do. But it feels like everybody’s in their own little world at our house…and it’s hard to know what you’re thinking half the time.”

“I’m thinking that I love you and want what’s best for you and for our family, Katie.” Leslie hesitated. She wanted to make the most of this moment. She couldn’t remember the last time she and Kathryn had had a civilized conversation. “Will you at least try to get to know Grace better? Just a little?”

“Oh, here we go.” An exaggerated sigh and grunt came. Leslie could imagine the eyes rolling as Kate said, “Grace. I should’ve known a discussion about me and you would end up being about your princess Grace!”

Leslie’s heart sank.

It was no use.

She took a deep, disappointed breath. “Good-bye, Kathryn.”

“See? That’s how I know you don’t really care about me anymore, Mom! The minute I say something you don’t like to hear, you’re ready to drop the subject and end our conversation. You don’t even care enough to yell at me anymore!”

With that, the line went dead.

Closing her eyes, Leslie counted to ten. A headache threatened. When Grace got to the table with a peppermint mocha, Leslie told her about the call.

“Listen, Leslie…I really feel so bad about all this. But things can always get worse, so…” Leslie had been e-mailing her about some of Luke’s behaviors. Grace and Dawn had become the only two people in the world she could talk to. Confide in. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Maybe it’s going to take a little more time before they can accept me.”

“It’s been five years, Grace. Things cannot continue this way. They just can’t.”

Grace sipped her drink, deep in thought. “It feels like from the day I was born, I’ve been a thorn in your side.”

“Please don’t say things like that, honey. I’m so very sorry things have turned out this way. None of this is your fault. Please don’t ever believe otherwise.”

It was then that Leslie noticed the flesh-colored, square bandage covering Grace’s left arm, near the shoulder. It peeked out from beneath her sleeve.

“What happened there?” she asked, instinctively reaching out to touch it.

“What?” Grace pulled back slightly, with a nervous laugh. “This? Oh, it’s nothing. My stupid brother got me with the scissors by accident, no big deal.”

A motorcycle roared to life outside, the noise loud and intrusive. Leslie’s gaze shifted out the window, toward the street.

“Maybe I should just spend this Christmas with Dawn and her family. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind…”

Leslie looked shocked. “Absolutely not, Grace. You came to spend the holidays with me, and nothing’s going to get in the way of that.”

Grace didn’t look convinced. “I know…but I get the feeling none of us are going to be very comfortable, Leslie. They really don’t want me here. And practically everyone in Luke’s family will be at your house. I have to admit that I’m not exactly looking forward to it.” She stirred her mocha. “I really thought things would’ve been better by now, you know? That we all would enjoy this Christmas and spent the time getting to know one another better. But I guess the fact that they still don’t even want me staying at the house should’ve been a clue.”

“Well, it’s not that anyone told me you couldn’t stay with us. Like last time, I just thought it best under the circumstances. If you think Christmas dinner will be uncomfortable, can you imagine staying at our house the entire time you’re here?”

Grace nodded. “I guess you’re right.”

“It’s just…” Leslie sighed. “It’s Christmas. We’ll have to make the best of it, that’s all,” she said firmly. “We’ll take it easy and make the best of it.” She attempted a weak smile. “Sound like a plan?”

“Sounds like a plan,” replied Grace, smiling back. The smile warmed Leslie’s heart, healing it. “I’ll try to make the best of it.”

•

That night they attended Crystal Clear’s Christmas party at the Ritz-Carlton in Palm Beach. Each year C&C managed to make the festivities even grander than the year before. The live orchestra regaled them with beautiful tunes of the season as attendees danced and enjoyed the tastefully festive ambiance.

Luke and Leslie met Dawn and Grace at the entrance. Kate had gone out with her best friend, Jodi.

Luke had reluctantly agreed to escort Leslie, but it was abundantly clear that his heart wasn’t in it. He barely said more than two words to Grace, and avoided direct eye contact with Leslie and Dawn. Their table was fraught with tension, the party virtually ruined.

Luke stayed around for about twenty minutes before saying he and Evan had an early meeting.

“Oh, God Luke,” said Leslie. “Must you guys work on Christmas Eve, too? Couldn’t you knock off until after Christmas? It’s only two days! I’m sure Evan’s wife must feel the same way.” She gave a hopeful smile.

Luke frowned. “‘Evan’s wife’? How could you possibly know how she feels? Perhaps you should call and ask her sometime. She’s only been your sister-in-law for over ten years.” He snorted. “It’s laughable that you still refer to her as ‘Evan’s wife’.” He paused, a hush falling over the table. “Her name’s Gillian, by the way. Gillian. But I guess no one in my family’s ever been important enough for it to matter.”

Turning away from her in apparent disgust, he asked Dawn to drive her home and left the table.

“Wow,” said Grace quietly, breaking the stunned silence after Luke sauntered out. “You’d think I was a disease or something, huh?”

Leslie, cloaked in a stunning ruby Nicole Miller gown, smiled at Grace with a reassurance she couldn’t feel, then turned a hurt gaze toward Dawn. “Damn him. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

Her friend simply stared back at her, saying nothing. Then finally Dawn shrugged and took a sip of rum punch. “It’s Christmas. Cut him some slack, Les. Early meetings can be a real bitch.”

Chapter 46

Luke awoke Christmas morning to the smell of baking cinnamon.

Evelyn, he thought. She was already hard at work in the kitchen. Good thing she doesn’t mind working on Christmas.

He rolled over, half expecting to run into Leslie’s body beside him, but he found only empty space. Regret settled in.

He was alone. She was still sleeping in one of the guest rooms.

Another Christmas. Another year gone by.

Next year he would be forty-four, and his life was definitely not going as he’d expected it would be. Sure, he was very successful in business. He and Evan had set out to build an extraordinary architectural portfolio, and they had achieved that in spades. Kateslie-Evans Architects, was now an award-winning firm that had designed nearly half the illustrious buildings and residences from the Palm Beaches to the Keys. He had a beautiful, exceptionally smart daughter who was bright and coming into her own as a young woman. Kathryn would make any father proud. His parents were alive and still healthy. His brothers were both doing very well.

But none of those things compensated for the disappointment of his marriage. His wife. The one person who meant more to him than anything. Luke had never imagined he would’ve married a woman who did not love him.

But did she love him? That was the problem…he honestly didn’t know. And not knowing did strange things to Luke’s mind. Things were so complicated now. There were so many troubling variables.

Luke tossed the covers off and left the bed. He paid a visit to the bathroom, then went to wake Kathryn. Her door was ajar, and she was still fast asleep.

He went over to the bed and mussed her hair. “Merry Christmas, Katie. Wake up.” He knelt beside the bed.

Kate stirred, opening her eyes. She smiled when she saw her father. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Merry Christmas, honey.” He kissed her forehead.

“Merry Christmas, Dad. You’re gonna love what I got you,” she said sleepily.

“Yeah? I bet it’s not better than what I got you.”

Still smiling, she inhaled deeply. “Mmm…something smells delicious.”

“It’s Evelyn. You’re mother has her baking cinnamon rolls with breakfast.”

At the mention of her mother, Kate’s face grew somber. “Grace will be here today.”

Luke nodded. “Yeah. Listen, honey. I’ve been thinking a lot about this and…” He paused. “She’s not going to go away. We’re simply going to have to make an effort—you and I—to be nice to her and make her feel welcome whenever she’s here visiting.”

Kate rolled over to her side, facing her father. “I guess you’re right, Dad, but…I don’t know…my heart’s not in it. I know it’s not her fault, but…I don’t like her. I don’t want to get to know her, because I don’t want to like her. I wish she’d just keep her butt in Tennessee, where she belongs.”

“That’s just it, Katie. The reality is that she belongs with her mom, at least some of the time. Like you said, it wasn’t her fault that your mother didn’t raise her. She didn’t even know Leslie was her mom until…I think she found out around the same time we did. Just a few years ago. I just think it’s time we cut her some slack.”

“You’re right,” said Kate, sitting up. She sighed. “Okay. I’ll try.”

Luke smiled. “And you know how happy it’ll make your mother…and maybe, just maybe, things can start getting better around here.” He stood. “Now let’s go downstairs…I hear those rolls calling my name.”

•

When Leslie woke that morning, she’d lain in bed staring out the window.

The guest room she’d chosen was near Luke’s office and overlooked their lovely garden out back. The sun had not yet come up and the sky had a beautiful predawn hue. The house seemed very quiet; she was likely the only one awake.

Christmas morning. Briefly, Leslie pondered her expectations for the forthcoming day. This would more than likely be the most uncomfortable Christmas day of her entire life, and she certainly wasn’t looking forward to it. Then again…since 1985, had she ever looked forward to it?

Reflection. It was all she seemed capable of. Her mind was a living archive. In reality, it was Christmas day, 2005. But Leslie was now digging through Christmas days of years long past…long before she’d ever dreamed of living in this house. Long before she’d ever met Luke and given birth to Kathryn.

Lost in her reverie, she heard when Evelyn arrived, and decided to get up. Since Evelyn had been cooking for them more often lately, they’d recently given her a key to the garage door and the code to the security system so she could come and go freely, even when no one was home.

Leslie made the bed and then went upstairs to her dressing room. There was a connecting door from the hallway, so she was able to avoid waking Luke by not entering through their bedroom.

She had been doing her best to avoid him since Friday night, when he’d left her at the Christmas party.

After taking a leisurely shower, she lathered her favorite Christmas-scented body lotion over her skin. The room filled with the wonderful smell of mistletoe and roasting chestnuts. She dressed and pulled her lush hair into a ponytail, using green and red ribbons to get into the holiday spirit, and then she went downstairs to join Evelyn in the kitchen.

The day had begun.

•

Luke’s parents were the first to arrive.

The doorbell chimed, and Kathryn rose from watching the basketball game with her father to answer it. The Miami Heat was playing against the LA Lakers, and after they’d sat around the tree and opened their gifts, Luke had taken to the sofa with a six-pack of beer. Meanwhile Leslie kept busy, moving about straightening decorations and adjusting the poinsettias that lined the staircase. Burning nervous energy.

By the time Dawn arrived with Grace, Luke’s entire family had also arrived, bearing gifts and all sorts of baked goodies.

Initially a hush fell over the room when Grace walked in, Mel Torme’s rendition of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” the only sound in the house. Everyone was polite as Luke introduced Grace, but they were all noticeably reserved—just as they had been to Leslie since the news of her daughter’s existence broke. No one could understand or make any sense of Leslie’s years of silence. It was as if they hadn’t known how to treat her after that…any more than Luke had.

Now everyone stood around in an awkward silence, as if waiting for something remarkable to happen.

“So, Grace, dear,” Luke’s father, George, said politely, breaking the silence. Everyone seemed to relax with relief. “How’s the weather in Memphis?”

“It’s pretty cold,” Grace replied with a timid smile. “Florida’s definitely a welcome alternative.”

“Good, good, good,” replied George. He eyed her appreciatively. “We’re glad to have you. It’s great to finally meet you, Grace.”

Evelyn came in from the kitchen. “Anyone for eggnog? Dinner’s almost ready. Get ready to feast!”

Dawn walked over to Leslie. “That wasn’t too bad,” she whispered.

Leslie looked at Luke, who seemed to be fixated on the television, oblivious to any conversation going on around him. “So far, so good.”

“Well, I’m going to be leaving you. Lyle’s meeting me at my mother’s…and she’s already having a cow because I’m not there yet. Good luck,” she said, giving Leslie a hug.

“Thanks,” said Leslie, hugging her friend back. “For everything. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas. Depending on how things go, I’ll come back later to pick up Grace. Maybe I’ll call you first…see how things are going.”

“Okay. That’d be great.”

She walked Dawn to the door, and on the way back she was surprised to see Grace and Kathryn talking together by the stairs. Thank God, she thought, looking toward heaven. Thank God.

“…got me a new iPod,” Kathryn was saying in excitement, “and my dad got tickets to the Super Bowl. Isn’t that cool?!”

•

Evelyn had outdone herself with dinner. Most everyone spent the entire time at the dinner table talking about how wonderful everything was. The roast was succulent and delicious. Evelyn had also cooked up a scrumptious pot of chicken and dumplings, baked ham, and vegetables sautéed in what she referred to as her “secret sautéing stuff.” Whatever the “stuff” was, when everyone had left the table, there wasn’t a vegetable left in the cut-glass serving dish. For dessert, everyone alternated between the cookies and cakes brought by Luke’s sisters-in-law, and Evelyn’s homemade red velvet cake.

To Leslie’s relief—and delight—the day went by without incident. Luke and Kathryn seemed to make a genuine effort to make Grace feel welcome, Kathryn especially. Leslie was now hopeful for 2006. Maybe a little more time was all they had needed after all.

“Thanks so much for coming,” she said to Evan and his wife, Gillian, as she walked them to the door. “Did you say good-bye to Luke?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Evan. “Had to hunt for him though; he’d snuck off to his office.” He winked. “You know him. Lives and breathes structural design.”

When she opened the door and they walked out, Leslie noticed Dawn’s BMW in the driveway. “Oh…Dawn’s back?”

“Yeah,” Gillian called out over her shoulder as they went down the pathway. “She’s inside with Luke. Thanks again for a great time, Leslie!”

Waving, Leslie closed the door and headed for Luke’s office. When had Dawn returned? Just as she turned the corner to head down the hallway, she bumped into Dawn, apparently on her way back.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were here,” Leslie exclaimed. “I just noticed your car out front.”

“Yeah, I was just looking for you.” Dawn said, appearing flushed. “You’ll never believe what Lyle got me for Christmas!”

They joined the others in the den, and Dawn regaled Leslie with the day’s events at her mother’s.

Leslie’s jaw dropped in shock. “He actually got down in front of everybody—your entire family—and asked you to marry him?”

“He sure did,” Dawn replied, flashing the engagement ring. “And I said yes!”

“Woo-hoo!” Kathryn exclaimed. She put her fingers in her mouth and made a celebratory whistling noise, just as her dad had taught her.

“Congratulations!” said Grace, coming up to give her a hug. “Dawn, that’s great! When’s the big day?”

“Well, hold your horses. We haven’t talked about that yet, but if Lyle—or my mother—has anything to say about it, it won’t be long.”

Later that evening, Leslie pulled Dawn aside. “You have no idea how happy I am for you. You and Lyle make such a cute couple, and I was worried you’d let him get away—” She broke off, hesitant to broach the subject. “I’ve noticed how you don’t talk about Michael as much anymore…at least not like before. You’re finally moving on, Dawn.” Her smile was warm. “You’ve finally let him go.”

Dawn frowned. “Don’t talk about Michael as much? What exactly do you think that signifies?” She shook her head. “Leslie—I’ve let Michael go about as much as you’ve let Jeffrey go.”

Leslie stiffened, clearly taken aback. “What’s that supposed to mean? I remarried a long time ago.”

“Exactly what I said. Just because I’ve stopped talking about Michael as often as the day is long doesn’t mean I’ve gotten any more used to his being dead than I was the day it happened. I still miss Michael every bit as much. I still carry him around with me everywhere I go…and I’m not afraid to admit it. Never have been; never will be.”

Leslie blinked. She heard what her friend was saying, but more than that—she heard what she wasn’t.

Seconds passed. Nat “King” Cole’s “The Christmas Song” flowed through the house.

Forcing a smile, Leslie took Dawn’s arm. “Why don’t we go see what the girls are up to?”

•

From just inside the kitchen door, Evelyn Tremaine had been watching the exchange.

Earlier she’d seen Dawn—Mrs. Cavanaugh’s best and, from the looks of it, only friend—go into Luke’s office and close the door. Just a few minutes later it stood ajar, as if it had been open the entire time.

We women must stick together. I don’t like this, Evelyn thought. She didn’t like it at all. Luke Cavanaugh was up to no good.

Should she confront him? If he got angry, would he risk telling Leslie a lie that could cost Evelyn this job? Did she want to find out?

Ah, forget it, she thought, returning to the kitchen, where she belonged. Mind your own damn business, Evelyn.

But then her thoughts turned to Leslie. The warm, beautiful, but sometimes distant Mrs. Cavanaugh. She did not deserve to be made a fool of this way. Did any wife and mother?

Chapter 47

2006

The New Year blew through with such fanfare and excitement, and no one knew what happened to the old one. Time was so fleeting. Leslie was continually surprised at just how fleeting it was.

As with every New Year, every birthday and holiday, her thoughts were with Jeffrey. She marveled at how much she still missed him, even after all these years.

People said time healed all wounds, but Leslie Cavanaugh knew she was living proof that time healed nothing. Sometimes time stood still. Sometimes time froze and you were trapped. That was how she often felt: trapped in time, unable to get out or to get over it.

But had she ever wanted to get over it?

No. She was angry with God for ripping the love of a lifetime away from her. And she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to forgive him.

With her home life still teetering on the fringes of disaster, Leslie somehow managed to fill her days. She was up at the break of dawn, sometimes beating Dawn, the early bird, into the office. She’d begun working late into the evenings, taking on company projects and employee initiatives that were keeping her extremely busy.

The worst stress came, though, at night, whenever she did make it home before nightfall. Unless she descended on the local malls, giving her platinum cards a workout, or met Dawn at the gym or “the greenhouse” for drinks and cathartic conversation, Leslie was faced with the harsh realities of her current life.

Kathryn, now fourteen, had grown more distant than ever, coming and going at her own whims without so much as a nod in her mother’s direction.

Leslie had stopped trying to exert parental control months ago, leaving Luke to deal with it himself. She was tired of arguing with Kate, and she hated the blatant disrespect her daughter displayed whenever they did speak to each other.

And then, as always, there was Luke. He had taken to coming home later and later each evening. They hadn’t made love now in…three months? Sometimes he called only to leave word with Kate that he’d be spending the night at his beach house.

All hope of happiness was long gone. But had they ever had it to begin with? Was Leslie, herself, to blame? Had her marriage to Luke been doomed from the start?

She feared a separation was looming, but was afraid to make the first move toward it. Some actions carried a certain finality, and Leslie didn’t know if she had the strength to break up their family…not just yet.

There remained only one positive constant in Leslie’s life now, and she clung to it as a lifeline, the torch that lit the way through a dark tunnel.

Grace.

Oh, how she lived for her daughter’s e-mails. Every day they exchanged at least two or three, and Leslie was still learning so much about Grace and the family that had raised her. Not surprisingly, writing to her daughter was a refreshing outlet, the one place she felt able to talk about some of the most personal aspects of her life…including some of the most painful.

•

One evening, not long after the first of the year, Leslie had gotten home at a normal hour, only to find that Luke had once again left word—he would not be home that night.

Feeling despondent, Leslie tried to reach Dawn, but had been unable to locate her. She left Dawn a message, then took a shower and poured herself a few glasses of the 1997 vintage Chianti she and Luke had gotten while vacationing in Italy that year. Then, subdued by its effects, she went down into the den and booted up the computer. Leslie started to type.

To: Grace C. graceland85@memphcable.com

From: L. Cavanaugh [mailto:emeraldgems83@wpb.com]

Subject: Need someone to talk to

Message: I think my husband is having an affair. He’s grown distant and doesn’t care that Kathryn no longer seems to respect me. I’ve expected him to stand up for me, but he hasn’t. Instead, he’s moody, gives conflicting signals, and now it seems he’s taken to not coming home at night. What am I doing wrong? What do they want from me? It’s at times like these that I miss your father the most. It’s hard to even type about Jeff. Sometimes I’m angry at him for dying on me. Angry they ever got on those stupid skateboards! What were they? Teenagers? These were grown men in their twenties. What in God’s name were they doing on skateboards? Damn him! We were so happy and in love. People are lucky if they find that kind of connection once in a lifetime, and we found it, and he dies on me! Dies! In a freak accident! The doctor came out and said he had died! Does anybody understand? Maybe Dawn because she’s gone through it. She used to drive me nuts about Michael. “Michael used to love this, Michael used to love that.” And she still has his pictures everywhere! How the hell can she stand it? Anyway, I’m sorry for this e-mail. I’ve been drinking. I’m trying my best to cope. How am I doing, do you think? Never mind, don’t answer that. I think I know. Thanks for listening. Did I mention that I’ve been drinking?

The instant Leslie hit send, she regretted it. What would poor Grace think? It was the first time she’d ever expressed anything in such a raw and uninhibited manner. The first time ever. She clicked over to the sent-items folder and reread the e-mail.

Oh, shit.

•

The following morning, Leslie awoke with the worst hangover, but had far too much on her plate to call in sick. After a brief encounter with Kathryn in the kitchen, she had dragged herself into the office.

Around noon, just before she and Dawn left for lunch, she decided to click onto the Internet and check her personal e-mail account. Any regret she had felt the night before was laid to rest when she opened Grace’s response to her rants and raves.

To: L. Cavanaugh [emeraldgems83@wpb.com]

From: Grace C. [mailto:graceland85@memphcable.com]

Subject: Re: Need someone to talk to

Message: Oh, my God. You know what? I swear we must be on the same wavelength. I had a hellacious argument with my dad tonight about drinking before I’m twenty-one. I only have a few more months to go - what’s the big deal? I really think it’s time for me to get out and get my own place, don’t you? He never likes any of my boyfriends, and he wants to run my life. Hello? Add an “I” to run and it’s ruin! There’s only room for one “I” here, and that’s me. Didn’t he get the memo? I turned eighteen almost three years ago! It’s time to back off. Even my mom agrees!

Anyhoo…I didn’t mean to go on and on about myself. I certainly feel your pain, too. I know what you’ve told me in the past, but still, I know that a lot of what’s going on there is because of me. You don’t have to agree, but I know. When I was there for Christmas I learned a lot more. It was quite an experience. I see all the happy family photos in your house, and I noticed they were all from the past…just a wild guess here, but I’m willing to bet they’re all five or six years old, at the very least, right? I’m sorry about all this. I really am. Maybe you should just give it some more time. That’s what I’ve resigned myself to do with my mom and dad. It’s funny, because my brother and sister are fine with it. They’re always asking me about you.

Stay positive. I have a strong feeling that everything will work out in good time for us all. I’m glad that we’re able to stay in touch. Anyway, gotta knock off now. Got an early class tomorrow.

Love,

Grace

P.S. Lighten up on the bubbly or whatever you’re drinking, ’kay? There are other ways to cope! And don’t apologize, there’s no need…what else are daughters for?

Daughters? Leslie reached out, her fingers touching the precious nine-letter word on the screen. Her hand trembled. Her heart swelled.

Over lunch, she told Dawn, filled with excitement. “She’s actually beginning to think of me as her mother!”

“Oh, really?” Dawn replied, glancing over the menu. “That’s terrific.”

Chapter 48

Tonight the cameraman was a new guy. They had never seen him before.

This one had a badly receding hairline, a prominent paunch, and looked like his pants were a few sizes too small.

Kathryn Cavanaugh turned to her best friend, Jodi Lapeer, and asked, “Who’s this guy? What happened to Rudy?”

Jodi shrugged. “I don’t know. Lauren didn’t say anything about a new guy.”

“Hello, girls,” Paunch Belly said, smiling. He had a thick foreign accent, and his front teeth were disgustingly stained.

“Hi,” Kate replied nervously. She’d gotten comfortable with Rudy. She didn’t know if she could do the modeling and posing with this guy.

When they were in the changing room getting undressed, she said, “I don’t know if I want to get naked in front of that guy, Jo-Jo. He looks kinda creepy, don’t you think?”

Lauren Samson walked in. “What do you mean? Ajay’s worked here before with some of the other girls—he’s a good guy. You can trust him. Just relax.”

“What happened to Rudy?” asked Jodi.

“Rudy’s off this week, okay?” Lauren snapped. “Now, come on, girls. Let’s get moving. Time is money.”

•

It had all started just a little over six months before. They’d begun communicating at night via Yahoo! instant messenger.

Kate found it so much easier to open up and vent to Holly Samson about Grace and her mother. Much easier than talking to Jodi or any of her other friends. All they ever said was that Kate was jealous. All but Holly. She was the only one who seemed to understand.

Holly was also having a rough time of it at home with her own parents, and the girls wound up sharing more and more about each other as the weeks went by.

One day, in between classes at school, Holly told Kathryn the truth about one of her sister Lauren’s salons. The back rooms were reserved for something very special. Holly worked there for her sister on the weekends, and on some weekdays as well, modeling.

In exchange, Lauren bought her most anything she wanted: makeup, clothes, CDs; she’d gotten her an iPod, a prepaid cell phone, and even brand-new laptop. She did not pay the girls in cash to avoid raising suspicions. Expensive gifts were easier to explain. Lauren Samson as the “generous employer” worked like a charm.

“Kate, if you’re game, you’d be great at it! You could ask for just about anything you wanted without having to go through your parents—they wouldn’t have to know a thing. Wanna try it? Give it a shot?”

At first Kate had just stood there, staring at Holly, stunned by what her friend was involved in. But then she thought it over.

Why not?

Kathryn had been extremely nervous her first time. Lauren had wound up giving her a small white pill.

“It’ll help you relax,” she’d said reassuringly. Relax and release her inhibitions. Boy—did it ever!

Kathryn had hardly recognized the girl she saw on the Web site the next day: a sexy vixen. It gave her a thrill to know that hundreds, maybe even thousands, of men would be lusting after her in those sexy poses.

After that first session, she had talked Jodi into giving it a try, and before they knew it, they became the star attractions of www.farfromlegal.com.

Initially it had begun with photographs only. Rudy would come in with his camera and take dozens of pictures of them, naked and striking provocative poses. Before the night was out, the pictures were up on one of Lauren’s hugely popular Web sites.

After a few such sessions, Lauren decided to add a live feed to one of the sites, and Rudy showed up with a video camera.

When Holly pointed out that they should be compensated for the change, to their surprise Lauren had agreed, giving all the girls full use of her salon. They could have their hair, nails, and makeup done whenever they wished, free of charge. They could even go in for complimentary tans and massages. Life was grand.

“That Lauren Samson’s awfully nice to you, isn’t she?” her mother had commented one day when Kate came home with a brand-new cashmere sweater. “Soon your closet’s going to look like mine.”

•

“Come on, baby. Spread those lips.”

Kathryn lay naked, spread-eagled on the bed, following Paunch Belly’s every instruction, but her heart wasn’t in it tonight. And from the look on Jodi’s face, neither was hers.

This guy gave Kathryn the creeps. No, worse than that, the heebie-jeebies.

She could see his erection bulging against the crotch of his far-too-tight pants. Gross.

“I don’t like the new camera guy,” Kate told Lauren later. “He makes me uncomfortable.”

“Me, too,” Jodi chimed in.

“He looks kinda spooky. Did you see the way he gawked at us? That’s not very professional, is it? You said these guys were all professionals…”

Blowing it off, Lauren replied, “I don’t see the big deal, but Rudy should be back next week—so relax.”

•

“What do you guys think about going on a cruise to Jamaica?”

Kathryn, Jodi, and Holly had just gotten dressed after an early-evening video session.

“Jamaica?” the girls asked in excitement.

“Yep, and I’ll even let you each bring a friend.”

All three started jumping up and down, hugging one another. “Oh, my God, you guys!” Kathryn said, beaming. “Jamaica’s great! My dad took us there for the summer a couple years ago.”

Suddenly Holly sobered. “Okay, Lauren—what’s the catch?”

Lauren Samson, dressed to impress in a cream-colored cotton Marc Jacobs dress with matching sandals, simply laughed, saying, “Should’ve known nothing would get past you, little sister. But you’re right. There is a catch.”

They all looked at her expectantly.

“We’re going to bring a guy into the mix—but just this once!” she added quickly when she saw the looks on their faces. “I’ve met him, and he’s really nice. A real McCutie.”

Wanting to back out, Kathryn asked, “What exactly will we have to do with this guy, Lauren?”

“Yeah,” said Holly, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “And how old is he?”

“He’s paying for the opportunity…so you guys’ll do whatever he wants you to. I told him no intercourse…but everything else is fair game.”

“No way, Lauren—you’re nuts,” Holly said, shaking her head. “Where’d you find this guy? Does he know how old we are?”

“What does it matter? His money’s just as green as anyone else’s. You wanna keep up your brand-new wardrobes every week, don’t you? Well, it costs money.”

Reaching for her Fendi clutch bag, Kathryn walked toward the door. “I have to pass on this one, guys. It’s too heavy. My dad would kill me.”

Lauren grabbed her arm. Her eyes hardened. “Your dad would kill you now if he knew where he could find you on the Internet.” She looked pointedly at Holly and Jodi. “All three of you.”

Her point came across. Clearly.

But then her eyes softened and she smiled reassuringly. “Look, girls…let’s not ruin the good thing we have going here, okay? I promise there won’t be any sex. He might want some oral action and he might want to touch you, but I’ll tell him that that’s as far as it can go. How does that sound?”

Kathryn folded her arms. “You promise there won’t be any sex?”

Lauren Samson raised her right hand. “I promise.”

•

“Here—take this,” Lauren said, handing her one of those little white pills. “It’ll help you feel more relaxed. In fact”—she handed her a second one—“take two.”

She gave Jodi and Holly two each as well. They would all be shooting separately with the man Lauren was bringing in. They hadn’t seen him yet, but she had said he was a hunk.

Within a few minutes, Kathryn’s head was spinning.

What in the world did she give me?

Her legs became wobbly and she had to be led into the room where the brass bed and camera equipment were set up. Kate lay down slowly on the bed and snuggled into the cool sheets. Then suddenly her body began feeling alive and tingly all over.

She heard a faraway voice. It sounded familiar. “I think she’s ready now.”

Who was that? Kathryn had to concentrate to figure it out. A bright light suddenly came on, causing her to squint against its harsh glare. Was that Lauren? Who was ready? And where exactly was she again? Lauren’s salon?

“Hi, sweetness.” This voice was deep. It came at her through a thick, tingly fog. “Don’t worry. We’re going to take very good care of you.”

Kate felt her legs floating apart. It felt so nice.

“Yes,” the voice moaned. “Very nice.”

Had she spoken?

Suddenly someone was touching her. Rubbing her, making her wet. Kathryn moaned.

“Are you the guy?” she asked dreamily. Great sensations were flowing through her body now, and her hands were placed around something. It was hard. What was it? It seemed natural to begin running her fingers up and down the length of it, exploring. Kneading. She heard another moan, deeper and more intense this time.

Then at once the hard thing was gone, and she felt something roughly probing her down below.

“No, Ajay!” another voice bellowed from beyond the fog. “Remember the agreement—no sex!”

Kate felt more rubbing between her legs. She began thrashing her head about the pillow in ecstasy. And it felt as if she were moving in slow motion.

“Feels good…” she heard someone moan. Was that her own voice? “Mmm…yeah…”

“Yeah, baby,” the deep voice growled. She felt a tongue on her nipple. A tongue in her mouth…and then between her legs. It was unbearably…delicious.

Then she felt herself being turned over.

“Wait,” she mumbled. “Whatcha….doin’?”

“Don’t worry, baby. Take it easy.”

Now she felt a mouth—and a tongue—devouring her from behind. It felt good. It was licking and sucking and…Wow. It felt great, unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Her ears rang. Her toes tingled. Wow.

The last thing Kate remembered was feeling the spray of a warm, wet gush…all over her naked bottom.

•

Much later, Lauren helped Kathryn and the others get cleaned up and dressed. They were all still pretty buzzed from the pills.

She left them passed out in one of the back rooms and went down the hallway that led into the shop, at the front of the building. Ajay and the two men he’d brought with him were waiting by the front desk.

Lauren held out her palm. Ajay handed over the money. Cash. Three thousand dollars, a thousand for each girl.

“I want the blond again next week,” Ajay said, a hungry gleam in his eyes.

Pocketing the money, Lauren shook her head. “No can do. This was a one-time deal only. I can’t risk it.”

“I’ll pay you double.”

Now that gave her pause. Double. Two thousand dollars each.

Lauren smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

•

The following day Kathryn awoke with a headache that would’ve hurt a head made of sandstone.

She remembered next to nothing about the events of the previous night. It was frustrating…and a little scary. She had a vague recollection of being sexually aroused, and an even vaguer recollection of being dropped off at her house by Lauren.

After using the bathroom, she thanked God she had not run into her parents in the hallway. She signed onto her computer and checked to see if either Holly or Jodi was online.

Instant messenger had become their primary line of communication. They couldn’t risk having anyone pick up an extension and overhear phone conversations. That was too risky.

Jodi was on. Kate buzzed her.

Katie_luvs_justintimber: BUZZ!

Katie_luvs_justintimber: Hey, u there?

JLoqueen: yeah, i was just going to walk over 2 your house 2 see if u were up…what the hell happened last nite?

Katie_luvs_justintimber: I wanted to ask u the same thing. Don’t remember much, but I don’t like it. I’m out. Not doing it anymore. I can always get my dad 2 buy me stuff I want, and my mom’s a shopoholic anyway. I’m going to text Lauren and tell her I’m done. No more.

JLoqueen: me 2. i remember the guy playing with my butt hole--that was completely disgusting!! Sick!! 

Katie_luvs_justintimber: Anyway…going to find breakfast. Starving. TTYL. 

JLoqueen: Laterz

Kathryn shuddered as she turned to leave her desk. She picked up her cell phone and sent Lauren Samson an urgent test message.

Last night was no good. No more, I’m done. Won’t be at shop next weekend. Tell parents if you want, but I’m out.

If Lauren told her parents anything about what they’d been doing for her, she would be placing her entire business in jeopardy. Kate was pretty sure she would not be willing to take that risk.

Gripped by a sudden spurt of curiosity, she opened up her Firefox browser and typed www.farfromlegal.com in the Web search box. The site materialized in seconds, with the usual buzz phrases flashing on the home page…enticing prospective customers to succumb and cough up their precious credit card numbers.

Young!

Far from legal!

Teens!

Schoolgirls gone bad!

Sexy!

Hot!

Kathryn clicked on a seductive JPEG image of herself with a subtitle that read, Kit-Kat’s ready to be a grown up! Click here for Kitty action!!

Clicking her picture, she was taken to a video clip that was meant to be a teaser, leaving the viewer so badly in need of more they’d be willing to plunk down $29.95 per month to get it.

But what Kate saw turned her stomach.

There she was, lying with her legs spread apart and her eyes half-closed—clearly under the influence of something—with paunch-belly Ajay doing unmentionables to her!

Ajay?! Gross!

And what was worse—she was enjoying it! Loving it, even! Giving the exact type of response they wanted, no doubt.

Embarrassed by the vulgar images, Kate clicked off the site and cleared out her Internet cache. Just in case.

Leaving her bedroom, she went downstairs to find something to eat. I was a fool to ever trust Lauren Samson.

It was over. She was out. She was never doing that crap again.

Chapter 49

Leslie knew it was wrong to even consider doing it. But she had.

That morning when she arrived at C&C and made it in to her office, she immediately called Dawn’s extension and left a message. “Won’t make lunch today. I’ve got a lunch meeting with risk management. I’ll call you later.”

Then she had checked her e-mail to see if she’d gotten a response from Grace. And she had.

To: L. Cavanaugh [emeraldgems83@wpb.com]

From: Grace C. [mailto:graceland85@memphcable.com]

Subject: Re: Invitation

Message: I’m dumbfounded. I have no clue what to tell you on that one. There could be trouble just waiting for you there…but then again, I also know how lonely you’ve been lately. Hmm…well, if it’s just lunch, why not? Caution loves the wind. Go for it.

Good luck,

Grace

P.S. Don’t you dare keep me in suspense! I want details!

L. Cavanaugh wrote:

===============

Quick! Need some advice. Years ago, I dated a guy from work. We broke up when I met Luke. To cut to the chase, he’s asked me to have lunch with him and I don’t know what to do. I mean, he knows Luke, they’ve met at our Christmas parties, and I’ve met his wife as well, but he just strolled into my office when I was working late last night and invited me to lunch! We’ve always seen each other around over the years and talked, but now he wants to go out together. What if someone sees us? Part of me really wants to throw caution to the wind and go for it. Part of me doesn’t. I’m married, and I don’t think it would be appropriate. But (yes there is a but, a mighty big one) I have to admit I’m very tempted. It would be so nice to…Things aren’t getting any better here with Luke. At times I feel he wants to reach out, but then he clams up and withdraws again, and I lose him. It’s driving me nuts. Most days I’m so frustrated that…at times I’m tempted to smother him in his sleep! No. No. I didn’t just type that. But he is making me nuts, and I’m seriously considering a separation. Anyway…I’m a little old for playing games now and running around on my husband. In fourteen years of marriage, I’ve never cheated on Luke…do I have reason to start now? What am I saying? Here I’m hopping into bed with Paul and all he did was ask me out to lunch! Help!

•

It was a beautiful summer afternoon in the Palm Beaches. A nice summer breeze was blowing in the air.

Naturally, Florida was gearing up for a good old-fashioned June heat wave, but for now people were taking advantage of the moderately warm and pleasant pre-summer afternoons.

They lunched in the little park across the street from Crystal Clear. Paul suggested they grab sandwiches from the C&C deli and take a stroll since the weather was nice.

From the outset, Leslie realized that it had been a mistake.

Parks.

She had trouble being in parks. Even when Kathryn was a little girl, Leslie had avoided the park, preferring to find some reason, whenever feasible, to send her with a neighbor’s children or with Luke’s family.

Now, as Paul went on and on about the trouble he was having in his department, Leslie realized what a fool she’d been. What an enormous card-carrying fool. This had nothing to do with their history as a couple. He had not wanted to go on a lunch date.

He was simply a director wanting to talk business—off the record, of course—with the head of human resources.

Was she becoming desperate or something?

Oh, God. How embarrassing! Wait until she told Grace.

Chapter 50

Dawn had just stepped from the shower and was examining her body in the full-length mirror hanging from the bathroom door. She turned this way and that, exploring her curvy reflection. She shivered. It felt as if someone was watching her.

And, of course, as always, someone was.

For a woman over forty, she still looked pretty good. Pretty damn good. She had kept up her visits to the gym and had even begun doing Pilates, when the loneliness of the evenings had become more than she could bear.

Loneliness. It could be a bitch of an existence. Being alone was one thing, but being lonely…that was entirely another. For Dawn it was a personal prison. How could one break out?

“You need to get a life!” Brenda always said. Well, she’d had a life! A life with Michael. A life and a future out of which she would always feel cheated.

And now she was getting married again, so she supposed everyone believed she was finally “over” losing Michael. But she could never allow herself to get over him.

So it seemed remarrying would be the only way to pacify everyone. She would remarry, give them what they wanted. But she’d never let go of Michael. Never.

Why didn’t they get it? Only another woman who’d lost a husband so young could possibly understand; and Dawn knew it was fate that brought Leslie into her life all those years ago. They had needed each other.

As she gazed at her body, she knew Michael would’ve been proud. Even now, she still had it.

As her imagination kicked in, Dawn sauntered over to her closet and pulled out her special toys. No one could ever take Michael away from her. His memory was too precious, and Dawn wouldn’t allow it to fade into the background with time. She had to keep him alive, because even at her loneliest, she always had Michael.

She glanced at the clock. She had to get dressed for dinner. Lyle was taking her out, but for now…Michael came first.

•

Upon her return to the office that day, Leslie had been swamped with impromptu meetings dealing with various issues that required her immediate attention. She hadn’t been able to spare a minute to e-mail Grace about her lunch “date.” When she finally left the office and drove home that evening, she was overcome by melancholy, by the decisions that needed to be made.

Two blocks from the house, Leslie turned around and drove to Bloomingdale’s. She had foreboding energy to burn.

Two Martinez Valero evening sandals and three Kate Spade open-toe sling-backs later, Leslie walked over to the jewelry department and bought a $300 Sheila Fajl coin bracelet. Gosh, I wish I could get one for Grace, she thought. You know what? I will. I’ll save it for the next time she comes to town.

Leslie sighed. When would that be?

Next, she hit the beauty and cosmetics department and picked up three $115 bottles of Freeze 24/7 Anti-Wrinkle Cream. Well, although everyone said she looked superbly for forty—forty, yikes!—she wasn’t exactly getting any younger.

Leaving Bloomingdale’s, Leslie tossed her comforts into the trunk and slid into the seat of her luxury SUV. She took a deep, calming breath. She still didn’t feel like going home. She looked at her watch. 7:17. It was still early.

Grabbing her purse, she left the car again, this time going to the mall’s entrance. Checking the directory she located Sam Goody and started walking toward it. Leslie couldn’t remember when last she’d been inside of a music store, but five minutes later there she was. And she knew exactly what she had come for.

•

When Leslie finally turned up at the house, Luke was fuming. He knew he had no right to be, but it didn’t matter. He was good and pissed.

He was brooding in his office when he heard the alarm beep and knew it had to be her. He glanced at the time on his laptop. 11:37. Where the fuck had she been? Certainly not with Dawn.

He met her as she stepped into the hallway, coming in from the garage. It was clear she hadn’t been expecting to see him first thing. And she did not look good. It was obvious she’d been crying. A lot.

The anger left him, as much as he hated himself for it. The rage simply left him. But he could not bring himself to show her.

They stood there for what seemed like an eternity, staring at each other.

Finally, without saying a word, Luke turned and went back into his office.

Those tears aren’t for me, he thought, staring into the garden out back. They’ll never be for me.

•

It was well after midnight when Leslie descended the stairs and went into the kitchen. She needed a cup of chamomile to cap off the night. She was exhausted. Drained.

She needed to write to Grace. Tell her about what she’d done.

To: Grace C. graceland85@memphcable.com

From: L. Cavanaugh [mailto:emeraldgems83@wpb.com]

Subject: Call me stupid…

Message: because I deserve it. Guess what? Paul spent our “lunch date” giving me an earful about staffing issues he’s having in his department. Oh, for shame! You can imagine how stupid I felt for reading so much more into it. Well, that’s that.

In other news, I was inspired to do something today that surprised me. After I did some minor damage in Bloomingdale’s, which Luke would chew me out about if he found my shopping bags, I went to the music store and bought an album. Elvis 30 #1 Hits. Don’t ask me why because I cannot explain. I just did it. I drove around for what must’ve been several hours. It broke my heart. I can’t express how painful it still is to hear an Elvis Presley song, not to mention the ones your father played over and over again. As difficult as it was for me (and believe me when I tell you that it was very painful), it was equally therapeutic. I suppose since Jeff’s been gone as long as you’ve been alive—longer, in fact, over twenty-one years—it may sound strange that something as simple as that would still be this hard. But all I can tell you is…it’s not strange to me. Not at all.

I think Luke was waiting for me when I got home, but when he took a look at me I guess he decided he didn’t want to be bothered. I don’t know what he wanted…but I sure wish he had told me anyway. Why don’t I just ask him, you wonder? I don’t know. I’m too angry with him, I suppose. There’s too much going on. And too much not going on. Too complicated to explain. Now I sound stupid…and, of course, I’m rambling, so here’s a good spot to sign off. I hope your day was a good one. Keep your nose in the books!

Ciao,

Leslie

•

The following day when Leslie reached the office and signed on to her computer, the first thing she did was check her personal e-mail account. Grace had not yet replied.

There was no response the entire day, so when Leslie returned home, she called up the e-mail from her sent-items folder and reread it. Was it possible she had said too much? Said something that had upset Grace?

Perhaps she was tired of hearing about Jeffrey? Was that it? Oh, no.

Leslie reached for the phone and called Dawn.

She got her on her cell. “What do you think?” Leslie asked after she’d read her the e-mail. “Am I telling her too much?”

“I dunno on this one, Les. Perhaps. Perhaps not. Just give it a while; who knows? Maybe she’s just busy with school stuff and hasn’t had a chance to check her e-mail yet. It’s only been one day.”

“I guess you’re right,” said Leslie, nodding. “That’s probably all it is.”

And indeed it probably was. Although when Grace’s response came the following morning, there was no reference to the unusual delay.

To: L. Cavanaugh [emeraldgems83@wpb.com]

From: Grace C. [mailto:graceland85@memphcable.com]

Subject: Re: Call me stupid…

Message: Which songs did he play over and over again?

Grace

Perhaps her daughter had simply been thinking about the e-mail. Thinking about her response.

Leslie made quick work of replying, eager to satisfy any thirst Grace had for knowledge about her father.

To: Grace C. graceland85@memphcable.com

From: L. Cavanaugh [mailto:emeraldgems83@wpb.com]

Subject: Your dad’s favorites

Message: “Suspicious Minds,” “Hound Dog,” “Jailhouse Rock,” “Kentucky Rain,” “That’s All Right, Mama,” “Just Pretend,” “My Way,” “Moody Blue,” “Hawaiian Wedding Song,” “Blue Hawaii,” “You Gave Me a Mountain,” “I’ll Remember You,” “Welcome to My World,” “It’s Over,” “How Great Thou Art”

Enjoy,

Leslie

By the time Leslie typed her name, her face was soaked with tears.

She knew it was time to leave 1985…she just didn’t know how.

Chapter 51

The mind of a teenager could be quite capricious. Lauren Samson knew this all too well. It wasn’t that long ago that she had been one herself.

She had other girls working for her, but losing Holly, Kathryn, and Jodi was costing her big revenue. Web site membership was down, and e-mail queries kept pouring in from the existing members asking about the girls and expressing disappointment.

What happened to Kit-Kat? No new pics of Jo-Jo Dancer?

The demand was high for their weekly performances—performances they never even knew they’d been giving from the start. Although they had been aware that their sexy nude photos were taken for publication on a Web site, they’d had no idea the live video cam had been hidden in the room the entire time.

If she hadn’t rocked the boat and just kept the men out of the equation, things would’ve continued running smoothly. But, alas, the revenue opportunities were endless…There was so much money to be made.

I have to coax them back, Lauren thought while checking her flawless makeup in a Gucci compact mirror.

She decided it was time she looked into recruiting legal-age girls who could simply pass for minors. But the young girls were worth so much more. The men loved them young. As far as most were concerned, the younger the better.

In the meantime, she had to recover and placate her current cash cows. She needed them to change their minds…and Lauren was pretty confident that, given enough incentive and reassurance, they would come back, and business would be better than ever!

•

While Lauren Samson was making plans to ensure the future revenue of her salon, she had no idea that, across town, equally ruthless plans were being made to rob her of her three greatest assets.

Ajay Patella, part-time cameraman, part-time flesh hunter, hung up his cell phone as he turned to his two unsavory friends. “He watched the trailer at farfromlegal.com. Man says he’ll pay five thousand apiece for the three Caucasians. Says he’ll double it if we can find a way to get ‘em to St. Croix by next Saturday.” He looked back and forth between the two men. “That’s fifteen thousand just for grabbing ‘em. Thirty thousand if we produce them in the Virgin Islands.” A devious smile spread across Ajay’s face as he said the words, baring his stained teeth. For these men, it was fortune!

“Sounds good to me,” said one of the men, folding his arms. “Call that chick Lauren and request another session.”

“She won’t,” Ajay said, shaking his balding head. “Says the girls didn’t like it and they’re too young to risk it again…”

“Wait,” said the other one. “We can just show up one night and grab ‘em easy enough—but how the hell are we gonna get ‘em down to St. Croix?”

Ajay smiled again. “They’re just a few kids, my friend. They’ll plum shit their pants when we pull guns out on ‘em. You don’t need passports for the Virgin Islands, just ID. We’ll get our plastic man to produce some fake ones so there’s no trail, and then we’ll scare the living shit out of those girls. Trust me—they’ll go willingly when we’re done with ‘em.”

“Sounds like a plan,” his friend said. “Let’s do it.”

•

Leslie sat at the dining room table going through the mail. She cringed when she saw that most of it was from creditors. Citibank. Capital One. American Express. Discover. Had she really been shopping that much lately?

Yes. And Luke was going to kill her…if he saw them. There were times when he used to go online to check up on balances, but Leslie had solved that problem. She’d simply applied for new cards that Luke never found out about. Now all she had to do was make sure he didn’t see the mail—which was easy enough—slowly integrate her new purchases so as not to raise his eyebrow—which was just a tad more difficult—and everything was fine.

Fine? Who was she kidding? Nothing was fine.

Just then Evelyn came in from the garage carrying two bags of groceries. Leaving the table, Leslie took a bag off her hands.

“Publix was all out of blueberries,” Evelyn said once they were in the kitchen unpacking the groceries. “I had to drive over to the Albertson’s on Lantana.”

“Thanks, Evelyn, that’s great…” said Leslie, distracted. She paused. “Evelyn, can I ask you something?”

Evelyn’s hands slowed as she moved to open the refrigerator. “Sure. What’s up?”

“Do you like coming here to work?”

Evelyn looked startled. “Of course! What kind of question is that—you know I love cooking for your family.”

“Well, I guess my question should be…What’s your impression of our home? Do we seem like a happy family, compared to others you’ve worked with?”

“Uh…well…” Evelyn became visibly uncomfortable.

Leslie looked at her expectantly. “Don’t be afraid, just be honest.”

“I don’t know if I should. It’s so not my place, Leslie. I just come to cook.”

Leslie took a carton of eggs from Evelyn’s hands and pulled her to the table. They sat. “I hate to make you uncomfortable, but I’m really curious, and I’d really help me a lot if you could be honest and give me your impression.”

“Well…okay. I guess you all are a bit different because…you don’t seem to be comfortable around one another. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

“It makes a lot of sense. Go on.”

“So you don’t seem to be on the same wavelength. Everyone goes about their lives in a straight line…hardly ever blending, you know? I’ve always wondered…”

“Yes?”

Evelyn looked toward the doorway. “You and Mr. Cavanaugh…do you think he’s faithful?” Evelyn blushed as she asked, but she figured, What the hell? Leslie had opened the door by asking; she was simply walking through it.

Leslie’s eyes closed briefly as she spoke. “Oh, Evelyn…That means it isn’t just my imagination. You can see it, too…and you’re not even here every day.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve thought so for some time now…maybe since the end of last year.”

“I’ll be honest with you—I have no idea what’s going on, Evelyn. I’ve been afraid to even give it a voice.”

“Forgive me for asking…but have you discussed it with your friend Dawn?”

“No. Like I said…I’ve never said anything. Oddly enough, you’re the first person I’m discussing it with. I still can’t believe he would cheat on me…after all we’ve already got going on between us…he’d have an affair.” Her eyes filled with tears.

“Well,” Evelyn cautioned, “if you want my advice…I don’t think you’d have to look very far to find out who he may be involved with.”

Leslie’s head snapped up. “What do you mean?”

“Your friend, uh…Dawn. She’s a good friend to you…right? You trust her?”

“With my life.”

Evelyn stared at her.

Leslie froze. “But she’s m-marrying Lyle.”

Leaving the table, Evelyn said, “I’d better get the rest of the groceries packed away before they spoil.”

•

As Evelyn cooked in the kitchen, Leslie found herself walking through the doorway of Luke’s office.

She was on autopilot. If she thought too much about what she was doing, she would have to admit that she suspected her husband and her best friend in the world—her only friend in the world—of having an affair. And of course, that was impossible.

Wasn’t it?

Luke’s laptop lay on the desk next to his BlackBerry. His Blackberry? He must’ve forgotten it. Walking over to the desk, she picked it up. Leslie stared at the compact device, turning it this way and that. Did it hold the answers she so desperately needed?

Glancing back toward the door, Leslie hesitated. In all the years they’d been married, she had never done anything like this before. Never felt the need to encroach upon Luke’s personal space.

But a burning curiosity had been planted by Evelyn’s insinuation. It was now driving Leslie’s actions. Any doubt that arose was pacified by the raw intensity of the suspicion. She told herself that she was simply searching to put her mind at ease. That there was nothing incriminating to be found.

But once the BlackBerry was turned on, Leslie found out just how wrong she was.

She supposed he had never felt a need to erase the messages. To cover his tracks. Luke had never had reason to believe she would ever come prying, snooping through his things behind his back.

And Dawn.

Leslie dropped her head, the BlackBerry falling from her hands. Humiliation showered her like rain. It prickled her skin and made her tremble.

Dazed, she slumped into Luke’s chair.

Minutes flew by and she couldn’t move a muscle. She was remembering. Every lunch. Every phone conversation. Every e-mail.

Each and every time she had been sharing her soul with the enemy.

From the content of the messages, it seemed that nearly every word she’d ever shared with Dawn had found its way to Luke. The messages were all about her. They’d been laughing at her the entire marriage!

Stupid Leslie. Weak, confused, and pathetic Leslie!

How could something like this have been going on without her knowing? Or even suspecting?

“Leslie?”

She shot from the chair, startled. She called out, “Yes?”

“I’ll be going now.” It was Evelyn. “Is there anything else you need before I go?”

“Uh…no, Evelyn. Thanks. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“Okay.” A pause. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?”

No. No, she was not going to be all right.

“Yes, Evelyn. I’ll be fine.”

Rather than return to the chair, Leslie’s feet led her over to one of Luke’s file cabinets. She was familiar enough with is organizing to know where he kept important documents.

Within minutes she knew the address of Luke’s infamous beach house. The reason he had kept it all these years was now painfully clear. Abundantly clear.

God, what a fool she had been to leave him to it! A complete and utter fool, stunned by a lifetime of her own deceit…and crippling guilt.

Were they there together right now? Right this minute? Leslie glanced at the digital clock on Luke’s desk: 6:15.

She left the office and gathered her purse and keys. What did she expect to find there? She did not know. Leslie was on autopilot.

And it was taking her to 874 Perugia Way.

•

Against her better judgment, and with the trip to Jamaica still outstanding and more enticing than ever, by July Kate had allowed Holly and Jodi to convince her that they should return to working for Lauren Samson.

Tonight was their first night back, and Kathryn couldn’t help remembering how the last time had been. She could not help feeling a bit anxious as she posed and pursed her lips for the camera…and for Ajay. Seeing him again, having vague memories of the things she’d done with him, made her very uncomfortable. The guy still gave her the creeps.

But you’re a professional, Kate told herself. You can do this. She still wished they could have Rudy back, though.

Lauren had promised all of them that what happened with the men that night would never happen again. It was back to photographs only. She was planning their Jamaican excursion for the following month, and they could hardly wait. Kathryn was planning to leave without telling her mother anything about it. Just to stick it to her. She couldn’t wait to see how her mom reacted to that.

“Okay, baby,” said Ajay, swinging the camera from his neck. “Great shoot.”

Lauren strolled through the door. “All done?”

“Yeah, done,” Ajay replied in his thick accent. “Kit-Kat here was the last one. The others went to get dressed.”

“Okay,” said Lauren, taking the camera. She turned to Kate. “I’ll upload these to the site and meet you girls out back. See you next week, Ajay.”

•

Ajay Patella walked out the back door of Lauren Samson’s Chalet of Beauty and signaled to the two men in the silver sedan parked along the fence near the street. The headlines flicked on and shown brightly in the darkness of the night. The car drove up to the door, stopping in front of Lauren Samson’s Corvette. Blocking it.

Ajay approached the car, and the man in the front seat passed him a gun. They exited the sedan, and the three men flanked the back door—to wait.

•

“What happened to Rudy,” Kathryn asked Lauren as she joined them in the hallway that led to the back door of the salon. “How come he’s not back yet?”

“Yeah, what ever did happen to Rudy?” Holly chimed in. “He was such a funny guy.”

Lauren flipped off the light in the hallway. They started toward the door. “I wish I knew. I haven’t been able to get in touch with him. I’ve left messages, but I guess he must’ve found other work or something.”

Holly reached the door first and opened it. “Ajay! We thought you left. Wh—”

What happened next happened so fast that neither Kathryn, Jodi, nor Lauren would be able to recall every detail.

Holly screamed as Ajay grabbed her arm and thrust a gun to her head. “Don’t you dare scream again, bitch,” he said roughly. “Walk out slow. All of you.”

Lauren spoke. “Ajay, what the—”

“Shut the fuck up!” he barked. “Let’s go!”

Holly’s eyes were wide with fright as she slowly stepped through the door.

“You two,” he said, looking at Kate and Jodi. “Come out slow. Congratulations. You girls just won yourselves one-way tickets to sex-slave hell. You’re all off to St. Croix.” He looked toward someone who must’ve been standing just beyond or behind the door. “Grab ‘em.”

He didn’t see it coming. As soon as Holly’s foot had cleared the door, Jodi grabbed the handle and pulled, slamming the door shut. She threw the lock. “Run! Go call the cops—quick!”

“Let’s go ’round the front!” they heard Ajay yell through the door. “Move!”

“Oh, my God!” Lauren said in a panic. “Holly!”

“Run!” Jodi screamed.

Kathryn could barely hear anything above her heart pounding. Instinctively she turned and ran toward the front of the shop, but her mind was numb with panic. A frightened cry escaped her lips.

“Go!” Jodi yelled. “Before they beat us there and get in—go!”

All three raced down the hall and through the salon. The shop was closed, so Lauren scrambled with the locks to open the door and they raced out. Jodi grabbed Kathryn’s hand and they ran through the parking lot toward the street. “We have to go call the police!” she yelled, practically dragging Kate’s shock-stiffened body behind her. “Heeelp!” Jodi began screaming at the top of her lungs. “Somebody heeelp uuuuus!”

Time seemed to decelerate for the next few seconds, everything in freeze-frame.

Kate turned her head to see Lauren running behind them in her green Jimmy Choo heels.

Lauren tripped, tumbled to the ground.

Then suddenly a car came screeching around the corner of the building. Lauren was now scrambling to get up. She kicked off her shoes, preparing to run.

And that was the last Kate saw of anything.

She turned her head back around, let go of Jodi’s hand—and ran for dear life, screaming every step of the way.

Chapter 52

Leslie’s heart was pounding as she turned onto Perugia Way. Could Dawn really be having an affair with Luke? No. It was impossible. If this was true, Leslie would not know who in the world she was anymore. If her instincts were that unreliable, she’d have no choice but to question her very identity.

If this was true, would she ever trust anything in life again?

Her Lexus cruised along the street until it caught her eye. There sat Luke’s house. His refuge whenever their marriage was on the rocks. The place he had been spending most of his nights lately.

And their marriage had become all too familiar with those rocks. When what they needed more than anything was open communication, and though Leslie laid herself bare to regain his trust, he still ran away—to this house.

She turned her car into the driveway and stepped out. How could they do this to her? How could Dawn of all people, do this to her? It was funny—Luke’s betrayal she could comprehend, given the state of their relationship in recent years, but Leslie would never come to terms with Dawn’s.

She didn’t see their cars in the driveway. They must be parked in the garage, of course. Couldn’t risk the wrong person cruising by and recognizing them.

Walking up the stone path, she approached the front door.

Should she knock? What on earth was she going to say to them? In that moment, as she imagined seeing the two of them being intimate together, Leslie felt a stab of shame so sharp it took her breath away. What did she look like standing there? Like the world’s biggest fool.

Tears threatened, but she swallowed them. Now wasn’t the time for tears. She was here to confront them. To demand an explanation. To let them both know that their secret was out. Her days of being in the dark were over.

Raising her hand to knock, she stopped in midair. Autopilot: Why not have a look around first?

Leaving the doorway, she turned left, walking around the shrubbery to the side of the house. She peaked through the open blinds of the first two windows, and although they were dark, she guessed that the first was an office. Luke’s office. And the second looked like a bathroom.

Quietly she continued through the grass and went around to the patio. There was a swimming pool. Did they make love in it? Did they crack each other up with Leslie jokes while gliding around doing sidestrokes out here?

The kitchen window was dark.

Leslie peaked through the patio door. Between the vertical blinds she saw candles. So many candles. They lined the floor, disappearing down a hallway. It appeared that Luke had casually tossed his tie over a bar stool and followed the well-lit trail.

Damn them, she thought. Damn them straight to the pit of hell. How could they do this?

Leslie resisted an urge to bang on the glass and scream at the top of her lungs. Her husband and her best friend. What a humiliating cliché!

There was a light burning in the next window. That must be the master bedroom, Leslie thought. Where all the candles are headed.

She started moving toward it, deciding to take a peek before saying anything, before making her presence known. That was when her cell phone chirped, softly. Thankfully it was still set to meeting mode. Grabbing it from her purse, Leslie checked the display.

It was Dawn.

Dawn?

The bitch was actually calling from their love nest!

Turning, Leslie made a beeline back to the other side of the house. She answered the phone. “Dawn?”

“Leslie, where are you? You’ve got to get home right away—Kate’s in trouble.”

“What do you mean, she’s in trouble? She’s over at her friend Holly’s tonight. They’re having a sleepover. Lauren Samson picked her up.”

“No, no! Listen to me. Holly was kidnapped! And Kate and Jodi just barely managed to get away themselves!”

Leslie froze. “What?”

“They managed to run to a gas station and Kate called me, completely hysterical.”

“Oh, my God…” Leslie stood there in shock. “Kidnapped? By whom?”

“Don’t worry; she’s okay now. Just a little shaken up, I think. I’m bringing her home as we speak—so meet us there, okay? Do you know if Luke’s at home?”

Leslie spun around suddenly, shifting again to autopilot.

Slowly she walked back toward the pool area.

Luke. Was he alone in there after all?

“Um,” Leslie stammered, her mind now completely off balance. “I-I’m not sure. I don’t think so, but I’ll try to reach him on his cell.” She blinked several times. She had to concentrate.

Think, Leslie thought. Think. What should you do now? “I’m on my way,” she said finally. “Tell Kathryn I love her—I’ll be right there.”

Leslie clicked off her phone and pressed a hand to her chest. Someone had kidnapped Holly Samson? And, dear God, they tried to take Katie! Leslie suddenly felt faint. She had to go to her daughter…

Then she remembered where she was…and why.

Luke.

Luke and Dawn. The messages. The e-mails. What the hell was going on? Why had she been so certain they would be here together? Think, Leslie. Think.

Dawn? Dawn was not in the house…but someone else was. Leslie sensed it. She could feel it. Somehow…she just knew.

So, if it wasn’t Dawn…who was it?

Quickly, Leslie walked back toward the brightly lit bedroom window, and peered inside.

The first thing she saw was the string of burning candles coming in from the hallway. Then, as if in slow motion, her eyes roamed the room…until they settled upon the couple in the bed.

The blood drained from Leslie’s face.

She stopped breathing.

Her heart shattered.

She stood staring at the two of them, unable to move. Unable to even blink.

Luke, her husband, lay with his eyes closed, his arms wrapped around the woman. She—definitely not Dawn—appeared to be asleep, tucked ever so snuggly against him beneath the sheets. Their fingers were entwined, laced together so intimately, her flaming red hair grazing Luke’s face.

It was almost as if Leslie were looking at herself lying there with him.

Almost. Because it was not Leslie lying there—it was Grace!

Her firstborn child.

So traumatized by what she was seeing, Leslie screamed, “Oh, my God! Nooo!”

What in God’s name were they doing? They had to get up! They had to get out of that bed!

In an instant, and not fully aware of what she was doing, Leslie had a rock in her hand. As she ran back toward the window, she hurled it with all her might.

The glass shattered loudly where the rock went through.

Eyes wide, she watched them jump up, leaping from the bed in surprise. Grace completely naked, Luke wearing only briefs.

Leslie’s green eyes blazed with shock. Her jaw dropped in absolute horror. She thought she was screaming, but in croak barely above a whisper, she said, “Luke! What the hell are you doing?! My daughter?”

She stood there, gaping through the window, watching as they scrambled to get dressed. Luke said something to Grace, and then they both left the bedroom.

Leslie stood there, rooted to the soil. The June air was humid and balmy, and the whoosh of the nearby ocean filled her head. Then suddenly the patio door slid open, and Luke stepped out. He came to stand just behind her shoulder.

Autopilot: Leslie turned around.

He had pulled on his shirt and slacks. Leslie covered her mouth, gaping at his face. What are you doing? she heard herself say—but she hadn’t made a sound. Why would you be in bed with your arms wrapped around my daughter?

She tried to move her lips, but they wouldn’t work. Luke was staring at her, his eyes so full of pain it blinded her. All Leslie could imagine now was the two of them lying in bed together. Snuggling. Spooning together.

What exactly had she just seen? Grace?

Grace?

Of all the women she could’ve found him with…

Luke had been in bed with Grace!

Paralyzed by shock, Leslie suddenly crumpled to the ground.

In her disorientation, she imagined that she was clawing at Luke, raking his face, hitting him in the groin, again and again. Pounding his chest. Punching him. All the while screaming bloody murder at the top of her lungs.

Thoughts collided with one another in her head.

Grace...you’re supposed to be in Memphis! What the hell are you doing in Florida? You just sent me an e-mail last night about how well things were going at Tennessee State.

Luke, you’re a vile, disgusting animal!

But in reality Leslie had only slid to the ground, soaking the spot where she landed with tears. The shock, the disbelief poured out in a river of uncontrollable tears. Leslie sat there staring at nothing as she sobbed, in a foggy stupor. Only the sound of the ocean reached her.

Luke knelt beside her. “Leslie…” he said tentatively. What could he possibly have to say in that moment?

Abruptly her crying stopped.

Kathryn. A kidnapping!

God, what the hell was going on with Kate anyway? Leslie shot up from the ground, intending to run to her car. But before she could gather her bearings or realize what was happening, she was being led through the glass doors, into the house, and put to sit on a sofa in the living room.

Her eyes fell to the candles. Candles. Didn’t they mean romance? Seduction? Leslie wanted to curl up in a fetal position and will herself out of the world.

Grace—now dressed, Leslie noticed—stood leaning against the concrete column that separated the sunken living room from the dining area. Her face was blank. She stood simply watching Leslie. And waiting. But waiting for what? For her mother to grab her by the hair and tear it out by the roots? For Leslie to claw out her eyeballs and fry them on the candlesticks?

In any case, Leslie couldn’t move; nor could she speak. She had so much to say. So much to ask. But she was dumb. Shocked into silence for the second time in her life.

Silence reigned. No one said a word.

Luke sat beside Leslie on the sofa. He folded his arms and fell back against the cushions. There was sadness in the pit of his stomach. He resigned himself to Leslie’s will, willing to take whatever he had coming. Whatever she wanted. He was now a ball of clay, and he would mold himself to her wishes. If she killed him right here and now, it would be no less than he deserved.

What would happen next? He had no idea. Leslie was sitting there, looking as though her insides had just been torn out. And Grace…

Suddenly she broke the silence. Her voice was surprisingly calm and even. “Leslie,” she began with a sigh of impatience, “are we just going to sit here all night? Are you waiting for us to apologize or something?”

Luke cut in. “Grace—”

“Because, we’re not sorry, you know,” Grace continued as if Luke had not spoken. Her tone became matter-of-fact. “Besides—you don’t deserve any apologies. Tell her, Luke. Tell her about what’s happened between us. Tell her your marriage is all over, and has been for a long time.” Grace snorted. “You know, I’m actually glad that you showed up here tonight, because it was only a matter of time before you found out anyway, and—”

“Stop it!” Luke shouted, standing. “Don’t do this. There is no ‘us,’ Grace. There never has been. All it’s ever been about is—” He broke off, looking at his wife, just sitting there. Silent as the dead. Was she even listening? “There’s never been an ‘us.’ Please don’t make it out to be more than it was.”

Grace looked at him, confused. “More than it was? Oh, I think it’s pretty obvious—even to my long-lost mother here—that what she peeked in on is about more than just sex, Luke. Do you shed tears when you make love to her? Have all women had that affect on you?”

Leslie turned her head toward the door. She heard the conversation, but she wasn’t listening.

Luke with Grace? Her husband and her daughter?

It was the ultimate shock. The ultimate betrayal.

She was beyond comprehension, of any of it.

Suddenly she looked up at Grace, staring at her face—the face that was so like her own. The girl she’d spent the last five and a half years trying to reach. Trying to make amends and establish a bond with. Trying to be forgiven by.

Leslie’s face crumpled as if in pain.

Jeffrey’s baby. He’d wanted to name her Elvissa. They had been so excited. So giddy with happiness. This child was to be the light of Jeffrey’s life.

Now here she stood, their daughter, twenty-one years later, making a mockery of the love in which she had been conceived. Making a joke of her very existence and how she’d come to be.

Leslie imagined herself asking, Why the hell did you come back into my life? Why did you pretend to forgive me? Make me believe I could trust you? Why didn’t you just stay buried in Memphis?

Grace stared back at her. Their eyes locked. Leslie was stricken by just how much of herself she saw in Grace. Perhaps too much.

Punishment. The thought roared through her disorientated brain. Yes. This was punishment for what she had done. For abandoning Jeffrey’s child. It was a perverse atonement. Perhaps it had always been inevitable, and she had been a walking mark all these years.

Without having spoken a single word, Leslie stood up, and simply walked out of the house.

Outside, she slid behind the wheel of her car. The leather seat gloved her; the familiar feel calmed her. And she started the engine.

Luke had finally run through the front door, chasing after her, but Leslie did not see him. Didn’t hear him screaming her name.

Tires screeching, Leslie sped off into the night.

Dear God…What in the hell was going on with Kathryn?

•

Luke watched helplessly as Leslie’s car took off down the street. Dusk had fallen, and the brake lights glowed red in the distance.

The front door opened and Grace stepped out. Luke turned to look at her.

Shame stared back at him, raw and damning.

He looked away quickly. It was over now. No matter what happened next, this was finally over.

Walking toward him, Grace reached out to touch his arm. He moved away.

“Luke, it’s okay,” she said. “Come back in—”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted, without looking at her. He was still staring after Leslie. Every instinct told him he should go home. Go after her!

Grace came to stand in front of him. She slipped her arms around his waist. “Luke, please don’t be sorry. She was bound to find out sooner or later—I know we never really talked about it, but you must’ve known that. Besides, she has no right to be angry. She’s spent her whole life hurting people—especially you and me. She deserves to get a little of her own, don’t you think?”

Luke finally pulled his gaze from the street and looked down at Grace. He saw her for the first time.

Grace Audrey Phillips Cunningham. A daughter scorned.

Turning, he walked back into the house. Grace was on his heels. Once the door was closed behind them he said, “Payback. Of course—that’s why you did this.”

“Did what?”

“This!” he said forcefully, motioning between them. “The sex. With me.”

Grace said nothing, only stared back at him. God, how she looked like her mother. And her extremely expressive eyes confirmed everything.

“Oh, God.” Luke felt ill.

“No, Luke—it’s not like that—I think you’ve got it all wrong. I really do want to be with you. I want us to be together, and now we can be, without it being cloak-and-dagger, you know?”

He moved with a start. He was wasting time. He had to get to Leslie.

Going about the room, he picked up his briefcase and keys. He looked around for his BlackBerry. “Get your stuff. Blow out all those damn candles.” He paused. “Go back to Memphis, Grace.”

“Luke!” Grace stopped him as he was heading for the door, grabbing his arm. “What are you talking about? Come on; you’re not seriously thinking you can patch things up with her, are you? Because anyone can see that’ll never happen after this—get real.” Seeing the look on his face, she changed her tone, and begged, “Please just stay. Let’s talk things over; there’s so much we—“

“Talk? That’s interesting. You mentioned a little while ago that we had never talked about what would happen if Leslie found out, and I thought to myself, Well, that’s no surprise. What have we ever talked about? Period?” He removed her hand from his arm. “This was never a relationship, Grace. You’re a big girl—that should’ve been obvious.”

Grace swallowed. She had really thought they had a future together.

Unbelievable.

“Get your things,” he barked, unable to meet her gaze. “Please. It’s over. Just go on back home…” Luke hesitated. “Hopefully in time…Let’s hope there’s a chance you’ll be able to salvage your relationship with your mother.”

Grace stood her ground. “Why are you saying that? Didn’t you hear me? I didn’t do this just to get back at her, Luke. I want us to be together. Yes, I’ll admit that at first I wanted to hurt her more than anything…and I guess I still do. She made me feel like I didn’t belong, keeping me at arms length for years so she could protect her precious and perfect little family—I wanted to punish all of you. But, Luke…” Her eyes softened. “Baby, that has nothing to do with what we’ve gotten from each other, or my feelings for you now. We have something special here. We can still be together and make it work.” She tried to take his hand again, tried to hug him, but he pushed her away. “Luke, please don’t fight it. This is me, okay? I know how you feel—I see it in your eyes when we make love. You’ve never been able to hide it.”

Luke’s head snapped up then. He froze, staring at her. “Oh, God, Grace…I did mislead you, didn’t I?” His eyes filled with empathy…and burning tears of disgrace.

But Grace misunderstood the tears. A satisfied and relieved looked spread over her face. The lines in her forehead vanished. She believed she had won him over, changed his mind. She actually thought he had fallen in love with her. That this had been about her all along.

“It wasn’t you I was seeing, Grace.” Luke admitted softly. He looked away, wanting to bolt. “It was never you. It’s always been about your mother—it’s always been about Leslie.”

Grace’s face paled. Then she turned several shades of red as realization dawned.

Never in his life had Luke felt more ashamed of himself. What the fuck had he done? What had he been expecting the result to be? Reality had now opened his eyes, and he was terrified by what he saw.

“Go away now, Grace,” he whispered. “Please. Just go away.”

In the temptation of Grace he had seen what he’d so desperately needed: the woman of his dreams. The woman he believed he had married, but lost to a mêlée with the past. The woman he wanted to love. The woman he did love.

In Grace, he had seen what he could not reach in Leslie, mixed with a dangerous opportunity for a little payback—and nothing had been more attractive.

In Grace he’d found peace. Comfort. Bliss.

In Grace…he’d destroyed the very best parts of himself.

Chapter 53

When Leslie arrived at the house she pulled into their driveway next to Dawn’s BMW and turned off the engine. At first, she didn’t move. She just sat there, staring, but seeing nothing.

Luke and Grace. Cuddling in bed.

A few houses down she heard a car start. Rock music blared from the speakers. It snapped her temporarily from the trance. Mechanically she pressed the remote control, got out of the car, and went inside through the garage door.

She tried to call out for Kate, but her mouth didn’t seem to work.

“Hi,” Dawn said, rushing down the stairs to meet her. “I heard the garage door. She’s up in her room. She took a shower first thing. She’s really shaken up, Les.”

Leslie walked toward the stairs, saying nothing. Numbly, she climbed them one at a time. When she reached Kathryn’s bedroom door she tried the knob, but it was locked. She knocked, hearing herself say, “Kate, honey, it’s me. Open up the door.”

“Dawn?” Kathryn said from the other side. “Is that you?”

Dawn, confused by Leslie’s odd demeanor, joined her at the door. “Katie, honey, your mother just got here. Open up.”

“No!” said Kate, sounding mortified. “Tell her to go away. I don’t feel like talking to her about it right now, okay? Just go away!”

Taken aback, Dawn rapped on the door insistently. “Kathryn, open this door right now and talk to your mother about what happened. This is serious. She’s scared to death about what nearly took place. Tell her what went on, everything that happened with Holly and her sister. About the salon. Everything.”

They heard Kate starting to sob behind the door. “Please just go away,” she begged. “I just can’t talk about it anymore right now.”

Feeling completely helpless and utterly confused, Leslie turned and went back downstairs. Dawn followed her into the kitchen.

“She’s just upset,” Dawn told her. She led her friend over to the kitchen table and sat her down on a chair. Something else was wrong. She had seen Leslie like this once before, years ago—the day she’d driven Kathryn to Palm Beach Children’s Hospital. The day Dawn had driven up to find her spaced out in the car with Kate sick as a dog beside her.

“Leslie? Are you listening to me? Snap out of it. You’re not going to believe this…”

Then, for the first time, and to her horror, Leslie learned of her daughter’s involvement with child pornography.

Dawn took the chair opposite her. “You’ll just never believe what’s been going on with her, Leslie. Kathryn’s been modeling for porn Web sites. And it appears that some of those goons are also into snatching young girls and selling them into underground sex rings. Apparently they set their sights on Kate, Holly, and Jodi…Kate says that they screamed and ran the first chance they got—but one of the men grabbed Holly and took off with her in a car.”

Leslie sat listening. She didn’t speak or show any visible reaction whatsoever. Did she hear a word Dawn was saying?

“She called me—she was hysterical. I went to pick her up and I made her tell me everything.” Dawn took a deep breath. “But, boy, I wasn’t prepared to hear anything like this…”

Suddenly Leslie found her voice. “Kate’s been doing porn? As in ‘get naked and have sex in front of cameras’ porn?”

“Well, I asked her, and she says there was never any sex. That sometimes Lauren would give hints about having sex—offering them all sorts of things—but she refused.

“Lauren? Lauren who?”

“Lauren of Lauren Samson’s Chalet of Beauty. That disgusting bitch is like their…their pimp, I guess.”

Leslie shook her head. She whispered, “Sweet Jesus. Holly Samson’s sister! That woman picks her up all the time, buys the girls nice gifts—oh, my God!” Her mouth opened in shock as she tried to take it in. “She’s been forcing these girls to have sex for profit?”

“No,” said Dawn quickly. “Kathryn says she and Jodi only posed for pictures. At least, that’s what she says…” Dawn paused. “My instincts say there might’ve been more to it, but in any case, you’ve got to talk to her, Les. She told me she doesn’t feel important to you anymore because—”

“What?”

“That ever since Grace came into the picture, Grace has gotten all your energy and attention and Kate became less important. She says you didn’t care what she did…that she didn’t matter to you one way or the other.”

“How on earth could she think that?” Leslie asked quietly, completely mystified. “Grace doesn’t even live in this state; she lives in Tennessee, for God’s sake. How could she possibly take up more of my time and energy?”

Dawn shook her head. “I don’t know…I think that’s a question you have to ask Kate. When she calms down, go up and talk to her. I imagine she’s a little embarrassed right now, in light of what she’s been doing, but…she’s felt quite distanced from you, Les. So much so that she went out and got herself into a lot of trouble…and all without you or Luke suspecting any of it.”

My God, thought Leslie. I would’ve lost both daughters tonight.

“Both daughters,” Dawn repeated. “What do you mean?”

Leslie froze. Had she spoken aloud? Boy, she really did check out under pressure. She waved a hand cavalierly, slipping back into a daze.

Luke and Grace. Their betrayal was suffocating her.

Dawn pressed. “Did something happen to Grace, too? What do you mean?”

Leslie sighed. “It’s…complicated. I don’t know if I can make any sense of what’s been going on…”

“Give it a try,” Dawn said, folding her arms. “You’re scaring me.”

Leslie placed both hands on either side of her head and stood up. “I can’t believe Kate was almost kidnapped…I can’t believe she’s been involved in pornography—right under our noses!”

“Leslie,” Dawn snapped impatiently. “Don’t change the subject. Did something happen to Grace tonight?”

Leslie said nothing. In that moment, she didn’t have the capability to explain what she’d seen. Shrugging her shoulders and putting her head on the table, she felt everything seem to swirl around in her head. And she didn’t know how to balance any of it.

Dawn was staring at her, clearly not knowing what else to say. So she sat and waited.

Then Luke walked in.

“Dawn,” he said quietly. “Could you leave us alone, please? Leslie and I need to talk.”

“Sure,” Dawn said, puzzled. She squeezed Leslie’s hand, clearly worried about her. “Call me later, okay?” She rose from the table.

To Dawn’s surprise, Leslie rose with and followed her to the front door. “Thanks for bringing Kate home,” she said. She reached out and hugged Dawn. “Sometimes…I just don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“No prob,” said Dawn, hugging her back. Quietly, she whispered, “But, I’m still very worried about you, Les. Please call me later and tell me what’s going on. Promise you’ll call?”

Holding her friend tightly, Leslie whispered back, “I’m sorry. You’ll have to forgive me for—” She broke off. She couldn’t tell Dawn what she’d suspected. She might very well lose the best friend she’d ever had. The only friend she’d ever had. “We will talk about it. Right now I have to deal with Luke and Kate…” And Grace, she thought. Luke and Grace. God—had she misread her daughter, or what?

“I don’t know what’s going on with Grace, but—”

Leslie pulled back sharply. Damn it. She had spoken unconsciously again. What the hell was wrong with her? Letting go of Dawn’s shoulder, she stepped back and shook her head. “No, Dawn. Forget it. There’s absolutely nothing going on with Grace. And nothing ever will be again. It’s all over now.”

Dawn looked completely confused. “Over now? What’s happened? What do you mean?”

For a long moment, and as they’d done a thousand times before, they held each other’s gaze. Leslie shook her head, and tears filled her eyes. She reached around Dawn and opened the door. “I promise.”

Dawn understood: Leslie would tell her in her own time—as she always did.

Turning, Dawn left the house, a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. As she walked down the front steps, she wondered about Leslie’s odd behavior when she had first arrived, and Luke’s request that she leave. What was going on?

Dawn couldn’t wait to find out.

•

Luke had gone up to their bedroom. When Leslie walked in, she found him sitting on the edge of the bed, his face unreadable.

He said, “Leslie…let me try to explain.”

Explain? she heard herself say. What’s to explain? How in the hell can you explain being in a bed with my daughter? Did you want some kind of revenge for me not telling you about her? Did you do this to even the score? Did she?

But what came out was, “If you don’t file for divorce…I will.”

Luke’s heart broke then, into a million pieces. There it was.

Divorce.

“How many times, Luke?” Leslie’s voice was frail and astoundingly quiet. “I hate myself for asking this…but how many times have you been with Grace? How long has she been coming to Florida behind my back…to shack up with you?” Her voice cracked. “My own husband…in your dirty little house by the beach?”

“Oh, Leslie,” Luke began quietly. “It wasn’t like that—”

“Wasn’t like that? Spare me the laughable explanation you think you can give for going to bed with...for screwing your own stepdaughter. It’s practically incest!” Her eyes flew to him. “Did that ever occur to you while you were having sex with her? Didn’t you ever look down at her and think, ‘My God, this is Leslie’s daughter; I can’t be doing this’?” Leslie shook her head firmly. “You know what? Never mind. Don’t bother answering that.”

Luke stared at his wife. “Look—I lost control of myself…the lines blurred. Somehow…Grace filled a need…” He paused. “She filled the need I’ve had for you all these years, Leslie.”

Leslie snorted in disbelief. “I don’t believe what I’m hearing! If there’s one thing we’ve always had, Luke, it’s great sex. Aside from the last few months, and the times when one of us was traveling, we’ve slept in the same bed every single night for the past fifteen years!” She spread her arms, staring at him. “What goddamn need, Luke?”

He sighed heavily. Luke would never be able to explain it. He felt like a fool for even thinking he could. “Never mind, Leslie. I could never make you understand…because you’ve never really understood me.”

Leslie shot from the doorway where she’d been clutching the frame since reaching the room. She stood in front of him. The feelings had to be released or she’d burst. “Are you trying to make this about yourself? I never understood you, so you start fucking Grace? Did she understand you?”

Luke thought a moment. “Yes. For a time, I actually thought she did.”

Leslie slapped his face. Hard. Her palm stung from the blow.

Then she recoiled, surprised at herself. Autopilot.

“Kate was almost kidnapped tonight,” she said wearily. The brief spurt of anger had left her, taking all of her energy with it. “Do you understand that?”

“What are you talking about? Almost kidnapped by whom?”

“She’s been involved in pornography, Luke. And tonight some men kidnapped Holly Samson…but Kate and Jodi managed to get away.” Leslie broke down then, the enormity of it overwhelming her. “She called Dawn. My own daughter, and I wasn’t the first person she called…” Leslie trailed off, sobbing.

“Jesus,” said Luke. “Jesus. What the hell’s been going on?”

“Do you understand that? Your daughter’s run amok.”

Luke stood and moved toward the door. “Is she in her room?” He stopped. “My God, you’ve got to be kidding me…kidnapped?”

“She’s locked herself in there,” Leslie replied. “She wouldn’t let me in. She said she didn’t want to talk right now…yet she told Dawn everything. She told her everything.” Even told her that I didn’t care about what happened to her.

Luke walked back, moving to take Leslie into his arms, but she recoiled. “Don’t—you—dare.”

“Leslie—” Luke was desperate.

The doorbell rang. The intrusive sound jarred them both, and they flinched. Turning, Luke went downstairs to answer it.

It was the Palm Beach County Police Department.

They had come to question Kathryn about the disappearance of Holly Samson.

Chapter 54

After leaving Leslie’s, Dawn had been too keyed up to go home. She’d decided to go for a drive instead, cruising around the inner city, a Sade CD playing to calm her nerves.

What was going to happen now? That had been an unbelievable ordeal with Kate. She drove around, pondering the effect it would have on Leslie…and on Luke.

Dawn wondered if Luke would contact her tonight. She was still baffled by his disheveled appearance when he had come into the kitchen. What the heck was going on?

If he did call, she’d tell him the truth. She was no longer comfortable being his eyes, ears, and mouthpiece for all things Leslie. She was finally building a life of her own. She was getting married. And Brenda was right: Luke and Leslie Cavanaugh occupied too much of her time. What had she been thinking all these years? Their problems were just that—their problems.

It was nearly eleven thirty before Dawn finally pulled into the garage of her town home. As she left the car, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she should not have left Luke and Leslie’s. Shouldn’t have left that house. How would her friend cope with Kate’s terrible situation? Somehow, she couldn’t see Leslie shopping her way through this drama. She feared her friend was having a nervous breakdown…one that was years in the making.

So would it be a surprise when the call came the following morning?

It would leave Dawn speechless. Filled with emptiness. Filled with hurt. Filled with sadness. Stunned. She would feel a gamut of haunting emotions. But, oddly enough…

It would be no real surprise.

Chapter 55

They had not yet located Holly Samson. That was all the information the police would provide that evening.

Luke did all of the conversing with the officers. Leslie sat emotionless while her fourteen-year-old daughter gave the appalling details of her…work.

It had been going on for over six months—right under their noses. Leslie felt the accusatory looks the policeman gave she and Luke. She sank deeper and deeper within herself.

Once the police had left, Kathryn ran back up to her bedroom, despite Luke’s pleading with her to stay in the living room and talk to them. Tell them what she needed. Tell them why she had gotten herself wrapped up in such an awful thing.

“Don’t worry,” Luke said quietly to Leslie. “I’ll go talk to her.”

Then Leslie watched as he climbed the stairs. He approached Kate’s door and knocked. “Honey, it’s me,” he said simply. “It’s Daddy.”

After a few beats the door opened. Luke walked in and it closed.

Leslie stood at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at the closed door.

Kate had let him in.

•

She went out back, into the garden. Funny how she’d never thought of it as her garden. It was just the garden.

She had always loved it out here. The flowers thrived in the South Floridian climate, rich in color and a suspended state of bloom. She and Dawn loved to come out here. Talk about everything. Talk about nothing.

She stood next to a rosebush, unable to move any farther. It seemed her limbs were paralyzed—paralyzed by what she’d heard her daughter tell the police.

Kathryn Cavanaugh had essentially become predator bait, right in their midst. She’d been posing nude for Lauren Samson’s trashy Web sites. But did she tell the officers the whole truth? Who knew? It was quite possible she’d been engaged in a lot more…The thought made Leslie sway in the moonlight.

Jeffrey, she thought. Why did you ever leave me? Sending my life down an entirely different path. What would’ve happened if you were still here? And we’d had our precious baby…

Grace.

The thought pierced Leslie’s chest. Grace and Luke. Grace and Luke.

Grace and Luke.

Our daughter Grace. And my husband Luke.

Covering her face with her hands, she wept. She felt like such an idiot. She’d bared her soul to that little ruthless bitch. She’d told her everything that mattered. She’d been a fool! Grace had hated her all along…hated her for leaving. Why hadn’t she just said so? Why trick Leslie into a false sense of bonding and connecting? Had Leslie deserved it? Was this to be her punishment for leaving her baby behind in Memphis and starting over without her?

Yes, of course it was. What else?

But…it was the only way she could’ve survived! After finding Jeff, she couldn’t comprehend life without him. How could she live without him?

Standing there, Leslie slowly realized the truth. It settled around her, giving her the answers she needed.

She hadn’t really lived without him, had she? She had gone on living, but she had never gone on with her life. She had died that day, too.

She had no idea who the girl who left Memphis had been—but she hadn’t been Leslie Phillips. And she’d been in no condition to care for Jeffrey’s child.

“Leslie?” It was Luke. He’d come out into the garden and was just a few feet behind her. How long had she been standing out here? She could not tell. Time was extraneous to her now.

Leslie turned and stared at him. She was angry that he was disturbing her time with Jeffrey. He’d been doing it for years, damn him. It would have to stop. Angry tears of frustration washed her face. “You slept with my daughter, Luke Cavanaugh. My daughter.”

“A daughter you just met five years ago.”

Leslie flinched. “That’s supposed to make it okay for you to have an affair with her?”

“No. Of course not…but it doesn’t have to be as bad as you’re making it sound. If I could forgive you for keeping her and her father a corrosive secret all those years—”

She gasped. “Forgive me?” Her eyes widened. “You’ve never forgiven me, Luke. Our lives have been pure hell and torture ever since. You grew so distant…You know, I sensed you started having an affair…” Leslie paused. “But I never imagined”—she choked up—“my God, that you’d get involved with Grace…Please tell me when this began? How long have you been fucking Jeff’s daughter, Luke?”

He looked away.

Leslie’s face crumpled. She had sliced even herself with those vile words. “Tell me, damn you.”

“It started two Christmases ago—‘04. The first time…it happened at Christmas.”

Leslie’s eyes closed. Christmas. Jesus.

“She looked so like you, Leslie…And she knew what she was doing,” he added with a snort. “I guess she’s wanted to hurt you from day one—from the very beginning.”

“So you’re totally faultless, is that it? She got you on top of her at gunpoint, did she?”

“No. No gun to my head. But she seemed to notice the fissure in our marriage…and she came after it, Leslie. She came after me. Looking back on it now, I guess I thought we were both just caught up in an attraction, but…” He shook his head. “Now I realize that wasn’t it at all. She came after me. Deliberately.”

“She didn’t notice the problems, Luke.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “She knew. I’ve been confiding in her. She’d become…like a best friend.” Her voice cracked. “My precious daughter. The child I’d run away from. The child I’d left behind. After all of that, I couldn’t believe how close we’d grown, how much she trusted me…how much she seemed to need me in her life.” Leslie folded her arms across her chest, weeping. “Oh, God. Jeff, you must be turning over in your grave!” she sobbed.

It was in that moment that they’d lost her.

And Luke would realize it only in hindsight.

Kathryn had lost her mother. And he had lost his wife.

If he’d ever really had her to begin with.

•

That night she went up into their bedroom and locked the door. In the garden, she had broken down into a mass of heartbreaking sobs, and Luke’s attempts to reach her, to get her to hear him, were useless.

Not knowing what to do, he decided it best to give her space. He’d go stay on the Intracoastal until she was—at the very least—able to look him in the eye. After all, Grace was her daughter.

To Luke she might feel like a stranger they’d just met a few years ago, but the hell of it was, she was his wife’s daughter—her flesh and blood. Leslie had a deep and abiding connection with her. She had also felt forgiven by her, as if, by some miracle, her terrible mistake of the past had been magically erased.

Now Leslie had to cope with a harsh, brutal reality: She’d never actually had Grace’s forgiveness after all. Grace had never really understood her choices.

So Grace had wanted to even the score.

Well, surely now the debt was paid in full.

•

Before leaving, Luke knocked on Kathryn’s door and poked his head in to say good-bye.

His daughter appeared as broken up as her mother was down the hall. God, what had she been through? Kate needed them both more than ever now. She had simply lost her sense of direction and gotten caught up, way in over her head, and now she was hurting. But after talking to her, Luke believed Kate would be all right. Although she was very upset with her mother, he knew that Kathryn craved Leslie’s love just as much as he did.

“Hey, honey,” he said, finding her curled up on her bed in the same position he’d left her some time ago. “I’m stepping out for a little while. Call me on my cell phone if you need me. You gonna be okay? Your mom’s in the bedroom.” He paused. “It’s okay to talk to her, you know, Katie. She’s really worried about you, too, and—”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really. And I think it would help her if you’d open up and talk to her about it. She’s feeling awfully hurt that you don’t want to talk to her.”

“I’ll be fine, Dad. But I’m not sure about talking to Mom right now. I’m not sure I’m up for it yet.”

“Just know that we love you, Katie. We both do—very much. We’ll talk more tomorrow. You get some rest. Everything’s going to work out. You’ll see.”

“Bye, Dad.”

“Bye, honey.”

Luke closed her bedroom door and laid his head against it.

Kathryn.

She was the bond that would hold their family together.

The thought was unexpected, and sudden, and it caused a small bubble of hope to fill Luke’s chest as he stood there in the hallway outside his daughter’s door, just a few feet away from Leslie.

If they shared nothing else of intrinsic value, they certainly shared Kathryn. Because of her—and Luke knew how much Leslie truly loved her—he knew their marriage could survive his despicable fling with Grace.

He drove away from the house feeling emotionally drained but, oddly enough, cautiously optimistic. Their marriage was not a lost cause. It would survive this.

And Kathryn would be the savior.

Leslie could eventually grow to understand why he’d been drawn to Grace. Why he’d felt so insecure about Leslie’s reasons for marrying him. Hell, he would spend the rest of their lives making her understand.

She would realize that what he had needed all along was her…he’d needed his wife to open up to him, let him in. He’d needed her to trust him. He should’ve been the one she confided in the most, the one she turned to—the way she’d always turned to Dawn. The way she’d begun to turn to Grace.

Yes. She would understand that he’d never do anything this outrageous and idiotic again.

’Till death do us part.

Chapter 56

The following morning, when Luke came awake at the beach house, he had a peculiar, uneasy feeling.

Something’s wrong.

He hadn’t slept very well—despite the wave of optimism he’d felt while driving out there the night before. Instead, his sleep had been troubled. Haunted. Plagued by strange dreams, of which he could scarcely remember the details. And his body was tense with anxiety.

Why? He did not know.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly opened his eyes, staving off the start of another complicated day—the most difficult of them all: the day after Leslie found out he’d been sleeping with Grace.

Sunlight filtered through the slits of the Venetian blinds, casting vertical lines of light across his bed. The broken window reminded him of what happened there the night before. He’d have to have that fixed today.

Pushing back the covers, Luke sat up, feeling dreadful, as if something inside of him were broken. Just like that window.

That was when his cell phone rang.

Looking at the display, he saw it was their home number.

Leslie. It’s Leslie!

Dare he believe she was ready to talk? The bubble of hope from the night before grew once again in his chest.

She’d come to realize the truth, she understood. Was it possible she actually forgave him for Grace so soon?

Maybe. Just maybe.

The bubble swelled. He answered the phone.

“Daddy?!” It was Kathryn, sobbing hysterically.

“Katie? What’s the matter, honey?”

“Oh, Daddy!” she exclaimed, gasping for air. “She’s gone! Oh, my God, Mom’s gone! She packed up all her stuff, everything—clothes, shoes, you name it—her closet’s wiped out; it’s completely empty! Daddy, she’s gone!”

In that moment, the bubble exploded.

Chapter 57

One Year Later

Holly Samson was never found.

Authorities had been able to trace her only as far as Miami International Airport the day after her kidnapping, but from there the trail went cold. There had been three flights to St. Croix scheduled for that day, but there hadn’t been a Holly Samson on any of the passenger lists. They had never been able to establish whether or not she’d actually been taken out of the country at all. It was now considered a cold case.

Her sister, Lauren Samson, had been arrested and thrown in jail. Business at Lauren Samson’s Chalet of Beauty had taken a nosedive after her arrest. All six locations had gone under. Lauren’s Web sites, including www.farfromlegal.com, disappeared from the World Wide Web, leaving thousands of faithful members wondering how they would ever recoup their prepaid membership fees.

Lauren’s family of overachievers had practically disowned her. Few even visited her in prison.

•

Kathryn Cavanaugh had been called to testify in court against Lauren Samson, and her father had accompanied her.

Since the time her mom had disappeared, Kathryn seemed to have aged ten years. Though she was only fifteen, everyone noticed that she carried the soul of someone twice that age.

To express the regret and longing she carried inside for her mother, she poured her focus into being the best she could possibly be—at everything she wanted to do. Everything her mother had wanted for her. She pulled her grades up in school, became one of the best soccer players on her team, and even set her sights on going into human resources management…just like her mom.

Kate so regretted how difficult she had made things for her mother. It was only now, with the emptiness of the void that was left, that Kate realized just how bad things had gotten. She no longer blamed her mom for leaving. She just wanted her to come back.

Kathryn, like her father, was trapped in an indefinite state of expectancy. She was waiting for Leslie to return home. And Kate believed that one day she would. She had to. It was impossible for Kathryn to think that she would never see her mother again.

Kate didn’t know what happened between her parents—her father never told her about what took place—but she knew something had gone terribly wrong. Wrong enough for her mother to run away.

But was it enough to make her stay away?

No. Kathryn would never believe that. And every night when she went to bed she prayed, “God, wherever my mom is, please let her know that I forgive her, and I’m very sorry. I understand now; I do. Just please…bring her back to us.”

•

To the delight of her mother and sister, Dawn Chadwick would once again become Mrs. “Somebody.” It was even more than they had dared to hope for. They could hardly wait for the day she would marry Lyle Burns. Both women had hoped it would’ve happened before she hit forty, but to that her mother now said: “Better late than an old maid.”

The union was bittersweet for Dawn, however. The Lord giveth, and he taketh away. Damn him.

Nothing had been the same since her best friend had vanished.

At first Dawn had been angry. How could Leslie do it? Again! Abandon another daughter when she needed her most.

Dawn wished she could get her hands on Leslie, shake her and scream, Why did you have to run? Things would’ve worked out! We could’ve worked them out together! I’d never have left your side! Why did you have to run away again? Why?

But over time the anger had turned into a dull and painful nostalgia. At times it was so strong it stopped Dawn in her tracks. She missed her friend. She missed their lunches. Missed their talks. Missed their late-night meetings at “the greenhouse.” Simply put, she missed Leslie. Very much. And she couldn’t fathom Leslie’s failure to return.

To this day coworkers approached Dawn, their meddlesome questions disguised as concern: Had she heard from Leslie Cavanaugh? Was it true that she hadn’t so much as called to say she was quitting? Was her daughter really involved with a suburban prostitution ring? But Dawn always gave the same response: “Your guess is as good as mine.”

It was too difficult to discuss Leslie with anyone—anyone but Michael.

Yes, he was still with her, keeping close watch, and always would be.

It often occurred to Dawn: In this way, she and Leslie were kindred spirits. The deaths of their husbands had changed both women forever. The women they were supposed to become had died with Michael and with Jeffrey. They had always been one in young widowhood.

Fortunately for her, Dawn had finally been able to find a balance. Lyle knew how she felt, and generously he indulged her.

But Leslie. Poor Leslie. She had never found that balance. Her past had always overshadowed her present, tragically. And she’d never been able to cope with it—ever.

Occasionally, Dawn allowed her mind to wander: Would she ever see Leslie again? Would they ever speak again? She never liked to dwell on the possibility that they wouldn’t. It was too haunting, too painful. She would just have to wait and see…and hope. Just a little.

•

Luke Cavanaugh’s hope was what kept him sane.

A few weeks after Leslie ran off and it was clear she wouldn’t likely return, he had hired a private investigator to find her. But now a full year had passed, with little success. Initially, her credit card usage had led them to Clearwater. What a blow that had been. Luke’s heart had seemed to brake all over again.

He knew what she had there. He’d resented and feared it all along. Sometimes he found it comical that he had spent so many years being jealous of a dead man. Someone he’d never even known. A man who didn’t even exist.

Kateslie-Evans Architects, Inc., continued to thrive and kept Luke busy. He and Evan had expanded their business model and begun working for both domestic and international clients. They were now designing and erecting their signature architectural masterpieces all over the globe.

Kathryn was thriving, which made Luke happy and filled him with pride. He only wished Leslie were there to see how well she had bounced back from that god-awful Web site fiasco.

And then, of course, there was Grace. Though she had made several attempts to communicate with him, their time was dead, and Luke had made that abundantly clear. He could never bring himself to return a single message.

Which was as it should’ve been all along.

He still saw Dawn occasionally. He was glad to see her happy with Lyle Burns, and wished them the very best. Once in a while they came over to the house from church on Sunday afternoons and had dinner with him and Kate.

“Do you think she’ll ever come back?” Dawn had asked one Sunday evening as they sat out back eating barbecue. It was about four months after Leslie had gone. A melancholy mood had engulfed them, the finality of her absence shocking them all over again. It was true—she really had just up and run away. Simply vanished.

Luke’s expression was pained. There was so much regret. So much to forgive, and so much to forget. “Time will tell, I guess,” he replied quietly. “Only time will tell.”

Luke never told anyone about his affair with Grace. Not Dawn. Not Evan. And especially not Kathryn. How could he? There were some mistakes that, once made, robbed a man of his dignity. Although he knew the truth about himself, that he’d fallen from grace, he could pretend that his dignity was intact—so long as no one ever discovered the truth…

•

Grace Cunningham had returned to Memphis, heartbroken.

Luke’s rejection had come as a shock, and had hurt her more than she ever thought possible.

But what had she been expecting? That he would profess his undying love and beg her to move to Florida to be with him? That he would divorce Leslie…and marry her?

Yes! In her fantasy that was exactly what he did.

She’d never discussed what happened in Florida with her parents or with any of her friends. Not that she was ashamed of what she’d done—at least, that’s what she had spent the past year telling herself.

Nearly six months after she had returned to Memphis, on impulse, she’d sent an e-mail to Leslie Cavanaugh. At the time, she had convinced herself that it wasn’t due to any regret. She told herself that what she’d done was more than justifiable, that her real mother’s name was—and always had been—Beth Phillips Cunningham.

But as the months passed, Grace found herself checking her in-box expectantly each and every day, waiting to get a response. Wanting to get a response. Needing to get a response.

Why? She wasn’t sure. She had since lost countless nights of sleep, and dug countless lines of relief in her arms, haunted by that simple question. Why?

The body of the e-mail had been left blank, but in the subject field Grace had typed two words: I’m sorry.

Though one year had passed, Grace knew nothing of Leslie’s disappearance. There was no one to tell her about it.

Aside from the fact that her e-mail had not bounced, instinctively, Grace felt that her mother had read it. But would she accept the apology? Would there be a response? Would she ever see Leslie Cavanaugh again?

Time would tell if she still had a future with her mother.

Grace knew that only time could tell.

Epilogue

A light rain has fallen in the overnight hours, and the grass still glistens with its sheen; a mixture of rain and slick early-morning dew. Sunrise still lurks on the horizon.

I, overcome by a lifetime of regret, am paying a visit to Serenity Gardens Cemetery in Clearwater, Florida.

I have been here only twice before in the flesh. But in truth I have been here nearly all of my life.

In truth I’ve been here since April of 1985. Twenty-one years.

The roar of the sea can be heard in the distance as I kneel by his gravestone, in the shadow of the previous night, and in all the coming morning’s glory.

In Loving Memory

Jeffrey Roy Phillips

April 14, 1959 - April 15, 1985

Closing my eyes, I listen to the sea. I can hear it, even above the rapid pounding of my heart.

He’s had this to comfort him all these years. This calm, comforting lull. I’m listening to it now. Soaking it up.

Yes, now I see. He’s been the lucky one. He hasn’t had a care in the world. Nothing to cause him pain. No burdens or regrets to bear until the end of time.

My Lexus sits alone in the parking lot, filled with all the belongings it can hold. My chic clothing. Fine shoes. Treasured gifts. Those soothing and dependable possessions are all I’ve ever really had since he left. They have never abandoned me. They have never betrayed me.

All these years. All these wasted years. Since the spring of 1985, I’ve tried to do the impossible. I’ve tried to stay here with him.

Have you known all along? Are you able to see it from where you are? Did you know that we were one soul? That I died with you that day?

But, of course, I know the answer. Of course, he’d always known. There have always been two people buried here.

The day you died, killed me, too.

But then I think of my two daughters…both of my daughters. And of my husband…Luke.

Unable to think any longer, I decide to lie down beside the granite headstone; I meld into the grass and concrete. Letting the morning dew catch my tears. I try to empty the heavy emotions raging in my heart.

Putting my arms around the headstone, I hold on tight—and I cry myself out. I release all the loss, fear, anxiety, and desperation. The hopelessness and longing. I exhale, releasing it all until I am spent.

It is nearly an hour later before I can let go.

I’m finally letting you go, Jeff. And now we can both rest in peace.

With a mother’s love rich in my heart, I stand up, dusting myself off. I leave one last kiss on the headstone before walking away.

I have a daughter to raise.

A CONVERSATION WITH

MILLENIA BLACK

Q: What was your inspiration for writing The Great Betrayal?

A: About ten years ago, an elderly coworker shared a touching personal story with me. It was about being blindsided by the devastating loss of her husband in the middle of the night. He’d awakened suddenly, complaining of chest pains. She drove him to the ER, they wheeled him away…and that was the last time she saw him alive. As she spoke, I felt her pain so acutely that it never really left me. Leslie Phillips was born.

Q: How long did it take you to write this novel?

A: It took about eight months. Considerably less time than my first novel, The Great Pretender, which took about two and a half years, stop and go!

Q: Did you always know how The Great Betrayal would end?

A: No. I had actually written a good 75 percent of the story with no clue about a resolution! I wasn’t worried, though. I knew it would come to me, because by then the characters were alive enough to show me where they were headed, good or bad.

Q: Have you started work on your next novel?

A: Yes! I love writing about flawed families! The next one is the story of a highly sought-after, world-renowned psychologist who becomes somewhat of a celebrity for her sheer genius. But while she’s enlightening the world, one troubled patient at a time, the very fabric of her own family is ripped to shreds by manipulation. For now, I’m calling it, The Great Mastermind. Stay tuned!

Q: Sounds terrific! Thank you so much for your time. Where can readers learn more?

A: For more information, readers may visit my Web site at www.milleniablack.com to join my announcement list. They may also request book club chats, enter the contests, read up on the “7 Smoke Signals Your Man Is Living a Double Life,” and more!

QUESTIONS FOR

DISCUSSION

1. Discuss the central characters—Leslie, Luke, Dawn, Grace, Kathryn. What are your thoughts on each of them? Which character did you identify with the most? What were their individual motivations? Discuss each person’s behaviors and judgments throughout the story.

2. The Great Betrayal opens with Leslie married to Jeffrey Phillips and pregnant with their first child. As they await their daughter’s arrival, they happily quibble about what her name will be, and anticipate a bright future together. Discuss the impact of Jeffrey’s sudden death on Leslie, short- and long-term. How did it also affect their beloved baby?

3. In your opinion, why did Leslie marry Luke Cavanaugh? In view of her state of mind, was the marriage doomed to failure from the very start? Or did Luke’s indiscretion seal its fate?

4. The prologue opens with the secret rendezvous of a nameless couple whose identity is not revealed until much later in the novel. Whom did you suspect before this mystery couple’s identity was revealed? Considering the nature of their association, what do you think motivated this affair and sustained it for such an extended period of time? What were the consequences?

5. Dawn becomes Leslie’s best (and only) friend. As the years pass, Leslie confides in Dawn more than anyone else. Discuss Dawn’s secret relationship with Luke. In your opinion, what drew these two together in this way?

6. Leslie and Dawn share a special bond in widowhood. Discuss the similarities and the differences in how each woman copes with the loss of her husband.

7. Still in Memphis, Beth and Billy decided to adopt Grace, and kept her true identity a secret—until she begins hearing the truth from strangers. Do you think they made a mistake? When Ingrid finally makes contact with Leslie, what effect does the truth initially have on Grace? Though loyal to her parents, Grace struggles with a need to communicate with Leslie. When do her feelings change, becoming bitter?

8. As Leslie begins reaching out to Grace, she simultaneously begins losing Kathryn. How is Kate affected by her mother’s past? And how does their relationship change once the past is revealed?

9. In your opinion, did Dawn wait too long to move on after Michael’s death? Do you feel the subsequent “relationship” she created with him was healthy?

10. Discuss Dawn’s relationship with the Cavanaughs. Had she grown too dependent on Leslie and Luke over the years? And what of her feelings for Lyle? Do you see their marriage being a successful one?

11. At the end of the story, Leslie visits Jeffrey’s grave. What does she do there? Was a visit such as this one long overdue? Do you think she decides to reconcile with her family? Why or why not? What do you see happening?

12. What scenes in The Great Betrayal stand out the most to you? Which is the most memorable? Why?