“Is something wrong?”

“Everything’s fine. That’ll be fun. The birthday, I mean. Um …” Sam had to know. “When is it?”

“December fifteenth.”

Sam struggled to stay calm, even though the date knocked the breath out of her. Of all the bizarre coincidences, William and her son—both of AJ’s sons—were born on the same day. There was no longer any doubt that he’d been sleeping with her and William’s mother at the same time. Still, for his wife to have a baby on the same day she did … it was crazy.

What if …?

You’re the one who’s crazy. There’s no way William is your son.

Unless … had AJ found out she was pregnant?

Snippets of recent events flashed through her mind. AJ had been reluctant to take them into the kitchen that first day, when Will was out in the yard. He was awkward and edgy when she and Will were in the same room together. Was it because he felt guilty for cheating on his wife? Or was it something even more underhanded?

Dear Reader,

The Christmas Secret combines all of my favorite things in one story—a woman with an untraditional career, a single dad, a secret baby, a puppy and, of course, Christmas! The real inspiration for this book, though, was my love of home-and-garden shows on television. DIY, home decorating, real estate—I love them all! So I thought, why not combine them into one business? Ready Set Sold is that business and it’s owned by three women—a carpenter, an interior decorator and a real-estate agent.

When Andrew “AJ” Harris hires Ready Set Sold to sell the house he inherited from his grandmother, he is unexpectedly reunited with Samantha Elliott, the only woman he’s ever loved, the woman he’s never been able to forget and the woman whose betrayal he can never forgive.

Sam has been keeping a secret and she’s sure that if AJ ever finds out, he’ll never forgive her. What she doesn’t know is that AJ has a secret, too, and now that Sam is temporarily back in his life, keeping that secret from her becomes all-important, not just for his sake but for their son’s.

I hope you enjoy Sam and AJ’s journey as they discover that once all the secrets are out in the open, love and forgiveness go hand in hand. I love to hear from readers, so I also hope you’ll visit me at my website, www.leemckenzie.com.

Happy holidays!

Lee McKenzie

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

From the time she was ten years old and read Anne of Green Gables and Little Women, LEE MCKENZIE knew she wanted to be a writer, just like Anne and Jo. In the intervening years, she has written everything from advertising copy to an honors thesis in paleontology, but becoming a four-time Golden Heart finalist and a Harlequin author are among her proudest accomplishments. Lee and her artist/teacher husband live on an island along Canada’s west coast, and she loves to spend time with two of her best friends—her grown-up children.

Books by Lee McKenzie

AMERICAN ROMANCE 1167—THE MAN FOR MAGGIE 1192—WITH THIS RING 1316—FIREFIGHTER DADDY 1340—THE WEDDING BARGAIN

The Christmas Secret

Lee McKenzie

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Joe

Chapter One

Grandmother Harris’s backyard was a perfect place for a little boy and his dog to play. AJ Harris walked out onto the deck, coffee in hand, in time to see his son romp across the lawn with their chocolate-colored Labradoodle puppy in hot pursuit, both under the watchful eye of his nanny, Annie Dobson. He left the door ajar so he could hear the doorbell when it rang and went down the steps to join them.

“Taking a break, Mr. Harris?” Annie asked. She was sitting in one of the old Adirondacks that had been in this yard for as long as he could remember, steam rising from her teacup into the cool morning air.

“That’s one of the best things about working at home. I can take a break whenever I want.” The best part, though, was being his own boss instead of one of his father’s employees.

“Daddy! I playing with Hawshey!”

“I am playing with Hershey,” he said.

“Sam-I-am!” His son shouted the name from his favorite book, then stopped running and flung himself on the grass, laughing and shrieking when the puppy pounced on him.

“William! Don’t let that creature lick your face.” Annie’s reprimand was firm but gentle. “You’ve seen what else he licks. For goodness’ sake, think of the germs!”

AJ sat in the chair next to hers and set his cup on the arm. The boy and his dog were up and running again and the sound of Will’s laughter lightened AJ’s mood in a way nothing else could.

“I appreciate you bringing them out here to play,” he said. “I would have taken them to the park like I usually do, but the real estate people will be here any minute.”

“A little fresh air never hurt an old lady like me, either, and it’s a nice day for late November.” Annie sipped her tea. “I’ll miss this old place.”

So would he. His earliest and certainly happiest memories were of times spent here. He hated having to sell the house, but it was the best option. Hell, it was his only option. Grandmother Harris was gone, his only other family ties in Seattle were his parents, and they hadn’t spoken to him since the day he’d brought his son home from the hospital. And for the past three years he’d felt as though he was holding his breath and hoping his past didn’t catch up to him.

He was looking forward to a fresh start, and for that he needed the money from this inheritance. He and his son would build a new life in Idaho, in a community where being “a Harris” meant nothing. Where there was no possibility of running into his family, and no possibility of a chance encounter with the woman who had selfishly abandoned their son.

His main reason for leaving the city, though, was William. The little boy had recently taken an interest in mothers from a story they’d read. In a few years he would start asking about his mother, maybe even wanting to see her. Best to leave now, before Will was old enough to wonder about the woman who had brought him into the world, before his early childhood in Seattle became fixed in his memory. When he finally did ask, AJ had no idea what he would tell him, but that day was a long way off. At least he hoped it was. He swore it would be the only time he would ever lie to his son, but he would have to. No child needed to know that his own mother hadn’t wanted him.

He and Will would miss Annie Dobson, too, but she had no desire to move to a cabin on the outskirts of a small town in Idaho, and who could blame her? Besides, it was probably time she thought about retirement.

The doorbell’s four chimes, one slightly off-key, pulled his attention back to the present.

“I’ll keep young William and the puppy out here so they’re not underfoot,” Annie said.

“Thanks. I appreciate that. When this meeting is over, I’ll take them off your hands for a while.”

This real estate company had been referred to him by a magazine editor who’d bought a couple of freelance articles from him last month. He’d met with a Ms. DeAngelo earlier in the week, had been impressed with her businesslike efficiency and had signed the contract and hired her on the spot. This morning she was bringing her “team of professionals” from Ready Set Sold to inspect the house. His grandmother’s century-old craftsman home was situated in Seattle’s fashionable Queen Anne neighborhood overlooking Lake Union, but after years of neglect that’s all it had going for it. Ms. DeAngelo—he couldn’t remember her first name—had assured him her company would make the necessary upgrades and repairs, and “stage the house for today’s market.” They would even help him figure out what to do with his grandmother’s personal belongings.

Inside the kitchen, he closed the creaky French doors and walked through the dining room and living room, past many decades’ worth of furniture and bric-a-brac—some antique and some not so antique—and into the foyer. He opened the door and slammed headlong into his past.

Samantha Elliott, Will’s mother, the one woman whose betrayal he would never forget, or forgive, stood on the veranda. A multitude of emotions tore through him. Resentment, distrust, disgust, but in the end fear won out. The deadweight of it actually squeezed the air out of his lungs. For the past three years he’d lived under a dark cloud, determined to keep his secret. Why, when he was so close to escaping Seattle and his past, did some Machiavellian twist of fate have to deliver up the one person who had the power to take it all away?

“AJ?” The surprise in her voice matched his. She stepped back, checked the numbers above the door and consulted the clipboard she was carrying.

Was it possible she was at the wrong house? That perhaps the Fates were merely playing a devious practical joke?

“Sam.” He immediately regretted saying her name out loud. It made her being there a reality when he desperately wanted it to be a trick of his imagination. “What do you want?” He hated to ask but had to know.

She handed him a business card.

Selling your home?

Looking to get top dollar in today’s competitive real estate market?

Call Samantha Elliott at READY SET SOLD 1-800-555-SOLD www.Ready-Set-Sold.net The card was identical to the one Ms. DeAngelo had given him, except for where it said Call Samantha Elliott.

“I’m one of the owners of Ready Set Sold. We’ve been hired to get this house ready to sell. Is this …?” Her voice trailed off the way it often had, leaving her thoughts unspoken.

His fear downgraded to anxiety. She didn’t know his secret. That’s not why she was here. “It’s my grandmother’s house. It was. She left it to me.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. About your grandmother, I mean. Not the house.” She glanced back at the street, then at her watch. “Um … I’m meeting my business partners here. I guess I’m early. I can wait …” A car door slammed and Sam looked relieved. “Oh, good. Here’s Claire.”

Right. Claire. The woman he’d met earlier in the week walked briskly up the front sidewalk and climbed the stairs, confident in spite of her high heels. Sam, he noticed, was wearing work boots. Toes reinforced with steel, no doubt. Just like her heart.

Claire extended her hand. “Mr. Harris. Hello. Nice to see you again. I see you’ve already met our carpenter, Samantha Elliott. Kristi Callahan, our interior decorator, should be here any minute.”

He accepted her handshake. “Please, call me AJ. Mr. Harris is my father.”

Sam’s blue eyes went icy at the mention of the old man. He couldn’t fault her for that.

An old white minivan in desperate need of a muffler pulled up and sputtered to a stop behind the dark blue truck and the silver-gray sedan already parked in front of the house. All three vehicles had the Ready Set Sold logo on their doors.

The third woman joined them, and Claire introduced her. “AJ Harris, this is Kristi Callahan, decorator extraordinaire.”

AJ was suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of being … overwhelmed. This was a bad idea. A very bad one. Not in a million years would he have hired this company if he’d known Sam was one of the owners. He should have done his homework, checked out their website, something. Instead he had been swayed by Claire DeAngelo’s no-nonsense approach and businesslike demeanor. Her company would take care of everything and he would walk away with enough cash for him and his son to start a new life, well away from the woman who had just barged into his old one.

“We’ll do a walk-through this morning,” Claire said. “After we’ve done the inspection, we’ll prepare a list of the repairs and upgrades needed and come up with a design plan for staging the house.”

It all sounded so easy, except he knew now those repairs would be done by Sam.

“Should we get started?” Claire asked.

He looked at Sam again and felt himself drawn into her soft, doe-eyed gaze. She was beautiful and he hated her for it. He wanted to say no, he’d changed his mind and would come up with another plan for selling the house, yet his latent curiosity wanted to keep her here. Find out if maybe she had changed. It was foolhardy and dangerous, but he hadn’t felt this alive since the last time he’d been with her.

He stepped aside, allowing the three women into his home and Samantha Elliott back into his life.

Samantha reluctantly followed her two business partners inside. She really needed to pay more attention to the business end of the company. If she had, she would have known they’d been hired by Andrew James Harris of the Seattle Harris family, and she could have put a stop to it before he signed the contract. The last time she’d worked for him had not ended well, and this new undertaking had disaster written all over it.

Still, she assured herself, the past was the past and there was no way AJ could discover the secret she’d buried with it. The only other person who knew the truth was her mother, and anyone acquainted with Tildy Elliott would never believe the story. They would assume it was simply one of the many delusions that governed Tildy’s life.

You’ll be okay, Sam told herself. Besides, Claire and Kristi always had her back. If the situation got out of hand, she’d convince them to hire another carpenter for this job. That meant she’d have to tell them about her ill-fated affair with AJ Harris, but she wouldn’t have to tell them everything.

Now, with AJ within arm’s reach and as unattainable as ever, she was still struggling to overcome the shock of having him open the door. Three years ago she had been desperately in love with him, thought they were perfect together. Her sorry excuse for a life had made it easy to relate to his tall, dark and tortured disposition. What little they had shared about their pasts had forged a deep, emotional connection between them … or so she’d thought at the time. But he was AJ Harris of the Seattle Harrises and she was Samantha Nobody. A reality his father had zeroed in on in the cruelest way possible and one that AJ had agreed with, leaving her to cope with the aftermath of their affair … alone.

“Let’s start right here in the foyer,” Claire said. “The millwork is in unbelievably good condition and it’s never been painted. The whole house is like this, right?” AJ nodded.

“What do you think, Kristi? I know the current trend is to paint the trim, but the natural wood suits this old craftsman architecture.”

Kristi, camera in hand, was already taking photographs. “I agree. Once the wallpaper’s been stripped and we give the walls a fresh coat of paint—I’m seeing ivory or off-white—this room will feel brighter and more spacious. I love this old oak hall tree, too. It should stay but we’ll get rid of a lot of the clutter and replace all these scatter mats with a runner.” She lowered her camera for a moment. “I love this banister. With the holidays coming, I’ll stage the house for Christmas.” She looped the camera strap around her neck and made a wide, sweeping gesture at the staircase. “Faux greenery, big red velvet bows—it’ll be stunning.”

“Great idea. What are your thoughts, Sam?”

Sam thought she should make a run for it. Clearly not what Claire had in mind. And as for Christmas … bah humbug. “Taking down the wallpaper will be easy, and I can install a new light fixture, too. This one isn’t original and really doesn’t suit the house.”

AJ, who stood with both hands shoved in the pockets of his black jeans, looked up at the ceiling and studied the out-of-place pendant as though seeing it for the first time. Then he looked at Sam. Their gazes locked and held, and a rush of long-dormant lust uncoiled in her belly.

This was not good.

AJ looked away, but she knew he’d felt it, too. Judging by the way Claire was eyeing them, even she’d picked up on it. Great. Now this would be a hot topic at their weekly business meeting tomorrow morning. Sam wouldn’t have to tell them everything. Only that she and their new client had once had a brief affair followed by a messy breakup.

Kristi, focused on the monitor of her camera and the offending light fixture, was oblivious to everything else. “Got it,” she said. “Okay, that’s it for this room.”

With shaky hands Sam scrawled a reminder on her clipboard to check the storage facility for old light fixtures. She’d picked up several at a demolition sale last winter and one of them might work here.

“We can discuss the living and dining rooms later,” Claire said. “Let’s move on to the kitchen. From what I remember when I was here the other day, that room and the main bath upstairs need the most work.”

Just her lousy luck, Sam thought. Those were the rooms that took the longest to renovate, which meant this job could take a while. She shot another hasty glance at AJ, in time to catch a flash of panic. Hmm. There was something in the kitchen he didn’t want them to see, and Sam knew with absolute certainty it was more than a sink full of dirty dishes. Claire was already on her way, though, so they trooped through the house behind her.

Sam hung back and tried to ignore AJ’s presence while she took in the room. The kitchen wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad, either. The cabinets were dated, but fresh paint and new hardware would fix that. The appliances were relatively new, but the gold-flecked countertop and starburst-patterned linoleum screamed seventies. They definitely had to be replaced.

Kristi was already taking photographs. “There’s way too much clutter,” she said, then she lowered her camera and smiled at AJ. “Sorry, but having all these canisters and gadgets on display makes the room feel much smaller than it is. We want potential buyers to walk in and immediately see a place for their espresso machine instead of thinking their things will never work in here.”

AJ shrugged. “All these things belonged to my grandmother. I would have cleared everything out, but I wasn’t sure what to do with them.”

Kristi flashed a reassuring smile. “That’s what we’re here for,” she said. “By the time we’re finished, it’ll be a brand-new kitchen.” She fingered the floral curtains on the kitchen window. “Vintage. Good shape, too.” Then something outside seemed to catch her attention. “Oh, what an adorable little boy. Is that your son?”

Sam’s heart thundered in her chest. AJ had a child?

Chapter Two

Brimming with anger and overcome with grief, Sam steadied herself by leaning against the door frame.

Breathe, she told herself. Just breathe. You can get through this.

AJ’s nod in response to Kristi’s question was almost imperceptible. He didn’t look at Sam, but she still detected the same raw emotion that had greeted her at the door, along with the panic she’d seen when Claire suggested they come in here.

“How old is he?” Kristi asked. “Three? Four?”

AJ still wouldn’t look at Sam, and she couldn’t have torn her gaze away from him if she tried. “No,” he said. “He’s … ah … just two.”

Two. AJ had a two-year-old son. Which meant he must have a wife. A wife who was probably already married to him when he’d been sleeping with Sam. Which meant he’d been busy getting his wife pregnant while Sam had grappled with the decision to give her son a better life than she ever could.

Oh, God. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart raced as scenes from the past flashed through her mind at a dizzying pace, ending with AJ’s father. James Harris had said his son had a history of getting involved with women like her and then dumping them. She hadn’t believed him, even told him as much, but that hadn’t ended the conversation. He’d said that if she kept seeing AJ, he would put her out of business. Then he’d followed up that threat by saying her mother needed to be institutionalized and asking if she was prepared to do that. Blindsided—how in hell had he found out about her mother?—Sam knew then he wasn’t just a dangerous man, he was evil. Her life was already hard enough, and she thought being in love was supposed to make it easier.

Ending things with AJ had been the easy part. He had accepted it with a dismissive shrug, exactly like the one his father had given her when she said putting her mother in an institution wasn’t an option. Like father, like son? She hadn’t completely believed it then, but she did now.

A month later she suspected she might be pregnant, and by the time she’d moved past the denial and finally saw a doctor, she was further along than she’d realized. She couldn’t abandon her mother, but neither could she raise a child in the unstable environment she’d grown up in. The rest was inevitable.

“He’s adorable. Cute dog, too.” As usual, Kristi was oblivious to the elephant in the room. “He looks tall for his age. Must get that from his dad.”

AJ looked as though he wished she would stop talking. Sam sure as hell did.

“What about your wife?” Kristi asked, still not picking up on the tension. “Will she mind having us in the way?”

AJ’s eyes darted in Sam’s direction, but he looked away before his gaze met hers.

Coward, she thought. Two-timing bastard.

“My … ah … she doesn’t live here. I have a nanny who takes care of … us. And the house. She’s outside right now with … ah … you’ll meet her later.”

Claire, who never missed a trick, had been studying Sam’s reaction to all this new information. Now, to Sam’s relief, she took control of the conversation and redirected it back to their reason for being here. “I didn’t realize you had a family. We’ll do our best to keep the disruption to a minimum.”

“Please, I don’t want you to worry about that. I work at home but I’ll … we’ll stay out of your way.”

The questions kept tumbling through Sam’s mind. Had his wife left him? No surprise there, but to leave her child behind? How could she? Then again, based on her experience with the Harris family, she might not have had any say in the matter. AJ working at home was a surprise, though. He was in line to take over the business when his father retired. Could he run such a huge company from home?

Sam realized she was still staring at him while he continued to avoid looking at her. He’d never worn a ring, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t married when they were dating. Who are you kidding? They had never gone on a date. All they did was sleep together. After his father’s ultimatum, she had assumed AJ kept their affair a secret because, like his father, he’d thought she was good enough to sleep with a Harris but not good enough to be a Harris. Now it seemed he wasn’t just arrogant, he was married. Ringless, but married.

“Sam?” Claire’s voice gently interrupted her nightmarish journey through the past. “What are your thoughts about the kitchen?”

They could throw a stick of dynamite in it for all she cared. “We should paint the cabinets, for sure. Replace the counter and flooring, and bring in another new light fixture.” She should take a closer look at the sink and faucet, but she would have to cross the kitchen to do that. Then she’d be standing by the window and … and she couldn’t look out there. Not yet. She needed time to adjust to the reality that AJ had a son … and she didn’t.

Three years ago she’d given away a part of herself when she’d put her son up for adoption. She hadn’t even had the luxury of mourning her loss. She’d had to get back to work because she had to put food on the table, pay rent and her mother’s medical bills. She had coped with her loss the same way she coped with everything else in her life—by carrying on with her responsibilities and not letting herself think about how much her life sucked.

But this … finding out that he’d been able to keep his son while she’d had to give up hers … this felt like more than she could handle. Oh, God. Now she was having trouble breathing again. She glanced over her shoulder toward the front of the house. Maybe she should make an excuse to leave. She could tell Kristi and Claire that she had to get home to her mother, that they could continue with the site visit and fill her in tomorrow.

AJ spoke first. “I have work to do so unless you need me for anything, I’ll let the three of you get to it.”

Claire, the consummate professional, was quick to respond. “Of course. Please don’t let us keep you. This should only take an hour, maybe less. We can let ourselves out and I’ll call you tomorrow, after we’ve worked out our expenses and a timeline for getting everything done.”

He responded with a nod and a vague smile and left the kitchen. Sam could tell he was deliberately ignoring her. She wanted to throw her tape measure at him.

She had good aim and she could easily hit him squarely in the back of the head. Seconds later the slam of an outside door was followed by the sound of his footsteps on stairs. Whatever work he had to do, it was in the backyard. With his son.

Claire faced Sam, one hand clutching her iPad, the other on her hip. “What on earth was that all about?”

Tears tickled Sam’s eyelids. You will not cry, she told herself. Not here. He’s not worth it. “What do you mean?” she asked, trying to feign surprise, knowing she failed miserably. Trust Claire to figure this out.

“Don’t give me that. It’s totally obvious you and the man in black have a past, and it clearly didn’t end well.”

That was the understatement of the century. Sam shook her head. “I can’t talk about it here. I’ll fill you in later.”

Claire hugged her. “Sorry, hon. I had no idea.”

Kristi made it a group hug. “Will you be able to handle this?”

Sam momentarily indulged in her friends’ affection, then pulled away and put on a brave face. “I’ll be fine. And there’s no way you could have known. If I paid more attention to who our clients are, I wouldn’t have been blindsided.”

Claire wasn’t letting go that easily. “We’re almost into December and the pre-Christmas season is always slow. This is a big job and we can really use the business right now, but if—”

Sam took a deep breath and a step back. “No ‘buts.’ We’re taking this job. I’ll be fine. It’s just … I didn’t expect this to be his house and seeing him caught me off guard, but I’ll be fine.” She had to be. The company might need the work, but she needed the income even more. “Can we finish up and get out of here?”

“Of course. Let’s check out the rest of the main floor,” Claire said. “There’s a big living room, plus the dining room and a small den. Then we can do the upstairs.”

Sam’s heart started to race again. The bedrooms would be upstairs. AJ’s bedroom. Had he and his wife lived here? Had he and his son moved in after they split up? It didn’t matter. He lived here now, and his bedroom had better not need any work. There could be a gaping hole in the ceiling, and it would stay that way because it would be a frosty day in hell before she would set a foot in AJ’s bedroom.

Half an hour later Sam stood with Claire and Kristi in the upstairs hallway, staring into the bathroom. It had been renovated in the fifties, complete with pink lino on the floor and pink and black ceramic tiles on the walls.

Kristi laughed. “This is one of the tackiest bathrooms I’ve ever seen. What were they thinking? Thank goodness the fixtures are white. That’ll keep the cost down if we decide to renovate.”

Sam thought about the bathroom in the apartment she shared with her mother. It had crumbling grout and no personality, but, oddly enough, she liked this one. Her mother would, too.

Claire stepped into the room. “I’m not sure we should. Bathroom renos are time-consuming and expensive. Leaving this as is would mean more money in the client’s pocket, and this retro look is surprisingly popular.” She picked up a pink crocheted doll covering a roll of toilet paper. “But, oh, my goodness, I’ve never seen a house with so much stuff in it. Bad enough there’s a ton of these kinds of things.” She set the doll down and picked up a matching tissue-box holder. “And seriously, how many doilies does one person need?”

Kristi laughed. “I counted eighty-seven on the main floor before I lost track. On the plus side, if the client is interested in getting rid of the vintage linens, most will fetch a few dollars apiece.”

Sam couldn’t imagine AJ having an attachment to his grandmother’s fussy clutter. And Kristi might be right about the linens, but no one would want kitschy crocheted bathroom accessories.

“Sam? What are your thoughts?” Claire asked.

She didn’t much care whether AJ saved any money, but she was completely on board with saving time. “I say we leave it. After Kristi works her magic in here, it’ll look great.”

Claire was making notes as she left the bathroom. “Good plan. Let’s check out the bedrooms.”

“How can you walk, talk and type at the same time?” Kristi asked.

Claire grinned. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

Sam had always admired her business partner’s multitasking abilities, and she had never been more grateful for Claire’s levelheaded business savvy than she was right now because she knew she could count on her to keep her grounded through this ordeal. Kristi was, well, not so grounded. She tended to leap before she looked and talk before she thought, rushed into everything with boundless enthusiasm, and everyone loved her for it. Or in spite of it. But Kristi would have her back, too. Together they’d get through this, and then Sam’s life could get back to normal. Not that she had a “normal” life, but there was a lot to be said for maintaining the status quo.

“Let’s check out the bedrooms,” Claire said. “This looks like the master, and I’m guessing it was the grandmother’s.”

Kristi groaned. “More doilies and plastic flower arrangements. Those must go with the bowl of plastic fruit on the dining-room table.”

Sam looked past the clutter to the flower-and-butterfly-patterned wallpaper. “After everything’s cleared out, I’ll need a day to strip the wallpaper and another day to paint. The oak floor is in good shape, though.”

Claire made more notes on the move. “This must be AJ’s room.” She shot a quick glance at Sam.

Sam hastily perused the room from the doorway and stepped back. The space was neat as a pin, almost austere compared to the grandmother’s, and even better there was no wallpaper.

“From too much personality in Grandma’s room to none in here,” Kristi said. “I get that he’s a guy, and guys usually don’t have a clue when it comes to decorating, but this room is so boring it’s painful. Doesn’t need much work, though. A fresh coat of paint and some new drapes should do it.”

The room had better be able to paint itself, Sam thought, because she wasn’t doing it. The simple fact that it was his room was enough to get her heart pounding, but what if he and his wife had lived here? Conceived their child in this bed?

“Two more rooms,” Claire said. “This must be the nanny’s.”

Sam took one look and fell in love with it. The nanny’s room was hands down the most welcoming space in the house. Although it was a typically gray late-November day in Seattle, the room felt bright, almost sunny. Strangely so, Sam thought. Right now the only occupant was a teddy bear snuggled into the corner of an overstuffed yellow upholstered armchair with a copy of Green Eggs and Ham on the seat next to him. Sam could practically hear the warm laughter that would accompany story time. On the floor next to the chair sat a basket full of colorful yarn and knitting needles, and adjacent to that a small round side table painted bright blue. On top of the table there was a vase filled with fresh-cut flowers and a quirky-looking tea service on a wooden tray, a teapot in the shape of a giant strawberry and two pink china cups and saucers. Tea for two. The nanny and AJ’s son? Sam wondered.

Claire walked into the room and admired the china. “This is so adorable. I’ve never seen heart-shaped saucers.”

Sam’s heart felt as flat as a pancake, as though the life was being squeezed out of it. She had never been entertained with tea parties, not even as a very young child. Even back then her mother hadn’t been well and although her father had dutifully provided the basics, there’d been no fun, no games, no laughter. But this woman, the nanny, had moved in here and created a personal space that both fit with the rest of the house and was yet set apart from it, and its welcome hominess gave Sam a good feeling about her.

“This room is perfect,” Kristi said. “Even the wallpaper works in here. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Neither would Sam.

“Excellent.” Claire made a note of that. “That leaves the nursery, which is right here across the hall. Should we take a look?”

Sam nodded a silent affirmative, and cast one last look at the nanny’s room before reluctantly following her partners to the room across the hall. Earlier when they’d been in the kitchen, she had deliberately avoided looking outside because she was emotionally unprepared to see AJ’s son. And now she wasn’t ready for this.

The nursery, the only room in the house with a bright modern flair, had been painted a fresh shade of pale green. The child-size trundle bed was covered with a cozy patchwork quilt and heaped with stuffed animals. The green-and-yellow polka-dot upholstery on the armchair and ottoman coordinated with the multitoned green-and-yellow-striped drapes on the window next to them. Had AJ chosen these colors, this furniture? Did he sit here with his son? She didn’t know why, but she found it impossible to picture him as a father. Or had his wife decorated the room before she left? Did she still visit? Did the child live with her part of the time?

“Sam?” Claire’s gentle tone eased her out of her daze. “I was saying the bedrooms shouldn’t take long, since the nanny’s room and nursery are fine as they are.”

“Sorry, and yes, you’re right. The other two bedrooms won’t take long. I guess we should start with the grandmother’s since no one’s living in it. I’ll have to move the furniture away from the walls to get at the wallpaper.”

“You’ll need help with that,” Claire said. “I’ll get Marlie to call the movers as soon as I get back to the office this afternoon and find out when they’re available. We’ll have them do the room when they rearrange things downstairs.”

Kristi stowed her camera in her shoulder bag. “I’m going home to download the photographs I took today and spend the afternoon working on a color scheme. I want to be home when Jenna gets out of school because yesterday my sweet darling daughter had a boy there when I got home.”

“Ah, the teenage years,” Claire said with a grin. “I remember them well. Except I didn’t have a boyfriend,” she added quickly.

Neither did Sam. She’d never invited a friend home, either, and wouldn’t have dreamed of bringing home a boy she was interested in. He would have made a run for it.

“I remember those years, too.” Kristi sighed. “I also remember what teenage boys are like. Hormones permanently in overdrive. That’s kind of how I got to be a mom so young.”

“You were eighteen when your daughter was born,” Sam said because she felt she should say something reassuring. “Jenna’s only thirteen.”

Kristi rolled her eyes. “Thirteen going on twenty-something.”

“And the boy?” Claire asked.

“She says he’s fifteen, which, knowing my daughter, means he’s probably closer to sixteen.”

Claire put an arm around Kristi. “Young girls always date up. Besides, Jenna’s a good kid with a good head on her shoulders. I’d give a lot to have one just like her.”

From the time the three of them had become business partners, Claire had talked about how desperately she wanted children. Now that her marriage was on the rocks, the likelihood of that was slimmer than ever. Sam didn’t allow herself to think about a family, or the future. It was too hard. Hell, just seeing another little boy’s bedroom had sent her mind racing back into the past.

What if …?

If only …

Don’t go there!

“Do you have plans for the rest of the day, Sam?”

She gave herself another mental shake. “Ah, yes. Stop at the drugstore to pick up my mother’s medication. Grab a few groceries.” Precious few after she paid for the prescription.

“How is she?” Kristi asked. “Any better?”

Sam wished she hadn’t said anything. Although Claire and Kristi had never met her mother, she had reluctantly told them about her. There were days when Sam couldn’t leave her alone, and her business partners needed to know why.

She shrugged. “A little better, I think.” She hoped, but she didn’t want to talk about her mother. “After dinner I’ll go over my notes and come up with a timeline for getting all this work done. I’ll email it to both of you and we can go over it at our meeting tomorrow morning.”

“Excellent,” Claire said. “I’ll do two appraisals—one for the house as it is now and another that will include all the proposed updates. We can present the package to … the client.” She eyed Sam over the top rim of her dark-framed glasses. “Then we’ll take it from there.”

The three of them trooped down the back stairs to the kitchen, Sam last and desperately hoping to avoid another encounter with “the client.” In the kitchen they were greeted by an aproned silver-haired woman, who stood at the stove stirring a large pot. The savory-scented steam rising from it reminded Sam’s stomach it was almost lunchtime.

“Hello, girls. I’m Annie Dobson, the nanny.”

“Nice to meet you.” Claire shook the woman’s hand and stepped back. “What are you cooking? It smells wonderful.”

“Homemade chicken noodle soup. It’s a favorite around here.”

Sam’s stomach rumbled hungrily.

“We’ll get out of your way so you can have lunch,” Claire said. “Is Mr. Harris … I mean, is AJ around?”

“He had to go out, so he took young William with him. Would you like me to pass along a message?”

So, his son’s name was William.

“Yes, that would be great. Please let him know I’ll call as soon as we have a work plan in place. I’m Claire, by the way. This is Kristi, the interior decorator, and Sam’s our carpenter.”

“Nice to meet you. It’ll be nice having some young women around here for a change, especially a lady carpenter.” Her blue-eyed gaze gave Sam a good going-over. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

“Um …” Sam searched her memory for an image of the woman. Had she worked for the Harris family when Sam had renovated their corporate offices? She was a nanny, so unlikely. “No, I don’t think so.”

Annie’s scrutiny didn’t let up. “No, maybe not. I usually never forget a face, though, and there’s something about you …” She looked away finally and gave the pot of soup another stir. “I’m sure it’ll come to me. Oh, I almost forgot. Mr. Harris asked me to give each of you a key to the front door so you can come and go as you please.” She pulled the keys out of her apron pocket.

“Thanks.” Claire accepted the keys and passed them around.

Sam tucked hers in the pocket of her jeans. “Nice to meet you. I should go,” she said to Claire and Kristi. “I have lots to do.” And she wanted to get out of here before AJ returned. She still had a lot of questions, like did he plan to live here while they did the work or would he make other arrangements? His parents’ home on Mercer Island was certainly big enough. The apartment Sam shared with her mother would fit in their pool house, with room to spare.

Sam hated giving a rat’s ass about his living arrangements, hated herself for hoping he’d be here every day and hated that she still found him the most attractive man she had ever met.

Chapter Three

After a nearly sleepless night spent contemplating his options, AJ decided to honor the contract with Sam’s company. Getting out of it would take time, and money. Hiring someone else to do the work would take more time. There was also a chance that firing them would raise Sam’s suspicions, and he couldn’t risk that.

Not that it should matter. She had abruptly and cold-heartedly ended their relationship, neglected to tell him she was pregnant and then decided to put their baby up for adoption as though he had no say in the matter. It was purely by coincidence that, months after Sam had broken things off with him, he happened to see her. He’d been sitting in the glass-walled boardroom of the law firm that handled Harris Marketing and Communications’ contract negotiations and had been stunned to see Sam Elliott—a very pregnant Sam Elliott—walk out of Melanie Morrow’s office. Melanie practiced family law. AJ had met her at a handful of social gatherings and didn’t know her well, but well enough to know she wanted to get ahead and make a name for herself, mostly by handling high-profile divorce cases.

He’d never had much interest in contracts—he much preferred the creative side of the business—but his father had insisted he take an active role. That day he had suffered through the meeting and while the lawyers argued about costs and compensations, he had pondered Sam’s protruding belly, performed some mental calculations of his own and quickly came to the conclusion that what was inside that belly could very well be his. Was it possible that the woman he had been so in love with could be carrying his child without telling him? It was impossible to believe she was that coldhearted, and having another man’s baby would certainly explain why she’d given AJ the brush-off. And now she and that other man were already headed for a divorce, or so it would seem. If that was the case, it was none of his business, but he needed to know.

By the time the meeting was over, he’d come up with a plan to stop by Melanie’s office on his way out, invite her to join him for a drink after work and figure out a way to direct the conversation around to Sam. He’d never been much for small talk but that hadn’t mattered because two wine spritzers had been all it took to loosen Melanie’s tongue.

What he learned was something he’d never imagined possible, and it hit him harder than anything up until then, even harder than his brother’s suicide all those years ago. Sam wasn’t married. Her baby was due in two months, the father wasn’t “involved,” she didn’t want the baby and she was setting up a private adoption. Counting back from her due date showed the baby had been conceived when they were together. He wasn’t sure what he thought of Sam at that moment, but he was absolutely sure of two things. She didn’t sleep around, and she was having his baby. A baby she didn’t want. The realization cut him to the core. It had taken a week to come up with a plan, then he’d asked Melanie out for dinner, and the rest was history.

A history that yesterday had crashed into his life like a steamroller. He had always intended to get away from Seattle before this could happen. Now that it had, and as bizarre as it sounded even in his head, keeping Sam around to do the work was safer than sending her packing. Claire DeAngelo, who seemed to be the one in charge although she insisted the three of them were equal partners, thought the work would take several weeks and she’d have the house on the market before Christmas.

He’d been up since before dawn, moving everything from the sunroom he used as an office to his bedroom. Satisfied that his temporary work space would provide a welcome escape from the past and present, he went downstairs to join Will and Annie for breakfast and wait for Sam’s return.

After an early-morning run, Sam dawdled over her cornflakes and coffee while she watched her mother study the jigsaw puzzle pieces strewn across the other side of the table. For the first time in forever, she was tempted to join her. The notion of withdrawing from reality and into her mother’s fantasy world had never held any appeal—until this morning. There’d be no puzzles in Sam’s dreamworld. It would also be a world devoid of lying, cheating, two-timing ex-lovers.

In spite of the psychiatrist’s diagnosis, years ago, that Tildy Elliott had an illness, a mental illness, Sam had always wondered if some past event had caused her to retreat into a fantasy world. Maybe something Sam’s long-absent and now deceased father had done, or something another man had done. Until her run-in with AJ yesterday, Sam had never thought of it in exactly those terms, but now as she watched this delicate woman intent on finding the puzzle’s flat-edged border pieces, Sam had a hunch that a man had to be behind her mother’s illness. Men were nothing but trouble.

On the weekend, Tildy had been as delighted as a child on Christmas morning when Sam brought the six new puzzles home. This one—a photograph of a castle somewhere in Europe—had immediately captured her mother’s interest. It also had a thousand pieces and would easily keep her busy all day while Sam was at work.

Sam dismissed the guilt pangs. When she wasn’t working, which was rare these days, she tried to get her mother out of the apartment or at least encourage her to do something other than puzzles, playing solitaire or watching television. But when she had to leave her here alone, she worried less knowing she was occupied, and she knew Tildy would work tirelessly on the puzzle until it was finished.

This morning Sam’s very existence felt a lot like those scattered bits of cardboard. Broken pieces of what had been, until yesterday, a whole picture, albeit a tenuous one. Much as she disliked puzzles, she would give almost anything to stay here and lose herself in the mind-numbing activity of putting that picture back together. Instead she had demons to face, and AJ Harris was one hell of a demon.

He’d inherited an incredible house but it needed a lot of work. Still, if she worked long hours and brought in a couple of assistants to help with the painting and wallpaper removal, she should be able to finish in three weeks. Barring any unforeseen problems. To her question about potential problems like mold or termites or faulty wiring, AJ had given one of his silent shrugs. Huh. The privileged pretty boy with the perfect home and an adorably cherub-faced, at least according to Kristi, little boy knew nothing about construction. No surprise there.

There might have been a time when she could have forgiven him for getting his father to do his dirty work, but knowing he’d then gone ahead and had a child with another woman while she’d had to give up hers? That was unforgivable. That was the agony she’d have to endure every day for the next three weeks. To make matters worse, he worked at home now. Somehow she would have to guard against drowning in the depths of his dark, soulless gaze. Keep her heart from hammering its way out of her chest every time she watched him cross a room, because to save her sanity she couldn’t stop picturing his magnificent male form, completely unclothed.

She jumped up from the table. Do not think of him naked. AJ Harris is not the most heart-stoppingly handsome man in the universe. He’s the arrogant jerk who ruined your life. An arrogant, adulterous jerk who’d been screwing her while he’d been busy getting his wife pregnant. Well, to hell with him. Sam had coped with a lot of crap in her life, and she would find a way to cope with this, too.

She gathered up the breakfast dishes. The soggy remains of her mother’s cereal went down the drain—she’d eaten a few mouthfuls, at least—and then Sam quickly washed her breakfast dishes and put them in the drain rack on the counter. Her mother’s head was still bent over the puzzle pieces. “More coffee, Mom?”

“No, thank you, dear.” She snapped another puzzle piece into place. “Look at this. The top edge and one side are almost done.”

Sam dried her hands on a towel and hung it on the handle of the oven door. “I see that. You’re doing great.”

“It’s always best to start with the outside edges and work your way in.”

While Sam pondered that as a possible metaphor for her life, she packed two bottles of water, a sandwich and an apple in her insulated lunch bag. “I left some tuna salad in the fridge for you, and Mrs. Stanton said she’d drop by to see you at lunchtime.” Mrs. Stanton was the neighbor across the hall. Years ago Sam had given the woman a key so she could come in at lunchtime to make sure Tildy had something to eat. Sam so often dreamed of moving into a decent apartment, maybe even a house with a back garden that might tempt her mother out of her reclusive existence, but what if the upheaval was the tipping point for Tildy’s fragile mental state? That worried her, and more important, there’d be no Mrs. Stanton to keep an eye on her.

Sam retrieved her work boots from the tiny hall closet, slipped into her jacket and picked up her clipboard from the hall table. “I’m leaving for work, Mom. Do you need to do anything before I leave?”

“Oh. I’m afraid we’re out of milk. The queen is coming this afternoon and she likes milk in her tea. Not cream. It has to be milk, you know.”

Sam sighed and returned to the kitchen. “I bought milk yesterday.” She opened the refrigerator. “It’s right here, see?”

Tildy’s glossy red lips spread into a smile. “Oh, thank you, dear. The last time she came, she caused a royal fuss because there was only cream.”

Sam never bought cream, but that was the thing about fictional events. A person’s memories could be anything she wanted them to be.

“She liked the cucumber sandwiches, though. And I’m out of cigarettes. Could you pick some up for me on your way home?”

“Sure.” As soon as hell freezes over. Her mother had been out of cigarettes for fifteen years. Sam had stopped buying them after her father left because they couldn’t afford them, she was tired of smelling like an ashtray and she worried her mother would set the place on fire.

From time to time Tildy still asked for them and it was simpler to say yes than to remind her that she didn’t smoke anymore.

Sam slipped an arm around her mother’s narrow shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze. This morning she was still wearing her chartreuse satin dressing gown but as always she had teased her thinning silver hair into a poofy do and rouged her cheeks to match her lips. The tang of hair spray that shellacked her mother’s hair in place made Sam back away. “What are you doing today?” she asked. Aside from entertaining Her Majesty. “Any plans?”

“I’ll finish the puzzle.” She turned her attention back to the jigsaw pieces spread across the kitchen table’s worn Arborite. “And then I have to get ready for tea. I’ve decided to wear the green-and-gold plaid silk. You don’t think it’s too flashy, do you?”

Not if the queen is color-blind. The dress her mother referred to wear was every bit as hideous now as it had been forty years ago. “Everyone loves your plaid dress, Mom. You’ll look beautiful,” Sam lied, carefully sidestepping any mention of Elizabeth II.

“Yes, I’m hoping she’ll like it, too,” Tildy said. “It’s in terribly bad taste to upstage the queen.”

Of course it was.

Her mother’s delusions were richly populated with royalty and Hollywood stars, and occasional appearances by the Pope. Sam could almost understand her mother’s preoccupation with the likes of Robert De Niro and Steve Martin, even the British monarchy, but the significance of those papal visits eluded her. Her mother wasn’t even Catholic, although she could almost pass for pious in the habit she’d fashioned from an old black robe, a dingy white pillowcase and a rosary of pink plastic beads.

“I’ll see you tonight, Mom. If I’m late, Mrs. Stanton will drop by again.”

“That’s nice.” Tildy straightened then and stared down at Sam’s feet. “Why are you galumphing around my kitchen in those boots?”

“I’m going to work, remember?”

“Will you be back in time for tea?”

“Sorry. Not today.”

First thing, she had a meeting with Claire and Kristi, then she had to stop at the building supply store. The rest of the day would be spent avoiding AJ while she stripped wallpaper and patched the walls, and Kristi cleared countless decades’ worth of clutter out of the kitchen. If all went well, Sam would be home in time to fix dinner. If not, she’d have to call Mrs. Stanton and ask her to take Tildy a plate of whatever she and Mr. Stanton were having tonight. Her mother barely ate enough to keep a bird alive, and although Sam wrote her neighbor a check for a hundred dollars every month to cover the cost of food, she hated asking for favors. On the plus side, her mother had never shown any inclination to cook for herself, so at least no one had to worry about her starting a fire in the kitchen.

“See you tonight, Mom.”

Tildy snapped another puzzle piece into place.

“I love you.” Sam always said it, but her mother never reciprocated. No one ever had. Not her father. Certainly not AJ, and yesterday she’d discovered why. He hadn’t loved her. He’d been married to someone else.

Today was no different. “Don’t forget to buy milk,” Tildy said without looking up.

Sam didn’t reply, she just sighed as she let herself out of the apartment, locked the door and knocked on the one across the hall.

“Good morning, Sam,” Elizabeth Stanton said when she opened the door. She was a tall, boney-looking woman, fiftyish with salt-and-pepper hair, married to a man fifteen years her senior. “How’s everything this morning?”

“Same as usual. Mom’s working on a puzzle right now. I left some tuna salad in the fridge and bread to make a sandwich, if you can get her to eat one.”

“She usually will, as long as I cut the crusts off. I’ve got some leftover pumpkin pie from Thanksgiving so I’ll take her a slice of that, too.”

“If she calls to tell you we’re out of milk, just tell her you’ll bring some over at lunchtime. There’s plenty in the fridge, but she keeps forgetting about it.”

Mrs. Stanton displayed a prominent overbite when she smiled. “I take it she’s having tea this afternoon?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“It’s harmless,” the woman said. “You should count your blessings for that because you can’t say the same for everyone who has her condition.”

“You’re right.” She had trouble seeing it as a blessing, but as curses went, it could have been a lot worse.

“I’ve been hoping the new medication will make a difference.”

“I am, too, especially for your sake, but you need to give it some time.”

“I know.” That’s what the doctor had said, too. “I’m starting a new job today but I’ll try to be home in time for dinner.”

“Have a good day, Sam. Let me know if you’ll be late and I’ll run across with some dinner for her, too.”

She closed the door, and Sam trudged down the hallway to the stairwell, leaving one set of problems behind and setting off to face another.

Will scooped a forkful of his eggs off his plate as AJ walked into the kitchen. “Daddy, I eating green eggs an’ ham. See?” He held up the food, then popped it into his mouth.

“I see that. It looks delicious.”

After Will had fallen in love with the Dr. Seuss story, Annie had cleverly concocted a recipe for scrambled eggs with chopped ham and spinach. “Good way to get some greens into him,” she’d said, and as usual she was right. Will loved it, and AJ had to admit he did, too. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat next to his son with his own plate of green eggs and ham.

“Will you be working today, Mr. Harris?”

He unfolded the morning paper and scanned the headlines. “This afternoon I will be—the gardening article I’m working on is due tomorrow—but I’ll take Will and Hershey to the park this morning.”

“Good idea. It’s supposed to rain this afternoon. Did those women say what time they’d be here?”

“Around ten-thirty. Claire DeAngelo called last night to say they had a meeting first thing, but they’d be here after that.” He intended to be out of the house by then. “The interior decorator, I think her name is Kristi, would like to start clearing out the kitchen. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I plan to do a little Christmas baking before they arrive, then I can give her a hand.”

“Thanks. If there’s anything you’d like to keep, I want you to feel free.”

“That’s very generous of you. I’m mighty fond of a couple of your grandmother’s teapots.”

“Then I want you to have them.” It wasn’t as though there was any shortage of teapots in this house.

Will’s fork clattered to the table. “Going to park now?” he mumbled around his last mouthful of eggs.

“Remember your manners, William,” Annie said. “Good little boys don’t talk with their mouths full, do they?”

Will swallowed. “All gone.” To demonstrate, he opened his mouth wide.

Annie laughed and lifted him down from the table. “Come with me. We’ll wash your hands and face and get your jacket and mittens while your father finishes his breakfast.”

AJ watched them leave the kitchen, admiring her patience. He should be taking notes because it wouldn’t be long before he would be taking care of William on his own. He looked forward to it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have regrets.

Adopting his own son hadn’t been the first time he’d used the family fortune and status to get something he wanted, but it would be the last. His parents, make that his father, had issued an ultimatum the day he’d brought William home. He could keep his position in the business or he could keep his illegitimate son. One or the other. Not both.

His decision had been a no-brainer and he’d never regretted putting his son first. Grandmother Harris, horrified by her son’s hard-hearted stand, had opened her door to AJ and William. Her health was failing and he couldn’t turn his back on her, so although he had already purchased the house in Idaho, he’d moved in with his son and hired Annie Dobson to look after them. His grandmother was able to spend her final years getting to know her great-grandson in the home she loved. AJ had never regretted doing what he’d had to do to get his son, and he never would. He hadn’t regretted postponing the move to Idaho, either. Now, as long as he was careful, he wouldn’t regret letting Sam’s company sell this house. He hoped.

Chapter Four

Ready Set Sold’s downtown office was already open when Sam arrived, and Marlie, their office manager, was talking into her headset. Six months after opening the business they had advertised for an office manager and the decision to hire Marlie had been unanimous. Her name was short for Marline. She’d had impeccable references, a no-nonsense approach to dealing with clients, big hair and an even bigger heart. She referred to Sam, Kristi and Claire as “Marlie’s angels,” and they loved it.

Marlie’s wardrobe consisted of pencil skirts and matching stilettos in every color under the sun, and snug-fitting sweaters that made the most, and then some, of her generous proportions. In spite of the artificial nails, always painted to match her outfit, she could type like the wind. Today’s nail color was pistachio but the sweater was turquoise, which meant the polish probably went with the skirt. Sam couldn’t see it from where she was standing. Marlie greeted Sam with a shiny green-tipped finger wave and indicated she’d be off the phone in a minute, maybe two.

Sam slid two envelopes filled with receipts from under the clip on her clipboard and tossed them into the in-box on Marlie’s desk. Then she stepped into the tiny office.

Their office, on the second floor of an old building near Pioneer Square, consisted of a small reception area that served as Marlie’s domain and an even smaller office shared by the three business partners. Sam ran the construction end of the business out of her dilapidated old delivery-truck-slash-mobile-workshop she’d had since she worked on her own, and Kristi managed her design and home staging service out of her mommy-and-me minivan.

Claire used the office more than either Sam or Kristi did—often to meet with clients—and the space mostly reflected her style. She had arranged the stapler, tape dispenser and pencil holder on the sleek, dark espresso-colored desk with the same precision she did everything, which told Sam she’d been the last one to use the space. Kristi’s style was anything but exact. She liked to group unlikely things together and when she did, they were arranged for effect, not accuracy. On the rare occasions when Sam worked in here, she always put everything back the way she found it, regardless who had put it there.

Against the back wall behind the desk was a matching credenza, and above it hung three framed photographs of recent projects. This display was Kristi’s contribution and she changed the photos every month. In the current display was the house in Beacon Hill with Claire’s sold sign in the front yard, a before-and-after collage of a bathroom reno Sam had done in a house in Washington Park and one of Kristi’s clutter crew at work on an elderly woman’s Bellevue condominium.

Sam sighed. Next month the display would almost certainly include a photograph of AJ’s house—yet another reminder he’d made another brief, unwelcome appearance in her life. At least by then the house would be finished and he would be out of her life, again, this time forever.

Sam set her clipboard on the desk and scanned the schedule on the whiteboard while she shrugged out of her jacket and hooked it on the coat tree in the corner. Claire had obviously been here after they toured AJ’s house yesterday afternoon because the rough schedule they’d come up with during the inspection had already been added.

“G’morning, Sam.” An hourglass Marlie stood in the doorway, barely five foot five in spite of her spike-heeled shoes. “Did you get your messages?”

“Not yet. Anything important?”

“Darlin’, it’s all important. The movers called about fifteen minutes ago to say they’ve already emptied out the foyer at the Harris house. The building supply store called to say they’ll deliver the Hendricks’ new kitchen countertop by the end of the week. And …” She shuffled the message slips in her hand. “Oh, your mom called.”

Of course she had. She’d probably called Mrs. Stanton as well, and when Sam got back to her truck where she’d forgotten her phone, she’d probably find a message from her, too.

Marlie glanced up from her notepad. “She wants you to pick up milk on your way home.”

Sam sighed.

Marlie laughed. “Let me guess. You’re not out of milk.”

“We’re not. She’s having tea with … she’s having tea this afternoon and she probably didn’t think to check the fridge before she called.”

Instead of asking for more details, Marlie gave her a sympathetic hug. “How is she these days?”

“No change so far. The doctor said it could take several weeks before we’ll know if the new medication will make a difference.” Providing there’d be a difference. The doctor had warned there was no guarantee, but given how outrageously expensive these new meds were, Sam sincerely hoped there would be.

“You’re a good girl,” Marlie said. “It takes a special person to do what you do.”

“She’s my mom. I’d do anything for her.” Which was true, and she really did love her mother in spite of the almost-daily challenges. There were days, though, when she secretly wished their relationship was less of a dead-end one-way alley and more like a two-way street. Like today. Today it would have felt good to hear someone say “I love you, too.”

Marlie patted her arm and returned to the reception area. “I see you dropped off your receipts for the work on the Matheson house. Is this it or will you have more expenses?”

“No, I’m finished and Kristi should be, too. It’s in Claire’s hands now.”

As if on cue, the door flew open and Claire breezed in, quirking an eyebrow to indicate she’d heard her name. Good morning, she mouthed. With her briefcase slung over one shoulder and her Bluetooth in her ear, carrying on a one-sided conversation, she moved purposefully through reception and into the office and, in one fluid motion, slid her bag onto the desk, took out her iPad and started keying in information. The woman had more multitasking skills in her baby finger than all of Sam and Kristi put together.

“That’s two angels accounted for,” Marlie said, glancing at her glittery gold bangle wristwatch. “I wonder what’ll hold Kristi up this morning.” She said it with affection, not criticism.

Any number of things could delay Kristi. Her daughter, Jenna, couldn’t find her homework. The dog had barfed on the carpet. The minivan was out of gas. Kristi could march into the most cluttered and disorganized home and have it shipshape in no time. Her own life was a different story, though, and Sam suspected she thrived on the chaos.

Sam retrieved her clipboard and jacket and perched on the corner of Marlie’s desk, checking her notes and to-do list while she waited for Claire to wrap up her phone call.

She had already checked her notes at least three times this morning and was sure she hadn’t missed anything. They’d come up with a three-week timeline for this project and she wanted to finish by then, if not sooner. No surprises.

“You look like you’ve been to the gym,” Sam said when Claire emerged from the office.

Claire shook her head without taking her eyes off the screen of her iPad. Her dark shoulder-length hair had been swept back into a ponytail and she was wearing slim-fitting black exercise pants and a bright yellow tank top. “Not yet. I don’t have any appointments this morning, though, so I’ll go right after our meeting. Want to come with? I have a couple of guest passes.”

“Tempting, but I have to get to work as soon as our meeting’s over.” Too bad, because the only way she could afford to set foot in Claire’s gym was as a guest. “I went for a run first thing this morning, though.” She loved to run, especially early in the morning when the city hadn’t fully woken from its slumber. After ten minutes or so she got into the zone. With her feet pounding the pavement and her heart pounding in her chest, after her breathing went from ragged to fast and controlled, she would fix her gaze on something in the distance and her only thought was getting there. Then she’d focus on another distant spot, and another, letting her mind go blank while her stride devoured the miles. Eventually her body would tell her when it was time to quit and she had learned to listen, even though it brought her back to reality.

“Good for you. Oh, that reminds me, I signed up for the half marathon next summer. Are you entering?”

“Ah … I hope to, but I’m not sure yet.” If she did, she’d run the whole race, but as always it would depend on whether she had time to train for it.

“We should talk Kristi into signing up, too.”

Sam tried to imagine Kristi running to the end of the block. No, not going to happen. “First you’ll have to convince her to roll up her yoga mat and buy a pair of running shoes.”

Claire set her phone down and checked her watch. “Speaking of Kristi, I wonder what’s keeping her—”

Marlie waved at them with the backs of both hands. “I have work to do so why don’t you two run along down to the coffee shop and get out of my hair.” In typical Marlie fashion, it wasn’t a question. “I’ll call Kristi and tell her to meet you there.”

“Good plan.” Claire slipped her iPad into her briefcase. “Do you have everything you need?” she asked Sam.

Sam waved her clipboard and nodded. “All set.”

The late-November mist shrouding Pioneer Square made it seem even quieter than usual for that time of the morning. Several people in business attire purposefully made their way to their office buildings, a few tourists wandered around, waiting for the shops to open, and a bag lady sat on a bench feeding a gaggle of pigeons.

By the time they reached the coffee shop, Claire had taken another phone call. She nodded and pulled out her wallet when the clerk asked if she wanted her usual. Claire’s “usual” was a large mocha and a toasted bagel with cream cheese. “Sorry, can you hold on a moment please?” She pressed the mute button on her Bluetooth. “I’ll take a pot of green tea and a slice of banana loaf, as well. For Kristi,” she said to Sam. “That way we can get to work as soon as she gets here.”

“Sure thing. Large dark roast for you, right?” he asked Sam. “No room for cream?”

“That’s me.”

“Anything else?” He always asked.

Her answer was always the same. “No, thanks. I’ve already eaten.” She deliberately avoided looking at the pastries in the display case, though. She could buy half a dozen muffins at the grocery store for the cost of one of these.

Claire paid for her order and dropped a generous handful of change into the tip jar. Sam handed the clerk a pair of ones to pay for her coffee and pocketed her change. After paying for her mom’s new medication, she was back to pinching pennies. Claire, who still lived in the luxury penthouse condominium she owned with her soon-to-be ex-husband, had always been more comfortably off than either Sam or Kristi. Probably better off than Sam and Kristi put together. And although Kristi complained about her ex’s lack of financial support, she wasn’t afraid to spend money. Sam preferred to put hers away for a rainy day than spend it on coffee shop pastries.

The young man behind the counter grabbed a tray. “Have a seat. I’ll bring everything over when it’s ready.”

Claire was already seated and had ended her phone call and pulled out her iPad by the time Sam joined her and set her clipboard on the table. “I’ve gone over my notes from last week’s meeting, and I think everything we discussed has been covered.” She swiped a neatly manicured finger across the screen to bring up a fresh slate.

The young man arrived with their order.

“Sorry I’m late!” Kristi dashed in, all smiles and flyaway blond hair, lugging an oversize and overstuffed handbag and an armload of fabric and wallpaper samples. “I was going over the photos I took at the Harris house yesterday and lost track of time.” She plunked herself into a chair, dug out her laptop and a bulging leather-bound organizer, rummaged in her bag for something to write with. “There has to be a pen in here somewhere …”

Claire, never without a spare, handed one to her.

“Thank you!” she said, pouring tea into her cup. “Mmm, I needed this. How much do I owe you?”

“My treat. You can get the next one.”

“Thanks!” Kristi flipped her organizer open and laid the pen in the crease. “So, what’s on today’s agenda?”

Claire studied the screen in front of her. “The Matheson place. Where are we at with that?”

“The last thing I had to do was install the shelves in the laundry room,” Sam said. “I finished on Friday and I gave all my receipts to Marlie this morning.”

“And those shelves were the perfect way to finish off that room.” Kristi brought up a photograph on her laptop. “Aren’t they great?”

Claire leaned in for a closer look. “Oh, yes! I like the plants. Nice touch, and so unexpected in a laundry room.”

“That’s the whole idea,” Kristi said. “After people have seen a dozen houses, they’ll remember the one with the awesome laundry room.”

“Clever. What’s in the baskets?”

“I used those to store the detergent and fabric softener.”

“You gals are a pair of geniuses.” Claire started typing notes to herself. “I’ll call the Mathesons this afternoon and set up an appointment for our first open house.”

For the next twenty minutes they worked diligently through Claire’s list of projects and wrapped up by agreeing on a work plan for AJ’s house. Sam sipped her coffee and jotted notes as necessary onto the lists in her clipboard.

“We have a busy week lined up,” Kristi said when they were finished. She stuffed her paint chips and portfolio into her bag and picked up her cup. “And now that we’ve taken care of business we can move on to the good stuff.”

Sam knew exactly what she meant. Their meetings adhered to a strict rule—business before chitchat. If she’d been thinking ahead, she could have planned her getaway before the conversation turned personal. Too late now. Kristi and Claire had already shifted their focus to her, and there’d be no escape until she answered their questions.

The waiter stopped at their table. Claire handed her empty plate to him, then put her elbows on the table and propped her chin on her hands. “I’ve been dying to hear what’s up with you and the man in black.”

And here we go, Sam thought. Right on cue.

“More hot water for your tea?” the waiter asked Kristi.

“Yes, thanks. That’d be great.”

He took the pot and disappeared.

Kristi tossed her hair over her shoulders and grinned. “So … you and AJ Harris. What’s that all about?”

Sam squirmed. Even being prepared for these questions didn’t make answering them any easier. “What do you mean?”

Claire folded her paper napkin into a neat square. “Nice try. There’s something going on between you and AJ Harris.”

Sam shook her head. “Not anymore.”

“But there was. Anyone can see that.”

Reluctantly, Sam nodded. “AJ and me … it didn’t last long, and was a long time ago. He worked for his father’s company then, I’m not sure what he does now.”

“He told me he’s a freelance writer,” Claire said. “That’s why he works at home.”

“And now he has a family,” Kristi said. “When do you think he got married?”

Sam set her coffee on the table. “I assume it was after we broke up.” She only wished she was as certain of that as she sounded.

“So, when were the two of you an item?”

A lifetime ago. She shrugged. “I guess about three and a half years ago.”

“What happened?”

“I wasn’t good enough for the son of the great James Harris.”

“According to …?”

“James Harris.”

“What a jerk,” Kristi said. “It didn’t take AJ long to find someone else.”

“What do you mean?”

“You saw his little boy yesterday.”

“Actually, I didn’t.” She had deliberately avoided looking at the child in the backyard.

“AJ said he was two,” Kristi said. “I’d say he has to be at least two and a half years old, which means … well, we all know what that means.”

Sam stared into the bottom of her empty coffee cup and didn’t respond. She had spent all night coming up with possible scenarios for when and how AJ had become a parent, and she hadn’t liked any of them.

“So you think the guy’s a player?” Claire asked. “His family’s loaded and men in that position never have trouble finding women, but I don’t know, he doesn’t seem like the type. Did the two of you ever talk about having kids?”

Sam shook her head. The conversation was heading down a road that was way too close to home for comfort. “We were never that serious. Like I said yesterday, I did some work for his family’s business and …”

“And …?” Claire asked.

“And …” Kristi was always prone to exaggeration. “She and AJ mixed a little pleasure with business.”

Sam’s face heated up.

“That’s obvious,” Claire said before Sam could respond. “But there’s more to it than that. The two of you must have had a connection back then because you sure as heck have one now.”

Sam thought so, too. Until James Harris told her otherwise.

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