Author Bio

Susan Mallery is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of novels about the relationships that define women’s lives—romance, friendship, family. With compassion and humour, Susan keenly observes how people think and feel, in stories that take readers on an emotional journey. Sometimes heartbreaking, often funny and always uplifting, Susan’s books have spent more than 200 weeks on the USA TODAY bestseller list, thanks to her ever-growing legions of fans.

Susan lives in Seattle with her husband, two ragdoll cats and a tattletale toy poodle. Animals play a big role in her books, as well, as she believes they’re an integral component to a happy life.

FALL IN LOVE WITH #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR SUSAN MALLERY

‘The perfect feel-good read’

Sarah Morgan on You Say It First

‘Susan Mallery is one of my favourites.’

#1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber

[You Say it First] ‘has the author’s signature blend of humor, poignancy, and small-town charm.’

Booklist

‘The romance is sweet and hot, the writing is quick and easy… A great choice for a weekend read.’

Kirkus Reviews on You Say it First

‘A heartfelt and genuine friends-to-lovers story fraught with emotional trauma that makes the happily-ever-after satisfyingly sweet… Sharp, well-drawn characters and a naughty beagle add depth to the story.’

Publishers Weekly on Second Chance Girl

‘You can always count on Mallery to deliver warmhearted and quirky stories featuring emotionally dented individuals doing their best to survive and hopefully thrive… A truly unforgettable read! Mallery is one of a kind!’

RT Book Reviews, Top Pick! On Second Chance Girl

I had the best time writing this book—seriously, it was just plain fun from start to finish. I love the relationship between Ellen and Unity. They made me laugh and cry and I was so excited to learn what happened next. It seemed there was a surprise around every corner.

In the spirit of surprises…I’m dedicating this book to six lovely readers.

Brenda R., Cindy G., Courtney T., Nicole W., Teresa B., Zina O.

As many of you know, I’m a huge supporter of animal welfare, and my favorite organization is Seattle Humane. In the summer of 2019, Seattle Humane asked me to help them with an upcoming project—using “Bad Poetry Month” to drive awareness of pets looking for a home. I asked my Facebook friends to pitch in and we all wrote some very fun poetry in support of those pets.

From all the submissions, Brenda, Cindy, Courtney, Nicole, Teresa and Zina had their poems chosen to be featured. And to give them an extra thank-you (and a surprise!) I’m dedicating this book to them.

So, my friends, this one is for you.

Also available from Susan Mallery And Mills & Boon

You Say it First

Second Chance Girl

Why Not Tonight

Not Quite Over You

The Summer of Sunshine & Margot

Meant to be Yours

Sisters By Choice

For a complete list of titles available from Susan Mallery, please visit www.SusanMallery.com

Cousins by chance, sisters by choice...

After her cat toy empire goes up in flames, Sophie Lane returns to Blackberry Island, determined to rebuild. Until small-town life reveals a big problem: she can’t grow unless she learns to let go. If Sophie relaxes her grip even a little, she might lose everything. Or she might finally be free to reach for the happiness and love that have eluded her for so long.

Kristine has become defined by her relationship to others. She’s a wife, a mom. As much as she adores her husband and sons, she wants something for herself—a sweet little bakery just off the waterfront. She knew changing the rules wouldn’t be easy, but she never imagined she might have to choose between her marriage and her dreams.

Like the mainland on the horizon, Heather’s goals seem beyond her grasp. Every time she manages to save for college, her mother has another crisis. Can she break free, or will she be trapped in this tiny life forever?

Told with Mallery’s trademark humor and charm, Sisters by Choice is a heartfelt tale of love, family and the friendships that see us through.

Sisters by Choice

Susan Mallery

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09904-2

SISTERS BY CHOICE

© 2020 Susan Mallery, Inc.

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Reader’s Guide

Sisters by Choice Reader Discussion Guide

Questions for Discussion

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Eight years after her divorce, Sophie Lane still wasn’t very good at dating. She supposed she only had herself to blame—if she really “put herself out there,” as her cousin Kristine was always saying, she could find someone.

From Sophie’s point of view, there were multiple problems with that statement. First, Kristine had married her high school sweetheart after graduation and had been happily married for the past sixteen years. She wasn’t exactly someone who should be giving dating advice. Second, Sophie didn’t have a lot of time to “put herself out there.” She was busy—she owned a company and she loved her company and all the hard work that went into keeping it successful. To be honest, her business was way more interesting than any man, which might be a big part of the dating problem. That and, well, the actual dating.

Getting dressed up, meeting for dinner, listening to a man talk about himself for three hours wasn’t exactly how she wanted to spend a lone evening when she wasn’t dealing with some crisis at the office. Plus, she never quite understood all the rules.

She was pretty sure it was supposed to be sex after three dates, but that didn’t work for her. If she liked a guy and wanted to have sex with him, why did she have to wait? She was busy. If she had the interest and the time on the first date, then her feeling was, why not just do it, clear her head, so to speak, and happily get on with her life? Because if she didn’t want to do it on date one, there was no way she was interested on date three. By then the guy had probably annoyed her fifty-seven ways to Bakersfield.

Which explained why, on date two with Bradley Kaspersky, she was 100 percent convinced saying yes had been a massive mistake. Not that his sixty-minute explanation of how laser sightings worked hadn’t been fascinating their first evening together. Under normal circumstances she would have ended things when the check—split at her request—came, explaining he wasn’t for her, and while she appreciated meeting him, there was no moving forward. And no, he shouldn’t bother calling, texting or emailing.

She would have except... She was lonely. CK was gone, and she still couldn’t believe it. Going home to her empty condo was physically painful. She’d taken to sleeping on the sofa in her office to avoid all the memories, but then she had to go home to shower and the second she walked in the door, she wanted to cry.

Because of all that, she hadn’t given Bradley the brush-off and now here she was, at dinner two, listening to the practical applications for calibrated laser sighting. Or was it sightings? Regardless, she was stuck and to be honest, maybe she should just suck it up and go back to her place and let the pain wash over her. Because CK deserved to be mourned and she had a feeling her therapist would tell her she’d been putting off those feelings for a little too long. Assuming she had a therapist. Which she didn’t. Although more than one person had told her she needed one. Usually an employee she’d fired, or who had quit. As they walked out, the parting shot, often yelled across the company’s open foyer, was something along the lines of, “You’re impossible. You think you can do everything. Well, you can’t. You’re not superhuman. You only think you’re better than everyone else. You have a serious problem, Sophie, and you should get help.” About half the time, the B word was tossed around.

“Sophie?”

“Hmm?”

“Your phone is ringing.”

“Oh. Sorry. I forgot to turn off the sound.”

She looked down at the phone she’d placed next to her wineglass and realized it was indeed ringing and buzzing and dancing on the table. She was about to send the call to her voice mail when she read the caller ID info.

“It’s my alarm company,” she said. “I just need to take this.”

She grabbed her phone and her handbag and started for the front of the restaurant.

“Sophie Lane,” she said crisply. “Do you need my authentication code?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She gave the code, then asked, “What’s the problem?”

“We have notified the local fire department that several fire alarms have gone off at the location. Our sensors indicated that there is a fire, Ms. Lane. This is not a false alarm. CK Industries is on fire.”

Twenty minutes later, while waiting impatiently at a stupid light that wouldn’t ever turn green, Sophie remembered that she’d been on a date when she’d bolted for her car. She activated her hands-free calling and said, “Call Bradley Kaspersky.”

“Bradley Kaspersky. Cell phone. Dialing.”

Seconds later she heard ringing, followed by, “You left.”

“Bradley, I’m sorry. My office building is on fire. I’m driving there right now to meet the fire department.”

“How do I know that’s true? How do I know you didn’t just run out on me?”

“Because I didn’t. Because... I don’t know, Bradley. If that’s what you really think then this isn’t going to work. I have to go.”

She disconnected the call and tried to ignore the sense of fear and dread growing in her chest. If there was a fire, she could lose everything. Her inventory, her records, her pictures of CK that she kept on her desk.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad, she thought. Maybe it was—

She nearly rear-ended the car in front of her. Sophie jumped on the brakes at the last second and stopped inches from the pickup’s rear bumper. Up ahead, on her right, dark smoke rose in the sky. No—rose was the wrong word. It shot up, like out of a cannon, spreading maliciously, portending disaster.

She turned at the corner, made a left and three more rights before being forced to a stop by a barricade manned by two members of the Santa Clarita Police Department. She pulled over and jumped out of her car, grabbing her company ID and showing it to the officers.

“That’s my company,” she said. “I own it. What happened? Was anyone inside? Oh, God, the cleaners. Did they get out?”

The officers waved her past the barricade and pointed toward one of the firefighters. He looked more management and less like a climb-a-ladder-to-make-a-hole-in-the-roof guy.

At first she couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but stare at what had once been a large warehouse with offices. Now there was only fire and smoke and heat.

Go, she told herself. She had to get going!

She rushed to the guy and identified herself again.

He nodded. “From what we can tell, the cleaning team discovered the fire. They all got out safely. We did a search, as best we could, and didn’t find anyone else. Do you know of any employees who work late?”

Sophie tried to focus on what he was saying, but it was impossible. She’d never seen a real fire before—not outside of the movies or TV. There was no way that two-dimensional image had prepared her for the real thing. The heat was incredible. Even from a hundred feet away, she wanted to step back, to get away from the climbing temperature.

Even more stunning was the sound. Fire really was alive. It breathed and roared and screamed. Her building put up a fight, but it was no match for the beast that consumed it. As she watched, the fire cried out in victory as a wall collapsed.

“Ma’am, is anyone working late?”

The question was screamed in her face. She tore her attention away from the flames.

“No. No one works late. Only me. I don’t like anyone in my building when I’m not there.” The cleaners were the exception. She trusted them. Plus, anything important was locked up.

The man’s expression turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry. The building is going to be a total loss.”

She nodded because speaking was impossible. Her throat hurt, and not just from the smoke and ash in the air. Her throat hurt because she was doing her best to keep it all inside.

Everything she’d worked for, everything she’d dreamed of, built, sweated over and fought for was gone. Just gone. Her mom had always warned her that if she wasn’t careful, people would break her heart, but no one had warned her that a building could do the same.

She turned away and started for her car. The left side of her brain said she needed to call her insurance agent, and maybe some of her employees. Thank God her accounting records and orders were all backed up externally, but CK Industries wasn’t going to open its doors anytime soon.

That was the left side. The right side of her brain only felt pain. First CK and now this. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t lose them both.

She fumbled with her phone and scrolled through her contacts until she found a familiar number. She pushed it.

“Hey, you,” her cousin Kristine said. “This is a surprise. I thought you had a date. Oh, Sophie, it’s barely eight. You didn’t dump him already, did you? I swear, you’re impossible. What was wrong with this guy? Too tall? Not tall enough? Did he breathe funny? Hang on a sec—”

Kristine’s voice became muffled. “Yes, JJ, you really do have to do your European history homework. The First World War isn’t stupid or boring and you will need the information later in life.”

Kristine’s voice normalized. “You know he’s going to come back to me when he’s thirty and tell me I was completely wrong about the everyday relevance of World War I.”

Sophie managed to find her voice. “Kristine, it’s gone.”

“What? Sophie, what happened? Where are you? Are you okay? Did your date do something? Do you need me to call the police?”

“No. It’s not me.” At first Sophie thought she was shaking, but then she realized she was crying so hard she could barely stand or breathe.

“There’s a fire. Right now the whole place is on fire. There’s not going to be anything left. It’s gone, Kristine. It’s just gone.”

“Are you okay? Was anyone hurt?”

“No one works late and the cleaning crew found the fire, so they’re all okay. I don’t know what to do. I can’t handle this.”

“Of course you can. If anyone can, it’s you, sweetie. We both know that. You’re in shock. Look, I’m going to get myself on the first flight out in the morning. I’ll text you the information. We’ll figure it out. We can do this together.”

Sophie stared at the hungry flames and knew she’d been bested. She’d been prepared for a hostile buyout or an all-employee mutiny, but not total annihilation.

“This is all I have and now there’s nothing,” she whispered.

“That’s not true. You have your family and, knowing you the way I do, you have more insurance than you need. This could actually work out for the best. You’ve been talking about moving your business back to the island for years. Now you can. It’ll be like it was back in high school. You’ll see.”

“I hate it when you’re perky.”

“I know. That’s mostly why I act that way. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

Sophie nodded and hung up, then she opened the driver’s door of her car and sank onto the seat. There were a thousand things she should be doing but right now all she could do was watch her entire world literally go up in flames.

* * *

The distance between Valencia, California, and Blackberry Island, Washington, was about 1,130 miles, give or take, and Sophie could make the drive in two days.

She filled her car with clothes, her laptop, two boxes of records she would need as she continued to deal with the aftermath of the fire, along with a large tote bag overflowing with pictures, blankets, a pet bed and a few treasured catnip mice and toys. The movers would pack up everything else and deliver it in a week or so. She’d sold her condo furnished, so she would only have to deal with twenty or thirty boxes of personal things. In the meantime, she would get by with what she had. It was, in fact, her new mantra.

Temporarily shutting down CK Industries had been unexpectedly easy. She’d hired an order fulfillment company to manage customer notification. Those who wanted to wait for replacement orders could do so, those who wanted their money back received a prompt refund. She’d offered to move key personnel with her to Blackberry Island and had received exactly zero takers. Still too numb to be hurt by that, she’d written letters of recommendation and offered generous severance packages, all the while prepaying four months of health insurance for everyone.

Her only friends in the area had been work-related and with no more work, they’d quickly faded away. In the end, there’d been no one to see her off, so several weeks after the fire, at seven on Friday morning, she fought her way to the freeway, then merged onto I5 north.

Around ten, Kristine called.

“Where are you?” her cousin asked.

“North of the Grapevine.”

“You should have let me fly down and drive up with you.”

“I’ll be fine. You have eight kids to deal with. They would die without you.”

Kristine laughed. “It’s three kids.”

“When I visit, it feels like more.”

“That’s because they’re loud.” Her humor faded. “You okay?”

“Never better.” Especially if she didn’t count her broken heart and ragged spirit.

“You’re lying.”

“I am, but that’s okay.”

Kristine sighed. “I’m glad you’re coming home. I’m worried about you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I think the warehouse is still for lease. I want you to see it the second you get here. This is Blackberry Island. It’s not as if we have more than one warehouse. If you don’t grab this one, you’re going to have to have your offices on the mainland, and driving there every day would be a drag.”

Sophie felt her sense of dazed sadness ease a little. “Already done.”

“What?”

“I signed the lease last week.”

“Seriously?” Kristine’s voice was a shriek. “But you haven’t seen it.”

“I know, but you said it was great. Besides, you’re right. It’s not as if there are six warehouses to choose from.”

“I said it was available, but I don’t know what you need. Sophie, you signed a lease? What if you hate it?”

“Then I’ll be mad at you.” She smiled. “It’s fine. I’ll make it work. Really. Right now I just want to be home.”

“You leased a warehouse you’ve never seen. Sheesh. Next you’re going to tell me you rented a house, sight unseen.”

“Technically, I saw pictures online.”

“Sophie!”

“It’s just for a few months, while I figure things out.”

“That’s insane,” Kristine told her. “I will never understand you. Okay, focus on your driving. I can’t wait for you to get here tomorrow. The boys are very excited to see you.”

“I’m excited to see them. You have six, right?”

“Sophie!”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

* * *

“Think of it as a rite of passage,” Kristine Fielding said cheerfully. “You’re twelve now. You deserve to take on more responsibilities.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing,” her twelve-year-old son, Tommy, grumbled. “I’m a really good kid, Mom. Maybe I deserve not to do laundry.”

“You’d rather I did it for you?”

“Well, yeah. Of course. Nobody wants to do chores.”

They were in Tommy’s bedroom, facing a massive pile of laundry. Kristine had been doing her best to convince her middle son it was time for him to learn a few life skills. As his older brother had before him, Tommy resisted. In the end, she’d had to threaten JJ with the loss of Xbox privileges before he was willing to take on the task. She was hoping she wouldn’t have to resort to anything that dire with Tommy.

“So it’s okay for me to take care of this entire house, cook the meals and do your laundry, while you do nothing?”

Tommy grinned. “It’s your job, Mom. My job is school. Remember how I got an A on my last math test? Being a great student takes a lot of time.” His expression turned sly. “Which would you rather have? Me doing my own laundry or a super-intelligent kid who gets straight A’s?”

“It’s not an either-or proposition. You’re twelve now. It’s time to start doing your own laundry.”

“But I already help Dad out with the yard.”

“We all do that. Look at my face. Is there anything about my expression that makes you think I’m going to change my mind on this? Let us remember the sad summer from two years ago when JJ refused to do his laundry. Think about the layer of dust on his Xbox controller and how he cried and pouted and stomped his feet.”

“It was embarrassing for all of us.”

“Yes, it was. Now, you can either be an example to your little brother, or you can provide me with a very humorous story to tell everyone who’s ever met you, but at the end of the day, you will still be doing laundry. Which is it to be?”

“Maybe I should ask Dad what he thinks.”

Kristine knew that Jaxsen would take Tommy’s side—not out of malice, but because when it came to his kids, he was the softest touch around.

“You could and then you would still have to face me.” She kept her tone cheerful. “Am I wrong?”

“No.” Tommy sighed heavily. “I surrender to the inevitable.”

“That’s my boy. I’m proud of you. Now, collect your dirty clothes and meet me in the laundry room. You’re going to learn how to work the washer and dryer. I have a schedule posted. You’ll have certain days and times when you will have the privilege of using the washer and dryer. If you use them at other times, when they’re scheduled for JJ or when I want them, you will not enjoy the consequences.”

“No Xbox?”

“No skateboard.”

“Mom! Not my skateboard.”

Kristine smiled. Both her mother and mother-in-law had taught her that the key to getting kids to do what you wanted was to find out what they wanted and use that as leverage. For JJ it was his Xbox, for Tommy it was his skateboard and for Grant it was being outside. She tried to use her power for good, but she did absolutely use it.

“And on Saturday, you’ll change your sheets and wash those,” she said happily. “It’s going to be great.”

“It’s not fair.”

“I know. Isn’t it fabulous?”

“What if I don’t care about clean sheets?”

“I think you care about clean sheets about as much as I care about driving you into Marysville to that skate park you love.”

Tommy’s brown eyes widened in horror. “You wouldn’t not take me, would you?”

“Of course not. Any young man of twelve years old who has washed his own sheets deserves to be driven to a skate park.”

“Is that blackmail?” he asked.

“I think of it as persuasion.”

“I don’t want to grow up. It’s too much work.”

“Interesting. Someone should write a book about a boy who refuses to grow up. It sounds like a great story.”

“It’s Peter Pan.”

“Is it? Shocking!” She pointed to the pile of laundry on the floor. “I will be giving laundry lessons in ten minutes. If you’re not there, I will start without you. If I start without you, I will do so with your favorite skateboard in my possession.”

“When I have kids I’m letting them do whatever they want.”

Kristine pulled her son close and kissed the top of his head—something she wouldn’t be able to do much longer. He’d grown at least two inches in the past year. JJ already towered over her and he was only fourteen. In a couple of years he would be taller than his dad. Even little Grant wasn’t so little. When he fell asleep outside, studying the stars, she couldn’t carry him to bed anymore. She had to call Jaxsen to hoist him up and get him inside.

“I’m sure you will,” she said with a laugh.

“You don’t believe me.” Tommy shook his head. “You’re wrong. I’m going to be the best parent ever.”

“Uh-huh. I’m looking forward to that first panicked phone call.” She lowered her voice. “Mom, the baby’s crying and I don’t know what to do.”

“I would never make that call. I’ll be at work.”

“Oh, I think you’ll be a stay-at-home dad,” she teased.

He looked horrified at the idea.

So far she’d managed to teach her boys to clean their bathroom and help in the kitchen. She was working on getting them to do their own laundry. But she’d been unable to convince them that child rearing should be shared. Probably because she’d always been a stay-at-home mom as were most of the moms of their friends. Jaxsen was a hands-on kind of father but he was more into taking the boys on adventures than shopping for their school clothes or helping out with the homework. She wasn’t setting a very feminist example.

They needed more exposure to strong women with killer careers. Now that her cousin Sophie was back on the island, they could all have dinner and Sophie could talk about what it was like to run a business empire. Because sending her boys out with life skills was one thing, but sending them out with the belief a woman could be in charge was another.

Still, they were good kids who were kind and respectful. At least out in public and with adults. With each other they were wild monkeys testing her patience every single day.

“I should have had girls,” she said with a sigh.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “You would have hated girls.”

“They’re clean and pretty and they smell nice.”

“Boys do smell bad,” her son admitted. “And some girls are really smart. But you’re stuck with us, Mom. No matter what and you have to love us.”

“Yes, that is the rumor. All right, middle child. Laundry room. Ten minutes or I’m taking your you-know-what for a ride.”

“You’d fall in like ten feet.”

“No way. I could totally go twenty.”

He gave her a quick hug, then started loading the pile of dirty clothes into the clothes basket she’d brought with her.

She left him to his work and headed for the kitchen. Dinner was in the Crock-Pot. She’d taken care of that this morning. She glanced at the calendar—a large, framed, wall-sized rectangle with big squares for every day of the month and cute pictures of cats around the outside—and saw that JJ would finish up with baseball practice at four and Grant was at his friend Evan’s house until four thirty. Jaxsen would pick up both kids for her, which meant between now and dinner she only had to fold towels, prepare her grocery list for her weekly shopping, decide on a menu for her catering client and write up a grocery list for that, double-check her baking supplies because she would spend all night Thursday making cookies for the upcoming weekend and remind Jaxsen they really had to decide on summer camps for the boys. It was only April but the camps filled up quickly. And speaking of April, it was spring break in two weeks and she needed to know if he was still going to take the boys up in the mountains because if he was, he needed to get out the equipment and make sure everything was still functional.

Tonight, after dinner and homework, she had to finish her book for book club and get the May calendar put together and order more bags for her cookies and do her March books for her cookie sales, because she hadn’t yet and if she got too behind, she never got caught up. And in those five seconds between brushing her teeth and falling asleep, she would really like to run the numbers on that little space by Island Chic that had gone up for lease last week. Because if she could ever catch her breath, and scrape together the cash, she wanted to talk to Jaxsen about opening a bakery. It had never been the right time before, but maybe now would work. The kids were older and...

“Mom, I’m ready. I’ve sorted my clothes by colors, like you said. But is it really a big deal if I don’t?”

“Girls,” she murmured, walking toward the laundry room. “Girls would have been so much easier.”

Chapter Two

The Blackberry Island Inn featured comfortable beds, views of the water and a daisy motif Sophie wasn’t sure she totally understood. Daisies weren’t exactly a big thing on the island. If a business wanted to appeal to tourists, then the more blackberries, the better. Yet, there were daisies in the room, daisies on the wallpaper and hundreds, possibly thousands, of daisies planted along the driveway leading from the parking lot to the main road.

As Sophie walked toward her car, she shivered in the damp, chilly air. She’d forgotten how the island was given to real seasons, unlike back in LA where there was nearly always sunshine. Today there were gray skies and the choppy, black waves of the Sound.

Under normal circumstances, and on a Monday morning, Sophie wouldn’t have noticed any of that. Instead, she would have been totally focused on her business and what needed to get done that day. But—and she would never admit this to anyone but herself—these days she was feeling a little fragile and disoriented.

It was the fire, she told herself. Losing her business, not having any of her employees want to move. Okay, and the loss of CK. That reality still had the ability to bring her to her emotional knees. And maybe the fact that she was thirty-four years old and she wasn’t any closer to having her life together than she had been at twenty. She was all about the work and with CK Industries in limbo, she felt lost.

“Not after today,” she whispered as she turned right at the end of the drive and headed toward the very small industrial area on the island.

The real estate agent was meeting her at the warehouse at nine. Sophie would get the key and have a look at the space she’d leased for the next five years.

She drove past touristy shops and wineries before heading inland. There was a small shopping center, the K through eighth-grade school and a few medical buildings. Behind all that were a few office buildings, a handful of small businesses that would do everything from repair your car to clean your carpets. At the end of the street was the large warehouse.

She parked by the front door. She was early and the place looked closed up tight, so she walked around the outside of the building.

There was a front office and reception area with big windows and lots of parking for employees. The loading dock was plenty large. Products would come in and then be shipped out to customers. Given that this was literally the only warehouse on the island, she figured she’d been lucky to get it. Now she just had to make everything work.

Sophie returned to her car and waited for the agent. She sat in the front seat, with the driver’s door open, sipping her take-out coffee. She’d skipped breakfast at the inn, feeling too yucky to bother eating.

A salty breeze blew in from the west, but despite the gray skies, she didn’t think it was going to rain today. Sophie wondered if her years in Los Angeles would make it difficult for her to adjust to the weather, or if it would matter at all. She assumed she would be working her usual sixteen-hour days. As long as the roof didn’t leak, she wasn’t sure she would even care about something as mundane as the weather.

A small SUV pulled into the parking lot. Sophie stood to greet the real estate agent. Once the key was in her hand, she would feel better, she told herself. She could get started on rebuilding CK Industries and everything would be fine.

Twenty minutes, two signatures and a brief conversation later, Sophie walked into the warehouse and waited for a sense of relief or even elation. The space was huge—nearly double what she’d had in Valencia. There were about a dozen offices, plenty of bathrooms and a massive open area where she could install miles of shelves and have the shipping center of her dreams. It was great. It was better than great, it was...

“Awful,” Sophie whispered, turning in a circle and taking in the emptiness around her.

She’d started CK Industries in the second bedroom of a two-bedroom apartment she’d rented while still in college, although the concept had been born in her freshman dorm room. From there she’d moved to a small space in a Culver City industrial complex. Two years after that she’d needed more square footage. The move to Valencia had come after her divorce and at the time, she’d felt excited—as if she were escaping to a new life.

This relocation wasn’t that. This had been forced upon her by bad electrical wiring. She hadn’t been prepared for the devastation—physical and emotional—of it all and to be honest, she wasn’t excited about the work she was going to have to do. It was overwhelming.

She wanted to stomp her feet and demand a do-over. Or at least a recount. But there was no one to complain to. This was her baby and only she could make it a success.

“Lead, follow or get out of the way,” she reminded herself. “Winners win. I am the champion. It’s up to me. I can do this.”

None of the words seemed to be getting through but at least saying them was better than admitting defeat. She walked over to one of the huge loading dock doors and pushed the button to open it. Cool air blew in. Sophie lowered her backpack to the floor, sank down to sit cross-legged and prepared to get to work.

She needed everything. Employees, product, shelves, shipping supplies, office supplies, office furniture and Wi-Fi. While still in Los Angeles, she’d picked out everything she wanted but had waited to order until she knew the size of all the various spaces. She also had a big, fat insurance check sitting in her bank account to pay for it all.

She got out her computer and, using her phone as a hotspot, logged on to the local internet provider and arranged for service. She would order everything else back in her room at the inn. The house she’d rented wouldn’t be available until the end of the week. Once she was settled there, she could fully focus on the business. In a couple of months everything would be running smoothly and it would be like the fire never happened. Or so she hoped.

“Anybody home?”

She looked up and saw a tall, barrel-chested man walking into the warehouse. He had gray hair and a tanned face and wore a plaid shirt tucked into jeans. He held a folder in one hand.

Sophie scrambled to her feet. “Can I help you?”

“Sophie Lane?”

She nodded.

“Bear Gleason.” He crossed to her and shook her hand.

She was five-five and he was at least eight inches taller. She would guess he was in his midfifties.

“How can I help you, Mr. Gleason?” she asked, hoping he wanted a job and that he had experience she could use.

“Bear, please. I heard you were moving your business to town. CK Industries.”

“That’s right.”

“My wife and I lived in Eastern Washington all our lives. I managed one of the largest fruit storage companies in the country. When we got bought out by an international conglomerate last year, they brought in their own people. Then our daughter turned up pregnant with triplets and my wife wanted to move over here to be close to the new grandkids and help her out.”

Sophie felt a whisper of hope and anticipation. She had a feeling it was the same sense of expectation other women got when they heard about a designer shoe sale. Let them fight over size whatever Jimmy Choo shoes—she just might have found herself a warehouse manager.

“I thought I’d try retiring,” Bear continued. “That lasted two whole months. Truth is, I’m going crazy at home. My daughter is eight months pregnant and on bedrest. My wife is gone all the time and I’m rattling around in our new place like a lost puppy. I’ve done every home project I can think of and my wife swears if I mess with her kitchen, she’ll kill me in my sleep.”

He looked around. “I’m not sure what all you’re buying or selling, but if it needs to be brought in, accounted for and then shipped out to customers, I’m your man.”

He handed her a slim folder. “My résumé and references.”

Yes! Sophie did her best not to break into a happy dance.

“How’d you find out about me renting the warehouse?” she asked.

“In a town this small, it’s all anyone’s been talking about. If I were you, I’d get the date of your job fair circulating real quick. Otherwise, folks are going to be drifting in at all hours.”

“Like you?”

He flashed her a grin. “Exactly like me.” The smile faded. “I heard about the fire. You had insurance, right?”

“Making sure your paycheck is going to clear?”

“I’m sure as hell not working for free.”

“I can respect that.”

She was about to start the interview when an eighteen-wheeler pulled into the parking lot and began backing up toward the loading dock.

Bear looked from the truck to her warehouse. “You don’t even have shelves yet. Or desks. Does anyone work here but you?”

“No, but they will. Better to have product and nowhere to put it than not.”

Bear didn’t look convinced. Still, he moved to the loading dock door and helped guide the truck into place.

It took nearly an hour to get the order moved from the truck to the warehouse. Sophie stopped several times to add to her list of needed supplies. Handcarts, for one. A forklift. Gloves, safety glasses, cones.

When the UPS guy pulled out, Bear stared at the stacked boxes.

“Cat food. Cat litter. Cat toys.” He glared at her. “What is this?”

“What we sell. What did you think was going on here?”

“It’s CK Industries. I didn’t know what it was.”

She grinned. “CK stands for Clandestine Kitty. I started the business when I was in college.”

Bear looked horrified. “You sell cat stuff? You need all this square footage to sell cat stuff?”

“You don’t like cats?”

“Not really. I’m a dog person. Damn. Clandestine Kitty. I never would have guessed that. I hope no one from back home ever finds out I work here.”

“Technically, I haven’t hired you yet.”

“You will. You’re not going to find anyone more qualified. Plus, I’m local now and that helps. If there’s an emergency, I’m six minutes away.”

He looked at the stacks of boxes, then at the warehouse. “Stuff comes in, you repackage it and ship it out to customers. I get it. We’re going to need shelves and a shipping station.”

“I know.”

“I’ll need you to talk me through your current workflow. It’s probably not as efficient as it could be but we’ll start with that and change it as we go. It would help if I could see purchase orders for the last six months to give me an idea of space. We’ve got to get a forklift for sure. I’ll need a computer, a stack of purchase orders and a company credit card to get started.”

“Still not hired.”

He sighed heavily. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

She had his résumé, which would cover the duties he’d performed and what he’d been responsible for. What Sophie was more interested in was who Bear was. She’d been told she was, ah, difficult to work for. Could he handle her?

“Tell me about your best day and your worst day.”

His gaze narrowed. “You’re talking about work stuff, right? Because if you want to discuss my feelings, we are not going to get along at all.”

She laughed. “Bear, I swear to you I will never ask about your feelings and I certainly won’t discuss mine. I just want to know if you’re good at what you do and if you have a problem working for a woman.”

“Do you bring a cat to work?”

Sophie thought about how CK had been a part of her world for nearly eighteen years. How her soft meows and gentle purring were as familiar as Sophie’s own heartbeat. She remembered holding CK at the very end and how she still couldn’t believe her sweet girl was gone.

“No,” she said quietly. “I won’t be bringing a cat to work.”

“Then I don’t care if you’re a woman or a zombie. Let’s have an interview and get this settled. If it seems we’ll suit, then I’ll get going on writing up a proposal on what I’m going to need.”

“I’ve already picked out shelves and tables.”

“Uh-huh. Like I said, I’ll write up a proposal and we can go over it together. I’ll use my home computer until you get the new ones for the warehouse and offices. All right. Worst day. That’s easy. Some jerkwad brought in a bunch of fruit from his mom’s place up north of here. Brought it into the warehouse without stopping to think it might have apple maggots. And it did. Damn fool. Do you know what a couple dozen breeding apple maggots can do to a warehouse full of prime quality crop?”

Something she really didn’t want to think about. “It was bad, huh?”

“Bad doesn’t begin to describe it. We lost millions. I’ve always believed stupid is forever. No idea where that kid is now but he’s sure as hell never working for me.” He thought for a second. “Best day. If you like what you’re doing, then they’re all good days.”

Sophie’s entrepreneurial heart gave a little ping of happiness. “I’m going to read through your résumé and check your references,” she said. “Want to start unloading the boxes?”

He looked at the stacks of merchandise and sighed. “Cats. I never would have guessed cats. Hell of a thing.”

* * *

Heather Sitterly carried two plates across the Blackberry Island Inn dining room. As usual, there was a large breakfast crowd, even on a Monday morning. The customers were a mix of visitors and locals, all here for great food at reasonable prices. The bacon and spring vegetable frittata was moving briskly this morning.

“Here we go,” she said, setting the plates in front of an older couple who had been at the inn all weekend. “Avocado on the side and extra bacon for the gentleman.” She smiled. “Let me refill your coffee cups, then I’ll check back to see how you’re enjoying your breakfast.”

“Thank you, dear,” the woman said. She was probably in her midsixties, with soft-looking gray hair and dark eyes. She looked a lot like Heather’s maternal grandmother, but Heather knew better than to say that. No one appreciated being told they looked like a grandparent.

She smiled before quickly walking to the coffee station. She saw the decaf pot was nearly empty, so started the brewer going before picking up one of the regular pots and heading back toward her tables. She filled a half-dozen cups before returning to the older couple.

“How’s your breakfast so far?” she asked as she poured coffee.

“Excellent as always,” the woman said, glancing at her name tag. “Heather, is it? Are you a local?”

“Born and raised.”

“Are you in college?” the woman’s husband asked.

“I go to community college. There’s one on the mainland, not too far from here.”

“It’s so nice there’s a bridge,” the woman added. “You don’t have to worry about waiting for a ferry.”

“That’s true. The ferries can’t travel when the weather’s bad, but the bridge is always open.”

The older man winked at her. “Ever dream about escaping to somewhere?” he asked, his voice teasing. “A big city?”

Nearly every day. But Heather didn’t say that. These nice people didn’t want to know about her personal trials and how much she longed to be almost anywhere but here.

“Blackberry Island is such a lovely place,” she said instead, then excused herself to attend to her other customers.

Exactly one hour and forty-seven minutes later, Heather’s shift ended. She cashed out, pocketed her tips and picked up the to-go box Helen, the cook at the dining room, always left for her. As requested, Helen had scribbled Amber on the top of the container. At first the cook had written Heather’s name, as she was the one placing and paying for the order. But Amber had complained about that.

“The food is for me. Why is your name on the container? Shouldn’t it be my name?”

Heather had wanted to tell her mother that it didn’t really matter whose name was where. Breakfast was being delivered, free and delicious. Was the name that important? But it wasn’t a fight worth taking on.

Heather set the take-out container in the basket on the front of her bike, then strapped on her helmet. She had a car, but for short trips, it was faster and cheaper to take her bike—not to mention good exercise. As she pedaled toward the house where she’d grown up, she planned out the rest of her day. She would be home by nine fifteen. That gave her nearly two hours to study for finals before she took her mother car-shopping.

Amber had been rear-ended three weeks ago at the island’s only stoplight. Her car had been totaled and Amber had sustained soft tissue injuries that had put her on disability. Heather felt bad about her mother’s pain and hoped she would heal quickly, only there was a tiny part of her—a wretched, mean-spirited, bad part of her—that wondered if Amber had been injured much at all. Because being on disability was a whole lot easier than going to work.

Heather rode the last half mile to the house telling herself not to cast judgment. It was her mother’s life—she shouldn’t get involved. Only being involved had always been her job and therein lay the problem.

She pulled up in front of the old rambler where she lived. The front yard was big, with a nice lawn and wide plant beds. Right now everything looked scraggly after the long winter, but there were already the first green shoots from the daffodils and tulip bulbs poking out of the dark soil. In a week or so the flowers would make their first appearance.

The house itself needed a coat of paint, not to mention an overhaul of the kitchen and bathrooms. But pretty much everything was functional and that was much more important than how things looked.

She locked up her bike on the rear porch and went in the back door.

“It’s me,” she called.

“Heather?” Her mother’s voice was weak. “Is that you?”

“Yes, Mom. Who else would it be?”

“You never know. Someone could break in and slit my throat. It’s happened before.”

“Not to you,” Heather said, going for cheerful because sarcasm never worked and she really needed to get to her studying as soon as possible. “I think we’re all pretty safe on the island.”

“Did you bring me breakfast? I’m in so much pain and I can’t take my pill until I eat.”

“I did.”

Heather popped the frittata onto a plate, then put it in the microwave for a quick heat. She poured coffee before carrying everything into the small, shabby living room where her mother lay on the sofa.

Amber made a feeble attempt to sit up, then squeezed her eyes shut and whimpered. Heather gently helped her raise herself so Heather could put pillows behind her back. Once Amber was comfortable, Heather handed her the plate and left the coffee within reach.

“I need to go study, Mom. I have my last final tomorrow.”

“But we’re still going car-shopping later this morning, aren’t we?”

“Yes, we are.”

Heather thought about the conversation she’d been putting off and knew she’d run out of time. Reluctantly, she sat in the club chair opposite the sofa.

“Mom, the insurance check was nine thousand dollars. You’re talking about wanting to get a late-model SUV. All the ones you’ve shown me are at least twenty thousand, even used. Are you going to take out a loan for the rest?”

Amber, a heavyset, dark-haired woman with brown eyes, put down her plate. “What are you saying?”

Amber was only thirty-eight, but she looked at least forty-five. She’d been pretty when she’d been young, but whatever good looks she’d had seemed to have faded, along with any ambition.

“Just there’s tax and the license fee, so a twenty-thousand-dollar car is going to end up being about twenty-three thousand. That’s a loan for what, fourteen thousand? You might want to put some savings toward the balance to bring down the loan amount.”

Tears filled Amber’s eyes. “Savings? I don’t have any savings. Barely a thousand dollars. I work at that hideous job where they pay me nothing. With all the expenses around here, there’s nothing left over.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. It’s not fair. That man hit me and totaled my car, but he gets off easy. I’m the one who’s going to have to pay for his carelessness. I wish they’d thrown him in jail. He deserves that. The police barely gave him a ticket. I doubt they would have if I hadn’t insisted.”

“Mom,” Heather said gently, ignoring the knot in her stomach. “The car?”

Her mother’s lower lip trembled. “I guess there isn’t going to be a car for me. I’ll have to take the bus. It’s only a mile from the bus stop to the house. Once my back heals, I should be able to manage that.”

“You really only have a thousand dollars in savings?”

Amber stared at her. “Would I lie about that?”

Heather was pretty confident she would, but she couldn’t be sure and with Amber’s accounts all online, there was no way to check. As for affording a payment...

Don’t, she told herself. Just don’t even try.

“Do you have any money?” her mother asked, her voice small. “Some you could loan me?”

And there it was. The thing Heather had been avoiding. The question she’d known was coming from the second she’d heard about the accident. Because the financial buck stopped with her. She was only twenty, but she’d been supporting the household since she was sixteen.

She thought about how she’d scrimped and saved hoping to, one day, have enough to finally escape. She wanted to take more than two classes each quarter at the local community college, she wanted to have one good job, not three or four part-time ones. And most of all—please, God—one day she absolutely did not want to have to be responsible for her mother.

“Loan?” she asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of her tone.

Amber jerked as if she’d been slapped. “Why would you say it like that? I’m your mother. I’ve taken care of you all your life. If I hadn’t gotten pregnant, I could have gone to college and made something of myself. I’m here for you all the time, Heather. You’re lucky to have me.”

Which may or may not be true, but at the end of the day, her mother never paid her back. No matter how many times she’d “borrowed” money.

“How much do you have?” her mother asked.

Heather wanted to lie. She desperately wanted to make up a smaller number so she could keep some of it for her future, but she couldn’t. She didn’t have the lying gene. She’d tried, but she always sounded funny and instantly confessed.

“Six thousand dollars.”

Amber’s eyes lit up. “That’s perfect. I’ll only have to borrow eight thousand. That’s a very doable loan payment.” She waved toward the bedrooms. “Study away, then we’ll go buy me a car. I’m so excited. I hope they still have the blue one. It’s so pretty and has really low miles.”

She wiggled in her seat as if her back pain had suddenly disappeared.

Heather walked to her room, trying not to be angry about the fact that her mother was going to clean out Heather’s savings while leaving her own intact. She’d just opened her computer to review her notes, when her phone rang. She glanced at the screen, then smiled.

“Hey, Sophie,” she said. “How’s it going?”

“Great. I am standing in my new warehouse. It’s not perfect, but I will make it work.”

Sophie, Amber and Kristine were cousins who had grown up together. Amber was a few years older. Heather remembered Sophie and Kristine babysitting her when she’d been little.

“I still can’t believe you leased a warehouse you’ve never seen,” Heather told her.

“I had to grab it while I could. The alternative would have been something on the mainland and I didn’t want that.”

“When did you get here?”

“Late Saturday.”

“And you’re already at the warehouse?”

“Business first. CK Industries is about to be back up and running. First staff and inventory, then the world. I’m off to try to find the house I rented. I move in the end of this week. Between now and then, I’m staying at the inn. Have dinner with me Wednesday? It’s supposed to be some special menu.”

“Sure. I’m free. I doubt Mom’s doing anything.”

“Then let’s meet at the inn at six and take it from there.”

“We’ll see you then.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Heather hung up. Sophie was moving her successful business to the island. Running the business meant hiring people. Heather was going to ask if she could get a job shipping stock or something. If she withdrew from the spring quarter at community college, she could get her fees back. Hopefully, Sophie would have some part-time work so Heather didn’t have to give up her breakfast shift at the inn’s dining room. The tips were great, and she would need them to help replenish her savings account. Plus, hanging out with Sophie was always fun. Sophie saw the world as a welcoming place with a lot of opportunity. Heather wanted to be like her one day.

Study, she told herself, returning her attention to her computer. Then the car, then dinner later this week with Sophie. And if she had an extra five minutes in there somewhere, she was going to close her eyes and imagine what her life would be like if she ever got away.

Chapter Three

While the Blackberry Island Inn restaurant offered breakfast and lunch, it didn’t serve dinner...except on alternate Wednesdays when the doors were opened for a traditional fried chicken supper. Sophie had been told by the nice lady at the front desk, and two women who had come by to “take a look” at the warehouse, that it was a do-not-miss event.

After confirming that Amber and Heather could make it, Sophie had made reservations for three. The restaurant didn’t have a liquor license, so she’d swung by one of the local tasting rooms to pick up a bottle of chardonnay and returned to the inn in time to meet Heather and Amber in the main reception area.

Sophie saw Heather first. The twenty-year-old held the front door open for her mother. Sophie had heard about Amber’s car accident, but hadn’t expected her to be using a cane or walking so slowly.

Other than that, Amber looked much as she always did. A little rumpled, with a disapproving expression. Her hair was a medium brown, nearly the same shade as Kristine’s, but without the pretty highlights. Heather was taller than all of them, with hazel eyes, instead of the brown the cousins shared. Sophie always figured Heather had inherited the color from her father—a rodeo cowboy who, according to Amber, had seduced her into a one-night stand that had left her pregnant and with a ruined life.

On second thought, maybe she should have only invited Heather to dinner.

The wishful thinking made her smile as she hurried forward to greet them.

“You’re back!” Heather hugged her close. “I’m so excited to see you and hear about the business. I can’t wait to see the warehouse you rented. It’s so exciting.”

Amber’s hug was less enthusiastic. “I can’t believe how far the parking is from the front door. I should have made my doctor give me a handicapped sign so we could have parked closer.”

“Mom, I let you off at the front door, then went and parked.”

“Where I had to stand by myself, waiting for you.” Amber rolled her eyes.

“You’re here now,” Sophie said, touching Amber’s arm, knowing the best way to handle her was to defuse the situation as quickly as possible. “Thanks for joining me for dinner. Shall we go get our seats?”

Amber set a snail’s pace that made Sophie instantly antsy. She distracted herself by linking arms with Heather.

“How’s school? Do you still have forty-seven jobs?”

“I took my last final yesterday. I should be able to see my grades anytime now. I only have three jobs.”

“You’re such a hard worker,” Sophie said. “You’ve been working since you were what, twelve? You must have a lot of money saved. Good for you.”

Heather looked at her mother then away. Sophie felt an instant uptick in the tension between mother and daughter and wondered how she’d managed to step in it during the first three minutes of the conversation.

“The warehouse is huge,” she said, hoping to change the topic to something more neutral. Normally, she wasn’t bothered by the emotions of those around her but lately she was more sensitive to what everyone was feeling and that was a serious drag.

“It’s nearly double the square footage of what I had before. There’s less office space, but that’s okay. I don’t need that many employees and if necessary I guess we could easily frame in a few offices. I’ll have to see.”

“Because you’re too successful?” Amber asked, her tone more annoyed than playful. “Poor Sophie, overwhelmed by how glorious it all is.”

“Mom! She had to move because her business burned down,” Heather said. “We’re glad she’s back but it’s not as if she moved by choice.”

“I’m okay,” Sophie said brightly. “Or I will be. It is a little hard, dealing with everything. A lot of work.”

They reached the restaurant and were quickly shown to a table with a view of the water. A sailboat caught the wind as it headed toward the setting sun on the horizon. The hostess handed them a slim piece of paper.

“The menu is fairly simple,” she said, waving at Heather. “You can order two, three or four pieces of chicken, along with two sides each. There’s a choice of cobbler for dessert. Your server will be by shortly to take your order and open the wine.” She smiled. “Heather, iced tea for you?”

“Just water’s fine, Molly.”

“A friend of yours?” Sophie asked, thinking they looked to be about the same age.

“I waitress here in the morning. They’re always busy and the tips are great.”

Sophie wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you worked here. I could have picked a different restaurant. You must be tired of their food.”

“I know I am,” Amber said with a sigh. “The same thing, every morning for breakfast.”

Heather visibly stiffened. “I didn’t know you felt that way, Mom. I always get the special, whatever it is. I’ll stop bringing you breakfast after my shift.”

“There’s no need to do that,” Amber told her. “I can make do.”

Heather’s expression was unreadable. She turned to Sophie. “Believe me, the chicken dinner is a real treat. I’ve only had it once before and it was delicious.”

“When did you have dinner here?” Amber asked sharply. “I didn’t know that. I never get to go anywhere.”

“You’re here now,” Sophie said quickly as she waved the menu. “Yummy. All the sides look delicious.”

“I can’t believe they only have cobbler for dessert.” Amber sighed. “I wanted pie.”

They were rescued by the server’s appearance. She opened the wine and poured two glasses, then brought water for Heather and biscuits for the table.

Sophie ordered salad, mac and cheese and two pieces of chicken. Heather did the same, replacing the salad with baked beans. Amber got the four-piece dinner, which seemed like a lot but Sophie figured she would take it home for the next day.

“How are things at the warehouse?” Heather asked. “Is it ready to go or do you have to order things like shelves and desks and stuff?”

“It was a totally blank canvas. I’m trying to see this as an opportunity to customize stocking and shipping the way I want.”

An upbeat attempt to minimize the truth of feeling overwhelmed, Sophie thought.

“Oh, I hired a guy to run the warehouse. His name is Bear and he has a fantastic résumé. He’s a little gruff, but I think we’ll get along. He’s already gotten me a proposal for the shipping area. And I ordered a forklift.”

“Do you need a license to drive a forklift?” Heather asked with a laugh. “I think I’d like to learn how to do that. Will there be a job fair?”

“Because you need another job?” Sophie asked, her voice teasing. “When would you find the time?”

“I’m looking to consolidate my employment portfolio.”

“You don’t need to go to a job fair,” Amber told her. “Just tell her what you want to do.” She thought for a second. “I think I’d like to answer the phone. That sounds easy enough. Yes, that’s what I want.” She stared at Sophie. “Is that a problem?”

“Mom!”

“What? Sophie doesn’t care, do you?” Amber’s gaze locked with hers.

Sophie felt the beginnings of a headache. Being away had allowed her to forget how draining Amber could be. “I will need to hire a receptionist, so sure. What about you, Heather? What’s your dream job?”

“I don’t have any office experience. Maybe something in the warehouse or shipping. But I’m happy to go to the job fair.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m ready to start hiring. I’m hoping to be there in the next few days.”

By Monday for sure, she thought. Product would be piling up by then. She’d already lost too much—she wasn’t going to lose her business, too.

* * *

One amazing chicken dinner later, Sophie said goodbye to Amber and Heather and started for her room. After setting the three-quarter-full wine bottle on her dresser, she looked around at the pretty space and knew she couldn’t possibly spend the rest of the evening trapped here. She grabbed her car keys and the bottle of wine and headed out.

On her way to her car, she quickly texted Kristine.

Can I stop by?

Of course. I’d love some company.

Sophie drove the short distance to her cousin’s place and parked in front.

The two-story house looked more comfortable than elegant. Every window was brightly lit and even from the street Sophie could hear the boys yelling as they raced from room to room. She could see a couple of bikes leaning against the porch railing and two SUVs in the driveway.

Kristine and Sophie were the same age. They’d grown up in the same small town, had gone to the same schools and yet their lives couldn’t be more different. Kristine had married right out of high school. She was a stay-at-home mom who baked cookies and drove her kids to soccer practice. Sophie had never wanted any of that. Yet, as she walked up to the front door, she found herself wondering if maybe Kristine had been the one to get it right.

“Hey, you,” Kristine said, opening the door and hugging her. “What’s going on?”

Sophie held up the bottle of wine. “It’s slightly used but still good.”

“I’m not going to say no to a glass of wine with you. Come on in. Ignore the shrieking. Apparently, they didn’t burn off enough energy at school. We’ll sneak downstairs because if they find out you’re here, we’ll never get a minute alone. Generally, they quiet down about this time, but until that happens, pretend the noise is the soft warbling of Puget Sound cranes.”

“Do cranes warble?”

Kristine laughed. “Maybe. I’m not sure.”

They went into the finished basement. Kristine pointed to a well-worn sofa. As Sophie took a seat, Kristine got two wineglasses out of a built-in cabinet and joined her.

“So, what’s up?” Kristine asked. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good. Getting settled. I had dinner with Amber and Heather tonight.”

Kristine winced. “On purpose?” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “I can’t believe I said that and I can’t even blame the wine. It’s just Amber is...”

“Who she’s always been,” Sophie said glumly. “She is very much a cautionary tale. But she seemed worse than usual. And there was definite tension between her and Heather. Is something going on?”

Kristine picked up her wine. “I can guess. Amber’s car was totaled in her recent car accident. Yesterday she came by and showed me her new ride. It’s a nice, late-model Subaru that had to cost way more than what she got for her insurance payout.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I doubt she makes enough to qualify for a very big car loan, which means she had to come up with the balance herself. You don’t actually think she has savings, do you? She had to get the money from somewhere and I’d say Heather is the most likely victim.”

Sophie sagged against the back of the sofa. She shifted, then pulled out a small model car from between the cushions.

“Poor Heather,” she murmured. “Why does she stay?”

“How can she leave? Amber would never forgive her if she tried. Plus, she’s only twenty. Amber is her mom—however badly she behaves—and we all know Amber raised Heather to take care of her. I’m sure Heather feels trapped and you know Amber never lets her get her savings built up before she ‘needs’ it for something.” Kristine made air quotes. “If there was something between mother and daughter, my guess is Heather is pissed. As she should be.”

“Family drama. I’d forgotten this part of being home.”

“You love us,” Kristine told her. “Now, what’s really happening at the warehouse? Are you doing okay? You’ve got to be overwhelmed. You’re basically starting from scratch.”

“I know. I try not to think about the big picture.” She put down her glass and turned the toy car over in her hand. “I still can’t believe no one came with me. Not one employee wanted to move up here.”

“That’s because they have no idea how great it is. They’re picturing some hick backwater instead of our cool, beautiful island.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Seriously? That’s your story?”

“Okay, it’s small, but Seattle is less than an hour away. It’s a thousand times better than LA. West Coast people are snobs.”

Sophie grinned. “Is this where I remind you we live on the West Coast?”

Kristine’s eyes widened. “Oops. I’m not good at talking trash.”

“No, you’re not.”

Kristine waved away the comment. “Regardless, I stand by what I said. It’s fear of small towns. I’m sure there’s a word for it.”

Even if there was, Sophie wasn’t sure it mattered. She couldn’t help thinking that the fact that not a single employee had been willing to move was a message, and one she should listen to, if only she could figure it out.

Later, she promised herself, only to have her thoughts interrupted by a loud shriek of “Aunt Sophie’s here?” followed by the sound of feet thundering down the stairs. Kristine’s three boys burst into the basement and flew over to the sofa. JJ and Tommy attacked from either side while Grant threw himself onto her lap.

She felt a little squished, but laughed as she hugged and tickled and felt skinny arms wrapped around her shoulders and neck.

Technically, she wasn’t their aunt, but since she and Kristine were cousins, and they’d been raised practically as sisters, making her the “aunt” made things easy for everyone.

“Hey, guys,” she said when the boys were relatively calm. “What’s going on?”

“I got an A on my spelling test,” Grant told her.

“Dad’s taking us camping for spring break,” JJ offered. “We’re staying in a cabin. Mom doesn’t want to come with us.”

“Three stinky boys in a small cabin?” Kristine wrinkled her nose. “I’ll miss you all so much.”

Tommy leaned against his mother. “We don’t stink, Mom. You have a sensitive nose.”

“That I do.”

Sophie looked at the brown-haired, brown-eyed boys. They looked enough alike that no one would have to guess they were brothers. If they were the same age, they could probably pass for triplets. And each and every one of them looked very much like their father.

“Jaxsen has some strong DNA,” she said, pushing JJ’s hair out of his eyes.

JJ sprang to his feet. “Dad, Aunt Sophie’s talking about sperm.”

Jaxsen sauntered down the stairs—looking as he always did, like an athletic man in his prime. He grinned at them. “Sophie’s a wild one.” He nodded. “Kids look good on you, Soph. You should find yourself a man and settle down.”

“Oh, please. I’m a fantastic aunt, but that’s as far as it goes.”

“It’s great to have you back in town.”

She nodded, thinking that she’d known Jaxsen nearly as long as she could remember. He’d been a couple of years ahead of her and Kristine in school. In high school he’d been the handsome, charming football player, with girls lined up around the block. Sophie had lost her virginity to him in the back of his car one summer night. The experience had lasted all of two minutes and had so grossed her out that she’d not only never told a soul, she’d also avoided boys and dating for another three years. She looked at her cousin. Kristine was happy—no doubt Jaxsen had improved with age and experience.

“What’s so funny?” Kristine asked, pushing Tommy to his feet.

“Just remembering when we were young.”

“You were young?” Grant asked, sliding to the floor where his brother pulled him up. “Like in the olden days?”

“Very funny.” Kristine pointed to the stairs. “Say good-night, boys.”

“Good night, boys,” JJ yelled as he led the charge up the stairs.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Sophie told her. “They’re exhausting.”

“So’s running a business empire.”

“Yes, but my little empire can be left alone for the night and isn’t counting the days until it’s old enough to drive.”

Kristine threw herself back on the sofa and groaned. “JJ told you he was doing that?”

“He thinks I should buy him a car for his sixteenth birthday.”

Her cousin shot back up into a sitting position and stared at her, wide-eyed. “Tell me he didn’t say that. He couldn’t have! I’m sorry. I will so have a talk with him.”

Sophie waved away her concerns. “I took it in the spirit in which he meant it. Wishful thinking. Don’t worry, I’m not buying him a car.”

One of the reasons her company was so successful was she poured every penny she could back into it. She took a decent salary, but no one could accuse her of living large. Her car was nearly five years old, her condo in Valencia had been a modest two-bedroom and she’d used the second bedroom for CK to product-test new items. She dressed casually, shopped the sales and, except for the occasional trip back to Blackberry Island, couldn’t remember ever taking a vacation. There were always people coming to her for money, but she generally told them no. Buy her nephew a car on his sixteenth birthday? Not happening.

“Thanks for understanding,” Kristine said. “How are you doing otherwise?”

“I’ll feel better when I’m in my rental, which will be tomorrow. It’s furnished so all I have to do is unpack my personal stuff. The movers are supposed to deliver all that in the afternoon.”

“You need a cat.”

Sophie reached for her wine. “No. It’s too soon. I don’t want a cat.”

“You need a cat.”

“Didn’t you just say that?”

“Because it’s true. You’re a cat person. You run a business that is all about cats. Of course you’re missing CK, but you really do need a cat in your life. Having a cat keeps you grounded and makes you feel whole.”

An insight that would have made her uncomfortable had anyone else uttered it, but she and Kristine were family and had known each other all their lives. After Sophie’s mom had died, Sophie had moved in with Kristine and her parents.

“I’m not ready.”

Kristine pulled a piece of paper out of her back pocket. “I knew you’d say that. And you’re right. It’s way too soon. You have to grieve and move on, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have cats in your life.” She waved the paper. “Foster. We’re entering kitten season and the local animal shelter needs people to foster pregnant cats.”

Sophie took the paper and stared at the phone number. “What does that mean? I don’t know anything about fostering a pregnant cat. I’d freak when the babies are born.”

“It’s not that hard. They have experienced mothers giving birth. You give the cat a place to stay while the kittens are born and then keep them until they’re ready to be adopted. They have to be socialized, which would be good for you. When the kittens are old enough, off they go to find their forever family. The same with mom. She gets spayed, then put up for adoption and you’re officially cat-free. By the time that happens, you might find you’re ready for a cat of your own.”

“I never thought of doing that. I’m gone a lot, so I wonder about the socializing.”

“The kittens won’t need much until they’re three or four weeks old. The boys will help. They’ll love it. We’ll set up a schedule. Heather and I will stop by. I’d mention Amber only I’m sure she’ll complain about something and kittens don’t need the negativity. Besides, you need little cat feet and purrs in your life, Sophie. You’re lonely.”

Sophie nodded slowly. “You’re a good mom. I’ll call them. If I could be sure the mother cat knew what she was doing, I think I’d be okay with this.” She waved the paper. “Thanks for the information.”

“Something popped up on my Facebook feed and I instantly thought of you.”

“Am I that obviously broken?”

Kristine laughed. “Yes, but you’ll heal. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“I don’t feel strong at all. I feel like spun glass.”

“Of course you do, but that will pass and in a few weeks, you’ll be your sassy, entrepreneurial self. Oh, Sunday morning meet me at the park at nine.”

“What? No.” Sunday was the only day Sophie let herself sleep in. She did things like laundry and grocery shopping. She’d been planning on spending this Sunday settling into her new place.

“Be there. I mean it. I’ll come drag you there if I have to.”

“I hate it when you’re bossy. What happens at the park on Sunday morning?”

“Tai Chi.”

“Is that like yoga or is it the wavy arm thing old people do?”

“It’s breath and movement and centering yourself. I love it, and you will, too. Besides, Dugan, the instructor, is totally hot and I think he’s single and you need to get laid.”

“Get laid? What are we—sixteen-year-old boys?”

“I’m not wrong.”

“I don’t want a man. I’m not ready for that, either.”

“I’m not asking you to fall in love. I’m saying you need a yummy distraction and Dugan is certainly that. Plus, I want to hear the details. I’ve been married my entire adult life. I need to live vicariously through someone and you’re my best option.”

“I feel so special.”

“You should. So Sunday at nine.”

Sophie laughed. “Sure. Then I’ll take him back to my place and make a man out of him.”

“That’s my girl.”

Chapter Four

Kristine was pretty sure she hadn’t been born organized, but having three kids in less than five years, not to mention several great lessons from her mother, had taught her the importance of developing the skill. Some days were easier than others, but on the busiest ones, a plan was required. Her challenging day ran from Thursday afternoon until bedtime on Friday.

She started right after lunch with a trip to the big-box store on the mainland to stock up on baking supplies. When she got home, she checked on the stew she’d started in the Crock-Pot right after breakfast and then put everything away. No after-school activities were allowed on Thursday. It was home directly after school to get homework and chores done before dinner.

By five she had the salad made and the ingredients for cheddar biscuits on the counter. She separated egg yolks from egg whites and saved the former to use in a custard over the weekend. After chopping green onions and measuring flour, butter and shredded cheddar cheese, she checked the schedule on the refrigerator.

“Grant,” she yelled up the stairs. “Time to make biscuits.”

All three boys appeared in the kitchen.

“Are you sure it’s his turn?” JJ asked, walking to check the schedule himself. “He got to help last time.”

“I went last time,” Tommy said. “You went the time before.”

“Everyone gets the same number of turns. We rotate for a reason. Now, shoo.”

Tommy and JJ grumbled as they retreated. Grant carefully washed his hands and stood by the stove.

“I’m ready, Mom.”

“I can see that.”

While she would love to think it was her sparkling company that had the boys so anxious to help her in the kitchen, she knew the real appeal lay in the professional-grade stand mixer she’d wrestled onto the counter. She appreciated its work ethic and reliability, but the boys loved the roar of its engine and how it was Terminator-like in its relentless pursuit of turning disparate ingredients into a smooth, pliable blend.

She poured water into a stainless-steel pot, then added butter and cayenne pepper. Grant watched the mixture, stirring it occasionally.

“There are bubbles, Mom!”

“Excellent. Is the butter melted?”

“Not yet. Almost.” He stirred a few more times. “It’s melted!”

She took the pot off the heat and beat in flour. After dumping the dough into the stand mixer bowl, she smiled at Grant.

“It’s all yours, my man.”

“I got it, Mom. I got it!”

He carefully lowered the mixer and locked it into place, then turned it on. The whole eggs were added one at a time, then the egg whites. By the time that was done, she’d prepped two cookie sheets and started on the boys’ lunches.

Grant left the dough to cool and raced back to his bedroom. Tommy wandered in to set the table while JJ started watching for his father.

The dance was a familiar one, she thought. On other nights, when there were games and school meetings or Jaxsen had to rush out to meet the guys on his bowling league, things were hectic, but Thursdays were quieter. At least until dinner was done.

“Dad’s home!” JJ yelled from the front of the house. Seconds later she heard the front door open then bang into the wall. Grant shrieked and ran down the stairs. Tommy finished setting out flatware before joining his brothers.

Kristine whipped the sliced green onions and cheddar cheese into the dough and started dropping spoonfuls onto the cookie sheets. Jaxsen walked in, all three boys hanging on him.

“Look what I found outside,” he said, crossing to her and kissing her. “Can we keep them?”

“I don’t know. Do we have room?”

“We do. Oh, come on. Let me keep them. I’ll take good care of them, I swear.”

The boys laughed uproariously as if they hadn’t heard the joke a thousand times before. Kristine briefly thought that it would be nice if Jaxsen was telling the truth and he really would take care of the boys. Not that he didn’t help, but their responsibilities were clearly defined. Jaxsen worked hard on the state road crew and he brought in the money. Everything else was on her. After all, she was a stay-at-home mom. What else did she have to do with her day?

Kristine slid the cookie sheets into the oven.

“Twenty-one minutes, people. We have twenty-one minutes.”

The boys ran out of the kitchen. Jaxsen leaned against the counter.

“How was your day?” she asked.

“Good. A couple of my crews got sent to help out with clearing the North Cascade Highway. Should be open by mid-May if it stays warm. Did you get by to see Sophie’s warehouse?”

“Not yet. I know she’s really busy hiring people and getting in shelves and stuff. I’ll get there.” She thought about what her cousin was going through. “She’s amazing. Starting over the way she is. I bet in a year or two, she’ll have doubled the business.”

“I think it’s sad.”

“Why would you say that? She started with nothing and now she has a successful company. Do you know what those jobs are going to do for the island? Plus, she’s making it as a woman with virtually no one helping her. She’s impressive.”

He moved close and wrapped his arms around her. “She’s by herself. Even when she was married to Mark, she seemed like she was by herself. Look at all the love in this house. You, me, the boys. She goes home to nothing. I wish she’d find somebody and quit working so hard.”

She looked into Jaxsen’s eyes. “I can’t figure out if you’re being sweet or a total jerk.”

“I’m not saying a woman can’t be happy by herself, but it’s better with a man.”

She raised her eyebrows and he quickly amended. “A partner of either gender. I’m not saying she shouldn’t be a lesbian if she wants to be. Hell, then I could watch.”

She slapped his arm and stepped away. “Do not let the boys hear you talking like that. I mean it.”

“You know I’m kidding. I just think Sophie needs somebody to love who loves her back. She needs somebody in her bed.” He pulled her close again. “I couldn’t make it without you.”

Kristine was pretty sure that was true. Jaxsen worked hard and he was a good dad, but he wasn’t the kind of guy who did things he didn’t like. All his “helping” with the boys was things he enjoyed. If one of the kids turned up sick, he was nowhere to be found. A flaw, she thought, stepping out of his embrace, but one she could live with.

“So you’re baking tonight?”

“Is it Thursday?”

She did her best to keep her tone light. He asked the same question two or three times every week and she couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out why. She baked every Thursday night. She started after dinner and worked through the night, finishing about five Friday morning. She made cookies and brownies, packaging them to sell over the weekend. The local wineries were her biggest customers. In the summer they took her entire inventory. During the off-season, she sold the extras on Saturday mornings using a little cart she set up by the park. Most days she sold out by noon.

“You sure you don’t want to join us for spring break?” he asked.

“I am.”

“You’re going to miss a good time.”

Rather than say anything, she walked over to the Crock-Pot and turned it off, then set the lid on the counter so she could stir the stew.

“We were lucky to find a cabin we could afford,” he said. “A tent trailer would make things easier.”

“Jaxsen!”

“Come on. The boys would love it. We’d get a lot of use out of it.”

“We’ve talked about this. They’re expensive. We already have enough equipment. Three tents, the ATVs, Jet Skis, snowboards and who knows what else. The boys are fine with what they have.”

“But—”

The timer went off. She moved to the oven and pulled out the two cookie sheets of biscuits. The boys ran into the kitchen and jostled for position at the sink to wash their hands. As usual, Grant, the youngest, got stuck at the back of the line.

Jaxsen herded them over to the table while Kristine served the stew. When they were all seated, she took a second to look at her family. This was what she’d always wanted, she reminded herself. She was living the dream.

* * *

By nine thirty that evening, Kristine had her fifth batch in the oven. While the cookies baked, she stacked the cellophane bags she used. Each one held six cookies. She had little boxes for the brownies. They cost way more than bags, but the presentation was great so she charged more.

Jaxsen wandered into the kitchen. “The kids are in bed,” he said. “Sort of.”

“I’ll check on them in a second.” She eyed the timer. She had four minutes. The next two cookie sheets were ready to go. Then she would have exactly fourteen minutes until they had to come out. She would start on brownies after that. She’d perfected her recipes over the years. She knew exactly how long everything took to bake and cool, down to the second.

He pulled her close. “Do we have time for a quickie?”

She knew what he meant. A fast, silent but satisfying encounter in their bathroom with the goal of finishing before one of the boys knocked on the door, interrupting them. Tempting, but not on her current schedule.

“Was that smile a yes?” he asked, nibbling on the side of her neck.

The timer went off.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “Next time.”

Something flashed in his eyes. It was there and gone before she could figure out what he was thinking. But by the time she’d pulled the cookies out of the oven, he wasn’t there to ask.

* * *

Shortly before six the next morning, Kristine counted out cookies and carefully placed them in decorative cellophane bags. She’d finished the brownies a little after midnight and had packed them up around four. She could physically bake more brownies at a time and the market for them was smaller, so they were more manageable. But when it came to the cookies, she could sell double what she baked.

In the summer, when the tourists swarmed the island, she baked all week long. She was always throwing in batches between running the boys around and taking care of things at home. While she could freeze her cookies, she only did that during the super-busy times. The cookies were better fresh and that meant something to her. During the rest of the year, she could get by with a single night of baking. It was hard on her, but it made for an easier week.

Oh, to have an industrial-size oven or two, she thought wistfully. One that could bake a few dozen cookies at a time. And a rolling tray of cooling racks. She’d researched all of it but even if she could justify the cost—which she couldn’t—she had nowhere to put any of it. But the idea of real ovens was thrilling. She wouldn’t have to stay up all night baking for the weekend customers. She wouldn’t spend every Friday bone weary. She could—

Before her daydreams carried her too far away, she heard a knock at the back door. Seconds later Ruth, her mother-in-law, walked into the kitchen. She had a huge insulated tote bag in each hand.

“Morning,” Kristine said, hurrying to help her. “That looks heavy.”

“Quiches,” Ruth said with a smile. “The ones with ham and bacon. The boys love them.”

“The boys love everything you make.”

Ruth was an old-school cook. She never worried about things like saturated fat or the “light” version of anything. She’d grown up with the idea that any recipe could be improved or saved by the generous addition of butter.

Both quiches were still warm. Kristine shook her head. “What time did you get up? You know you don’t have to bake for them, Ruth. They’d be happy with scrambled eggs.”

Ruth, a sturdy woman in her late fifties, waved away the comment. “It’s one morning a week. You stay up all night baking. It’s the least I can do.” She glanced at the clock. “We have a few minutes before the madness begins. Did you hear about the Blackberry Island Bakery?”

Kristine poured Ruth a cup of coffee and joined her at the table. Even exhausted by staying up all night, she felt a flicker of excitement at the question.

“I saw the sign,” she admitted. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It could mean a lot. The location is perfect. Have you been inside? I wonder what changes they made.”

The Blackberry Island Bakery had been a local fixture for as long as Kristine could remember. Four years ago Yvette had moved with her family when her husband got an incredible job offer in Paris. The bakery had been sold to someone from Seattle. The quality had gone downhill and the bakery had closed within the first year. After standing empty for about the same amount of time, it had opened again, this time as a café. Once again, poor management and bad food had doomed the venture. The bakery was back on the market, or at least the building was.

“I don’t know,” Kristine said. “I heard the ovens were still there.” Big, beautiful industrial-size ovens that could make her dreams come true.

“You should go look.”

“No. What’s the point? I could never open a bakery. It would be too expensive.”

“It’s a lease, not a buy. If the equipment’s there, what would the costs be? Do you know?”

Kristine did know. She worked up a business plan nearly every year, modifying it to reflect lease payments and various improvements. But she wasn’t going to say that—even to Ruth. Her dream was private.

“There might be room for you to do shipping,” her mother-in-law said. “I know the tourists are always asking if you ship cookies. That would be a different income stream.”

Kristine grinned. “What do you know about income streams?”

“I’ve been doing some reading online. I might not have a fancy education but I know things.”

From overhead came the sound of footsteps.

“Someone’s up,” Kristine said as she stood and stretched. She put the last of the cookies in the box she used to transport them and looked around the kitchen. It was as spotless as it had been when she’d started. She’d washed everything and put it all away. Ruth would get the boys off to school and Kristine would sleep for a couple of hours before starting her day.

“Good luck with the herd,” she said as she headed for the stairs, pausing to let all three boys barrel past her as they yelled, “Nana! Nana! What’s for breakfast?”

She told herself she was lucky—she was surrounded by love and support. A great husband and kids, wonderful in-laws, a mother who offered sage advice and took the kids for two weeks every summer. She was happy. Totally and completely content.

As for the idea of leasing the bakery and starting her own business—that was a silly dream she should just forget about. What she had now was plenty.

* * *

Sophie finished up at the warehouse around five in the afternoon. She wanted to stay longer, but the truth was she needed to get the keys to her rental and get moved in there. She could go back to work in the morning.

The shelving units had been delivered. Bear was getting them put together and in place. The shipping area was also coming along. Orders were piling up so Sophie was spending some of her time getting the boxes filled and sent out. The local job fair was Tuesday, and the employment agency was working on filling the more specialized positions. Considering she’d started with an empty warehouse less than a week ago, things were going great. Not great like they had been, but better than when she’d first arrived.

She drove to the real estate office, showed ID and picked up her key. The house was in one of the central neighborhoods, about as far from the ocean as you could get and still be on the island. Not that Sophie cared about the view—when was she going to be home?

She parked in front of a one-story ranch-style house. The yard was small but in decent shape. Inside, the place was clean but plain. The kitchen was about twenty years old, as were the bathrooms. One of the three bedrooms had an attached three-quarter bath, making it a master of sorts. The rooms were all sparsely furnished.

She went out to the garage and saw that her personal belongings had indeed been delivered. Twenty boxes were neatly stacked. She shifted them until she found one labeled “Linens” and opened it. The sight of her familiar sheets and blankets comforted her.

She made her bed, hung up towels and then forced herself to head to the grocery store. After that she would go to bed early so she could be back at work by six the following morning. The sooner she got CK Industries up and running, the better she would feel. Maybe then the gnawing sense of nothing being right would finally go away.

Chapter Five

Heather knew that one day she wanted to meet someone special, get married and have a couple of kids. But for her, “one day” was years in the future. She felt too young by half and with no clear plan for her future, taking on responsibility for another life—beyond her mother, of course—seemed daunting. But her friend Gina had done exactly that without a second thought. She’d gotten married out of high school to the only guy she’d ever dated. She and Quincy had wanted kids right away so a year after their wedding, Noah had been born. Now the happy guy was fourteen months old and quickly morphing from baby to toddler.

Daphne, Heather’s other close friend, had taken the college route. She was wrapping up her sophomore year at the University of Washington. She made it home a few weekends a quarter and spent summers on the island.

Both of them had done something with their lives, Heather thought as she sat across from Gina at her friend’s kitchen table. Both of them knew what they wanted and had made it happen. Heather, on the other hand, had little to show for the past two-plus years of her life. She was working harder than ever, but going nowhere. The only thing that was looking up was her new job with Sophie.

“You have to be really upset about school,” Gina said sympathetically. “I know you wanted to take two more classes spring quarter.”

Heather didn’t talk about her mother with very many people, but Gina and Daphne knew the truth.

“I’m so angry,” Heather admitted. “She always does that. Just when I get a little bit ahead, she swoops in and takes the money.”

“She doesn’t take it,” Gina murmured before shrugging. “I’m just saying, Heather. You have to take responsibility for your part in it.”

“You think I should tell her no.”

“Everyone thinks you should tell her no.” Gina’s expression turned sympathetic. “I get that’s easy for me to say. She’s your mom and you’ve been taking care of her all your life. Walking away from that, from who you are, would be really hard. I just hate to see you trapped.”

“Me, too,” Heather said, wishing there was a bright side to her situation. “Once I get my degree, things will be different. I’ll have options.” She managed a smile. “Plus, with you taking a class with me in the fall, I have to go back to school or you’ll kick my ass.”

Gina grinned. “I don’t see myself as the ass-kicking type, but I’ll make an exception for you.” Her humor faded. “I wish you could move out. You need to get away from her.”

“I know but it’s not that easy to do.”

“I just don’t understand her and how she treats you. It’s not right. I’d never ask Noah to give up something for me. I want to make his life better.”

Heather knew that Gina was trying to be supportive, but the words weren’t helping. For as long as she could remember, she’d been the reason Amber wasn’t happy. Her mother always talked about everything she could have done and been, if only she hadn’t gotten pregnant.

For a long time Heather had believed every word her mother said. She’d grown up feeling guilty for being alive. Over time her views had shifted and now there were days when she knew that whatever happened, her mother would find a way to be unhappy and blame someone else. It was simply who Amber was. But those days didn’t come often enough. There were times when Heather wondered if she was ignoring the obvious—that in some ways she was just like her mother, blaming someone else for her circumstances. Leaving at sixteen or even eighteen had been impossible, but what about now? She was twenty. She had a car. She could get a job somewhere else. So why not just drive across Getaway Bridge and keep going?

Part of the reason was she no longer had a nest egg. With the six thousand dollars gone, she was left with whatever she got on her next paycheck. There was also the nagging suspicion that her mom couldn’t make it without her. Amber didn’t pay any of the bills, didn’t buy food. If Heather left, how would she survive? And while she could tell herself that wasn’t her problem, she couldn’t make herself believe it. Which meant Gina was right—she was trapped, and she couldn’t seem to find a way out.

* * *

CK Industries was bustling. Sophie enjoyed the activity, knowing it meant her company was getting back on its feet. Today she was hosting a local job fair and the employment agency was sending her candidates for a bookkeeping position and an office manager.

She pulled Heather out of shipping to help with the surprisingly large crowd of people who had shown up for the 10 a.m. fair. Sophie looked at the twenty-five or thirty people in the parking lot and thought maybe she should have hired an office manager first. Or put some thought into the job fair. She wasn’t even sure how many people she needed and for what positions.

Sophie yelled for Bear as she dragged a rolling dry-erase board into the main part of the warehouse.

“How many people do you need and why?” she asked, pulling the cap off a marker. “You said an inventory person.”

“I said inventory control. There’s a difference. We need at least three more stockers and pickers. You know, at some point you’re going to have to look at robots.”

“Not today.” She wrote down inventory control manager, stockers-slash-pickers. “Do you really think we’ll find someone who has experience with inventory control during a job fair?”

“If we don’t, you can tell the employment agency. At least this way, there’s no fee.”

Sophie liked the sound of that. “Okay, who else?”

“We need more people in shipping,” Heather said. “At least two.” She hesitated. “I know I’ve only been working here a couple of days, but I’ve kept track of how many orders I can fulfill in a shift and even if I get faster we need two more people.”

Sophie smiled at her. “I trust your assessment.” She added shippers to the list.

“A janitor of some kind. You need people on the phones for order processing.” Bear thought for a moment. “Is the person on the phone an order taker?”

“We do all that online,” she said. “And we have customer service. I use a call center for that so it’s taken care of. Any problems they can’t resolve are routed to us but there aren’t very many.”

“Still, someone needs to have the responsibility. If it’s not a full-time job, then it needs to be lumped in with something else.” Bear frowned. “How did you do things back in California? Don’t you have your org chart? We can just duplicate that.”

“I don’t have one.” She frowned at him. “I’ve been too busy to deal with hiring people until now. I was here until ten last night, unpacking cases of cat food. How do you think everything gets on the shelves?”

“That’s not your job, Sophie. You’re not focused on what’s important. Just because you can do every job doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to spend your time that way.”

“There isn’t anyone else.”

Bear sighed loudly. “That’s what the job fair is for.”

They glared at each other.

Heather cleared her throat. “So, um, are these all the positions that are open?”

Sophie looked at the list on the board. “For now.”

“Who’s doing the interviewing?” Heather asked.

“I am.”

Bear rolled his eyes. “Of course you’re doing it yourself. Why ask for help when you’re so damned capable? Desks are getting delivered later today. You can put them together and drag them into place and while you’re at it, give the place a new coat of paint.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Your attitude isn’t making me like you more.”

“Good to know. I’m beginning to think you were successful in spite of yourself and not because of any skill set you have.”

“You did not just say that.”

“I did and we both know it’s true.”

Heather took a step back. “The kids don’t like it when mom and dad fight.”

Sophie forced a smile. “We’re not fighting. Bear’s being a big ol’ butthead. There’s a difference.” The man clearly didn’t understand how much work was involved with a company like CK Industries. No one knew the business as well as she did. No one cared as much.

Amber walked into the warehouse. “There are people waiting out there. They’ve formed a line. I didn’t think you expected me to wait in that.” She paused expectantly. “I’m here.”

Sophie wished there was an alternative to hiring Amber, but couldn’t figure out what it might be. At least her cousin was walking a little more quickly and without help.

“Great,” she said. “You wanted to answer phones, right? So why didn’t you show up before today?”

“You never called me and told me to start.”

“But you knew I didn’t have anyone working here. You knew I needed help.”

Amber sighed. “Do you want me to answer phones or not?”

Sophie waved toward the offices. Amber walked into the first one, then turned back. “There’s no desk.”

“Yes, but there’s a phone.”

As if on cue, the phone started ringing.

Sophie pointed. “That would be for you.”

“But there’s no desk. There’s no paper or pen or computer and there’s no desk.”

The phone continued to ring. Heather jogged over and picked it up. “CK Industries, this is Heather, can I help you?”

Amber folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not working without a desk or supplies. It’s ridiculous. Why are you hiring people if you’re not ready for them? This is no way to run a business.”

Bear disappeared into his office. He returned with a chair, a pad of paper and a pen. “Here. You’ll get a desk later.”

Heather gestured frantically for the paper and pen. “Uh-huh. The wrong mugs. I’m sorry. Let me look into that. Do you have your order number?”

She wrote down the information and promised that someone would call back. When she hung up, she tried to give the information to her mother.

“No way,” Amber told her. “I’m not dealing with a bunch of cranky customers. I’ll answer the phones for CK Industries but you need someone else to process complaints. That is not my thing. Plus, I need a desk.”

“The desks are coming,” Sophie said, trying not to grit her teeth. “Until then, can you please make do?”

Amber held up her hands. “You’re in a mood. I didn’t know you’d be difficult to work for. I’m not sure this is going to work out for me.”

Bear wheeled the chair into the empty office. “Please try,” he said.

Sophie reached for the piece of paper. “I’ll find out about the order.”

Bear snatched the information from her. “No, you’ll interview people. I’ll find out about the order.”

“But...”

He pointed to the loading dock door where people were waiting. “Sophie, hire some people.”

“I’m hiring, I’m hiring.”

But before she could return to the waiting applicants, a big flatbed truck drove into the parking lot. Sophie grinned at Bear.

“There it is, in all its glory.”

“What is it?” Amber asked.

“A forklift. I’m in love.”

Bear looked from the delivery truck to her and back. “Let me guess. You can drive a forklift.”

“Of course. Bear, there’s no position in my company that I can’t do.”

He returned his attention to her. “I’m sure that’s true.”

“You say that like it’s not a good thing.”

He shook his head, then pointed at the open loading dock door. “Get me some help.”

“You’re so bossy.”

But she spoke the words with a smile. She had a new forklift. It was going to be a good day.

* * *

Kristine drove to the private airstrip just beyond the bridge to the mainland. Her second part-time job was catering to the private jets that used the tiny airport. With the exception of Bruno, there were only a handful of flights a year, but Bruno made his way to the area at least once a month, sometimes more often. The pilot contacted her a couple of days before each flight, letting her know what Bruno would like to have on board. Kristine provided the food and billed the company leasing the jet.

She had no professional culinary training, but a friend of hers had told her about the job a couple of years ago and Kristine had applied. Her interview had required her to provide lunch. She’d offered a version of high tea but instead of smoked salmon or egg salad sandwiches, she’d made little sandwich squares of turkey and Brie, and her mother’s famous chicken curry. She added her blackberry brownies, a couple of bottles of local wine and had been hired in fewer than three bites.

Kristine wasn’t interested in catering, but the markup for the private jet meals was 300 percent. Plus, she had an unlimited budget on food. It was fun to head to Seattle every couple of months and stock up on exotic ingredients to supplement what she got locally.

Bruno Provencio was a wine distributor. He flew into the area to make deals with winemakers. At least she thought that was what he did. He’d been vague and she was afraid to ask for specifics, fearing she would sound like the country—or island—bumpkin she was. He was not much taller than she was, but very good-looking and so well dressed. He always had on a gorgeous suit she suspected cost more than her mortgage and car payment combined. And he was nice. Whenever he flew in, he always asked about her family and complimented her on the previous meal. Yes, she was a happily married woman, but every now and then it was fun to hang out with a handsome man who flew in a private jet and talked about wine and going to Italy or France the way she talked about going to Costco.

She arrived a few minutes before the jet was due to land and parked her SUV. The day was cloudy, but there didn’t seem to be much energy in the clouds, so she doubted it would rain. As she sat in the quiet of her car, she thought about what Ruth had mentioned—the bakery space now for lease in town.

She was tempted. Leasing the old bakery would mean having real ovens and mixers and counter space. She would work during the day and not have to worry about where to put the equipment when she was done. She could give up her frantic night of baking right before the weekend. She could start shipping her cookies and brownies. The wineries were asking for more cookies with each order, but she was limited by time and space. She didn’t think she could physically work two nights in a row, and baking in her kitchen during the day was a problem. Just getting everything set up took an hour and then she had to clean up and get ready for dinner. A designated location made the most sense.

She wanted to get out her business plan and run the numbers. She knew how much she needed to get things going, she knew what equipment she wanted. She even went online regularly to check out used equipment for sale in the greater Seattle area. But first she had to talk to Jaxsen about start-up money and for that she would need to know what the lease would cost. Assuming he let her do it.

Not let, she amended. She didn’t need his permission. She was an adult who could do what she wanted. It was just, well, she wanted him to be excited for her. To understand that sometimes she needed to be more than his wife and the boys’ mom. Sometimes she just wanted to be Kristine Fielding, business owner.

She heard the sound of an approaching jet and got out of her SUV. From the backseat she collected a bag filled with wrapped cookies and a tote brimming with all the ingredients for a very fancy charcuterie and cheese plate along with an assortment of crackers and a to-go container filled with the chicken salad from the Blackberry Island Inn’s dining room. Bruno never said it was his favorite, but she knew it was.

She closed the hatch of her SUV and watched the private jet land. The sleek aircraft was much smaller than a commercial jet. Inside there was seating for eight and a surprisingly nice bathroom. Every touch was luxurious, especially the butter-soft leather on the seats.

The door of the aircraft opened and Bruno stepped out. He searched until he saw her, then smiled, waved and started in her direction.

“Kristine. So nice to see you,” he said, reaching for her hand, then drawing her close and lightly kissing both her cheeks. “You’re always on time. I appreciate that.”

She started to say it was no big deal—everywhere on the island was close and she only had to pop over the bridge to get to the airfield—but she nodded instead. Sometimes less was more.

“I brought you the cookies,” she said, holding out the first bag. “Six dozen, as per your request.”

“Thank you so much.” He looked inside the bag. “My youngest sister is getting married and she begged for the cookies to be part of the gift bag she’s putting together as she and her eleven closest friends head off for her bachelorette weekend in Las Vegas.” He winced. “I can only hope they get home in one piece.” He motioned to the airplane. “Shall we? I’m sure you’re only stopping here for a few minutes before heading off to take care of your... What is it you call them?”

“My fifty-thousand errands?” she asked with a laugh. “I’m actually not scrambling today. It’s unusual.”

They walked to the plane and went up the stairs.

The interior was done in cream and a rich caramel color. She could stand up with a couple of inches to spare. While Bruno tucked away the cookies in a closet, she cleaned up the dishes and food from the breakfast service, then plated the meat and cheese, before wrapping the serving tray in plastic and tucking it in the surprisingly large refrigerator. She arranged sliced fruit on a second, smaller tray and put it away, as well, then showed him the container of chicken salad.

“Don’t forget this,” she told him. “I know you love it.”

“I do. Very much.”

They were in relatively close quarters. His hair was nearly black, his eyes only slightly darker than the leather seats. He smelled good—some kind of expensive soap and a hint of cologne. Bruno often mentioned one of his three sisters or his brother or his parents, but there wasn’t ever talk of a wife or girlfriend. She wasn’t sure what that meant. Was he chronically single or did he not like women? Or, and this was the most likely answer, was it none of her business?

He reached around her, his forearm brushing her side. He picked up a coffee mug and wiggled it.

“My morning appointment isn’t for an hour,” he said lightly. “Do you have time for a cup of coffee?”

“That would be nice,” she murmured. “Thank you.”

Although she didn’t really want coffee, she was very interested in sitting in one of the plush seats. Just for a few minutes. She could close her eyes and pretend her lifestyle meant jetting wherever in amazing luxury. Oh, and it was just no big deal at all.

She held in a laugh as she reached for the coffeepot and poured them each a mug.

“Cream or sugar?” she asked.

“No, thank you.”

She added cream to hers, then sat across from him.

The seat was even more comfortable than she’d imagined. There were plenty of buttons and knobs to the side. She was careful not to touch them as she ran her fingers along the burled walnut trim.

“How many wineries are you visiting today?” she asked.

“Just one. I have a special account that is insisting on first chance at a new release, so here I am. I will taste the wine and if it’s all it’s supposed to be, I will make an exclusive deal with the winery.” He paused. “Next month I’m heading to Italy and France for a buying trip.”

“In your private plane?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“Yes,” he said with a chuckle. His warm gaze settled on her. “Have you been to Europe?”

“Me? I wish, but no. Jaxsen and I talk about it but with the three boys, there’s really no way.” Which was mostly true. They couldn’t afford it, although she suspected even if there was enough money, Jaxsen would much rather go river rafting somewhere exotic or surfing in Costa Rica. He wasn’t really a Europe kind of person.

“Maybe when they get older,” Bruno told her.

“Yes, maybe then.”

“How is Tommy doing with his new laundry duties?”

She stared at him over her mug. “How can you remember we talked about that?” She laughed. “He’s actually doing really well. JJ was a nightmare, but Tommy’s more of a go-along-to-get-along kind of guy. I’m not sure how Grant is going to react. I suppose I will be saved by the fact that if his older brothers do it, he wants to do it, too.”

“They sound like extraordinary boys.”

“They are to me and that’s what matters, right?”

Bruno’s gaze locked with hers. The intense stare was unexpected and a little confusing. Kristine found herself feeling flustered and awkward, which was not a happy combination.

“I, ah, should let you get to work,” she said as she rose and carried her mug back to the small galley. She washed it and set it in the dish rack. When she finished, she went down the stairs and into the cool, cloudy morning. Bruno followed.

She faced him. “Have your people let me know the next time you’re in town,” she said. “I’ll bake more cookies.”

He laughed. “That would be nice.”

“Enjoy Europe.”

“I will.” He paused. “You should come with me sometime.”

While she knew he was just being nice to say that, she couldn’t help laughing at the idea. “We both know that will never happen. My family would cease to function if I wasn’t around.” Her running off to France and Italy in a private jet. Sure. Why not?

She was still chuckling as she told him goodbye and returned to her SUV. As if. Not that the jet wasn’t nice, but honestly if she was going to throw caution to the wind and do something totally out of character, she would much rather open her own store and sell her cookies and brownies. She would leave the jet-setting to the Kardashians and daydream about rolling cooling racks and industrial-size ovens.

Chapter Six

“Get up.”

Sophie lay on her back, trying desperately to keep that relaxed “I could so go back to sleep” feeling.

“I work hard all week,” she said, pulling up the covers and burrowing into the warmth of her bed. She shifted the phone to her other hand. “Sunday is the only day I sleep in. You love me. Don’t you think I deserve to stay in bed?”

“I think you need to do something other than sleep and work.” Kristine sounded more amused than annoyed. “You blew me off last week. You’re not doing it again. Get your butt out of bed, put on a pair of yoga pants and be ready in thirty minutes. Either I show up and take you to Tai Chi or I show up with three boys who just had way too much syrup on their pancakes. You can breathe and relax or you can listen to their shrill energy. It’s your call.”

“When did you get so bossy?”

“Around the time I had three kids under the age of five.”

“What was I doing?”

“Building an empire.”

“Oh, right.” Sophie sat up. “Can you at least bring me coffee?”

“Let me guess. You haven’t unpacked your coffee maker yet and there’s no food in the house.”

Sophie thought about all the boxes still stacked in her garage. “I was going to do that today only now I have to go to dumb Tai Chi. What is that anyway? Is it like yoga?”

“You asked that before. No, it’s not like yoga. It’s about finding balance and being centered. And breathing.”

Sophie laughed. “So nothing I’m good at.”

“Exactly. And that would be the point. Tick, tick, tick.”

With that, Kristine hung up.

Sophie tossed the phone on the bed and stretched. If she was going to exercise, there was no point in showering. She got up and rummaged through her dresser. At least she’d managed to unpack most of her clothes. Kitchen items had seemed less important. She usually grabbed some kind of to-go breakfast on the way to the warehouse. But she really did have to think about getting more food in the house at some point. And unpacking her coffee maker, if nothing else.

Fifteen minutes later she had on leggings, a long-sleeved T-shirt and an oversize sweatshirt with the CK logo on the front. She was debating looking for her coffee maker when the doorbell rang.

“You’re early,” she told her cousin as Kristine entered the house.

“You need time to drink this.”

Sophie took the offered insulated drink container and smiled. “You saved me. Why are you so nice?” She took a sip, ready for the warmth and smoothness of a perfect cup of coffee only to feel some cold, thick, nasty ooze on her tongue. She managed to swallow before glaring at her cousin.

“What is it? My God, that’s horrible. What is the flavor? Nettles and brine? Jeez.”

Kristine rolled her eyes. “Seriously? It’s a vanilla protein powder flavored with blackberries. When did you get so dramatic?”

Protein powder? Sophie did her best not to gag. “When you started trying to kill me. It’s not enough that you’re the perfect mother? Now you have to be healthy, too? You’re no longer my favorite cousin.”

Kristine raised her eyebrows. “Really? You like Amber better than me?”

Sophie sipped more of the gross drink. “Okay, no, but if I had a third cousin I would for sure like her better.”

“You’re lying. Now finish your drink.”

“I’d rather have coffee.”

“I’m sure that’s true. You can get coffee after class.”

“And a cinnamon roll.”

Sophie chugged the rest of her protein drink then went to brush her teeth. Again. But there was no way she was going to spend the morning with that disgusting taste in her mouth. She grabbed her purse and followed Kristine outside.

“Where’s the class?” she asked.

“Down by the water.”

“It’s outside? Why?”

“Because it’s beautiful.”

“We live in the Pacific Northwest where it’s cold and rainy eighty percent of the time. Are you telling me you do Tai Chi outside in the cold and rain?”

“It centers the mind.”

“It also gives you pneumonia.” Sophie was liking this whole thing less and less. “I’m taking my own car.”

“So you can leave in the middle?”

“Did I say that?”

“You didn’t have to.”

“You think you know everything.”

Kristine smiled. “That’s because I do.”

They drove to the park by the beach. Despite the early hour and the lingering taste of the protein drink, Sophie found herself enjoying the view along the coast. She could see the peninsula across the Sound and a ferry making its way from Bainbridge to Seattle. By the time they reached the park, she was almost perky.

Sophie pulled her car in next to Kristine’s and was surprised by the number of other vehicles there. Apparently, the crazy was contagious. She got out and looked around, realizing it was one of those rare clear spring mornings. The Sound was calm, the air still. It was probably only forty-five degrees, but still beautiful.

She took a second to look around at the lapping water, the rise of the island to the east, the lazy circling seagulls and the Puget Sound cranes in the distance.

“This is nice,” she said. “Very calming.”

“See.” Kristine nodded toward an approaching pickup truck. “And it’s about to get better.”

At first Sophie had no idea what she meant until the truck parked and the driver’s door opened. The guy who emerged was gorgeous. Seriously. Dark blond curly hair, piercing blue eyes and a body that was better than perfect. Sophie felt her mouth drop open and couldn’t find it in her to care.

“Told you so,” Kristine said as she walked past her. “And you’re welcome.”

Sophie hurried to catch up to her. “So it’s not about exercise at all. It’s about a show. Why didn’t you say that?”

“You wouldn’t have believed me.”

“I’m a believer now, sister. I believe. What’s his name?”

Kristine sighed. “You really don’t listen to me when I talk, do you? He’s Dugan and from what we can tell, he’s single. Just in case that sort of thing interests you.”

“It really might.”

But as everyone lined up in rows for class to begin, she saw she wasn’t the only one who noticed the fineness of their instructor. In fact, everyone there was a woman and most of them were ogling Dugan with undisguised hunger. Well, damn. She hated being part of a crowd.

“Good morning,” Dugan said, his voice low and sexy.

“Good morning,” the women said.

He led them through several breathing exercises then moved into what Sophie assumed was Tai Chi but honestly was just a bunch of arm waving and awkward shifts of weight with controlled breathing.

“We draw in the ocean,” he said, pulling his arms toward him. “We push the ocean away.”

“Does he know the ocean does that all by itself?” Sophie asked her cousin. “It’s called the tide.”

“Shh. Focus.”

Sophie did her best. She breathed when told, moved her arms and tried to follow the steps. It was all just so slow and meaningful. She could have unloaded a couple dozen boxes by now. And used her new forklift. And checked orders and who knew what. Slow, slow, slow.

When she felt herself getting restless, she turned her attention back to Dugan. He sure was pretty, she thought absently. He must work out a lot to get shoulders and arms like that. Given the fact that the Lord gaveth and tooketh away in equal measure, she could only assume he had the IQ of a tree stump but that was okay. Sometimes pretty was plenty.

There was more ocean pushing and some pulling and waving. Sophie got totally lost in the sequence and simply stood in place. Dugan looked at her, his blue eyes locking with hers.

She’d looked at men before. She’d been married and everything, but there was something different about Dugan’s gaze. Something...intense. Or compelling. Or maybe he was nearsighted and she was blurry. Whatever the cause, she felt the attention clear down to her toes. Heat burned through her and she had the sudden urge to walk up to him and kiss him—right there in Tai Chi class.

But she didn’t and he turned away and then she was standing on the edge of the beach on a Sunday morning when she could have been sleeping.

When the class ended, some of the women left right away but a fair number gathered around him. He spoke to each of them, smiling and laughing, but keeping his distance, physically and emotionally. From what Sophie could tell, he didn’t have anything going on with any of the ladies of Blackberry Island. At least not with the ones who came to his class.

Kristine waited until everyone else was gone before walking up to Dugan.

“Good session,” she said.

“Thank you. Your form is excellent. You’ve come a long way.”

“It’s all about focus, balance and breathing.”

“That’s right.”

Kristine motioned to Sophie. “This is my cousin.”

Dugan looked at her. “The mysterious Sophie Lane. At last.” He held out his hand. “Kristine talks about you a lot. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to be met.” Sophie put her hand in his and was pleased to feel plenty of sparks. Oh, yeah, they had chemistry. Or at least she did.

Right now her life was a mess. She was trying to get CK Industries up and running. She was missing her cat and, while she didn’t want to move back to LA, she didn’t feel as if Blackberry Island was her home, either. She was tired and overwhelmed and out of sorts, so feeling wild attraction to a man she’d barely met was a very nice distraction.

He smiled at her. It was a good smile—no, a great one that made her feel special.

“How’d you like the class?”

“It made absolutely no sense to me. What’s with all the ocean pulling and pushing? Who thought up the movements and why are they in that order? I’m not sure I need balance in my life so much as ten employees I can trust and a better cup of coffee in the morning. Plus, why is it so slow? I think I could get into it if we could just move things along.”

Kristine looked horrified at her outburst but Dugan only laughed.

“I like that you say what you think,” he told her. “You’re wrong about most of it but it’s good to have an opinion.”

“I’m not wrong.”

“As long as you can see both sides of things.”

“Oh, I can see both sides,” she told him with a smile. “Even when the other person is wrong.”

“And you revel in their wrongness?”

“Every second of every day.”

“So the lady likes to be right.”

“The lady does.”

His gaze settled on her face. “And in charge.”

“Asking or telling?”

“I’m not asking.”

She wasn’t exactly sure what they were talking about but she liked the conversation.

Kristine looked between the two of them. “Okay, then. I’m going to head home. You two have fun.”

Sophie glanced at her cousin who mouthed, “Call me later. I mean it. Call me.”

She wanted to say there wasn’t going to be anything to talk about but didn’t know how to say that aloud without sounding weird.

When her cousin reached her SUV, Sophie turned back to Dugan. “I should be going, as well.”

“How about brunch instead?”

She glanced down at her less than fashionable outfit, then at what he was wearing. “We’re not exactly dressed for brunch.”

“Then we should do something else.”

That got her attention. She thought about asking if he meant what she thought he meant, then decided that was just plain dumb. Of course he did. “How many of your students have you slept with?”

“Counting you?”

She nodded.

“One.”

While she liked the number, she wasn’t sure she believed him. “So this isn’t how you pick up women?”

He flashed her another of those amazing smiles. “I don’t need a gimmick, Sophie. And yes, I’m telling the truth. I have a lot of flaws, but lying isn’t one of them.”

She moved close and put her hand on his upper arm. Yup, he was big and strong, which she thought she might like a lot. Then she raised herself up on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his.

His mouth was warm and firm. He let her do all the work, which she kind of liked, as well. Her body reacted immediately. Heat flared, desire engulfed her and she wanted to rub herself against him in a very flagrant way.

All that without any tongue action, she thought, pulling back.

“I’m still settling into my house so it’s a mess. I suggest we go to your place.” Not only did she prefer to be the one who could simply walk away, she was also testing him to make sure there wasn’t someone waiting at home.

“Works for me,” he told her. They started toward their vehicles.

“You’re single, right?” she asked. “Kristine said you were.”

“There’s no one in my life.”

“You prefer it that way?”

“For now.”

“You’re not going to ask if I’m single?”

He held open her car door. “I already know you are.”

“Oh.”

Was that good or creepy? Before she could decide, he wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her against him. Fully against him. She could feel the rock-hard muscles of his body. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her. Really kissed her.

He took his time, moving his lips against hers, teasing, promising, arousing. She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned into him. When he stroked her bottom lip she parted. At the first brush of his tongue she began melting from the inside out. Hunger burned hot and bright and it was only a matter of seconds until she was breathless.

This was so much better than dating, she thought, wishing they were already in his bed and he was inside her. Time-wise it was so much more efficient.

They broke the kiss at the same time. He looked as aroused as she felt.

“You have condoms?” she asked.

“Not on me.”

She laughed. “I meant at your place.”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s get going.”

* * *

Thirty minutes later Sophie was lying on her back, doing her best to catch her breath. She’d been hoping for a semidecent, man-induced orgasm. Dugan had more than delivered. He obviously understood the basics of female anatomy, including what a clitoris was for, and he hadn’t expected her to climax after two minutes of intercourse. All excellent qualities in a man.

“You’re judging me.” Dugan rolled on his side and placed his very large hand on her bare belly. “I can hear it.”

“Only in a good way. I was appreciating that you wanted me to come first.”

“It seemed polite.”

His eyes were a dark blue, with thick blond lashes. His face was chiseled. Yup, he was pretty and built and good in bed.

“Not all guys are polite,” she told him.

“I’ve heard that. I’ve never understood why not. It’s fun to make my partner happy.”

“I agree.”

“How is being back after all these years?”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“Back on Blackberry Island. You grew up here, moved away, started a business and now you’re back. That has to be good but also unsettling.”

She scrambled into a sitting position and pulled up the sheet. “Now you’re scaring me.”

He sat up, as well, not bothering with the sheet. And while she appreciated the view, she wasn’t going to let herself get distracted.

“Don’t be scared.” His smile was easy. “Kristine talks about you. It’s nice. You two have a connection.”

“We’re family.” She studied him, trying to figure out his angle.

As if he read her mind, he grinned. “I don’t want anything, Sophie. Don’t freak. Like I said, I’ve heard about you and I think you’re interesting.” One eyebrow rose. “It’s nice when the hype turns out to be true.”

Okay, she appreciated the compliment, and the sex had been great, but still. Who was the man? She swore silently, thinking that hey, she should have asked that question before, you know, the deed.

“You want some breakfast?” he asked.

And there it was. The awkward “after” part. “I’m good.” She sat up and smiled at him. “This was amazing and exactly what I needed, but here’s the thing. I’m not really good at relationships. I’ve been married before and it didn’t go well. I’m into my work and even more so now because I just relocated my company and I’m trying to get things up and running.”

She paused, wondering if she should explain what she did or what a relocation was, then decided it didn’t matter.

“So while what just happened was great, I’m not going to stay for breakfast. Having said that, if you were open to this in the future, then I’m your girl.”

Dugan’s expression was unreadable. “You’re clear on what you want.”

“I am. It’s kind of how I do things.”

“I’m down with that.”

Down with that? Had he really said that? She held in a sigh and got out of bed. It took her a couple of minutes to find her clothes and pull them on. Once she was dressed, she looked around the bedroom.

It was large, with a stunning view of Puget Sound. There was the bed they’d just been in, a rock fireplace and, from what she could see, a giant master bathroom.

The furniture was all high quality and oversize. This was not some bachelor apartment, she thought, remembering they’d had to walk a ways from the front door to the bedroom. Not that she’d been paying much attention to her surroundings. She’d been too busy kissing and being kissed by Dugan.

Now, as he escorted her to the front door, she saw the rest of the place was as nice as the bedroom. The hardwood floors gleamed and there were views of the Sound from nearly every room they passed. She caught a glimpse of a gourmet kitchen with miles of counter space and a family room nearly the size of her entire rental. Yup, this house had cost a fortune.

She glanced at him. “So do you do something other than your Tai Chi classes on the beach?”

“I do some teaching. Life balance kind of stuff.”

She doubted that paid very well. He must come from money or have inherited it. She thought of her ex and wondered if, like Mark, he’d married someone successful and then had taken her to the cleaners. Thinking that made her postorgasm glow fade a little, so she pushed the thought away.

They paused by the front door. Dugan smiled at her. In response she felt a distinct quiver down low in her belly. He was just that good.

“Want my number?” he asked.

She saw her bag where she’d dropped it and dug out her phone, then handed it to him. He entered the info.

“Want mine?” she asked.

“You call me. You’ll be more comfortable that way. Plus, I’ll be around.” He returned her phone to her, then leaned in and kissed her. “Thank you for a very good morning, Sophie Lane.”

She kissed him back, liking the way she already anticipated the pressure of his mouth on hers and how it would make her feel.

“Thank you,” she said, staring into his eyes. God, he was good-looking. “Oh, wait. I don’t know your last name.”

He reached behind her and opened the front door. “That’s more of a second date kind of thing, don’t you think?”

She laughed. “I don’t know. We’ve already had sex.”

“Yeah, but that was just bodies. You’re able to disconnect the pleasure from the person. Knowing who I am is different and for you, it’s too soon.”

What? She blinked at him, but before she could even formulate a question or figure out if he’d just insulted her, she was outside on his front porch and the door was closing in her face.

WTF? She thought about ringing the bell and telling him he didn’t get to talk to her like that or act like that, only she couldn’t articulate what, exactly, he’d done wrong. Or if he was wrong about any of it.

Fine. Whatever. She’d had great sex and now she could get on with her life. Dugan, Shmugan. She had a company to run.

Chapter Seven

Heather logged on to the community college website and clicked to review her final grades. Even though she was sure she’d done well on her final, she was relieved to see an A listed next to each class. Hard work pays off, she thought as she logged out. At least her GPA was intact. Hopefully it would only take through the summer for her to save enough to return to school. Depending on how things went working for Sophie, maybe she could give up her weekend job, or even her early shift at the Blackberry Island Inn restaurant. If she could get by on a single job, she could muscle through three classes a quarter, getting her that much closer to transferring to a four-year college.

Of course before that happened, she would have to pick a major. She was leaning toward graphic design but couldn’t get a handle on the job market. There were lots of opportunities, but most of them required experience. There were plenty of internships but they were for college students. She’d thought about majoring in marketing instead, with a minor in graphic design, but that would add to her time at college. Right now she wasn’t paying that much per unit but when she went to a four-year college, the price seriously went up. Still, it would be worth it, she told herself.

She glanced over her shoulder and made sure her door was closed, then typed in the address for the Boise, Idaho, city website. As always, even looking at the pictures made her happy. She’d gone there with Gina and Daphne back in high school and had liked everything about the town. Ever since, she couldn’t stop thinking about what her life could be like there.

Boise was far enough away to get her out of range of her mother but still close enough that she could drive home in about eight or nine hours. Doable, she thought, heading to the Boise State University website. They offered marketing as a degree or a minor. The graphic design program was incredible. Maybe she could get a bachelor’s of fine arts in graphic design with a minor in marketing. If she moved to Boise for a year, she would qualify for in-state tuition.

She should have done it while she’d had the chance. Six thousand dollars had been plenty. All she’d had to do was tell her mother she was leaving and go. Only, while that sounded so very easy, it wasn’t something she seemed able to do. And now, with zero savings, she was starting over again.

At least she had a good job, she thought, typing in ClandestineKitty.com. When the logo came up, she smiled. She loved the simplicity of it, the curve of the cat’s tail and the balance of the larger K.

Sophie had her act together, Heather thought. She would never let someone else dictate her life. She’d created a company from nothing and it was growing every day. Heather should watch her more closely and figure out how she was always so confident.

She logged out of the website and went to her favorite graphics program, then opened the CK logo she’d scanned in a couple of days ago. She had some ideas of different ways to use the logo in personalized products. CK Industries had mugs and T-shirts, but those were generic. What if a customer wanted to combine the cute logo with, say, a picture of her own cat?

She’d captured a couple of stock cat pictures and now centered them on a mug. She layered the CK logo on top and started playing with the scale of each, only to realize the picture was too detailed to work on a mug. She pulled up her quilt pattern program and transferred the picture and the CK logo to that. Better, she thought happily. It would take some modification to make it work, but there were definite possibilities. When her cell phone rang, she didn’t bother glancing at the screen before answering.

“Hello?”

“How’s my favorite granddaughter?”

“Grandma!” Heather saved her work, then closed the program and turned away from the screen. “How are you? How’s the weather? It hasn’t been too bad here. Cool but not raining like it usually does in spring.”

“It’s perfect here. Sunny every day and it’s starting to get hot. I’m turning into a lizard in my old age because I love the heat. How did you do in your classes?”

Heather grinned. “I got A’s.”

“That’s my girl. I’m so proud of you. What are you taking in the spring?”

Heather shifted in her seat. “I’m, um, not going to be taking any classes. I want to save some money, so I’m working full-time for Sophie.”

“But you’ve been saving money. I don’t understand.”

Heather had no idea how to explain it to her. Of all people, her grandmother, Amber’s mother, would get the problem, but Heather still felt that by bringing up what had happened, she was being disloyal.

“No,” her grandmother groaned. “What did she do this time?”

Heather sighed. “She needed the money for a down payment on a car. Hers was totaled in the accident.”

“Let me guess. She didn’t have any savings of her own.”

Heather thought of the thousand dollars her mother had claimed to have but didn’t touch and knew there was nothing she could say.

“Was her car actually totaled?” her grandmother asked.

“Yes. I spoke to the insurance company myself. They sent her a check.”

“So she had that money and your money. She must hardly have a car payment at all. Is she still on disability?”

“You know, Grandma, you could call her and ask yourself.”

“Yes, I could, but I’d rather talk to you. I know I’ll get a straight answer.”

“I think she’s coming off disability. She’s going to be working for Sophie. Answering phones.”

“We’ll see how long it takes her to screw that up. Was she even injured in the accident?” Her grandmother exhaled sharply. “Never mind. That’s not a fair question to ask you and I can guess the truth myself. Even if she was injured, she milked it. We both know that. I swear, I can’t explain that girl. I know I’m partially responsible, but for the life of me I can’t figure out what I did wrong. At least you turned out spectacularly.”

Despite the topic, Heather smiled. “Thanks, Grandma. I think you’re pretty great, too.”

“You might now, but that’s about to change. I’m sorry to do this, Heather, but I don’t feel as if I have a choice.”

Heather had no idea what she was going to say but she felt a cold knot form in her stomach. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be happy news.

“I’m selling the house.”

The single sentence didn’t make sense at first. Selling the...

“The house where we live?” she asked, wondering if she sounded as stunned as she felt. “This house?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, my dear, but I have to do it.”

No! Heather managed to keep the scream inside. Sell the house? Sell it? What would happen after that? Where would they go? Heather had lived here all her life. Amber had, as well. They’d both grown up here. It was home.

More than that, Heather thought, trying to keep breathing. It was their safety net. They stayed here relatively rent-free. They had to pay insurance and taxes and all the utilities. There wasn’t much upkeep because Amber didn’t believe in fixing anything, but even with that, they were paying much less than market value. Or rather Heather was. Amber sometimes paid for food, and she took care of her own gas and car maintenance, but otherwise all the expenses fell to Heather.

Without the house, they had nowhere to live.

“Grandma, why?”

“I’m not getting any younger and I want the money from the house. It is mine, after all. Not that your mother will see it that way, I’m sure. Amber is thirty-eight years old and she’s never once taken responsibility for any of her actions, let alone taken care of herself. She’s always been coddled. I don’t know how she does it—twisting everything so it’s always someone else’s fault. She’s a professional victim and I won’t be a part of that anymore. She did it with me, she did it with your stepfather. He was a good man, but the second they got married, she quit her job and planted herself on her ass and refused to do anything. No wonder he left her. Now you’re stuck. The house is mine and I want to sell it.”

Her voice softened. “I’m sorry to do this to you, Heather. You’re a good girl and I love you very much. I worry about you being trapped. You need to grow a spine and get out of there. You have savings. Just go.”

“Had savings,” Heather whispered, wondering how she was going to manage this. Finding a new place to live would be a nightmare. Living on the island was cheaper than living in Seattle, but still. Rent was going to be way more than what they paid here.

“Right. The car. If you don’t get out of there, she’s going to suck the life out of you. She’ll use you until her dying day. She’s my daughter and I probably shouldn’t talk like that but we both know it’s true. So I’m selling the house. A real estate agent will be in touch with you to explain the process. I’m going to have to pay to fix up the place a little. You won’t have to move out until we close escrow, but I want you to know it’s coming.”

Heather fought against tears as she nodded. “I understand.” Her grandmother wasn’t wrong to want what was hers, but still—what a mess for them.

“I’m going to call your mother now so you don’t have to be the one to tell her. That way I’ll be the bad guy instead of you. I hope you’ll come to see why I have to do this. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Bye, Grandma.”

Heather hung up and set her phone on the desk. Terror gripped her so tightly she couldn’t breathe. They were going to lose the house. They had nowhere else to go. She was going to have to rent an apartment, which meant a lease in her name. No way Amber would take on the responsibility. She would be legally tied to the rental and to the island and her mother, very possibly forever.

* * *

Kristine finished paying the last of the bills. After recording the transaction numbers in the checkbook, she closed the banking program, then opened Excel. She’d been unable to let go of the idea of renting the old bakery space. It would be perfect for her and she was fairly sure she could get herself up and running well before tourist season started.

She was still working out the numbers. Once she grew a pair and called the leasing agent about seeing the place, she could figure out what remodeling would be required and get a bid. With that number and the rent information, she could finalize her business plan and figure out if she was going to talk to Jaxsen about the opportunity.

Not that he would be excited about it, she thought sadly. Every time she’d brought up opening a retail store rather than working out of the house, he’d had a dozen reasons why it wouldn’t work. The first time he’d told her the boys were too young. The second time they’d just had to replace the roof and that had set them back financially. Now, well, she didn’t know what he was going to say but regardless, she was determined to stand her ground.

Maybe.

The indecision made her want to slap herself. Either she believed and got going or she needed to stop playing what-if. The kids were older, the old bakery site had promise and if she didn’t do it now, then she was never going to do it. The truth wasn’t pleasant but liking or not liking it didn’t make it any less real.

She heard footsteps in the hall and quickly closed Excel. Jaxsen walked into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.

“The boys are still watching their movie,” he said, not quite meeting her gaze as he spoke.

She held in a sigh as she wondered what was on his mind. Did he want a newer truck? Another ATV? Not skis—it wasn’t the season, and there was no way she was getting a Jet Ski for Grant. He was way too young.

“The boys and I have been talking about our summer plans,” he said. “We want to do a lot of hiking and camping.”

“That sounds like fun.”

His gaze met hers. “The boys are too big for the tent. JJ’s taller than you and Tommy’s not much behind him.”

Her heart sank as she realized where the conversation was going. “Jaxsen, no.”

He ignored her. “We should buy a tent trailer.”

She thought about all the sports equipment littering the side yard and the camping equipment filling an entire bay of the garage. “Don’t we already have enough?”

“I’d get rid of most of what we have.” His voice quickened with excitement. “Come on, Kristine, it would be great. I found the one I want online. It’s perfect. It has everything, even a shower package.”

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know how much it would cost.

“It’s for the family,” he told her. “Something we can do together. Something the boys will remember for the rest of their lives.”

And there it was. The guilt trip. Because any time Jaxsen talked about something being “for the family” it usually meant it was something for him and the boys and she should agree because there were four of them and only one of her. When that didn’t work, he pulled out “the boys will remember it forever.” The fact that he’d gone there right away warned her there was more bad news coming.

“And?” she asked.

“It’s only twenty thousand dollars.”

“Twenty thousand?” She worked hard to keep her jaw from dropping. “Are you kidding? Where would we get that kind of money?”

“We’d take ten thousand from the house equity line of credit we have. We don’t owe anything on that.”

He was right about that. Seven years ago his parents had insisted they take out a line of credit on the equity in their house. Prices in the area were starting to rise and the older couple had told them it was always a good idea to have a buffer in case of an emergency. They’d followed the advice and had had to use the line of credit twice since then. Kristine always made sure they paid it off as quickly as possible. She didn’t want it to be part of their regular budget. Only now Jaxsen wanted to use it for a tent trailer.

“So you want to finance the rest of it?” she asked, wondering how much that payment would be. Plus the line of credit, she thought grimly. That would be a big blow to their monthly budget. She didn’t think their cash flow could handle that at all.

“There’s the money from your grandmother.”

At first she didn’t understand what he was saying, but as soon as the meaning sank in, she rose to her feet and glared at him.

“No.” Her tone was flat.

“You’re so damned unreasonable.”

“Am I? My grandmother left me that money. It’s mine and you will not use it for a tent trailer.”

“Why not? Why are you keeping it? Why are you so selfish? We’re married. That money should be for the family.”

This wasn’t the first fight over her inheritance and she doubted it would be the last. From the moment they’d found out her maternal grandmother had left her ten thousand dollars, Jaxsen had been itching to spend it. No matter how many times she tried to explain that it was special and she wanted to use it for something significant, something that would make a difference in her life, he insisted it wasn’t a her thing, it was a them thing.

“Why does it bug you so much that I have that?” she asked. “Why can’t I have something of my own? Why do you want to take that from me?”

“I’m not taking it. We’re a family. We work together. But you have to keep something all to yourself. It’s not right.”

He stood as he spoke, looking just as pissed as she felt. She thought about pointing out that legally, the money was solely hers. As long as she kept it in a separate account, it wasn’t community property. Jaxsen hadn’t been happy to find that out.

“Jaxsen, I’m not spending that money on a tent trailer. If you want to talk about financing, then I guess we’ll have that discussion, but I have to say, I really think it’s not something we can afford.”

“But we can afford it, if you’ll just kick in some money. Why is that unreasonable? I work hard and I pay for all this. I don’t keep part of my paycheck from you, Kristine. I give every penny of it to the family. All I’m asking is that you do the same.”

“I do. All the profits from my business go back into the household. And I do exactly the same when I earn a paycheck in the summer. Every dime goes into our checking account. You know that. Don’t pretend it’s otherwise.”

“You spend a lot of what you make from the cookies on supplies. And you bought a new mixer last year.”

The implied accusation infuriated her. “The old one broke. How am I supposed to make batches of cookies without a mixer? It’s a business. Of course there are expenses.”

She shook her head. “Here’s what I don’t get. You fought me on getting a job. You told me I needed to be here for the boys. So I came up with something I can do from home, that really doesn’t get in the way of anything, and now you’re fighting me on that. At the same time you complain I’m not bringing in any money. There’s no win for me.”

She wanted to say more but knew there was no point. She didn’t know if he genuinely didn’t understand or if he didn’t want to understand.

She waited to see if he would say anything else, but he only turned away from her so she went to go check on the boys. When they were all tucked into bed, she retreated to the basement. The sofa there was plenty comfortable. Not that she would sleep much. She was too upset.

Jaxsen was a great guy and a good father. He loved his family; he was involved with the kids. He didn’t cheat and when he hung out with his friends, it was always at one of their houses where they might have a third round of beers and yell at the TV during a game.

But there were sides of him she couldn’t understand. He could be unreasonable, especially when it came to her working and definitely about the inheritance. No matter how she tried to get him to see her side, to bend just a little, he refused to understand, leaving her to always compromise. She wasn’t sure she had anything else left to offer on the subject.

As she got a pillow and blanket out of the closet in the basement, she thought about the old bakery shop and wondered how many blood vessels he would blow if she wanted to talk about that. It wouldn’t be pretty. Which meant what? That she shouldn’t try? That she should live the small life that he’d assigned her? That wasn’t what she wanted and in her gut, she didn’t think it was what Jaxsen wanted for her, either. Yet, it was how he acted and she genuinely didn’t know how to get him to change or herself to accept. Was she really expected to pretend she didn’t want something beyond what she had? She loved her family more than anything, but it wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

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