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As he went back into the bedroom with Sandy’s clothes strewn about, Grace Sherman drifted into his mind. Grace Harding now, since she’d married Cliff.

Funny that he’d think about one of his high-school friends at a time like this. And yet, it made sense. What came to mind was an incident shortly after Dan’s disappearance. Hard to believe that had been six years ago. Dan Sherman was found dead a year later.

Troy never knew exactly what had driven the other man into his own private hell. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know either, although he suspected it had something to do with Dan’s experience in Vietnam. The war had left Dan permanently damaged in some way. Not in body but in mind, in spirit. He’d become reclusive, unfriendly, refusing to share his memories and fears even with other Vietnam vets like Bob Beldon.

When Dan disappeared, Troy had taken the missing-persons report. Several months later, he’d been called by a neighbor, who was concerned about Grace. In her pain and anger, she’d tossed Dan’s clothing onto the front yard of their home on Rosewood Lane.

Now, standing in his own room surrounded by Sandy’s things, Troy remembered the sight of Dan’s clothes scattered on the grass—and he understood the powerful emotions that had led Grace to explode in such an uncharacteristic display. A part of him didn’t want to deal with the residual effects of Sandy’s life. Just limping from one day to the next was painful enough.

His gaze fell on the pink sweater Megan had so recently shown him. He picked it up and buried his nose in the soft wool. There was still a hint of his wife’s favorite perfume and he breathed it in, deeply, greedily. She’d worn this sweater at Easter last year. Troy had pushed her wheelchair to the open-air church services overlooking the cove. Sandy had always been a morning person, even toward the end. He used to tease her that she’d been born with a happy gene.

Her smile was one of the things he’d loved most about her. No matter how much he growled or muttered in the mornings, she’d respond cheerfully, often making him laugh. He closed his eyes as the pain cut through him. Never again would he see Sandy’s smile or hear her joyful voice.

With a heavy heart, he carefully folded the pink sweater and placed it inside the box. He wasn’t ready to see someone else wearing his wife’s clothes. Since they lived in a small town, it was bound to happen sooner or later. Most likely when he was least expecting it or least prepared to deal with it. Troy would turn a corner and run into another woman wearing Sandy’s favorite dress. He didn’t know how he’d react to that. The mere thought twisted his gut.

The phone rang in the distance, and for half a second he was tempted just to let the caller leave a message—or not. But too many years as a cop had made it impossible to ignore a ringing phone.

To Troy’s surprise it was his daughter.

“Dad,” she said, “you’re right. Keep Mom’s things for now. Keep everything.”

Troy could tell Megan had been crying.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, Meggie.”

“If you want, I’ll come back tomorrow and finish packing it all up.”

“I’ll do it,” he said. Hard as that would be, he was better able to deal with this one last task than his daughter. Megan’s composure had shattered, while he moved through his days in a state of numbness that masked the pain.

Three

Barbecued chicken, a green salad, garlic bread—a perfect dinner for a perfect summer day. With mixed berries and ice cream for dessert. Justine Gunderson enjoyed making her leisurely preparations for tonight’s meal.

She pulled the covered bowl of chicken breasts out of the refrigerator. She flipped them in their soy-and-honey marinade, then set the container back inside. Like many of her favorite recipes, this one had come from her grandmother, Charlotte Jefferson Rhodes.

Leif, her almost-five-year-old son, was playing in the backyard with his dog. Penny, a cocker spaniel-poodle mix, chased after the boy, barking excitedly. The pure joy of the moment made Justine smile as she stepped through the patio doors. Seth would be home soon and he’d barbecue the chicken while she put the finishing touches on the salad. Leif would start setting the outdoor table, since he loved arranging the napkins and colorful place mats.

As this little domestic scene played out in her mind, she felt a sense of tranquility. Even now, all these months after the fire that had destroyed their restaurant, Justine was unaccustomed to the three of them having an uninterrupted evening together.

So much of her life—their lives—had been consumed by The Lighthouse. The restaurant had completely absorbed their time and energy. Until the fire, Justine and Seth rarely saw each other. Everything was always done in a rush as they divided the duties involved in running the restaurant, taking care of the house and, most important of all, raising their son. Thankfully, they’d reached a compromise concerning the new restaurant they planned to open.

“Mommy, look!” Leif shouted, throwing a stick for Penny.

The dog instantly leaped forward, racing after the stick. She picked it up, then crouched a few feet away, tail wagging frantically, and challenged the boy to grab the stick.

“Penny, bring it to Leif,” Justine called out.

“She’s as stubborn as every other female in this house,” Seth said from behind Justine. “Well, the only other female.” He slid his arms around her waist and kissed the side of her neck. Leaning into her husband, Justine tucked her hands around his and closed her eyes, reveling in the moment.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said.

“Daddy, Daddy!” Leif shouted, dashing across the freshly cut lawn.

Seth scooped his son into his arms and lifted him high over his head. “I see you’re training Penny to play catch.”

“She won’t give me the stick.”

“She’ll learn,” Seth told him. “Come on, we’ll both work with her.”

While Seth and Leif played with Penny, Justine went into the house to pour her husband a cold drink. The doorbell rang; abandoning the glass of iced tea, Justine hurried to answer it.

Her grandmother stood there, clutching the huge purse Leif called her “granny bag.” Among other things, it contained her current knitting project, a roll of mints, a comb and a notebook—but no cellphone or credit cards. Delighted to see her, Justine threw both arms around Charlotte in a tight hug.

“I hope you don’t mind me coming by like this,” Charlotte said as Justine led her into the house. “I was in the neighborhood—well, relatively speaking. Olivia said you wanted to talk to me.”

“Grandma, you’re welcome anytime, you know that!”

“Well, normally I wouldn’t stop in without warning, but I was chatting with your mother this afternoon and she said you wanted to ask me about recipes.”

“I do.” Justine slipped her hand in Charlotte’s and they moved into the kitchen.

“I was just getting Seth a glass of iced tea,” Justine said. “Can I get one for you, too?”

“Please.” Charlotte set her large bag on an empty chair and sat down. These days, it was unusual to find her without Ben, her husband of three years.

As if reading her thoughts, Charlotte explained. “An old friend of Ben’s is visiting from out of town. I stayed long enough to meet Ralph, then made my excuses. All that talk about navy life is too much for me.” She pulled her knitting out of the bag and resumed the sweater she was working on. Her grandmother didn’t believe in idle hands.

Justine brought two glasses of tea and sat across from her.

“Now, what can I do for you?” Charlotte asked. “You need recipes for the tearoom?”

“Yes.” Justine rested both elbows on the table. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about it,” she said. Although the building process hadn’t yet begun, she had a clear vision of the kind of restaurant she wanted. The menu had to be exactly right, and Justine couldn’t think of anyone better to consult than her own grandmother.

“It’s a good idea to plan ahead.” Charlotte paused in her knitting to look at Justine. “Olivia told me you’re going to serve breakfast, lunch and a high tea, then close in the evenings.”

Justine nodded. “Seth and I decided we’d rather have our evenings together. Leif’s flourished in the last few months with both of us home.” The arson that had destroyed The Lighthouse had eventually—and unexpectedly—turned out to be a blessing in a very nasty disguise. She was grateful no one had been hurt or worse. And grateful that this crime had changed their lives in a positive way.

“You’re wise to put your family first.”

Justine suspected her marriage wouldn’t have survived another year at the rate they’d been going. She glanced out at the yard, where Seth frolicked with their son and Penny.

“You said you talked to Mom. Were you at the courthouse today?” Her grandmother liked to watch Justine’s mother at work. Charlotte sat proudly in Olivia’s courtroom and knitted away, although her visits had become less frequent now that she’d married Ben.

“Actually I ran into her this morning while I was in town. She was on her way to a doctor’s appointment.”

Justine tensed. She didn’t remember her mother mentioning that, and they spoke nearly every day. “Oh.”

“It’s nothing serious,” Charlotte said quickly. “Just a routine visit, she told me. For her mammogram.”

“Oh, good.” Justine relaxed in her chair, crossed her legs and picked up her own glass of iced tea. “I’d like some of your recipes, Grandma,” she began.

“Any in particular?” Charlotte’s fingers manipulated the needles and yarn with familiar ease.

“I was hoping to get the recipe you have for scones.” They were a long-time family favorite and Charlotte baked them for nearly every family function.

Charlotte seemed pleased. “The herb-and-cheese scones are the ones I like best.”

“Me, too.”

Her grandmother paused reflectively. “My mother used to make those scones, so that recipe actually came from her. I have a couple of other scone recipes I’ll write out for you, as well,” she added. “Clyde’s favorite was a walnut-and-butter scone. Ben prefers the herb-and-cheese.”

“Thanks,” Justine said. “But I’d be happy to copy them out myself if—” It suddenly occurred to her that her grandmother might have all these family recipes in her head, that she might never have written them down before.

“I’ll bring them to you tomorrow morning,” Charlotte went on. “In fact, you’re welcome to all my recipes, dear. Just tell me which ones you want.”

“Grandma,” Justine said, broaching the subject carefully. “You do have your recipes written down somewhere, don’t you?”

Charlotte laughed. “Good grief, no.”

“No!”

“I’ve been cooking for over seventy years. The recipes were taught to me by my mother and, well, I never thought it was necessary. I certainly wasn’t going to forget them.”

“What about the raspberry vinaigrette salad dressing?”

“Oh, that one,” Charlotte said with a sigh. “I got it from a newspaper article around 1959. I’ve changed it through the years.”

“Grandma, would you write them out for me? All of them?”

“Of course.” Her knitting needles made soft clicking sounds as she continued to knit. “Actually, that’s an excellent suggestion, Justine. I’m sure Ben will approve, too. He always says I should publish a cookbook, you know. He loves my peanut butter cookies.” She preened just a little.

“And your cinnamon rolls.”

“I think that man married me for my baking.”

Justine laughed at the absurdity of her comment. One look at Ben Rhodes, and anyone could see that he was crazy about Charlotte.

“Now tell me more about the tearoom,” Charlotte said conversationally.

Justine smiled. “Well, there’s been a change in plans.”

“Oh?” Her grandmother stopped knitting for a moment.

Justine uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “Seth and I couldn’t tell anyone until all the details were settled. The builder, Al Finch, contacted us a few weeks ago and asked if we’d be willing to sell the property. He said he might have a buyer.”

Silence followed her statement. “I thought you and Seth weren’t interested in doing that.”

“We weren’t, especially if it meant that a fast-food franchise would be built on the waterfront. But this is the best part, Grandma. The man who inquired about the land, Brian Johnson, is a friend of Al’s. He’s owned a number of restaurants through the years. He retired but got bored. Seth and I met with him and we were both impressed. Brian said he’d like to rebuild The Lighthouse the way it was. He even wants to keep the name.”

“But that was your restaurant,” her grandmother protested.

“True, but he’s willing to pay us for the name and everything.”

Her grandmother paused again, as if she needed time to absorb the news. “Are you going to do it? And what about the tearoom? Where will you build that?”

Justine explained that Al Finch had shown them a piece of commercial property off Heron that he owned and was planning to sell. The location was perfect for The Victorian Tea Room. “We signed the papers earlier this week.”

There was another moment of silence.

“You aren’t disappointed in us, are you, Grandma?”

“No,” her grandmother assured her. “I think this is wonderful news.”

So did Justine. All the hard work they’d put into The Lighthouse wouldn’t go to waste now. Seth had given the new owner his suggestions on how to rebuild the restaurant, and now that she was no longer involved, she looked forward to seeing it emerge from the ashes.

“It’s happened so fast.”

“It has,” Justine agreed, “but it feels right. This new location is much better for the tearoom and there’s more parking. I can’t believe how all of this practically fell into our laps.”

“I’m pleased for both of you,” her grandmother said.

“I am, too.” Justine gazed longingly into the backyard. Seeing Seth with Leif brought her a feeling of contentment, of satisfaction. This was what she’d always wanted, what she’d hoped for in her marriage.

“I should get home,” Charlotte said. “Ben’s probably wondering what’s keeping me.” She finished her iced tea, put her knitting back in her bag and stood up.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Grandma.”

“You, too, sweetheart.” She kissed Justine’s cheek. “I’ll start writing down those recipes. I’ll do my best to remember them all, so if I forget any, let me know.” She frowned. “I’d better go through the ones I cut out from magazines, too. And the ones I was given at wakes.”

“Isn’t that where you got your fabulous coconut cake recipe? At a wake?”

“Yes—Mabel Austin’s. Back in ’84.”

Justine grinned at this, but she supposed that a great recipe wasn’t the worst memorial someone could have.

“I’ll just step outside and say hello to Seth and Leif,” Charlotte murmured as she carried her empty glass to the sink. “My goodness, that young man is growing. I don’t remember him being nearly that tall.”

“Seth or Leif?” Justine asked with a laugh. It was true; Leif was tall for his age, but then his father was a big man.

“Leif, of course,” her grandmother said, obviously missing the joke.

“By the way …” Justine opened the patio door. “We’re barbecuing chicken tonight and I’m using a recipe I got from you.”

“The one with soy sauce and honey? I picked that up at a wake, too.”

Justine couldn’t hold back a smile. “Whose wake? Do you remember?”

“Of course I do,” she answered in a dignified voice. “Norman Schultz. 1992. Or was it ’93?” With that Charlotte walked outside.

Penny and Leif ran toward her. Knowing he needed to be gentle with his great-grandmother, Leif pulled up short and then stood still, giving Charlotte the opportunity to hug him. Penny, however, felt no such constraint. With one sharp command, Seth controlled the dog, who promptly sat. After she’d finished chatting with Leif, Charlotte leaned over to stroke Penny’s fur. She gave Justine a final wave, then Seth walked her out to her car.

When he returned to the kitchen, he asked, “Is that for me?” motioning toward the glass of iced tea on the counter.

“Oh, sorry,” Justine said. “I was about to bring it to you when my grandmother arrived.” She removed an ice-cube tray from the freezer. “Here. I’ll add some ice.”

“Thanks,” he said, pausing to take a long drink of the tea. “Did you tell her we sold the property?”

“I did.”

“What did she think?”

Justine grinned. “That we’re too brilliant for words.”

Seth took another swallow of the tea. The ice cubes tinkled cheerfully as he set the glass down. “Your mother and Jack know, don’t they?”

“I told her this morning. Speaking of which …” Justine grew thoughtful.

“Yes?” Seth urged.

“She didn’t say she had a doctor’s appointment.”

“So? Should she have?”

“No, I guess not, but it makes me wonder….” She suspected there was a reason her mother didn’t want her to know about the appointment, and that concerned Justine. Charlotte might have said it was “routine,” but was Olivia expecting bad news?

As if sensing her unease, Seth brought his arm around her waist. She felt so thankful to have her husband back. The arson had briefly changed him into an angry, vengeful man, but after Warren Saget—a local builder and onetime boyfriend of hers—was arrested, a burden had been lifted from her husband’s shoulders. Seth was once again the man she knew and loved.

He held her for a long moment as though he, too, recognized how close they’d come to destroying everything that was important to them both.

“Do you want me to fire up the barbecue?” he asked as he released her.

“Please.”

“Can I help with dinner, too, Mommy?” Leif entered the kitchen with Penny at his heels.

“You sure can.” Justine smiled at her son. “You can help me set the table—after you wash your hands.”

“Okay.”

They all headed outside, and while Seth was busy on the patio, Justine and Leif wiped the glass-topped table and adjusted the umbrella. Leif took great pleasure in carefully arranging the bright green place mats he’d chosen and the napkins with their multicolored butterflies.

When they’d finished dinner, Leif and his father cleared the table. Justine dealt with the leftovers and cleaned up the kitchen. Until recently, she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed meal preparation; she’d always assumed that cooking wasn’t her forte. Her mother and grandmother were the ones who enjoyed working in the kitchen. Then she’d married Seth and in those first few months while they renovated the old Captain’s Galley and planned their new restaurant, Justine had taken pride in preparing their meals. She’d gone to Olivia and Charlotte for recipes and ideas, and for the first time as an adult, she’d connected with her mother in ways she never would’ve thought possible. Her relationship with her grandmother, always good, grew even closer.

“I talked to my grandmother about recipes,” she said.

“Recipes?” Seth repeated, washing his hands. “For the tearoom?”

She nodded. “You know, I’ve rediscovered how much I actually enjoy cooking.”

Seth blinked. “Hold on a minute. You enjoy cooking?”

“Yes.” She rolled her eyes at his feigned shock.

“Answer me this,” her husband teased. “Exactly who was standing over a hot barbecue this evening?”

“Seth Gunderson, flipping a few chicken breasts on the grill is not cooking.”

“It is as far as I’m concerned.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am not.” He laughed, then caught Justine around the waist.

She laughed, too. Everything was going to be better now. In fact, it already was.

Four

Rachel Pendergast dumped a load of towels in the washer at the Get Nailed salon. Adding the soap, she closed the lid and turned the dial, waiting to be sure the water had started. She was taking advantage of a break between customers to deal with the laundry, a chore that needed to be done every day. When she left the small lunchroom she discovered her best friend, Teri, sitting in the chair at Rachel’s station.

“Teri!” Rachel couldn’t restrain her excitement. It’d been less than a month since she’d seen her but it felt longer. Not only did she miss Teri, but Nate, her navy boyfriend, had recently been transferred to San Diego.

Teri slid off the chair. She held her arms wide and they hugged and giggled like teenagers. The salon just wasn’t the same without Teri’s wisecracks and her caustic but funny view of life. Rachel had missed chatting with her about Nate. And Bruce.

“Thank heaven you’re back at work,” Rachel cried. Looking Teri in the eye, she said, “You are back, aren’t you?”

“We’ll see. I need to talk to Jane first.”

Rachel was sure there wouldn’t be any problem getting Teri on staff again. “Jane’s at the bank. She’ll return any minute.”

Rachel didn’t really understand why Bobby had insisted Teri leave her job. She knew there’d been some kind of threat against Teri, although she assumed it actually had more to do with Bobby.

Two men had confronted Teri in the parking lot, and soon afterward, Bobby had asked her not to work at the salon until he got everything straightened out. Although Jane had hired a perfectly adequate replacement to fill in, the other woman wasn’t Teri.

“I finally managed to convince Bobby that either I went back to work or I’d go insane,” Teri explained, smiling over at Jeannie who was cutting a young woman’s hair nearby.

“Where’s Bobby?”

“At home,” Teri said. “I love that man to distraction, but I couldn’t stand his overprotectiveness.” She paused, glancing over her shoulder. “The only way I could get him to agree was to promise I’d have James drive me to and from work. James is supposed to be my bodyguard.”

“James?” Rachel couldn’t believe it. Bobby’s driver was no bodyguard. First of all, he was as thin as a beanpole without any apparent muscle. If Teri found herself in danger, she’d probably end up saving James.

“So, can you stay this afternoon?”

“I can until I talk to Jane, but after that I’ll need to get back to the house. Otherwise, Bobby’s likely to send out a search party.” She laughed at her own joke. “Bobby isn’t overjoyed about me working, but he understands that I like my job and want to be here.”

“I’m glad he’s decided to be reasonable.”

“Trust me, I am, too,” Teri said with a sigh of relief.

Rachel looked closely at her friend, struck by how lovely Teri was. She’d always been impulsive, gregarious and outrageous. A little cynical, too, especially about men and relationships. And then she’d met Bobby Polgar. She remained her larger-than-life self, but over the past few months she’d changed. She’d become … softer, Rachel thought. More hopeful, less cynical. And it was all due to Bobby.

Only love could explain the way two such dissimilar people had fallen for each other. A deep, true love, the kind that changed people for the better. The kind that offered acceptance and trust. Bobby came alive when he was with Teri. Anyone who’d ever met him or seen him in front of a chessboard would acknowledge that he was a genius and a bit … she cast about for the right word … eccentric. With Teri, he became human—likeable, and on occasion even funny. Although he usually didn’t mean to be. He was simply naive in ways that were endearing.

Whether she and Nate had a love like Teri and Bobby’s, she didn’t know. She suspected they needed more time, and this enforced separation wasn’t making their situation any easier.

“So,” Teri said, sitting down in the chair again and crossing her legs. “Bring me up to speed. You miss Nate?”

Rachel nodded. “A lot,” she said, feeling bereft without him. Talking on the phone helped, but it wasn’t enough. “He calls me almost every day.”

“Like Bobby used to?” Teri asked.

Rachel laughed. “Not quite. Nate phones when he can, and that’s usually in the evenings.” While courting Teri, Bobby had faithfully phoned at precisely the same hour every day, Pacific Standard Time, regardless of where he happened to be.

“What about Bruce?”

“What about him?” Rachel asked, her voice sharper than she’d intended.

“Are you seeing him?”

“No!” she returned vehemently. Bruce, a widower, had become a friend and his daughter, Jolene—well, Jolene was special to her. In many ways Jolene reminded Rachel of herself as a girl. She, too, had lost her mother at an early age; she’d been raised by an aunt who’d died a few years ago. Jolene needed a female influence in her life, and that was the role Rachel played.

“Why do you say no as if it’s the most repugnant thought imaginable?” Teri asked. “You make it sound like dating Bruce is something you could never even consider. We both know that isn’t true. The two of you are just so well suited.”

Rachel frowned. “What makes you say that?”

Teri shook her head, implying it should be obvious. “It’s like you’re already married. That’s what anyone seeing you together would think if they didn’t know better. You practically finish each other’s sentences.”

Rachel dismissed that observation with an airy wave of her hand. Teri was fond of Bruce, which made her partial to the idea of Rachel’s being involved with him. “We’re friends,” she said firmly. “That’s all.”

Teri cocked her head. “He’s kissed you.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Do you have a hidden camera? Are you watching every move?”

“No,” Teri said. “You told me about it.”

“I did?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes, but it was a—”

“Friendly kiss,” Teri finished for her.

“Sort of.” In retrospect, she thought Bruce might’ve wanted it to be more. His kiss had come as a surprise, but as kisses went, it was nice. She mulled that over and decided nice was a weak description. Nice sounded so bland, like unsalted popcorn. That wasn’t really how she’d felt about it—but maybe it was all she wanted to feel. “I like Bruce, don’t get me wrong, just not in that way.”

“You mean it?” Teri asked.

“Don’t you remember when I first started spending time with Jolene? Bruce made it abundantly clear that he had no interest in getting involved.” She wasn’t likely to forget the look on his face the day Jolene announced that she’d chosen Rachel to be her new mother. Bruce had nearly swallowed his tongue. He’d wanted it understood that he had no romantic intentions whatsoever. Rachel had taken him at his word. She simply didn’t see him in those terms. Besides, she had a boyfriend.

“I’d rather talk about Nate,” she said, preferring to change the subject.

“I’d rather discuss Bruce,” Teri countered.

“Why?”

Teri shrugged. “For one thing, I find him more interesting than Nate.”

“In what way?” Rachel asked coldly—knowing she shouldn’t have responded at all.

“Well, Bruce is down-to-earth and he doesn’t have an inflated ego and … and he’s a good dad.”

“Right,” Jeannie said, entering uninvited into the conversation. She pointed her curling iron at Rachel as she stood behind her client. “Bruce called her the other day.”

“To see if Jolene could spend the night on Friday.” Rachel wondered how her love life had become the business of the entire salon.

“She was on the line for a l-o-o-ong time,” Jeannie told Teri, dragging out the word.

“It was my cell,” Rachel explained, in case anyone thought she’d been tying up the business line with a personal call.

“You did seem to be enjoying yourself. I heard you laughing.”

Bruce was witty, or he could be. But Rachel ignored the comment. To acknowledge it would only invite further conversation and she was trying to avoid that.

“Whenever she’s on the phone with Nate,” Jeannie went on to say, “it’s like she wants to cry.”

“I miss Nate,” Rachel said, throwing her hands in the air. “We’re in love, and we have to be apart.”

“I still think you should pick Bruce,” Jeannie said stubbornly.

“Why don’t we take a poll?” Teri suggested. She got up and turned in a complete circle, indicating that everyone in the salon should take part in the vote.

“This is crazy,” Rachel said, refusing to listen. Teri could organize her vote, but she wasn’t sticking around to participate. It didn’t matter what other people thought.

She was in love with Nate and had been from almost their first date, which she’d bought at the Dog and Bachelor charity auction three summers ago. Okay, he was younger by five years, but that had never bothered him and it didn’t bother her, either. What did concern her were his political connections; his father was a Pennsylvania congressman with higher political aspirations.

Then she’d met his mother, and that hadn’t gone well. Unfortunately, Nate had been oblivious to the verbal jabs the other woman had directed at her. He thought Rachel was imagining things, but she knew. Although Patrice Olsen didn’t actually say so, she considered Rachel an inappropriate choice for her son.

Teri, who’d obviously abandoned her plan to hold a runoff vote between Nate and Bruce, trailed her into the kitchen. Rachel had just slipped a frozen entrée into the microwave. The washing machine churned nearby, and the sound of sloshing water punctuated her angry thoughts.

“Don’t you remember what it was like when you met Bobby?” Rachel said, whirling around to face her friend.

“I didn’t want to fall in love with him.”

“But you did.”

A sigh escaped Teri’s lips. “Bobby made it impossible not to. I’ll never forget the night he brought me a dozen romantic greeting cards, flowers and about fifty pounds of expensive chocolate.”

Bobby had been trying to romance Teri, and according to his “research,” that was the way to do it. Naturally, being Bobby, he’d gone completely overboard.

“How could I turn him down when he asked if he could kiss me?” Teri said plaintively.

“You couldn’t,” Rachel agreed.