Книга - Motherhood Without Parole

Motherhood Without Parole
Tanya Michaels


Instant motherhood felt a lot like being under house arrest…When a corporate oversight lands her new husband in jail, Kate St. James feels as if she's the one being sentenced. True, her ritzy new home in the suburbs looks nothing like the Big House. But for a woman barely able to keep her tropical fish afloat, Kate's not expecting time off for good behavior when she becomes an instant mother to her husband's two children!Still, somewhere between dealing with a burned bake sale project, PTA meetings and preteen dating, Kate realizes she's never felt so free. Because being a good mother isn't about being perfect. It's about being there. For the kids, her husband…and herself.









“The kids will be home next Monday,” Paul said.


Kate nodded. Eight days. She could do this. Now was not the time to dwell on the fact that the only living things that had ever been in her care were some exotic fish that had added color to her condo. Until she’d accidentally knocked the heater into the aquarium and electrocuted them all in mere minutes.

“I don’t want them to visit me, Kate. I just can’t imagine them in these surroundings.” He ran his hands over his face. “Haven’t they been through enough in their young lives without seeing their old man—”

Startled by the raw vulnerability in his tone, she rushed to reassure her husband. “I understand. Maybe writing you letters would be less traumatic than visiting you here.”

Looking at the haunted eyes of the man she loved, Kate vowed to be the best stepmother possible. Realistically it was the only thing she could do to help Paul. For the next four to five months, she was all the parent those children had.

Thank God kids were more resilient than tropical fish.




Tanya Michaels


Tanya Michaels can’t remember a time when she didn’t want to be a writer. She finished her first illustrated “book” at the age of nine and is now the award-winning author of over a dozen romance and women’s fiction novels. Tanya has been nominated for numerous honors, including Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA


Award and several Readers’ Choice and Reviewers’ Choice Awards. She currently resides in Georgia, where she’s living out her version of happily ever after with her husband and two children. Visit her home on the Web at www.tanyamichaels.com.





Motherhood Without Parole










Tanya Michaels





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




From the Author


Dear Reader,

I have two jobs—writer and mother. Reference books have been published on both subjects. Support groups exist for both. But there’s really no substitute for hands-on experience! As difficult as parenting can sometimes be for any mom, no matter how prepared she is, I began to imagine a woman with zero prior experience who becomes a stepmother, joining a family “already in progress.”

What would that be like? And what if, soon after her becoming a stepmom, the children’s father was temporarily out of the picture, leaving her to learn the ropes on her own? (Suddenly the challenges I occasionally face in my own role as Mommy looked a lot simpler.)

Meet Kate St. James, the result of all my what-ifs. I hope you enjoy her story of becoming part of a family and her realization that there are all kinds of success in the world, some harder to measure than others but infinitely rewarding. Watch for her friend Delia’s story, Motherhood Without Warning, in 2007! More details about that book, as well as my other releases and reader giveaways, are available at www.tanyamichaels.com.

Happy reading!

Tanya


Thanks to all the readers and reviewers who

have let me know how much they enjoy my work.

You truly make the tough days worth it! And special

thanks to Anna DeStefano, who’s been there for every

career and motherhood challenge I’ve faced,

always willing to brainstorm, encourage and

discuss hilarious GFY and TWoP posts.




CONTENTS


PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17




PROLOGUE


My first Valentine’s Day as a married woman. Forty-two-year-old Kate St. James stood barefoot in the modern kitchen, theoretically tackling an impromptu romantic breakfast while her husband, Paul, showered. In reality, Kate had barely glanced at the cookbook lying open on the kitchen island. Having not partaken in her morning caffeine rituals—the dark roast was still brewing—she’d been staring contentedly into space.

Mooning, her friend Delia would scoff. Fast-talking businesswoman Delia Carlisle was not prone to romantic sentiment. Then again, Kate hadn’t been either until a couple of years ago. Until Paul St. James.

A well-paid technical writer in Richmond, Virginia, Kate had always been analytical and goal-oriented: Escape the Dallas neighborhood on the wrong side of Harry Hines Boulevard and her cloying, opportunistic mother. Check. Get an MBA. Check. Climb the career ladder until she was comfortably secure and self-sufficient. Check. By forty, Kate had accomplished enough of her personal objectives to consider finally making more time for a personal life. Especially one that included Paul, a handsome widower and CEO.

When their paths had first crossed two years ago, she’d taken only passing notice of the soft-spoken man still mourning his late wife. He and Kate ran in similar circles with mutual acquaintances, though, and eventually formed an attraction neither could ignore. Paul told her once that he’d been drawn to her strength, a welcome change from those who first noticed Kate’s looks. On her part, she’d been impressed with Paul’s sense of balance. She’d always been something of a loner, whereas he seemed to have well-rounded relationships and a laudable ability to thrive in the business world without resorting to cutthroat tactics. They’d married a month and a half ago, ringing in the New Year with an elegant evening wedding before Paul’s children returned to their prestigious New England boarding school.

Children. Kate caught herself anxiously twisting the wedding band on her finger. Dropping her hands to her sides, she took deep breaths and conjured confidence. It was going to be fine.

She had endured a pressure-filled childhood and a mother most charitably described as “less than nurturing.”

She had persevered her third year of college after ugly rumors of her sleeping with a popular professor had led him to leave his position.

She was fluent in programming languages, dealt with tight deadlines with poise and excelled in a field dominated by men.

She could certainly handle two polite, if withdrawn, children whom she saw only several times a year. Just because Kate hadn’t had a stellar maternal role model didn’t mean she was doomed to emotionally scar Neve and Paul Jr. Preteen Neve had asked to join one of her friend’s families for their upcoming spring break, and eight-year-old PJ was surprisingly quiet and well-behaved for a little boy. How much trouble could he possibly be for a week?

This summer both kids would be home for almost two months, but Kate had time to prepare. She would ask her girlfriend Patti for advice. Then there was Lily, Paul’s former sister-in-law, who dispensed parenting advice whether it was solicited or not. Between Kate’s determination to overcome the challenges of motherhood and Paul’s guidance on how to cope with his kids, they would navigate any family situations that arose. Piece of cake.

Not that she, personally, had ever baked one.

Domestic skills had never been high on Kate’s list of driven priorities…which should make cooking for her new husband even more special. He deserved thoughtful gestures and extra effort. Granted, in the weeks before the wedding Paul had grown uncharacteristically distant, but she’d given him space to work through any unresolved guilt toward his late wife, Heather, who had survived barely a month after the nasty shock of her stage-four cancer diagnosis.

Kate had been right to trust her instincts when it came to letting Paul sort out his feelings. During the short time they’d been married Paul had been attentive and affectionate. Delia joked that the newlywed phase wouldn’t last forever—just one of many reasons she planned never to marry—but Kate was blissfully happy. A decade ago, watching her colleagues divorce and remembering her mother’s unstable relationships with men, she couldn’t have imagined herself married and trying to plan a homemade Valentine’s breakfast. Yet here she stood, chenille bathrobe belted over a turquoise nightie Paul said matched her eyes, humming under her breath.

Kate returned her attention to the book on the countertop; Delia had given her Six-Course Seduction, a cookbook for lovers, as a wedding gift. A feisty, independent woman who lived with a man six years her junior, Delia had expressed surprise that Kate or any bride would “give up” her surname. Well, not even Delia knows everything. Kate had been nearly giddy to say goodbye once and for all to Katherine Brewster of Dallas, Texas.

Pushing thoughts of the past away, Kate reminded herself that the future was bright. The coffee had just stopped percolating when she heard knocking. Several raps at the front door, almost louder than they needed to be, with a borderline impatient cadence.

Frowning, she glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. All the appliances and counters in Paul’s kitchen were the same immaculate white, and Kate loved the bright, spacious feel, even though Patti joked the room would make her feel as if she lived in a bleach commercial. Nine o’clock. While not obscenely early for Saturday, few of their acquaintances would disturb a recently married couple on Valentine’s morning. Could it be someone ignoring the cul-de-sac’s no-soliciting policy?

“Honey? Do we know who that is?” Paul’s voice came from a couple of yards behind her, in the hall that led from their bedroom through the den and into the kitchen. He was barefoot and bare-chested, wearing only expensive jeans and wire-rim glasses as he absently rubbed a towel over his thick salt-and-pepper hair. Patti’s opinion of Paul was a lot more favorable than the one of Paul’s kitchen—she thought he could pass for Richard Gere’s more attractive younger brother. High praise, considering how many times Patti had watched Shall We Dance? and Pretty Woman.

Kate smiled at her husband. “I was planning to ignore them until they go away.”

Another series of staccato raps filled the house.

“Maybe we should check.” He turned toward the front of the house with a sigh. “I’ll get it. Whatever you’re doing in here smells delicious.”

Since all she’d managed so far was their normal coffee and melting some margarine in a pan with vague omelet notions, she laughed. His not being hard to please boded well for their marriage.

Through the cutout in the kitchen wall she watched him cross the living room. Paul had such a gorgeous house there’d been no question of which one of them should move after the wedding. Because of the angle, she couldn’t see the front door, but she heard it open, heard low voices. A swirl of cold air found her, along with the words federal agents and economic crimes unit.

Head-to-toe goose bumps broke out beneath the chenille. Agents?

She took a cleansing breath, unconsciously falling back on relaxation techniques taught by a series of drama coaches. Paul was an important man, the CEO of an up-and-coming communications company. He’d left a more established corporation shortly before learning Heather was sick because he’d believed in this one so strongly. His move had paid off in spades…and stock options. Maybe agents needed to question him about one of the businesses he dealt with regularly? Or they could even want someone of Paul’s expertise to consult on some kind of investigation.

That would be an exciting topic for the next country club event, but the clipped voices she heard and the agitation in Paul’s tone spoiled the fantasy.

With barely a thought to her bathrobe or disheveled dark hair, she rushed to his side, attempting a smile. “Sorry to interrupt, but—”

“Kate.” Paul’s green eyes were wide, glinting with tension and alarm. Something in his trapped expression made her think of a hurt animal who might bite and claw anyone who tried to help. “Call my lawyer.”

She glanced from her husband to the two granite-jawed men in the foyer. One wore sunglasses; the other stared back with an expression so contemptuous she wished he would put on a pair. “I don’t understand. What—”

“Now.” Paul looked briefly like himself again when he added, “Please.”

Dozens of questions collided inside her, but one thing felt certain. The honeymoon was definitely over.




CHAPTER 1


Six months later

“Are you sure you don’t want us to come get you?” Delia asked over the phone. “We’re good listeners. Well, Patti is. But I can get you drunk.”

In the background, Patti Jordan huffed that booze was not a long-term solution.

Delia, who enjoyed riling the housewife with outrageous statements, retorted in a stage whisper that two of the best short-term ways for a woman to forget her troubles were getting nailed or getting hammered.

Actually, the promise of premium Grey Goose was tempting right now, especially since Kate’s financial situation had changed in the past few months. Any liquor purchases she made in the near future would be limited to the affordably generic. Joe’s Vodka? Yikes. But tomorrow would be difficult enough without being hungover.

“I’m sure.” Kate tucked her legs beneath her on the bed, wondering if she’d ever get used to sleeping alone on the king-size mattress. Her old queen was upstairs, but sleeping in the guest room would only make living in Paul’s home without him more surreal. Adjust already. It had been five weeks since the sentencing. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

“In some ways, Katie, I envy you having the place to yourself. There have been one or two occasions I wanted to smother Ringo with his own pillow.” Delia’s live-in lover, Alexander, had been dubbed Ringo to go with Kate’s and Patti’s husbands—Paul and George. No John. But, like Lennon, Paul now had his own FBI file.

Kate fought the mad impulse to get roaring drunk and belt out “I Am The Walrus.”

On the other end of the phone there was a muttered “ouch.” Patti had probably thumped Delia on the shoulder for insensitivity, much the same way that she did whenever Delia tried to light a cigarette in Patti’s home.

“So. Tomorrow.” Delia cleared her throat. “Conjugal visit? Très kinky.”

Federal prisons didn’t allow that kind of visitation, but Kate didn’t comment since Patti was now demanding, “What is wrong with you? Her husband has been sent to prison, you idiot. It’s not a joking matter.”

“You think making everything deadly serious is going to cheer her up?” Delia rejoined.

While Kate’s two incongruous best friends quibbled as if Kate weren’t even on the other end, she stared at her reflection in the vanity against the bedroom wall. Long dark hair, seriously needing a trim and deep conditioning, hung around delicate features pinched with tension. How did I become this woman?

She’d busted her ass to get a degree, leave Texas and start fresh. She’d wanted to become a respected businesswoman with all the trappings of success. Now she was someone who created hushed silences at the club, snickers in her own office and awkward arguments over how to “handle” her during phone calls from friends. Dammit, Paul.

Rage flared, followed immediately by guilt. Was it petty of her to resent a man already suffering the loss of basic rights and privacies?

Though she worked hard to present a composed demeanor to others, she fluctuated wildly between anger over her husband’s screwup and renewed vows to be a more supportive wife. It had been two weeks since the end of his initial no-visitors-allowed period, and she’d yet to see him. The minimum security “camp” in West Virginia might not be Alcatraz, but it was enough to separate Kate from the man she loved. Enough to interrupt not only the life they’d shared but their very lifestyle.

She made a perfectly nice salary, but she wouldn’t have attempted mortgage payments on a house in this neighborhood by herself. The cushion of their savings account had been deflated by a luxurious tropical honeymoon that seemed a lifetime ago and mounting legal fees. In addition to being forced to step down as CEO, Paul had forfeited his stock in the company. Their finances had been so altered that the expensive tuition for his children’s prestigious boarding school was no longer feasible. Kate had a week before the kids returned from a visit with their grandparents in Florida. It will be fine, she assured herself, even though she didn’t have the energy left to dwell on that tonight.

“Dee? Delia! Hey, remember me? The person you called?”

It took a moment to get the woman’s attention. Patti, the homemaker, and Delia, self-described ball breaker, had met through Kate. She was the linchpin of the threesome, but not even her presence kept the other two from occasional spirited bickering. At times it was entertaining, but right now Kate just wanted to go to bed.

“Sorry.” Delia’s tone was sheepish, Patti echoing the apology in the background.

“I think I’m going to turn in, but thanks for checking on me.”

“That’s what we’re here for.” In that, Delia and Patti were united.

Even though Kate hadn’t felt social enough to join them at Delia’s town house tonight, she appreciated their loyalty. Since federal agents had visited on that fateful Valentine’s Day, members of Kate’s social circle had distanced themselves from her and Paul. Not completely, in case he was acquitted, but enough that none of his taint could spill over to them. The same taint Kate had been trying to escape when she’d left for college—the neighborhood she’d lived in, her mom’s disreputable boyfriends, Lorna’s shrill insistence that Kate could better both their lives if she would only try harder.

Finally Kate had earned a better life for herself through positive visualization and years of hard work. But she’d never envisioned a husband in the pokey. What was the current slang for that, anyway? Big house? Joint? Hoosegow seemed outdated.

“You sure you want to make the trip alone?” Delia asked. “I know neither of us is an approved visitor, but maybe Lily… Then again, maybe not.”

Heavy on the not, Kate agreed silently.

More than once, Kate had wished Lily lived farther away. Kate understood that Heather’s parents, who lived in Florida, and younger sister, much closer in Richmond, wanted to stay involved with Heather’s children and that the family had been a big part of Paul’s life. But it was awkward to step into the new wife role and feel as if the first wife’s sister was constantly judging you. Unfavorably. Lily made attempts to be personable, especially if the children were around, but she couldn’t quite mask the disdain in her brown eyes, the conviction that Kate was a sorry replacement for the mother Neve and PJ had lost.

“I’ll be fine by myself.”

“Well, call one of us tomorrow if you need to talk. I’ll be home with my laptop, getting some work done during Ringo’s tennis tournament. Then he’s off to New York on Sunday, so I’ll be free all week if you want company. Patti says drive safe.”

Kate smiled, suspecting Patti dispensed that advice on an hourly basis now that her sixteen-year-old only child had his license. “I will. Good night.”

“’Night.” Delia hesitated only for a moment before adding in an uncharacteristically emotional tone, “This whole thing sucks. Paul deserved better—damn witch hunt in a post-Enron climate, if you ask me.”

Too bad the courts had taken a different view. As she hung up the phone, Kate wondered idly if persecution of a man should more appropriately be called a warlock hunt.

The most genuine, decent man she’d ever known…and a judge wearing a black robe and a sanctimonious expression had pronounced him a criminal. Ironic, considering how many of her mom’s lovers Kate had suspected were prison-bound. Lorna had a penchant for codependent relationships with destructive men.

This is different. Paul was a good guy who’d made a dumb hiring mistake.

During the wedding planning, when Paul had been understandably distracted, he’d given someone who had previous dealings with the company a finance position. Some of the man’s freelance work the year prior, thanks to a 2002 legislative act, made the employment a criminal conflict of interest. A simple oversight. Then again, CEOs were responsible for the financial welfare of a lot of people and couldn’t afford stupid oversights. Though she wanted to be outraged on her husband’s behalf, the businesswoman in her knew it had been Paul’s responsibility to double-check issues like this one. It’s why he was paid the big bucks. Unfortunately, in his preoccupation, he’d made one or two other minor errors that the prosecution had painted as signs of impending corruption.

It had all come to light because of a quiet federal investigation of the company Paul had left before Kate met him. Apparently his previous employer had been releasing exaggerated financial reports, inflating their worth and cheating stockholders. Reasoning that Paul likely knew about this fraud before quitting, investigators had widened the scope of their inquiry to Paul himself.

No one cared that he’d walked away from a high-paying job because he’d started to have unproven suspicions about executive ethics. No one cared that, after losing his first wife when he’d expected their marriage to last another thirty or forty years, remarrying had given him a lot to think about besides dotting every i according to increasingly complicated corporate regulations. When you were a chief executive officer, “oops” was not a satisfactory defense.

Kate sighed, and when the sound fell too heavily in the empty room, she reached for the silver remote in the top drawer of her nightstand. With a press of her finger, a black-and-white movie came to life on the television. How was it she so desperately needed background voices when she’d had her own place most of her adult life? It was as illogical as her constantly craving sleep, then being unable to rest once her head hit the pillow. Last night she’d tossed and turned until after two in the morning.

Whereas Paul probably couldn’t wait for each day to end—bringing him closer to the completion of his six-month sentence and a normal life again—Kate was unsettled by the recent passage of days. They’ll be home soon.

For the past couple of years PJ and Neve had stayed for a few weeks of the summer with their maternal grandparents in Tampa. This year’s “few weeks” had stretched into two months. Kate and Paul felt the kids would have a better time at the beach and visiting Epcot than sticking around for their father’s trial. Still, with the new school year starting the last week of August, Neve and PJ would be returning a week from Monday. Was she ready for them? For their questions? Their wariness?

Neither of the kids had ever been overtly hostile to Kate, but she didn’t get hugs and Mother’s Day cards from them, either. She’d always expected Paul to be the glue that held them together as a family unit. And she’d anticipated half of that unit would keep attending school up the coast.

What if they hate me? What if I suck at this?

No. Swinging her feet to the carpet, Kate gave herself a mental pinch. She rarely allowed herself to suck at anything. And negativity was a self-fulfilling prophecy.

The kids weren’t troublemakers and they’d be in school most of the time, leaving her free to do her job as long as she found reliable help for a few hours each afternoon. She didn’t expect mothering to be easy, but millions of women worldwide managed it, and she’d always been very capable. Plus, she still had a week to prepare. Seeing Paul tomorrow should go a long way toward reassuring her—they already had one month of his sentence behind him. Less than five to go. She could definitely handle single-parenting for under five months.

She padded to the bathroom to brush her teeth, her confidence restored. Kate St. James was a survivor. Nothing life or SEC regulations threw at her could reduce her to being Katherine Brewster again.



Ash, beech and poplar trees wouldn’t change colors and hit their peak foliage until mid-October, but beneath the eighty-degree sunshine in the parking lot blew an incongruent breeze that predicted fall’s arrival next month. Kate smoothed her hair and held her head high, this short walk suddenly more daunting than the entire drive over state lines.

At the sentencing Paul had squeezed her hand and tried to joke there were worse things that could happen over the summer than being sent to camp. Thank God no one on the prosecuting side had heard the remark. Public opinion already held that big-business crooks showed a distinct lack of remorse—hence increasingly stiff penalties for comparatively small infractions. But Paul had never set out to be a crook. His flippant remark had been only an attempt to reassure his new wife.

He wouldn’t quite make it home for their first anniversary, but he would be back by Valentine’s Day. Frankly she’d be willing to skip that holiday for the rest of their lives. Her bigger concern was Christmas. As much as she’d disliked Lorna growing up, Kate would have been startled to lose her. And everyone had adored the much-missed Heather. Had Neve and PJ acclimated yet to holidays without their mother? This year they wouldn’t have their father either.

Only me.

A cheery thought to take with her as she walked from her locked car to the interior gated perimeter. She’d already passed through one arm of security to drive onto the grounds. She’d also had to fill out legal paperwork weeks ago simply to apply for the chance to spend a few minutes with her husband. The list of rules and regulations, including clothing restrictions, had made her laugh drily. Did they think she wanted to come in here flashing midriff and extreme cleavage? Classy.

Khaki was also forbidden. Anything that looked too similar to what the prisoners themselves wore was forbidden. But if prison administrators were worried about her blending in, shouldn’t her being female help them pick her out of a crowd?

The internal sarcasm threatened to erupt into actual dialogue when a guard patted her down before allowing her to enter. Adolescent modeling auditions that had bordered on exploitative and a few grope-happy dates in her twenties had left her with a distaste for strange men touching her. Even knowing that the young man with the carefully blank expression was just doing his job, Kate flinched, hating him a little for that.

Realizing Paul must suffer the same indignities and worse, she forced a smile for her husband’s benefit. In a moment he would be joining her, and she didn’t want him to see her discomfort. She stood in the lounge area where they would spend their visit and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Lounge seemed a glorified term for the collection of tables and padded chairs. It somehow resembled a library with no books and a grim color scheme.

“Kate!” Escorted by a guard, Paul crossed through the security doorway, beaming and still handsome despite the circles under his familiar eyes.

Her own smile wobbled before blossoming into something more genuine. Lord, she’d missed him. The brutal realization of how much was actually a relief. Her emotions had been on mute since the trial, as if the feelings were there somewhere in closed-captioning, but she’d been too numb to truly experience them.

When Paul’s arms went around her, she hugged him tightly, trying to ignore the unpleasant sensation of being watched. The guard sitting in the corner made no effort to downplay his scrutiny of the mostly empty room. Visible security cameras recorded every action.

Paul let go but held her gaze as he said a gruff hello.

They sat a few tables from another inmate and, judging by the two men’s similar facial features, his brother. Both men sent Kate appreciative glances. Her stomach flipped queasily, but she squared her shoulders, lifting her chin a notch.

“I can’t believe you’re finally here.” Paul’s words drew both her attention and guilt.

Finally here. She should have come sooner. “I’m sorry. Things at work… I need to make sure that my job continues to—not that it’s more important than you.”

“Katie.” Despite the lackluster uniform and worry lines that had deepened since she’d seen him last, his patient green eyes twinkled. “You don’t owe me apologies. You aren’t the one who did anything wrong.”

Should she tell him he hadn’t either? They both knew it wasn’t true. He’d made mistakes, and sometimes carelessness was criminal. Pretending otherwise would be a lie. Their young marriage wasn’t cut out for the strain of dishonesty on top of everything else.

“I’ve missed you,” she told him.

“Same goes.” He was quiet for a moment. “I’ve been looking forward to this visit, but there’s something I need to discuss with you.” Despite the resigned declaration, he hesitated.

“Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.” She hadn’t run screaming for the hills thus far.

“The kids will be getting back next Monday.”

She nodded. Eight days. She reminded herself that she could absolutely do this. Now was not the time to dwell on the fact that the only living things that had ever been in her care were some exotic fish that had added color to her condo. Until she’d accidentally knocked the heater into the aquarium and electrocuted them all in mere seconds.

“I don’t want them to come here, Kate. I know they’re on the approved list, but I just can’t imagine them in these surroundings.” He ran his hands over his face. “Haven’t they been through enough in their young lives without seeing their old man…?”

Startled by the raw vulnerability in his tone, she rushed to reassure him. “That’s completely understandable. It’s not as if they haven’t gone months without seeing you before. That’s practically the norm.”

His jaw tightened. “What do you mean by that?”

Exactly what she’d said. “I’m just agreeing with you, Paul. They don’t see us much during school semesters. Maybe writing you letters from home would be less traumatic than visiting you here. Maybe it is best for the three of you to get reacquainted…afterward.”

“Right. Sorry.” He sighed. “Guess I’m a little defensive when it comes to my parenting choices.”

She knew Lily had read him the riot act when he’d first sent the kids away, four months after Heather’s death. His contention was that he traveled a lot and the school would give them a first-rate education in a place not rife with reminders of their mom. He’d hoped they could heal there, make new friends. Lily had been furious, first losing her sister, then “losing” her niece and nephew. He’d even let it slip that his sister-in-law had once obliquely threatened in the heat of the moment to pursue custody if he couldn’t take care of his own kids, though she’d quickly and apologetically taken back the rash comment. Kate certainly couldn’t envision Lily and her husband housing two more children when they had four of their own.

After that, the arguing had ceased. But some of the resulting strain had endured.

Now the question of where the kids were educated was moot; Neve and PJ would be returning to Richmond, just as Lily wanted. Withdrawing them from the coming academic year at their private school had devastated Paul. He’d been remorseful enough over the business colleagues he’d hurt or could have hurt with neglectful stewardship of the company, but to once again upset the stability of his children’s lives…

Looking at the haunted eyes of the man she loved, Kate vowed to be the best stepmother possible. Realistically it was the only thing she could truly do to help Paul. For the next four to five months she was all the parent those children had.

Thank God kids were more resilient than tropical fish.




CHAPTER 2


Normally Lily Foster spent Saturday evenings folding the week’s laundry while watching rented movies with her younger kids and waiting for her older ones to meet curfew. Tonight she was pacing the kitchen that was so much larger, so much tidier, than her own. She hoped Kate didn’t mind her using her spare key, but under the circumstances, it had seemed the best idea.

Lily just wished she knew when the other woman would be home from her trip to the prison, but all she’d received when she’d tried Kate’s cell phone was an automated voice-mail response. Deciding not to explain the latest turn of events in a message, Lily had come to Paul’s house to wait. The kids needed to spend the night in their own beds, not Lily’s living room. Now that she was here, though, she felt uncertain and invasive.

If her big sister had lived, this place would have been Lily’s second home by now. It sucked that Heather hadn’t had more time to enjoy the house they’d bought after Paul’s last raise before leaving his former employer to hire on as CEO elsewhere. Heather should have had years, decades, to make this place her own, warm and inviting, to create memories. After the move, she’d complained about being tired, but it hadn’t slowed down her supermom schedule. When they’d all started to realize she was sick, they’d still been optimistic, not expecting anything as terrifyingly final as a late-stage cancer diagnosis.

The kettle on the stove began working its way toward a full-bodied burble, bags of Earl Grey ready and waiting next to an empty china cup. Lily’s mother-in-law was known to say that tea always helped in a crisis. Although Lily suspected tea leaves weren’t even going to make a dent in her worries about her family tonight, at least puttering around the kitchen gave her a small outlet for nervous energy.

Sometimes she expected the stress to come erupting out of her like steam from a teapot. As of today, her father was back in the hospital because of ongoing heart problems. Lily’s mother was a wreck, having never recovered truly from burying her child a few years ago. Please, God, let Dad bounce back from this. For all our sakes. Paul’s father had passed away before Neve was even born, but in the past five years the kids had lost both their paternal grandmother and their mother. Now, in a way, the children had lost Paul, too.

But gained a stepmother.

Neve still wouldn’t discuss that with her aunt, how she felt about Paul’s second marriage. Lily wished she and the children were closer, but it hadn’t been easy when she had four of her own to look after and Paul had sent Neve and PJ several states away. His own flesh and blood! When they were traumatized and no doubt needed him the most.

She shook her head, knowing that getting angry over what was past wouldn’t help anyone. But the frustration was there, bubbling beneath the surface. After all, she had promised Heather she’d look after the kids, take care of them like they were her own.

Paul loves his family, Heather had said, looking both frail and wise in her hospital bed, but he was so busy providing for us, working up to his success. He doesn’t know which stuffed animal is PJ’s favorite or how Neve loves brownies with macadamia nuts but not walnuts or peanuts. You’re a mom, you understand about the important day-to-day details he’s missed. He’ll need your help, Lil. Promise me you’ll be there for them.

When she’d made the vow, Lily hadn’t known her brother-in-law was going to bury his grief in work and ship his kids to the prestigious Newsome Academy, one of the best private schools in the country. Lily had taken the news that Paul was seeing someone again with mixed feelings. Obviously, as his first wife’s sister, it was difficult for her to see him with someone who wasn’t Heather. Then again, she’d known Heather wouldn’t have wanted him to live out his years miserable and lonely. So Lily had wished him well and silently hoped that the new woman in his life would help him bridge the ever-growing gap between him and his children. Or at least make him admit that there was one, that parenting wasn’t something that could be conveniently scheduled for holidays, summer and Spring Break.

Instead he’d picked Kate. Physically flawless übercareer-woman Kate who had no children of her own or previous marriages. Probably because she’d been working so hard on that career of hers. Just what the kids needed—two workaholic parents.

Lily didn’t resent the other woman’s beauty; Heather had been gorgeous in a personable, unaffected, I’m-not-afraid-of-laugh-lines way. It was more that Kate was so impeccable in attire, coiffure, mannerisms and composure that it was nearly impossible to relax around her. When they’d all gotten together for Paul’s last birthday, one look at Kate had made Lily aware that her hair had started sliding out of its ponytail in the car and that her trousers were sporting evidence of the family cats. Not to mention that Kate had all but admitted that it mystified her why any woman would choose to marry young and immediately have children when she could have gone to college and pursued a career, leaving her and Lily with almost no common ground over which to bond.

Her husband Bob’s voice played in her head. Give her a chance, Lil. But this wasn’t about Lily and whether or not she wanted to be buddies with the other woman. It was about Neve and PJ and what was best for them.

Lily had no doubt that if you wanted to plan a corporate takeover, Kate St. James was a good person to have on your side. Ditto planning a swanky dinner party and knowing which shoe designer was currently “hot.” But caring for two wounded children who’d already been hurt quite enough?

The teapot shrilled, causing her to jump.

She’d turned off the stove burner and was steeping tea when the automatic garage door raised, a mechanical shudder that vibrated through the kitchen. Kate was home.

Setting her cup on the kitchen island as the door swung open, Lily turned. “Hi. Hope my being in your kitchen unannounced didn’t startle you.”

“The car in the driveway tipped me off.” Kate smiled, but it didn’t warm her gaze. “I guess you came over to hear how Paul is doing?”

Lily would have called for that, not ambushed Kate in her own home after a long drive. “Not exactly. Mostly I’m here because of the kids.”

“Your kids?” Sounding confused, Kate settled into the closest kitchen chair.

“Paul’s kids. Neve and PJ.”

“Oh. Is there any chance we could talk about this tomorrow? Right now I just want to—”

“Neve and PJ are upstairs.”

The way the blood drained from Kate’s face wasn’t exactly endearing. If she was so freaked at the prospect of stepchildren, couldn’t she have found a guy who didn’t come with a ready-made family? But despite her telltale paleness, the woman’s expression didn’t alter by a single twitch or frown line. Either Kate redefined cool composure or there was BOTOX work in her past.

Feeling bitchy over the thought, Lily did penance by offering her sister-in-law a cup of tea.

Kate shook her head. “No, thank you. Just explain why the kids came back early. Are they okay?”

“They’re fine.” Physically, at least. Lily sat opposite Kate. “My father began experiencing bad chest pains early this morning. It might be nothing, but with two past heart attacks, no one wants to take chances. His doctor ordered some medical tests and temporary rest. With all that going on, Mom called me to ask if she could put Neve and PJ on an earlier flight. I picked them up this afternoon. I thought about letting them stay with my brood for the night, but Neve…well, it’s been a tumultuous year for the kids. She just wanted to come home.”

“It’s been a tumultuous year for everyone,” Kate agreed absently.

Yeah, but we have the luxury of being adults and not a confused preteen girl about to turn thirteen who won’t have either of her parents there to witness it. Knowing that her husband Bob would patiently cite this as the kind of judgmental observation Lily should keep to herself, she sipped her tea. She understood this past year had been rotten for Kate’s marriage. But when you were responsible for kids, they had to be your first concern.

Pushing back her chair, Kate rose. “If the kids are here, I’d better go talk to them.”

Well, she gets points for that. “PJ’s asleep already. He was practically snoring before I even turned off his light. Neve, last I knew, was reading in bed. I think it’s wonderful that you want to talk with her, but aside from popping in to tell her good-night, it might not be a bad idea to…give her some space.”

Kate arched a brow. “I haven’t seen her since before the trial. How much more space could I possibly give her?”

The edge of sarcasm in the woman’s voice was grating. “I’m not saying she’s logical, I’m saying she’s nearly thirteen. Having barely survived Brittney at that age, I know how moody they can be.”

For the past two years Neve had been polite when she came home, but another female could see the subdued resentment in her clear green eyes. Now, with the introduction of a stepmother and Paul’s arrest, Neve had become so surly and withdrawn that even her grandparents were commenting on her behavior. She probably couldn’t decide whether she was still angry about being sent to boarding school in the first place or pissed that she’d been yanked out of her familiar surroundings. She was likely mad about both, a seeming contradiction that was perfectly reasonable to a girl that age.

“I may not have daughters of my own,” Kate said stiffly, “but I was once a thirteen-year-old girl and am not completely clueless, believe it or not. Look, I appreciate your advice—”

“No, you don’t,” Lily said without heat. She was standing, too, suddenly aware of her defensive stance. Of course Kate wouldn’t appreciate people popping into her house uninvited and unexpected and telling her what to do. Lily wouldn’t either. “My heart was in the right place, though. Those kids mean the world to me.”

“They’re…important to me, as well.” The words came out so awkwardly that it was obvious Kate and the children were in for a bumpy ride. Had the forty-two-year-old career woman ever wanted to be a mother or had she merely made the concession because she’d fallen for a man who happened to be a father?

“I would be the worst stepmother on the planet,” Kate said, “if I came home and followed my original plan—which was a long soak in the whirlpool tub and a cold glass of sauvignon blanc—now that I know the kids are home. I’m not going to insist she open up to me or that we stay up braiding each other’s hair, but I have to say something to her. Why don’t you come, too? I’m sure you want to tell her good-night before taking off, and maybe your presence will keep it from being too uncomfortable.”

Lily appreciated the compromise, if not the subtle emphasis on taking off. “Happy to help in any way I can.” It wasn’t an empty offer but a vow she’d made and planned to keep.



People talked about running away to join the circus, but Neve St. James thought that was a stupid plan. She’d been to the zoo enough times to know elephants stunk royally. And even though she loved horseback riding, stables didn’t exactly smell like roses, either. So the reek factor alone was enough to dissuade her from the circus. Unless it was one of those du Soleil things, she mused, staring up at the circle-patterned plaster on her ceiling. Those circuses didn’t have animals. Then again, she didn’t have any freaky talents like being able to put her feet behind her ears.

She was stuck here.

Her first semester at the Newsome Academy she’d missed home so much she’d wanted to be curled up in this very room. Now that she was, it just felt…odd. What was the point? It had been her mom and dad she’d wanted, not the furniture and carpeting. Even knowing it was impossible, she’d desperately wanted to be a whole family again. Her dad, however, had wanted a fresh start.

She remembered clearly the night he’d shown her the academy brochures, nervous beneath his fake enthusiasm. “Look, you’d get to ride horses a lot there, Neve.”

Like she’d be fooled? There were places in Virginia to ride horses, too. He’d insisted that he’d miss them, that he wasn’t sending them because he didn’t want to spend time with them, but the man was a lousy liar. If he’d done something criminal at work, there was no wonder he’d been caught.

At least he put us in a coed school. All-girl would have been a nightmare.

Though she wouldn’t have admitted to her little brother that she found his presence comforting, she’d been glad he was at Newsome, too. Besides, if they’d been separated, she would have worried about PJ.

Starting at the end of August—barely weeks away—they would be in separate schools for the first time since he’d entered kindergarten. She’d be an eighth grader at a public middle school, while Paul Jr. would go to third grade at an elementary school. Newsome had continued straight through high school, breaking age groups up into different class buildings on the same grounds.

During their weeks in Florida with the grandparents PJ had been uncharacteristically calm about Neve’s no longer being around to look out for him at school. He’d been too busy being excited about being home, being closer to Aunt Lily, making new friends—Neve would miss hers like crazy—and spending time with their father. Ha! Hadn’t her brother noticed that even when they’d visited at Christmas they’d had to wait around for Dad to wrap up “important work” before he took them on whatever promised outing was scheduled? Besides, their dad wasn’t even home. He was in prison. The guy who’d lectured PJ about why playing a good, honest game was always more important than winning and had warned Neve that her active imagination was no excuse for lying…and he’d committed a federal crime! Well, if she had to write some stupid school paper this year on who her heroes were, Paul certainly wouldn’t be mentioned.

Even when he got out of prison, they’d have to share him with his new wife. My stepmother. The word mostly conjured images of evil psycho women from fairy tales. The stories her mom had once read her at bedtime, when Neve had been young enough to think she’d always want her room painted pink. Wonder if the step will let me paint it black? Four black walls might actually be too much, but it would be fun to ask.

Neve had met Kate two Junes ago, when she and PJ had come home for the summer. Dad had thought he was being suave, hinting throughout dinner that Kate, their model-gorgeous guest, was someone special. Unable to take the little suggestions that the kids treat Kate like “one of the family,” Neve had asked outright if her father was getting married. She’d known. She’d known as soon as he’d started talking up his girlfriend before they’d even left the airport. The only girlfriend he’d had since—

She swallowed the painful knot in her throat, redirecting her thoughts to the comparatively easier event of her dad’s engagement. Sensing her father was trying to break the news of an impending second marriage hadn’t entirely prepared Neve for confirmation of her question. Dad and Kate had exchanged glances as he’d nodded, then he’d looked expectantly at Neve, who’d felt like she couldn’t breathe. PJ had appeared equally wobbly. The kid was so small for his age he looked like a baby half the time even when he wasn’t on the brink of tears. Trying to get it together for both their sakes, Neve had asked what they were supposed to call their impending stepparent. No freaking way Neve was calling her “Mom.”

Kate had seemed as weirded out by the idea of being a stepmother as Neve was at having one and quickly assured them that just Kate would be fine. Paul had beamed, apparently thrilled they were already blending as a family or whatever.

What did he know? After all, wasn’t he in jail for something stupid? She wondered if Kate would give her the details if she asked. Aunt Lily mostly just wrung her hands, called the whole thing unfortunate and tried to change the subject. Neve used to be able to talk to her aunt about stuff, but it seemed like Lily and Dad weren’t getting along so well anymore. Neve wasn’t particularly thrilled with some of his decisions, either, but things were bad enough without rocking the boat. She was old enough to know better, but sometimes she just wanted the illusion that things were still close to the way they’d been when Mom was alive.

Footsteps on the stairs and muffled voices told Neve she’d be dealing with her stepmother sooner rather than later. She cast a wary glance toward the closed window. If the situation got desperate, she always had the circus as a backup plan.



Kate sucked in a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. Did twelve-year-olds typically shut their doors? Probably. Kate respected the kid’s right to privacy, but when she’d been this age, all she’d had was a dividing curtain. If Neve kept the thing closed, how would Kate know if the girl was doing drugs or downloading school papers off the Internet or anything else it was Kate’s duty to prevent for the next five months?

On the other hand, it wasn’t as if she’d been monitoring Neve’s every move while the budding teen was in New England, either.

Knowing that PJ’s room was far enough down the hall the noise probably wouldn’t bother him, Kate knocked on the door. It opened to reveal a young woman, seemingly taller than she’d been mere weeks ago, with green eyes that were huge on her angular face and frizzy wheat-colored hair. Neve didn’t speak, giving Kate a mild state-your-business glare.

“Hey,” Kate said. “I wasn’t expecting you guys yet or I would have been home earlier.”

Neve shrugged. “How could you know Pa-pa would get sick?”

Behind Kate, Lily made a small sound, and Kate kicked herself for not telling the other woman she was sorry to hear her dad was in the hospital. Basic etiquette! Kate was known to be the best person in the office for coolly dealing with sudden crises, but anything involving the kids threw her off her game. Well, it’s your first night. You’ll get better at this in no time.

And there was no time like the present.

“Can we come in?” Kate prompted, feeling bizarrely like a vampire who couldn’t enter without a specific formal invitation.

The girl moved aside in wordless grudging concession.

“We’re not keeping you up, are we, dear?” Lily asked, hovering in the background like the world’s largest butterfly. Nature similes seemed appropriate to the earthy, doe-eyed, dark-haired woman who didn’t look much like pictures of her late sister. “You’re probably exhausted.”

Neve remained silent as she sat on the corner of her double bed, but her nostrils flared delicately. Kate bit back a grin, guessing Lily had fretted over the kids all evening.

Kate suspected Paul’s sister-in-law considered her “aloof.” Then we’re even. Kate considered Paul’s sister-in-law to be potentially smothering.

“If you are tired,” Kate said, leaning against a small desk near the doorway, “we can talk in the morning. I just wanted to say hi, see if there was anything you needed.”

“Like what?” Neve’s tone was neutral, but there was an air of challenge in the way the teenager tilted her head, as if scenting ineptitude.

“Um…towels?”

“Thanks, but PJ and I know where everything is.” Her eyes narrowed. “Unless you’ve changed something?”

“No, everything should be in the usual spot. Well. I guess I’ll let you get back to, um, whatever.” Taking a stab at congeniality, Kate smiled in Lily’s direction. “Thanks for providing supper for them and tucking them—”

“It’s not like she had to help us into our jammies,” Neve muttered. On the contrary, the young woman was wearing silky mint-green pants with navy cuffs and a matching button-down nightshirt that made her look like a junior Victoria’s Secret catalogue model, slumber-party edition.

Kate met the girl’s sarcasm with a raised eyebrow and a quelling glance. At least she hoped it was quelling. “Why don’t you tell your aunt thank you before I show her out?”

“I can show myself,” Lily said crisply. “No need for drawn-out goodbyes when I’ll probably see you all again tomorrow.”

So soon? “We’ll look forward to it.”

“Good night, Neve. You know you can call me anytime you need anything.”

Neve nodded, and Kate grimaced inwardly. Oh, sure, Lily didn’t get any flippant retorts about towels.

Lily paused at Kate’s side. “You should feel free to call me, too, you know. Whenever you need help.”

The offer might have been more appreciated if Lily hadn’t sounded so damn sure Kate would need help. Immediately and often.

Kate would show them. Single mothers juggled jobs and children all the time, and she’d conquered every goal she’d ever set for herself. Motherhood would be no different.




CHAPTER 3


Kate’s first thought was that she was being watched—the kind of focused, silent stare that might come from a dog who needed to be let out for his morning constitutional. Slowly recalling that she didn’t own a dog, she struggled to open her eyes.

Her gaze immediately collided with a small boy’s. PJ. Reality clicked into place—the kids had returned and today would be her first full day alone with them. Her heart thudded in her ears. If she were awake enough to think rationally, she would tell herself she’d known this was coming. What difference did it make that it had happened earlier than expected? But rational had apparently hit the snooze button.

“Morning, PJ.” Since she was lying on her side and he was leaning against the mattress, his face was mere inches from hers. Unaccustomed to waking under close scrutiny, at least she’d managed not to scream, curse or otherwise traumatize him.

He blinked at her, his face a miniature of his father’s except for Heather’s hazel eyes. “Do you know how to make waffles?”

“Good question.” She yawned, trying to remember if they had any waffles in the freezer.

“Your breath is stinky.”

That’s what you get for standing so close, kid. Was she supposed to reprimand him for being rude or applaud his truthfulness? “Let me brush my teeth, then we’ll talk about waffles.”

“Okay.” He waited until she stood, then fell in step with her. “Neve says you probably can’t cook.”

Kate was irritated by this assessment, but the girl wasn’t entirely wrong. “I can cook some things.” Including a shrimp pasta dish that was her single cooking-for-a-date meal and a layered dip that was her fallback dish for social events where she wanted to make a good impression by bringing something. Unfortunately that repertoire got old fast and would be of no help for breakfast. She paused in the doorway. “PJ, I have to go to the bathroom now.”

“Okay,” her new shadow responded.

“Alone, all right?”

“Sure. I’ll wait here.”

Since she’d never been one to carry on conversations from inside the stall of public restrooms, it was a little weird to have PJ calling questions through the door.

“Do you ever watch cartoons?” he asked conversationally. “That’s what I was doing, but my show went off. Neve’s taking a shower and couldn’t play with me. She said when she’s done, she’ll find me some Pop-Tarts or something, but I want waffles. And she takes too long in the bathroom. Always brushing her hair and stuff. Are you done yet?”

When she opened the door, PJ practically fell onto the tile floor. It didn’t take a child psychologist to understand why he might be a little clingy right now. Kate would be patient with his being underfoot.

As long as she could avoid tripping over him, they would be fine. “So…waffles, huh? Let’s see what I can do.”

A search of the freezer revealed that there were no instant waffles to be found. Maybe she had a recipe? It dawned on Kate that she only owned one cookbook—a novelty gift on cooking for your lover. She gestured toward the family room, visible through the wall cutout above the kitchen sink.

“Do you want to watch television? Maybe you can find more cartoons. I can call you when the waf—when breakfast is ready,” she amended, hedging her bets.

“Okay.”

“Thanks, buddy.” Appreciating his agreeable manner, she surprised herself by ruffling his hair. When he shot her a warm, approving smile, confidence filled her. She could definitely do this.

The mothering part anyway. The waffling part grew fuzzier as she pulled one foreign apparatus after another from the cabinets in search of the waffle iron. Her attempt to separate eggs was only partially successful, but how much damage could a little yolk do to the recipe? She’d begun pouring lumpy batter into the iron when her stepdaughter suddenly made her presence known.

“What is that?”

Kate jumped, glancing at the book open on the kitchen island. “A cookbook.” The waffle recipe was on the right-hand page, opposite a tasteful yet provocative breakfast-in-bed photo.

“But he’s not wearing a shirt. And…” Neve took a closer look. “You’re not supposed to let us see stuff like that.”

“Then stop looking.” Kate shut the book with a snap, then shoved it behind her back for good measure. “Speaking of clothes, what are you wearing?”

Neve glanced down, her expression genuinely quizzical. “Shirt and jeans.”

Yes, but the sparkly blue shirt had the word Juicy emblazoned across the chest. What was that supposed to mean? Then again, Kate wasn’t about to start making parental objections before their first breakfast. She knew enough from Patti to choose her battles, and that didn’t include what Neve wore around the house. “All right. I—”

“Are your waffles burning?”

“Damn. Shoot…that’s not what I meant. The first thing.”

Grinning, Neve leaned against the kitchen island as if waiting to hear other things Kate shouldn’t say in front of them.

“Why don’t you go keep an eye on your brother?”

“He’s just watching TV. I can see him from here.” Neve peered around Kate. “You have batter left. If you want, maybe I could make the waffles. I used to help my…”

Heather? Well, that would explain why Paul owned a waffle iron in the first place. “Thank you. I still need a shower. Are you responsible enough to take over kitchen duty?”

“Of course.” The nostalgic expression had been replaced by one of almost haughty adolescent confidence. “Not like I’m gonna burn down the house.”

“Great.” Because I’m not sitting through an arson trial, too.

Kate made it through the shampoo cycle before the water heater gave up the ghost. Rinsing conditioner from her hair with increasingly cold water, she decided PJ must not have been exaggerating about his sister’s bathroom schedule. Just how long had Neve been in the shower? As Kate wrapped herself in a towel, a strange buzzing drew her attention to the bathroom counter. Her phone, in vibrate mode, was pulsing across the cultured-marble surface.

Bangs dripping into her eyes, she answered. “Hello?”

“Kate—wonderful.” Delia’s voice was strained. “Please get down here and tell these kids to let me in.”

“You’re at the house?” When Kate had retired to her room last night, she’d been unable to sleep. She’d called her friend, but Delia hadn’t said anything about coming by today. “I can’t even believe you’re up this early.” Normally the other woman slept in on the weekends—called it powering up for her sixty-hour workweek.

“I’ve been awake since the crack of where-the-hell’s-the-sun. I could come in and tell you about it or I could stand on your front porch all morning using my cell phone minutes.”

Kate laughed, knowing perfectly well her friend had unlimited calling for keeping in touch with clients and property managers. “Give me just a second.” Once she’d shimmied into a pair of slacks and a cardigan, she hurried down the stairs. “Neve? PJ? Open the front door.”

“We’re not supposed to let strangers in,” Neve called from the kitchen.

PJ, engrossed in a cartoon where a sports car was talking to a bear, barely glanced in Kate’s direction.

“It’s not a stranger. She’s my friend—I’m giving you permission.” Since Kate was closer to the door than either of the kids, she opened it herself.

Delia raised her eyebrows. “New bouncers, huh? They’re effective.”

“Maybe you should have tried a cash bribe.”

“Don’t have much on me, but I did bring this.” She held up a bottle of champagne. “How do you feel about mimosas?”

Kate loved Delia but occasionally thought Patti might have a point about their friend’s fondness for alcohol. “Under the circumstances, that’s probably inappropriate.”

“Well, you know me.”

Kate swung the door wide. “You can join us for waffles.”

Or pools of batter, which were what Neve had managed to create.

“Oh, snap,” the girl was muttering in exasperation, trying to sop up the worst of the mess. She shot a sheepish glance over her shoulder. “I think I poured too much. It overflowed and steam went everywhere, so I unplugged it before I set off the smoke alarm.”

Who was Kate to criticize? She hadn’t done much better. “You go talk PJ into cereal, and I’ll clean this up.”

“I’ll try,” the young woman promised.

“Nice shirt,” Delia said as Neve left the room. “What? I liked it.”

That figured.

Delia set the bottle of champagne on the island. “You should put this away for some other occasion. I actually brought it over as a…gift. I won’t be drinking much for a while.”

“Oh?” Had she and Alexander fought about alcohol?

Her friend chose not to elaborate. “So what are you doing with them tomorrow?”

“With who?” Duh. “Good Lord. It hadn’t even crossed my mind.” What would the kids do Monday while she was at work?

She’d been alternately looking into affordable afternoon help and wondering if Neve was old enough to babysit her brother a few hours a day after school. She’d even planned to take off the week before school, to smooth the transition, but now she needed a more immediate course of action. She couldn’t take off both weeks and she was supposed to be finishing up an important project this week.

The ability to meet deadlines—even when they changed last-minute if production was moved up—was critical. The manuals that accompanied each technological product had to be carefully written and proofed. What kind of example was Kate setting for those she supervised if she couldn’t meet her schedules?

Where could she find help, someone to watch the kids tomorrow while she set something up for the rest of the week? Patti didn’t have an outside job, per se, but the woman was on so many community and charity boards she worked nearly the same number of hours as her corporate counterparts. Maybe Lily… She’d certainly made it clear she would be available to help. Kate just worried how it would look that she needed to be bailed out so soon.

Mulling over her options, she ran a washcloth across the batter-smeared countertop. She frowned at the open cookbook. Neve had obviously used Kate’s absence to sneak a peek.

A sarcastic observation forming on her tongue, she turned toward Delia but was struck anew by the shadows under her friend’s eyes. Kate had been too easily side-tracked by her own problems. It was time to find out what was wrong with Delia.

“You want to talk about it?”

“It’s nothing major.” The normally indomitable Delia fidgeted, glancing toward the other room where the kids were quietly watching television. “Actually, it is. But still not the end of the world, right?”

Somewhere beyond minor but shy of apocalyptic—that narrowed it down. “Whatever ‘it’ is has obviously been worrying you. Those bags you’ve got going on aren’t exactly Fendi.”

Delia bent her knees, peering at her blurred facial reflection in the microwave door. “Just a little exhaustion a decent eye cream should take care of. Like I said, I’ve been up for hours.”

“Did Alexander wake you leaving for the airport?”

“Nah, his flight’s not until noon. And—” Delia drew a deep breath “—I’m sort of avoiding him.”

Kate pitched her washcloth into the sink. “What’s going on, Dee?”

Delia had said on occasion that she couldn’t see herself staying permanently with one man. Could she be trying to figure out the best way to end things with Alexander? Then again, Delia wasn’t shy. If she wanted a man out, Kate imagined she would simply say so.

“Hell, Kate, I’m forty-three years old.”

So? Delia had hit her professional stride as an executive for a leasing company that oversaw commercial properties, she looked fabulous and, by all accounts, had an enviable sex life with a thirty-seven-year-old man who laughed at her jokes and danced with her at country club events. Unless…was Delia wanting to settle down, and Alexander refused to commit?

“Please don’t tell me forty-three’s a bad age,” Kate joked. “I’m coming up on it fast.”

“Forty-three is great for certain things. But pregnancy?”

“Pregnant!” Kate hadn’t meant to shout. She never raised her voice. In a near whisper she asked, “When did this happen? I mean, when did you find out?”

“About five o’clock this morning.”

Kate made her way to the two-person breakfast table in the corner and sank into one of the chairs, gesturing toward the other. “How sure are you?”

Delia sighed. “I don’t know. The box was at the back of the cabinet—a two-test pack with one left over from God only knows when I bought the thing—and I didn’t think to check for an expiration date. So maybe it was wrong?”

“Maybe? I’ve never used one.”

Delia rolled her eyes. “You’re probably one of those every-twenty-eight-days girls you could set a calendar by. You’re organized even on a biological level. I didn’t even notice when I missed the first period. I stay busy, and frankly it’s not like I’m anxious to experience the cramps and accompanying joys. But then when I realized I’d missed a second one… I got up at five this morning, needing to pee for the third time since going to bed, and knew there was no way I could fall back asleep. But honestly I was expecting a negative. I figured that it would just confirm my suspicions that after forty things get less predictable. Well, this was certainly unpredicted! I haven’t figured out how I’m going to tell Ringo, but the man’s likely to keel over in shock at the news.”

Which explained avoiding him and using the extra time of his New York trip to think it through. “You should get a second opinion,” Kate said. Surely there was room for error in an expired grocery store pregnancy test.

“Oh, trust me. I play tennis sometimes with an OB and I called her on the way here. She told me to swing by her office first thing in the morning, but she went ahead and answered a few questions.”

“About your age?”

“For starters.” Delia stood, clearly restless, and ended up by the island, pivoting the champagne bottle on its base. “Risks, side effects, the drinks I’ve had lately. Even I know pregnant women shouldn’t have alcohol, but the doc said I wouldn’t be the first woman to imbibe before she knew she was expecting. After talking to her, I’m not as worried about what’s past as what the hell happens next.”

“Wow.” It was a lot to take in. Kate could only imagine how her friend felt.

“Yeah. Pregnancy? Wow barely begins to cover it.”

“Is someone pregnant?” Neve chirped.

Both women jumped, having been so intent on the conversation that they hadn’t noticed the teenager at the carpeted edge of the kitchen. Or the woman who was arriving behind her.

“Lily!” Kate stood. “I didn’t hear the doorbell.”

“I opened the door when I saw her drive up,” Neve offered.

Maybe Lily was just here for a friendly cup of coffee, but Kate couldn’t help thinking of a woman in her office who’d adopted a baby and was periodically subjected to unannounced visits from social workers. “Well, good morning. You remember my friend Delia from the wedding and…everything?” The two women had seen each other in the courtroom, as well. “She came over to help me with breakfast for the kids.”

Lily’s laser-beam gaze shot from the bottle of champagne in Delia’s hands to the cookbook open to a bare-chested hunk, then back to Kate. “Uh-huh. Well, is there anything I can do to add my assistance? PJ says he’s really hungry.”

“Starving,” the little boy moaned from the next room with drama Kate wouldn’t have thought the easygoing child capable of an hour ago.

“I, um, was just about to pour cereal.” At least she’d cleaned up the mess caused by their waffle attempts. “You can grab some bowls, if you’d like. Or check the fridge for fresh fruit.”

Delia volunteered to do the latter, burying her head in the refrigerator.

Lounging in the doorway, Neve watched the women retrieving milk and silverware. “So is someone having a baby?”

Lily actually dropped the bowl in her hands, her gaze flying toward Kate.

She thinks I might be pregnant, Kate realized. It was almost funny. But not.

The possibility was less laughable with Delia sitting there facing that very real prospect. Besides, Kate couldn’t scoff at the thought of herself being a mother. Even if she never gave birth, Neve and PJ were here now, her responsibility. Not just for the five months, either.

Though she imagined the situation would become easier once Paul was home, her life had been changed for years to come. Unlike her husband’s temporary confinement in West Virginia, motherhood was a life sentence.



If there was one thing Neve hated, it was the way grown-ups were allowed to change the topic when they didn’t want to answer a question. Kate had conveniently declared breakfast ready without ever addressing the baby issue again. Like that would work if a kid tried it, Neve thought as she chased soggy cornflakes around the bowl with her spoon. She could just imagine her father demanding, Would you like to explain the grade you got on this pop quiz? and her trying to respond with, Hey, Dad, did you know I could roll my tongue into this funny U shape? It would never fly.

Then again, since when had her father taken a pressing interest in her day-to-day schoolwork? As long as her final grade on the report card was okay, he gave her plenty of space. States and states of it. One of Neve’s science teachers had said that the ability to curl your tongue was genetic. Since Neve could, either her father or her mother should be able to, as well. Wonder which one.

She should ask her dad next time she saw him. At least then she’d have an opening line for her first visit to the jail. Her throat clogged as she tried to remember if she’d ever seen her mother do it. Mom made funny faces when no one was looking, just to make Neve and PJ laugh. And she always made macadamia brownies on days that sucked.

Lately it felt like most days sucked.

“Can I be ’scused?” PJ asked. He sat at the small table with Neve, while the three women in the room ate standing around the kitchen island. The cornflakes hadn’t merited a sit-down meal in the carpeted dining room.

“It’s excused,” Neve corrected. “You’re too old to talk like a baby.”

“Neve.” Aunt Lily’s tone was sharp. “Yes, PJ, you may be excused. Put your dishes in the sink first, okay?”

“Excellent idea, Aunt Lily,” PJ said, crossing his eyes in Neve’s direction. “After I rinse my bowl out, can I play the Xbox?”

Brat. “You’ll need help hooking it up,” Neve reminded him. Their father put it away in the closet when they weren’t home. She wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much. After all, she could hardly envision Dad and Kate sitting down to a challenge match of Crazy Taxi, but still… She didn’t like to think of her things stuffed onto crowded shelves and forgotten while her father and Kate did whatever it was boring, married adults did.

Mom was never boring.

She glanced up to find Kate looking at her. “What?” It came out disrespectful, and she was surprised Aunt Lily didn’t reprimand her again.

“Are you all finished?” her stepmother asked.

“Yeah, I guess I wasn’t very hungry.” Now that breakfast was over, would the women carry on the conversation they’d abruptly ended? “But I could stay and load the dishwasher for you if you want.”

Kate raised an eyebrow, looking suspicious of the offer. Just because she couldn’t make waffles didn’t mean she was stupid. “That’s all right. Why don’t you and PJ go play? Maybe you could help him get his video games set up.”

“Sure.” Go play? I’m not six. She was beyond the stage where she dressed Barbies in her room while the grownups had their Very Important Talks.

As soon as PJ had all the cords plugged into the right outlets, Neve grabbed the Harry Potter book she’d been reading and sat in the silvery-gray armchair closest to the kitchen. The chair wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the couch or the recliner closer to the television set, but she wouldn’t be able to hear anything from either of those seats.

Right now it sounded as if Kate’s friend Delia was saying goodbye. Neve made a point of concentrating hard on her book when the tall blond woman walked through the living room to the front door.

“Well, I didn’t mean to make her uncomfortable,” Aunt Lily said. “How was I supposed to know she was pregnant?”

“I don’t think she’s ready for people to know—that’s the point.” Kate’s tone was civil, but even a kid could hear the tension between the two women.

“Then, if I can give you a little advice, don’t bring controversial subjects up with kids in the next room. They hear more than you think.” As if realizing the truth in her own words, Lily suddenly lowered her voice.

The rest of the murmured conversation was a lost cause, so Neve gave up and tried to pay attention to what was going on at Hogwarts instead. But not even Hermione, her favorite character, could distract her. Controversial? That meant, like, scandalous. Was Delia’s having a baby a scandal because she was so old…or because she didn’t want to have one?

Adults should be more careful, in Neve’s opinion. They should be responsible so that there didn’t end up being kids all over the world who felt unloved. If I ever have children, I’ll love them all the time. Even when they were annoying, like PJ. And she would sure as hell never kick them out of their own home because she didn’t have time for them.




CHAPTER 4


Although she’d offered her help—numerous times— Lily had to admit she was a little surprised her sister-in-law was taking her up on it. Especially so soon.

“I understand if you can’t do it.” Kate was already backtracking, jamming spoons into the basket portion of the dishwasher.

“No, no. We’ll work something out. Brittney has drill team rehearsal at the high school and Davis has football—all the sports programs start meeting before school starts—but maybe Bob can drop off one or both of them. I’ll swing by here with the two youngest to pick up Neve and PJ, and we’ll have time to make it back to the schools before practices finish.”

Kate blinked. “I’m lucky you drive something big enough to haul around all these kids.”

“You and Paul might want to think about getting a vehicle besides those tiny cars you drive. Even without four kids, Neve will have girlfriends she’ll want to take to the mall, PJ will have teammates. You may want to carpool with some of the other moms, but you’ll need more room.”

“I’ll, um, think about it.”

Yeah, you do that. Kate rarely objected to any suggestions outright, but she didn’t exactly give off a flexible vibe. As far as Lily was concerned, flexibility and a sense of humor were two of the main weapons in a mother’s arsenal. Lily could understand not wanting to trade the sleek model Kate drove for a minivan, but the car, in Lily’s opinion, functioned as much as a status symbol as a mode of transportation. She wouldn’t call Kate a snob, exactly—well, maybe she would.

Stop it. So she has more money than you do. It was your choice to have a big family and no outside job. Four kids required strict budgeting. But it was more than Kate being affluent or wearing nice clothes.

It was the way she never got caught in the same outfit twice or the way she dressed up even for Sunday cereal with the kids—what, she didn’t own a pair of jeans? True, Kate was a natural beauty, but she also seemed to put a lot of effort into appearance. Her makeup, her well-tailored, wrinkle-free slacks, the manicured lawn she paid someone to keep perfect, the curtains that were carefully color-coordinated to the throw pillows.

Lily didn’t know who, if anyone, the woman was trying to impress, but one thing Kate would learn soon enough: kids had a way of making life a little messier. Lily hoped for all their sakes that her sister-in-law was more adaptable than she seemed.



Not even noon yet, and Kate was ready to call it a day. All-nighters in graduate school had been less draining than this first morning with the kids. In their defense, however, they hadn’t put her through the ringer as much as Delia’s unexpected announcement and Lily’s unexpected arrival. Considering the favor their aunt had agreed to do tomorrow, Kate tried not to seem happy to see the woman leave. Good thing I have minor acting experience.

“Well, looks like it’s just the three of us,” she announced, dropping onto the sofa after Lily’s departure.

Neve glanced up from a thick novel just long enough to spare a dubious look. Clearly she didn’t think “the three of us” had the same companionable feel as, say, musketeers or even amigos.

Good thing Kate wasn’t a quitter. “Since your aunt is going to watch you while I’m at work tomorrow, we should do something together today. Any suggestions?”

If Neve didn’t exactly brighten, at least she let her book fall closed. “Shop for school clothes?”

Without pausing in his complicated joystick maneuvers, PJ shook his head. “Shopping is boring!”

Actually, Kate enjoyed shopping. Or did when she had spare cash with which to make purchases. “A fun outfit for the first day may be in order, but you won’t need much to supplement your wardrobes, right?”

“Wardrobes?” Neve’s eye roll was perfectly timed with her sigh of disgust. “You do know we wore uniforms at Newsome? I barely have enough regular clothes to get me through a week.”

Even though Kate knew this was an exaggeration, she had forgotten their previous school clothes were provided by the Academy. As fast as she’d noticed kids grew, they probably did need substantial wardrobe supplies, especially for when the weather turned cool in another month or so.

“Too bad Aunt Lily left,” Neve said wistfully. “She’d know from Brittney where the cool places to buy clothes are.”

“Hey, I know plenty about clothes,” Kate said. Not even the disdainful teen could argue Kate was a bad dresser.

When it came to shopping, though, Lily obviously wanted the crown for expert bargain hunter. It drove Kate a little nuts the way Paul’s sister-in-law wore her thrift like a badge.

Oh, do you like Brittney’s dress? She found one in a magazine and we improvised a pattern. Who can afford the price of a formal dress she’ll wear to one homecoming dance and then relegate to the back of her closet?

Yeah, we’d talked about going a different color with the furniture in the den, but once I saw the love seats were fifty percent off, who could resist? I figure Bob can grow to love fuchsia.

Any woman was entitled to a great buy every once in a while, but Lily made Kate uncomfortable, remarking on a cute purse and asking if it was new, just a hint of disapproval in her tone or commenting wistfully on Kate and Paul’s honeymoon, mentioning that it had been years since she and Bob had been able to splurge on a luxurious vacation. “Got those four college tuitions we plan on paying,” she’d sometimes joke.

Even though the comments never seemed to bother Paul, Kate found them to be a little too reminiscent of her mother. Lorna Brewster had always had a “woe is me” air about her, a way of working comments into the conversation so that those who were better off felt obligated to either help her or feel guilty about their own successes. One of the many reasons Kate had informed Lorna that she didn’t have to spend her money to travel to the wedding. All we need are your best wishes, Mom.

With both of Paul’s parents deceased and Kate estranged from her one known relative, it had been natural to have a small, private wedding. The fact was, if Lorna got a look at how well-to-do Paul was, requests for family loans were sure to follow, even if they were cleverly disguised passive-aggressive requests.

But Lily hadn’t asked for money as far as Kate knew, and it was beside the point now since they had none to lend. Kate didn’t think she needed to start clipping coupons—yet—but once Paul came home, who knew how long it would take him to find a good replacement job and what sort of salary he’d be offered. She doubted another CEO position would fall into his lap, especially with his now murky record.

“Could we go to the pool?” PJ asked cheerfully. “It’s better than Florida. No jellyfish.”

Apparently Neve had been stung one year at the beach and PJ had spent the past couple of summers afraid to go back in the water. To PJ, jellyfish were the new Jaws.

The posh neighborhood included membership to a large pool and private clubhouse. They could spend the afternoon there without spending a dime, not counting the semiridiculous check she and Paul had written to the mandatory homeowners’ association in January.

“Now that sounds like a good idea,” Kate agreed. “What about you, Neve? Want to take advantage of the last couple of weeks of summer? It will be fall before you know it.”

“I like fall,” the girl said. “Everything’s dead then.”

Chipper sentiment.

Just as Kate began to worry that Neve was headed for teenage years filled with Goth clothing and suicidal poetry, Neve added, “It’s easier on my allergies. Summer’s not so bad, but spring is miserable.”

“Ah.” Come to think of it, Kate should probably make it a point to learn more about both children. As far as she knew, no one would go into anaphylactic shock at the sight of peanuts or shrimp, but there were dozens of potential missteps she would rather avoid. Especially those that might lead to emergency room visits. She had one dizzying moment where she realized how much she didn’t know. Hell, Patti had left more explicit instructions when Kate house-sat for her once than Paul had for turning over his children.

But that’s just because he trusts you and knows you can do this. Whereas Lily’s little pop-ins, unsolicited advice and frequent offers to assist seemed to stem from a suspicion that Kate wasn’t cut out to be a mom. Well, by the end of the month Lily would just have to admit she was wrong.

“I guess going to the pool would be okay,” Neve allowed, sounding a lot like royalty who’d just deigned to spend the afternoon with commoners.

“So why don’t we all change into our bathing suits and meet downstairs when we’re ready?” Kate had been working too many hours to loll around poolside this summer, but she assumed the suit she’d taken on her honeymoon still fit.

In the privacy of the master bathroom she tugged the supportive top into place and checked her butt in the mirror. Assured that the navy-blue one-piece with dark green detailing wouldn’t send anyone running from the pool area, she tossed some sunscreen and a paperback novel into a shoulder bag, along with several oversize towels. Once she got downstairs, it struck her as comically ironic that she’d worried about her suit being indecent.

While PJ looked the way an eight-year-old boy should—scruffy but adorable in baggy SpongeBob trunks and an orange tank top with a frayed hem—his older sister looked as if she might be auditioning for the lead in Lolita.

“Where did you get that bikini?” Kate hadn’t meant to sound shrill, but her stepdaughter didn’t seem to notice the tone.

Neve stretched, showing off the suit. Not that there was enough material to make it a legitimate article of clothing. “I spent Spring Break with my friend Krista, remember? She and I got matching bikinis, only hers is green.”

Kate had assumed Neve was developing curves, as young women normally do, but she’d never seen them showcased in scraps of hot-pink, with white plastic rings holding together the bra cups and connecting the front and back fabric on the bottom. Lord, seeing his granddaughter in this getup was probably what landed Lily’s father in the hospital.

Kate took a deep breath. “I’m all for fashion, Neve, honestly. But until your dad gets back, I’m trying to do the best job I can to…to fill in for him. Do you think he’d want you to go to the pool dressed—” undressed “—like that?”

The adolescent shrugged, the casual gesture at odds with the intense expression in her eyes just before she ducked her head. “I don’t think he’d care. He’s never commented on my clothes. Or much else about me.”

Oh, Paul. Kate had heard both his arguments for boarding school and Lily’s criticisms against it and had sided with him. After all, Newsome was touted to be one of the best educational facilities in the country, with devoted staff and excellent programs. But she had a feeling that his daughter at least was less than thrilled about being shipped off while he carried on with his post-Heather life.

For the first time, she was concerned about how the kids would react when they were told their father didn’t want them to visit. He planned on telling them himself on the phone—an announcement she wasn’t in a hurry to preempt—but it would be some time before he was allowed a call.

“I don’t suppose you have another suit?” Kate asked.

“No.” Neve jutted her chin out, and Kate recognized the gesture for the stubborn challenge it was.

“All right.” What the hell. In two weeks summer would end and the bathing suit would be a moot point. It didn’t make financial sense to buy a new one the girl would outgrow by next year’s beach season. “Should we walk to the pool or drive?”

“Seems silly to use the gas for such a short distance. There’s an energy crisis, you know.” Even now that the bikini objection had been withdrawn, Neve’s tone made it clear she hadn’t forgotten the censure and wouldn’t be forgiving anytime soon.

“Walking it is, then.” Kate glanced at PJ. “That okay with you, buddy?”

He nodded, volunteering no opinion on his sister’s wardrobe or North American fuel limitations.

When they arrived at the pool, Kate had to admit Neve’s suit no longer seemed out of the bounds of decency. At least not in comparison to the others on display. The Hansons’ summer au pair was sunbathing in an ice blue string bikini while the two Hanson boys, older than PJ and younger than Neve, tried to drown each other in the deep end. In another lounge chair a teen had removed her top and appeared to be sleeping on her stomach, wearing bikini bottoms that bordered on being a thong. Kate had the urge to cover PJ’s eyes.

The boy, however, wasn’t old enough to care about scantily clad young women. “Do you have any coins, Kate?”

“He likes to practice swimming at the bottom to pick them up.” Neve pulled a book out of her shoulder bag and took up residence under the shade of a table umbrella.

With Neve off in her own fictional world and PJ diving for dimes, Kate half wished she’d brought her laptop. She had some writing she could be doing, but working seemed to defeat the “quality time” spirit of the outing. Besides, the computer screen was damn hard to read in direct sunlight. But maybe tonight she’d put together some kind of schedule, times when she could be with the kids but also stay ahead on her office work. With a little multitasking, there was no reason her office performance had to change at all with her newest circumstances.

“Kate! Why, Kate St. James, is that you?”

Oh, hell. Lowering her sunglasses slightly, Kate noticed a trio of women entering the gated poolside area. Leading the pack was Celeste Parker, treasurer of the neighborhood association.

Kate managed a smile. “Yep, it’s me all right. In the flesh.” Although not quite so much of it as Celeste.

While the redhead wore a modest sarong-style skirt over the bottom half of her one-piece, she was spilling out of the low-cut top. No doubt to best showcase the breasts her husband had purchased for her fortieth birthday.

“We’ve barely seen you at all since…well, you know. It’s just so brave of you to be out and about.” Celeste glanced from Neve, at her table a few feet away, toward the pool. “Poor dears. I hate to think how many milestones their father is missing.”

Though the comment was directed at Kate, it was easily overheard by those nearby. Neve shut her book with an audible thump and glared in Celeste’s direction.

Kate felt like glaring herself but wouldn’t give Celeste the satisfaction. “Well, it’s been nice catching up with you ladies….” Now go away.

Celeste smiled. “We should do this more often. Of course, you’ve always had such a hectic schedule. And now that your circumstances have changed, we know how busy you must be.”

When Kate had moved into the neighborhood, she’d quickly realized that she was in the minority of full-time working women. Some of the wives, Celeste included, were home most days and had formed tight cliques. Though they smiled at Kate and chatted with her at cocktail parties, she’d never truly felt as if she belonged. Now the feeling multiplied tenfold.

She shouldn’t care; she didn’t even like Celeste Parker. But she’d endured smugness in her youth, from the kids who could afford better clothes and, as she got older, from the boys in her class who’d heard rumors about how “easy” her mother was. It had been freely speculated at her high school that Kate had landed some of her local modeling jobs by bestowing sexual favors on casting directors.

She’d deflected snide remarks and knowing glances her whole life, but she was successful now. She’d worked hard, married well. Dammit, she should be at home catching up on work or watching an old movie with Paul, not baking beside an overchlorinated pool with no idea what to say to her stepchildren and letting Celeste frigging Parker make her feel as though she were in sixth grade again.

As Celeste offered a saccharine “toodles” more appropriate to a nineteen-year-old sorority pledge than a noted attorney’s wife, Kate turned her attention to PJ.

The boy frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Just fine, buddy.”

No sense ruining his outing by explaining that sometimes people stung more viciously and deliberately than jellyfish.




CHAPTER 5






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