Книга - Cover-Up

Cover-Up
Ruth Langan


Devil's Cove, Michigan, hadn't been Jason Cooper's home for over ten years. Now the town's former troublemaker turned successful novelist had returned. He never expected to rekindle the flame of his first love…or put her in danger….Emily Brennan was powerless to resist her desire for Jason. Then someone began threatening her. Is it only coincidence that the mysterious stalker resembles the criminal in Jason's latest bestseller? Can Jason protect Emily from harm? Or does he have secrets of his own to hide?









“Why would someone go to the trouble of breaking in, then leave without taking anything?”


Jason shook his head. “I don’t know. Are you absolutely certain you locked that door?”

Emily shrugged. “I thought so. Now I’m not so sure.”

Seeing the way she held herself, arms wrapped across her chest, he locked the door to her office and crossed to her side.

“What are you doing?”

Without a word, he gathered her close, pressing his mouth to a tangle of hair at her temple. Then he scooped her up and started into one of the examining rooms. He kicked the door shut and lowered his mouth to hers.

He murmured against her lips, “I’ve always found the best way to ponder a mystery is by doing something to divert attention.”

“I see. Is that all I am? A diversion?”

He kissed her long and slow and deep, until heat rose up between them. “The best.”


Dear Reader,

Welcome to another month of excitement and romance. Start your reading by letting Ruth Langan be your guide to DEVIL’S COVE in Cover-Up, the first title in her new miniseries set in a small town where secrets, scandal and seduction go hand in hand. The next three books will be coming out back to back, so be sure to catch every one of them.

Virginia Kantra tells a tale of Guilty Secrets as opposites Joe Reilly, a cynical reporter, and Nell Dolan, a softhearted do-gooder, can’t help but attract each other—with wonderfully romantic results. Jenna Mills will send Shock Waves through you as psychic Brenna Scott tries to convince federal prosecutor Ethan Carrington that he’s in danger. If she can’t get him to listen to her, his life—and her heart—will be lost.

Finish the month with a trip to the lands down under, Australia and New Zealand, as three of your favorite writers mix romance and suspense in equal—and irresistible—portions. Melissa James features another of her tough (and wonderful!) Nighthawk heroes in Dangerous Illusion, while Frances Housden’s heroine has to face down the Shadows of the Past in order to find her happily-ever-after. Finally, get set for high-seas adventure as Sienna Rivers meets Her Passionate Protector in Laurey Bright’s latest.

Don’t miss a single one—and be sure to come back next month for more of the best and most exciting romantic reading around, right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments.

Yours,






Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Editor




Cover-Up

Ruth Langan







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




RUTH LANGAN


is an award-winning and bestselling author. Her books have been finalists for the Romance Writers of America’s (RWA) RITA


Award. Over the years, she has given dozens of print, radio and TV interviews, including Good Morning America and CNN News, and has been quoted in such diverse publications as The Wall Street Journal, Cosmopolitan and The Detroit Free Press. Married to her childhood sweetheart, she has raised five children and lives in Michigan, the state where she was born and raised. Ruth enjoys hearing from her readers. Letters can be sent via e-mail to ryanlangan@aol.com or via her Web site at www.ryanlangan.com.


For my sisters,

Pat Brodzik and Margaret Griffith, with love.

And, of course, for Tom. Always.




Acknowledgments


I wish to thank Dr. Scott Lewis and Melissa Lee of Premier Internists for their valuable assistance.




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

Epilogue




Prologue


Devil’s Cove, Michigan—1981

The boy plunged blindly through the woods, unmindful of the blackberry brambles that snagged his bloody T-shirt and ragged jeans. He barely noticed that it was raining, as the moss of the forest sucked at the soles of his sneakers, slowing his progress. He was desperate to reach his secret place. He’d come upon it by accident one day, when he’d been fleeing his father’s drunken fury. A tiny cave, formed between two giant boulders. Just big enough for a small boy to hide and lick his wounds, safe from a world of violence.

There had been plenty of violence in Jason Cooper’s young life. Whenever his father got liquored up, he came home itching for a fight. In the past he’d taken out his temper on his timid, frightened wife. But lately eight-year-old Jason had decided to become his mother’s champion. Now his father got his kicks knocking his son around until he tired of the sport and passed out on the floor.

Jason’s breath was coming in short bursts as he stumbled into his sanctuary and dropped to his knees.

At the realization that he wasn’t alone his head came up sharply. “Who’re you?”

The girl sat hunched against the far corner of the cave. Her white shorts and camp shirt were streaked with mud. Her knees, he noticed, were bloody. In her arms was a sleeping puppy.

“Emily. Emily Brennan. What’s your name?”

“Jason Cooper.” He glowered at her, annoyed at this intrusion. After all, this was his spot. His. He resented having to share it with anyone. “A tourist?”

The little town of Devil’s Cove was littered with them during the summer. Visitors who flocked to the pretty beaches along the edge of Lake Michigan, ate in the fancy restaurants, shopped in the pricey gift shops. They clogged the highways and put money into the hands of local merchants. And, he thought bitterly, bought his father whiskey.

She shook her head, sending a honey-colored ponytail swinging. “I live in town.”

“You’re lost then?”

Again that shake of the head. “I just wanted to get out of the rain.”

“What’re you doing here in the woods?”

“I was trying to catch Buster.” She looked adoringly at the puppy in her arms. “Mr. Mulvahill called him the runt of the litter and said he was going to drown him. But Buster ran off before anyone could catch him. So I came after him.”

“That’s pretty dumb. Why didn’t you let him run away?”

“Dogs can’t survive in the forest.”

“They can’t survive drowning either. You bring him back, he’s just going to be killed.”

She shivered and tightened her grasp on the bundle of fur. “I’m taking him home as soon as the rain stops. My family will let me keep him.”

“Want to bet? Parents don’t like strays. They’ll probably just take him back to the Mulvahills.”

“No, they won’t.” She gave a vigorous shake of her head. “Not when I tell them what Mr. Mulvahill plans to do. They’ve already let me keep two cats and a bunny. They won’t say no to a little puppy.”

The small, caramel-colored pup woke up and yawned, then licked her face. With a smile she brushed a hand over its head, then looked at the boy. “Want to pet him?”

He scuttled closer and touched a hand to the downy softness. And felt the first ragged edge of anger begin to slip away. “He’s ugly.”

“No, he isn’t. He’s just dirty. I’ll clean him and he’ll look just fine. You’ll see.” After a few minutes Emily reached into the pocket of her shorts and unwrapped a package of cheese crackers. “Want some?”

He helped himself to a couple and the two of them chewed in contented silence.

She glanced at the blood staining his shirt. “You’re all wet. And you’ve cut yourself.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Up close he found himself looking into wide honey eyes. Trusting eyes, he thought. As trusting as the puppy’s. “What’d you do to your knees?”

She glanced down and shrugged. “Fell over a log.”

“Won’t your folks be mad about all that mud?”

“Uh-uh.” Again that toss of the head, sending her ponytail swinging. “Poppie says I’m always coming home looking like I fought with a bear.”

“Who’s Poppie?”

“My grandfather. But Bert says whoever I fight with, I’ll always win.”

“Who’s Bert?”

“My grandma.”

“You call your grandmother Bert?”

“Everybody does. We live with my grandparents.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. We just always have.” She offered him more crackers, and when he refused, she placed three in his hand before popping the last three into her mouth.

Maybe it was her sense of fairness. Or maybe it was simply the calm way in which she accepted him. Whatever the reason, Jason felt more anger begin to dissipate in her company. “We moved here a month ago.”

“I’m glad.” She gave him a wide smile that put sunshine to shame. “We can be friends.”

Before he could answer she glanced at the entrance of the cave. “Rain’s stopped.” She got to her feet. “I’d better get Buster home. Want to come?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse. But he found he didn’t want to be alone just yet. Odd, since he’d always preferred his own company to that of others. “Sure. How far’s home?”

“Not far.” She led the way outside and held the pup close to her chest as she tramped through the woods.

When they reached the edge of town, Jason expected Emily to lead him toward the converted cottages and trailer parks that dotted the working-class section of town. Instead she turned to the mansions that sat in a row along the water’s edge.

She started up the driveway of a sprawling white house with a sign that read The Willows.

Jason held back. “You live here?”

She nodded. “Come on.”

Though he had his doubts that he’d be welcome, he couldn’t resist the urge to see how such people lived.

“Hi, Em. What have you got there?” A red-haired, freckled imp looked up from a glass-topped patio table where she sat drawing.

“A puppy. This is Jason. That’s my sister, Sidney.”

“Hi, Jason.” The imp grinned and returned her attention to her watercolors.

“Sidney.” He was still staring at her and nearly tripped over another imp, this one carrying a hose and with wet blond bangs dripping into her eyes.

“Out of my way,” she shouted. “Poppie needs my help in the garden.”

As she raced past them Emily called, “Hannah, say hi to Jason.”

“Hi.” A chubby fist was raised before she disappeared around the corner of the house.

“You got any more sisters?”

“Just Courtney. She’s probably down at the water’s edge. That’s all of us. And my mom and dad and Bert and Poppie.”

His stomach clenched at the thought of so many people. But to his amazement, he was accepted without question when he walked inside. After quick introductions to her grandmother and the housekeeper, he and Emily were sent off to locate a box and blanket for the puppy.

Minutes later, while they chose a cozy spot in the kitchen for Buster, Emily’s grandmother asked the housekeeper, Trudy, to make them lemonade.

After polishing off two tall glasses, Bert gestured toward the laundry room. “Time to wash off that mud, you two.”

She stood watching as they scrubbed, then handed them fluffy yellow towels. When she spotted the blood on Jason’s shirt, the old woman held out a hand. “Give me that and I’ll have Trudy wash it before you go home.”

He gave a quick shake of his head. “No need. My ma’ll see to it.”

“You may need a little disinfectant. That’s a lot of blood.”

The lie came easily. “I fell off my bike.”

“All the more reason to take a look at that cut.” Before he could argue the housekeeper was there beside them, tugging off his shirt.

“Mother of God…”

He was too young to know about the scars that crisscrossed his back. But he was aware of the sudden silence and glanced up in time to see the look Trudy exchanged with Emily’s grandmother before applying ointment ever so gently.

Bert insisted on feeding him. An egg salad sandwich. A frosty glass of milk. A banana. And when he was leaving, she asked the housekeeper to send along a handful of chocolate chip cookies for his walk home.

For an eight-year-old boy who had never known tenderness, this day had been like a soothing balm. One he would never forget. And though he was intrigued by the kindness of the old woman in the wonderful white mansion, it was her granddaughter with the bloody knees, the smile of an angel and a fondness for strays who had completely captured his heart.




Chapter 1


The fog rolled in, blanketing the entire shore, forcing the boats that were caught in it to use their sonar devices to avoid the treacherous rocks that lay in wait for them. That deadly combination of fog and rocks had been the reason seventeenth-century sailors had given this area the name Devil’s Cove. The skeletons of shipwrecks that lay on the lake’s floor were a reminder of deadlier times, and had become a haven for divers searching for treasures. The town had seen its share of pirates, paupers, playboys and charlatans. And though Devil’s Cove was now a prosperous resort town, with restored mansions and upscale shopping and dining, there remained about it an aura of mystery and intrigue.

As morning sunlight burned off the last wisps of fog, the town seemed to spring to life, ready for another day of surprises for those who called it home.



Jason Cooper turned the rental car off the highway at the top of the hill and switched off the ignition before stepping out. Below him, the houses, streets and parks of Devil’s Cove were clearly visible. There was Devil’s Cove High School sporting a new track and football field. The Methodist church on the corner of Park and Main looked as regal as ever. A memorial for sailors lost in the Great Lakes sat in the park in the center of town. The grass was neatly trimmed and decorated with American flags and red, white and blue flowers in pretty pots.

He breathed in the familiar scents of water and earth and forest and realized his heart was pounding. Home. And yet not home. This hadn’t been home for him in more than ten years. When he’d lived here, all he’d thought about was running away. It didn’t matter where he went, as long as he got as far away from Devil’s Cove as possible. And yet here he was, back where it had all started.

Though much of it looked the same, it was plain that there had been tremendous growth in this area since he’d been gone. The steady hum of construction equipment could be heard in the distance, and he could see that much of the pristine forest had been carved into roads leading to housing developments.

He’d often wondered how long it would take for people to discover the beauty of this northern Michigan playground. The lure of clear lakes and pine forests made the land far too valuable to remain farmland forever.

He climbed back into the car and headed toward town. Up ahead he saw the Harbor House. As he drove along the curving ribbon of driveway and waited for someone to take his bags, he steeled himself against the wave of feelings that nearly overwhelmed him.

He was here, he reminded himself, because he chose to be. If he changed his mind tomorrow and decided to get the hell out, there was nobody who could stop him.

As the valet took his car keys he strode inside the Harbor House and registered for his room. Without bothering to unpack, he made his way to the dining room. What he needed was good food and hot coffee. Then he’d see the town at his leisure.



“Well, well.” Hannah Brennan, in ragged jeans and T-shirt, looked up from the salad she was tossing to grin at her sister, Emily. “I see you always manage to get rid of your patients just in time for lunch, Doctor. Do you just leave them waiting in the sick room?”

“Too easy. I drug them and leave them locked in the examining room. They’ll never even miss me.” Emily plucked a tomato wedge from the bowl and popped it in her mouth. “I see by the conditions of those jeans that you’ve been digging in the dirt again, baby sis.”

“Comes with the territory. I’m finishing up Dr. Applegate’s flower beds. Lucky for you, I scrubbed my fingernails before tackling this salad.”

“Thank heaven for small favors.”

“You’re welcome. I know what a fanatic you doctors can be about clean hands.”

Emily paused a moment to study the scene of controlled chaos on the patio. Her grandfather muttering as he wrestled with a foot-long salmon he was about to grill. Her grandmother untangling the fasteners on the patio umbrella. Her mother parceling out chores like a general, while her sisters made themselves useful. And underfoot an array of pets left over from Emily’s childhood passion for strays. An ancient gray-and-white tabby with a missing ear dozing in a pool of sunlight. A brown mutt with oversize paws that Emily had rescued from a Dumpster during her internship at University Hospital. A pair of white rabbits that had been found on the Brennan porch a few weeks after Easter, presumably left there by parents who had made a hasty purchase and knew which bleeding hearts would be willing to give them shelter.

It was a scene Emily had been enjoying since she was born. The Brennan family had lived in this big house for three generations. Their home, The Willows, was part of a wonderful collection of turn-of-the-century mansions that sat along the shore of Lake Michigan, hugging the water’s edge like faded dowagers.

Emily’s grandparents had bought the house more than fifty years ago, and had immersed themselves in the life of the community. Her grandfather, Frank Brennan, was a retired judge and gentleman farmer, though his gardens now contained flowers instead of vegetables. He spent every spare moment working on his inventions, though no one could recall one that served any particular purpose other than to amuse him.

His wife, Alberta, an English teacher whom the family affectionately called Bert, had been a fixture at the local high school for four decades. Her announcement that she was retiring had left the community, and her family, stunned.

Bert was a sea of calm in this stormy, volatile family of achievers. Emily glanced at her with affection. If the world were coming to an end, her grandmother would find something soothing to say about it.

When her son Christopher had returned from a medical internship in Chicago with his bride Charlotte, called Charley by all who knew her, a wing had been added to The Willows for the newlyweds. Chris and his beautiful Charley had quickly been absorbed into the house, and into the community as well. Chris established himself as town doctor, and had built a clinic in the rear of the house. Charley raised their four daughters while starting her own real estate firm, which now routinely handled the sale of million-dollar houses being built on the few remaining parcels of waterfront land.

“I’m glad you could get away to join us for lunch, Em.” Charley was wrapping vegetables in foil, crimping the edges to hold the moisture before placing them on the grill.

“I wouldn’t miss it. Especially today.” Emily crossed the brick-paved patio furnished with a mix of contemporary wrought-iron furniture and comfortable heirloom wicker pieces that her sister Courtney had found for her grandparents on her last buying trip to Europe. Courtney owned a gift shop in town, and lived in the tiny apartment above it. Her impeccable taste was reflected in the pots of geraniums and ivy offering bright islands of color on the terraced lawn that sloped to the water’s edge.

Emily smiled at the sight of her sister Sidney arranging pale-pink roses and baby’s breath in a vase. To an artist like Sid, the color, the symmetry, the beauty of the presentation, were as essential as the food they would eat. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise Emily to learn that her sister simply forgot to eat for days at a time. How else did she explain that tiny figure?

“It’s a grand day, isn’t it?” Bert continued setting the table with colorful napkins and pretty crystal plates.

All that was missing to complete this cozy picture, Emily thought with a quick flash of pain, was her father. When she’d left Devil’s Cove to pursue a medical career at University Hospital, he’d been so proud that one of his children was following in his footsteps. It had never occurred to her that he wouldn’t be around for years to offer sage advice.

Emily had thought her days in her grandparents’ house, like those of her three sisters, would consist mainly of occasional visits. Yet here she was keeping a deathbed promise to her father to carry on his practice until a replacement could be found, and living once again in her childhood home.

It hadn’t been easy giving up her hard-won independence. Still, her family seemed to understand, and worked hard at giving her the space she needed to make the adjustment.

Her grandfather looked up from the grill. “Emily, we could use those fine surgeon’s hands to fillet this salmon.”

That brought a round of laughter from the others.

Though Frank Brennan had traded in his judicial robes for a golf shirt and casual slacks more than a dozen years ago, he still had a commanding courtroom presence, which he used to his advantage whenever it suited him.

Emily joined in the laughter. “I always knew my medical training would come in handy for something, Poppie.” Her childhood nickname for him rolled easily off her tongue.

“That’s my girl.” He brushed a kiss over Emily’s cheek as she picked up a knife and neatly sliced through the fish.

He arranged the fillets on the grill and was rewarded by the hiss and snap of the fire as they began to cook.

“Trudy,” he bellowed, and turned to find their housekeeper standing right behind him. “Why do you always sneak up on me like that?”

“I don’t sneak.” Trudy Carpenter was as wide as she was tall, with big capable hands and a voice, after a lifetime of smoking three packs a day, that sounded like a rusty hinge. Her face was deeply lined, her hair the color and texture of cotton balls.

His tone was accusing. “You blindsided me.”

“Easy enough to do, since you never look before hollering.” The old woman sniffed and held out a tray of glasses. “Judge, Miss Bert says you’re to drink a tall glass of water before lunch.”

“Let Bert drink the water.” He picked up a tumbler of his favorite Scotch and winked at his granddaughter before lifting it to his lips.

“Beats me why you always try to fight it.” Emily gave him a quick nudge with her elbow. This was an argument these old people had been waging for a lifetime. One they seemed to thoroughly enjoy. “You’ll just have to drink the water later.”

“Later is better than now.” He grinned. “I’ll have food in my stomach later.”

Overhearing him, Hannah gave a throaty laugh. “You’d better hope you never have to give Poppie any medicine, Em. If you think he’s finicky about water, wait till you see him try to swallow something nasty.”

Emily grinned. “I’ll make sure it’s cherry-flavored, like the medicine we give the children.”

“That’ll work,” his wife called from across the patio. “Since he’s just a big kid at heart.”

“And you like me that way, Bert.” He blew her a kiss before turning the salmon, all the while muttering that he needed to invent a better spatula.

His family had no doubt that would be his next project.

When the fish was ready, he transferred it to a platter and the family took their places around the glass-topped table. Frank Brennan was in his favorite wicker chair, sporting the contented look he always wore when surrounded by his women. His handsome Irish face was deeply creased with laugh lines. His lion’s mane of white hair showed off his ruddy complexion, made even deeper by the summer sun.

His wife was seated at the other end of the table, her soft cap of gray curls dancing in the breeze that perpetually blew off the waters of Lake Michigan.

Charley sat on one side of the table, between Hannah and Courtney, while Emily and Sidney sat across from them.

Emily passed a basket of rolls to her grandmother. “I still can’t believe your retirement party is this week. Are you ready for your big kickoff night?”

“Probably more so than you. I hear the tribute committee has been pestering you with calls all morning.”

Emily sighed. “Now I know why they asked me to be the chairman of this tribute. Every time they need something done, they call their chairman and dump it all in my lap.”

Hannah looked around the table and grinned. “That’s because you have Sucker written on your forehead.”

Emily joined in the laughter at her expense and accepted a piece of salmon, then held the platter while her grandmother selected one for herself. “I didn’t have a clue what I was signing up for.”

“It’ll soon be over and you can get back to a normal life.” Frank took a taste of salmon. Pleased with his efforts, he tucked into his meal.

“I have a bit of news.” Charley paused to glance at her family. “You know the developer that bought that last big chunk of Prentice Osborn’s lakeside property?”

The others nodded.

“The rumors were all true. The town council approved his plan to build homes and condominiums around a world-class golf course, yacht club, restaurants and shops.” She paused a beat before saying softly, “My agency will be representing it.”

“Oh, Mom.” Hannah gave her mother a fierce hug, before Courtney pressed a kiss to her mother’s cheek.

Sidney and Emily were on their feet and racing around the table to do the same.

“Christopher would be so proud of you, Charley.” Frank lifted his glass in a salute and the others joined him.

Charley glanced at her daughters. “Actually this development has been a boon for all the Brennans. The architect’s interior designer has already given Courtney a list of some of the things he’ll be wanting for the models. And when he saw some of Sidney’s work, he decided to commission her to paint a mural on the walls of the foyer. There’s talk of having her do the ceiling of the dining room as well.”

At the news, Sidney beamed. “Mom, are you sure?”

Charley grinned at the sweet redhead who had always been the dreamy artist in the family. Since losing her young fiancé to illness two years earlier, she’d become even more introverted and reclusive. Though her family was concerned, they knew she had to work through the grief in her own time.

“I’m sure. And I’m sure whatever you paint will be the talk of the town.” She sipped her lemonade before adding, “On top of that, Hannah has been given the contract for all the landscaping.”

Her grandfather arched a brow at his granddaughter. “That ought to pay your greenhouse loan for a year or two.”

That had them all smiling. Hannah had gone deeply into debt to finance new greenhouses for her fledgling nursery and landscape business.

She ran her fingers through her short blond bob. “This is a dream job. When Mom told me, I didn’t believe her at first. But now that I’ve had a chance to look at the blueprints, I realize I’ll have to double or even triple my crew to handle it. Not that I’m complaining. By the time I’m through with this contract, there won’t be anyone in Devil’s Cove who hasn’t heard of Hannah’s Gardening and Landscape.”

Her grandfather looked at her with affection. “I always knew your knack for gardening would pay off one day. You inherited that from me.”

“Speaking of inheritance…” Emily took a final bite of salmon before pushing away from the table. “I have to get back to the clinic. I want to leave early this afternoon so I can see what the committee did with the decorations for tonight’s kickoff cocktail party.” She paused by her grandmother’s side and bent to press a kiss to her cheek before rounding the table to do the same to her mother. “I’m so proud of you, Mom.”

“Thanks, honey.”

“But I think you’re about to become awfully busy.”

“I don’t mind. I can’t wait.” Charlotte laid a hand on her daughter’s arm. “We’ll all see you at the party tonight. I know you and your committee will do a fine job.”

After kissing her grandfather and congratulating her sisters on their good news, Emily made her way inside. A glance at the clock told her she had less than five minutes before her first afternoon patient. She hurried toward the clinic at the rear of the house.




Chapter 2


“You just about finished, Doc?” The sixteen-year-old boy lying on the examining table had his teeth clenched so tightly he could hardly get the question out.

“Almost done, Cody.” Emily tied off the final stitch while her assistant, Melissa, mopped at the blood on the boy’s thigh. “Just another minute.”

When she finished, Emily straightened, slipping off her latex gloves, and turned to the boy’s mother, who was hovering in a far corner of the examining room, looking anywhere but at her son’s bloody calf. “Janet, I’ll give you a prescription for pain so Cody can sleep tonight.”

“I don’t need stuff for pain.” The boy swung his legs over the side of the table and turned pasty-white as the blood rushed from his head. He looked down at the crimson stains that smeared the front of his baseball uniform and swallowed hard.

“You may not think so now,” Emily steadied him with a hand to his shoulder, giving him a chance to clear his head without embarrassing him. “But when this wears off you might want to have something, just in case.”

When his color returned she crossed the room and wrote on a notepad, then tore off the page and handed it to his mother. “He’ll be fine, Janet. But he ought to skip practice until those stitches come out. I wouldn’t want to see him tear that wound open.”

“Thanks, Dr. Brennan.” Janet Adams gave a laugh as she shook her head from side to side. “Dr. Brennan. Seems like I’ve been saying that all my life. Except now it’s to you instead of your father.” She looked down at the prescription, avoiding Emily’s eyes. “I’m glad you’ve stayed on in Devil’s Cove. The town just wouldn’t feel the same without a Doctor Brennan in it.”

“That’s nice.” Emily felt a twinge of pain before she managed a smile. “Next time you dive for home plate, Cody, try to avoid the other guy’s spikes.”

“Okay, Doc.” The boy grinned self-consciously.

As he eased off the table and headed toward the door Emily stopped him. “By the way, Cody. Who won?”

“We did, Doc. By one run.”

She laughed. “I guess that’s worth a few stitches.”

“You bet.”

She was still laughing when the boy and his mother left.

She turned to her assistant. “Is that the last patient?”

Melissa shook her head. “Prentice Osborn is here with his brother, Will. I put them in the other room.”

The Osborn family was the most prominent in Devil’s Cove. Prentice, a former classmate of Emily’s, had more than doubled his family fortune in the past ten years. It was his grandfather who’d had the foresight to buy up the choice acreage dotted with farms. In recent years a bidding war by developers eager to build hotels and condos on the property had made Prentice more money than his grandfather could have ever dreamed possible.

Even if Prentice hadn’t turned a fortune, the townspeople would have admired him for his tireless care of his severely handicapped brother. Will Osborn, with his garbled speech and unsteady gait, was treated gently by all the citizens of Devil’s Cove. He was routinely handed his favorite sugar cookies at the bakery. Whenever he visited the diner he was given a grilled cheese sandwich and a chocolate malt, free of charge.

To thank them, Prentice was more than generous to the town that sheltered his brother. He gave freely of his time and money to various charities around town. A new wing at the University Hospital now bore the names of his deceased parents.

Emily smiled at the two men. “Hello, Prentice. Will. What brings you here?”

Prentice Osborn, tall, with sun-streaked golden hair, took charge. “Will’s been tugging on his ear. I think it’s another infection.”

Emily turned to the older brother, who was watching her with the wary eyes of a frightened child, so at odds with his almost graying hair and stooped shoulders. “Have you been swimming in the mill pond again, Will?”

The man shrugged and stared hard at the floor.

“It’s okay, Will.” Prentice spoke to his brother the way one would speak to a child. “You can tell Dr. Brennan the truth. Have you been swimming in the mill pond?”

His brother nodded shyly.

“Well, let’s have a look.”

Before Emily could step closer Will hunched his shoulders and cringed.

Prentice sent her a pleading look. “Will was poked and prodded by too many doctors when he was young. Do you think you could give him a sedative to take the edge off his nerves?”

Emily nodded her understanding and reached for a syringe. “This won’t hurt, Will.” She moved so quickly he didn’t even have time to react. To his brother she said, “Dilaudid. Just two milligrams. Enough to quiet him, but not so much he’ll have any reaction. Now, Will.” She indicated the examining table and the shy man sat on the edge and watched as she sorted through her instruments. When she bent close he breathed her in and, relaxed now and enjoying the faint scent of her perfume, grinned like an errant schoolboy.

It took only a moment’s examination to see the evidence. “I’ll bet this has been giving you some pain, Will.”

He nodded.

“It’ll be much improved by tomorrow.” She used a dropper to dispense liquid into the ear, then wrote on a notepad and tore it off, handing it to his brother. “He’ll need to take this antibiotic for a full ten days. I’ll want to see him then, to make certain the infection is completely cleared up.”

Prentice put an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Come on, Will. Let’s go home and take Dr. Brennan’s medicine. Before you know it you’ll be feeling as good as new.” He helped his brother from the table. As he followed Will from the room he turned. “Would you like me to pick you up for tonight’s cocktail party, Emily?”

She shook her head. “Thanks, Prentice. But I’ll be heading up there early to see to some of the last-minute details.”

“Then I’ll see you there.”

When he and Will were gone, Emily looked up as Melissa poked her head in the examining room. “You’ve had three calls in the last hour from the tribute committee. They’re waiting for you at the Harbor House. They want you to check out the ballroom for tonight’s kickoff party.”

Emily sighed. “Why did I ever agree to chair this tribute to my grandmother?”

“Because you love her. We all do. And because nobody else in town was willing to see to all the little details the way you do.”

“Yeah.” Emily laughed. “Like they say, the devil is in the details.” She began unbuttoning her white lab coat. “I’ll run over to the Harbor House and see what they’ve done. But I have no intention of getting roped into making any changes in the decorations at this late date.”

“Right.” Melissa nodded her head. “And I believe that as much as I believe Cody Fletcher is going to skip baseball practice until his stitches come out.”

“Am I that transparent?” Emily sighed. “Don’t answer that, Mel.” She unlocked the door that separated the clinic from the main house. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She pulled the door shut before making her way up the back staircase to the second floor. In her old bedroom she stopped to scratch behind the ears of a white kitten stretched out on her bed.

“You’re shedding, Angel. That’s why you’ve been banished from the clinic. Mel said she’s sick and tired of sweeping up after you. Besides, there are actually a few patients who are allergic to all that dander.”

The cat yawned and licked a paw with a bored expression.

Grinning, Emily stripped off the simple skirt and blouse she’d worn under her lab coat and slipped into a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt. It was best to be prepared, she thought with a quick glance in the mirror, in case the committee needed her help with last-minute decorations. She might talk a good game to Melissa, but she knew she’d end up pitching in with the work.

“I’ll leave the door open,” she called to the cat. “Maybe you’ll take the hint and shed somewhere else.”

Once in the car Emily opened the window and let the breeze take the ends of her hair as she mulled the path her life had taken. It was hard to believe she’d been back in Devil’s Cove for six months now, first to take care of her father, and then to take over his practice. The days and weeks had a way of blurring together here. At University Hospital there had been staff meetings, luncheons, daily tours of patients’ rooms and in-depth discussions of various treatments. Not to mention late-night dinners with David where, more often than not, they ended up debating articles they’d read in medical journals, or the latest controversial drugs being tested by a colleague.

David was Dr. David Turnley, a specialist in pediatric surgery who had hoped to persuade Emily to be his partner, not only in his professional life but in his personal life as well. It caught her by surprise to admit that there’d been no time to miss him since she’d returned home.

Here the care was much more personal in nature. She wasn’t just part of a team. She was a hands-on small-town doctor who was expected to stitch wounds, deliver babies, treat infections and dispense advice on everything from obesity to high blood pressure to clinical depression.

It felt good, she realized as she eased her car to the curb. For however long she stayed, it felt good to be back.

She turned off the ignition and studied the sprawling old inn that had graced the town of Devil’s Cove for more than eighty years. Painted white, with a gleaming black roof and black shutters, it was both stylish and graceful. A wide pillared porch along the front was dotted with white wicker furniture and pots of colorful flowers and trailing ivy. On one side was a lovely formal garden that sported curving stone walkways leading to a gazebo in the middle, which was often used for wedding receptions.

Emily made her way up the steps and inside the foyer, where Beth Collins, a college student home for the summer, was busy taking a phone reservation. She waved as Emily passed, then returned her attention to the guest register.

When Emily reached the ballroom she could hear the squeals of laughter even before she opened the double doors. She stepped inside to see half a dozen women huddled together while one harried-looking woman in bright pink sneakers stood in the middle of the room holding tightly to at least a hundred streamers attached to balloons.

“If someone doesn’t help me soon,” Marge Dawson pleaded, “I swear I’ll float all the way to the ceiling.”

“So will I,” another woman shouted. “And I won’t even need a balloon.”

There was a louder burst of giggles from the cluster of women.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Emily glanced around. “It looks like our tribute committee has been dipping into the punch.”

“Emily.” One woman separated herself from the others and rushed forward. “Wait ’til you hear.” She paused, her hand on her heart. “You’ll never guess who checked into the Harbor House today.”

“From the looks of all of you, Libby, I’d have to say Brad Pitt.”

“Even better.” Libby Conway tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. Her freckles seemed even more pronounced than ever now that her face was flushed.

The others nodded and gathered around, ignoring the pleadings of their friend with the balloons.

“Jason Cooper.” The name was spoken on a sigh. “Can you believe Jason Cooper is here in Devil’s Cove?”

Emily’s smile faded just a notch.

Seeing it, one of the women asked, “Didn’t you know he was coming, Emily? I mean, you are chairing this event.”

Emily didn’t quite trust her voice, so she merely shook her head.

“Did he even acknowledge the invitation?” another asked.

“No.” Emily was glad to note that her voice sounded as steady as ever. She hoped whatever turmoil was going on inside wasn’t visible to these women.

“Well, how can you expect someone as famous as Jason Cooper to answer every invitation he gets?” Libby giggled. “Have you read his latest book?”

“Hasn’t the whole world?” one of the women remarked.

There was a rush of nervous laughter.

“It was creepy,” one of them said. “The town in his book resembled Devil’s Cove. All those gory murders. I couldn’t put it down.”

“Me either.” A slender brunette shivered, then added, “I wonder why he didn’t tell anyone he was coming.”

“Too busy. He probably has a secretary to handle such things.”

At Libby’s words, the others nodded their agreement.

“Yeah. And an agent, and a public relations firm and a business manager and…”

“And dozens of gorgeous models and actresses falling all over him.”

“Can you blame them?” A perky blonde lowered her voice to a whisper. “Did you see that article about him in Celebrity?”

A woman whose dark hair was streaked with gray nodded. “You mean the one showing him on the deck of that mansion he bought in Malibu? They said he never grants interviews. He jogs before the sun comes up. He works all night, sleeps all day, and keeps his private life extremely private. He looked like the dark, brooding hero of every one of his books. I thought I’d die.”

The others sighed their agreement.

“Guess where he went as soon as he checked in?” Libby lowered her voice, even though everyone in the room knew the answer to that except Emily.

Emily shrugged. “I can’t imagine.”

“To the Daisy Diner. You know who works there, don’t you?”

Emily didn’t need to respond. In a town as small as Devil’s Cove, everyone knew where everyone worked. And it was no secret that Carrie Lester, an old classmate, had been working there for years.

Emily kept her tone steady. “That’s really nice. Jason and Carrie’s brother, Cory, were best friends.”

Libby gave a short laugh. “Maybe Cory wasn’t his only best friend. You know…” She looked around at the others for confirmation. “…I’ve always thought Carrie’s little girl had eyes like a certain bestselling author and playboy who was once known as the bad boy of Devil’s Cove.”

“I think we’d better get those balloons up and head home.” Emily’s throat felt so tight, she could hardly get the words out.

“Okay.” Libby shrugged. “Emily’s right. We’d better move it if we want to look glamorous for the cocktail party tonight. And now that we’ve got Jason Cooper in our midst, we have to look our best. Connie, help Marge get those balloons in place.”

When the others walked away, Emily let out a long, slow breath.

Jason Cooper. Here in Devil’s Cove.

She hadn’t seen him since she was eighteen. He’d left town the day after graduation, without a word to anyone. Like Libby, there were many who thought it was because Carrie Lester was carrying his baby. Emily had never believed that. Not then. Not now. Still, it hurt to know that in all the time they’d been apart, he’d never made a single attempt to contact her. And now, after all this time, it was Carrie he went to see.

She shrugged it off. She’d worked hard to put Jason Cooper out of her mind. And she’d succeeded. Now he was nothing more than a bittersweet memory of earlier, innocent times.

“What about that banner?” Emily started toward the stage. There was no way she was going to stand idly by and pick at old wounds. “Can somebody give me a hand putting this up?”

She caught hold of a ladder and began to climb. This was what she needed. Nothing like good hard physical work to keep the mind from going into overdrive.



“Jason.” Carrie Lester sloshed coffee over the rim of the cup she was carrying. She hissed a breath and folded a paper napkin in the saucer before handing it to Teddy Morton, one of her regulars. Then she rounded the counter and paused to study the darkly handsome man who stood framed in the doorway. “You look…” She shook her head. “…different…successful.”

“Is that the best you can do?” He arched a brow before striding toward the sister of his best friend and kissing her cheek. “You look as pretty as ever.”

“Yeah. Right.” She touched a hand to her cheek. “Men get better as they get older. Women just get older.”

He tugged on a lock of hair the color of platinum. “What’re you now? Twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? How can you call that old?”

“I’ve got a ten-year-old kid. There are days when that makes me feel really ancient.” She indicated an empty booth. “You want to sit and I’ll get you some coffee?”

“I’d rather sit at the counter. That way you can talk to me while you work.” He settled himself on a stool and waited while she poured him a cup of black coffee.

“What time did you get in, Jason?”

“An hour ago.” He sipped. Paused.

Carrie leaned her elbows on the counter and lowered her voice, knowing the regulars were watching and listening. After all, it wasn’t every day the Daisy Diner entertained a celebrity. “I couldn’t believe it when Mrs. B. announced that she was retiring.” She gave a self-conscious laugh. “I know you’re not going to believe this, after all the trouble I gave her when we were in school, but I was hoping she’d be around to teach Jenny.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean. She was the toughest old bird I’ve ever met. But she was the only adult in this town who ever cared about me.”

“Yeah. She really liked you, Jason.”

He managed a smile. “By the way, how’s your mom, Carrie?”

“Fine. Still working for the Osborns. She gives me a hand with Jenny on the weekends if I have to pull a double shift.” She walked away to wait on a customer. Minutes later she returned to continue the conversation as though there had been no interruption. “She keeps talking about retiring, but she just can’t do it yet.” She picked up the coffeepot and topped off his cup, then moved along the counter, filling others.

After ringing up several payments she returned. “You want something to eat?”

He shook his head. “I ate at the Harbor House. They make the best grilled salmon in the world.”

Carrie grinned. “You ought to try my grilled cheese. With bread-and-butter pickles. And for dessert, a hot fudge sundae with a sprinkling of peanuts.”

He grinned. “Nothing ever changes around Devil’s Cove.”

Carrie’s look grew thoughtful. She leaned closer. “I wish I’d had the courage to leave like you did, Jason.”

“You still can, Carrie.”

“No, I can’t. It’s too late for me.”

“It’s never too late.”

She huffed out a breath. “Now you sound like Mrs. B.”

“Do I?” He frowned. “I don’t know why that should surprise me. She colored every decision I’ve ever made. Even years after I left here, I could hear her voice in my head.”

“Is that why you came for the tribute?”

Before he could answer she excused herself to wait on another customer. Jason sat staring into his coffee and thinking about the question. He’d told himself a hundred times that he was coming here because of his old teacher who had made such a difference in his life. He owed it to her to be here. Hell, he owed her everything. She’d been his refuge from a nightmare life with a father who was a drunk and a bully, and a mother who was terrified to leave him. To spare his mother, Jason had often taken the beatings meant for her. And he had the scars to prove it.

His old teacher had been able to see through the wall of anger he’d built around himself. Anger that masked a bright mind and an iron will. Despite his bad-boy image, Mrs. Brennan had loaned him books, got him summer jobs and encouraged him when no one else did. When the opportunity to escape had been dropped into his lap, he’d gone to her for advice. She’d given it in a few terse words. “Take the gift you’re being offered. And hone your skills, boy.”

Hone your skills.

It had taken him a while to figure out what they were. He’d mended fences on a ranch in Texas, manicured fairways on a golf course in Arizona, bussed tables in L.A. And all the while he’d observed, and written copious notes in a journal. His first novel had been hailed as brilliant, his second riveting and his third had lifted him into the rarified stratosphere of superstar. His current book was considered by critics to be his best yet. Still, it was bound to make him a pariah in his hometown. He’d opened up old wounds by chronicling a string of murders that had happened right here.

He’d welcomed this opportunity to come back to Devil’s Cove and publicly thank the woman who had opened his mind to the possibilities. She’d been a refuge for a confused, angry boy. Without Mrs. B., there was no telling what choices he might have made. But there was another reason he was here. When he’d read the letter detailing the tribute planned for his old teacher, it was the name of the person chairing the committee that had leapt off the page.

Emily Brennan.

Emily was back in town. It might be his last chance, his only chance, to see her and try to make things right between them.

He had no idea how she would react. Or how he’d feel when he saw her again. He had, after all, left her without a word. And in the ten years since then, they’d had no contact.

A part of him hoped she had changed. Had become polished, sleek, sophisticated, maybe a little brittle, a little hard around the edges. It would be easier that way. He could go back to the life he’d made for himself without regrets. But in a small part of his mind he couldn’t help hoping that her sweetness, her kindness, her wonderful, simple optimism had remained. It had always been what had set Emily Brennan apart. Despite her family’s wealth and standing in the community, she’d seemed completely unaffected by it. There was a tenderheartedness about her, a way of accepting strays, both animal and human, that had always been so endearing to a boy whose life had been devoid of tenderness.

He had, quite simply, loved her. From the first time he’d seen her, seeking refuge in his hideaway, ignoring the scrapes on her knees to rescue a puppy, he’d fallen with a thud. By the time he’d left Devil’s Cove, he’d begun to believe that she loved him as well. But he’d learned that hearts, like people, change. He might be clever at mingling fact with fiction, but he was smart enough to know that it was impossible to revive something that was long dead.

And so he’d come back to Devil’s Cove to honor an old teacher and see an old love one last time. Then, he hoped, he could turn his back on the town of his childhood forever. This time, with no regrets.




Chapter 3


Emily fastened small diamond studs in her ears before stepping back to study her reflection in the mirror. Her dress was a long smooth column of emerald silk with a square neckline, long sleeves and a sweeping hemline that ended just above her ankles. It wasn’t the one she’d intended to wear tonight, but she’d decided at the last minute that the black silk with the lace jacket was too ordinary. After fussing with the decorations long after the rest of her committee had gone home, she’d realized that the last thing she wanted tonight was to appear ordinary. Since dazzling wasn’t her style, she had to settle for elegant.

Let Jason Cooper ignore her in this.

The thought had her going very still. Was that what this was about? Trying to get Jason to notice her?

She studied herself more carefully, then slowly shook her head. Not notice. Regret. She wanted him to regret having left her behind. Without a word. That’s what hurt the most.

She’d always known Jason would leave. Hadn’t they talked about it a hundred times? He’d always said he would leave as soon as he graduated and never look back. But always, when they’d talked of it, he’d promised to take her along. It wasn’t just his dream; it was theirs. And he’d robbed her of it.

Not robbed, exactly, she admitted. After all, her privileged lifestyle had allowed her to come and go at will, first attending the University of Michigan and later studying medicine at Georgetown. But until Jason’s first book had been published, amid a storm of publicity, she hadn’t known where he was, or even if he was alive or dead. That’s what had hurt the most. While she’d been worrying herself half sick, fearing the worst, he’d been traveling the country, having a grand old time, finding himself, writing books. But never writing to her. Not a letter. Not a postcard.

Some writer, she thought.

She picked up the small emerald beaded handbag and started down the stairs. With a wry smile she whispered, “I hope you eat your heart out, Jason Cooper.”



It was a perfect summer evening. The warm breeze off Lake Michigan was perfumed with the fragrance of roses that graced the gardens of Harbor House. Throngs of people lined the porch of the inn and spilled down the steps onto the sidewalk. The top of the porch had been strung with festive lanterns that winked and swayed.

Inside, people were lined up in front of a long table to present their tickets and collect their name tags before entering the ballroom. Emily was pleased to note that the welcome committee had added extra members to handle the crowd.

Libby Conway spotted her and hurried over, looking her up and down as she did. “Wow. You didn’t buy that in Devil’s Cove.”

Emily laughed. “New York. Last year when I was there for a medical convention.”

Libby lowered her voice. “You’re not going to believe this. Guess who showed up tonight?”

Emily shrugged.

“Robeson Ryder.”

“Robeson?” Emily’s eyes lit with pleasure at the mention of the fiery civil rights leader who now made his home in Chicago. “Oh, that’s wonderful. He’d sent word earlier that he didn’t know if he’d be able to make it. My grandmother will be so happy.”

“Not to mention a few hundred people here tonight who see him as their savior.” Libby glanced around as the crowd continued to grow. “It’s strange having so many unfamiliar faces in town. Where did they all come from?”

Emily squeezed her hand. “Isn’t it a wonderful tribute to my grandmother that so many of her former students returned just to honor her?” She looked up. “Speaking of which, I just spotted our guest of honor arriving. I promised I’d escort her into the ballroom and see her to her table. I don’t want her to be alone for even a minute.”

Minutes later, as she linked her arm through her grandmother’s, it occurred to Emily that her worries had been groundless. Her grandmother may have decided to stop teaching, but her mind and her eyesight were as sharp as ever. Even without the name tags, their former teacher seemed to know the name of every person who walked up to her. It was obvious from the way Bert greeted them that she’d kept up with their lives. In many instances she knew where they lived and how they earned their living, as well as the names of their spouses and the numbers of their children.

Emily snagged a waiter and asked him to fetch their guest of honor a cup of tea after Bert rejected the suggestion of champagne. “I want to have a clear head tonight,” her grandmother said in an aside. “I’ll have my champagne later, when Frank and I are alone.”

Emily was just turning back when she felt a hand at her shoulder and looked up to see the high-school custodian Albert Sneed. The mere touch of him put her on edge. Even when Emily had been a student, there had been something about Albert that had put her off. To the other students he’d seemed friendly enough, with silly jokes and a cackling laugh. But she’d never been able to warm to him. Even after all these years, she found herself thinking that his eyes seemed a little too hard, his manner a little too sly.

“Thought I’d offer my best to Mrs. B.”

She managed a smile. “That’s nice, Albert. She’ll appreciate the fact that you came to see her.”

“It’s fun seeing all the old faces, Doc. So many of you pretty girls grew up to be pretty women.”

Before she could reply she felt a hand on her arm and looked over to see Prentice smiling down at her. “Hello, Prentice. How’s Will feeling?”

“Much better, thanks to you. I’d like to show my appreciation. Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thanks. I have some things to see to.”

“Okay. Maybe later. Thanks again, Emily. It’s always nice to get Will calmed down.”

“You’re welcome.” Emily took a step back. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get to the stage to introduce our guest of honor. I hope,” she added, “you won’t mind saying a few words to the assembled.”

“If you’d like.”

“I would.”

“Then consider it done.”

She started toward the stage before she realized that in the confusion, Albert was gone. She could have hugged Prentice for his timely distraction.



Emily sat beside her grandmother while former pupils offered their words of praise. First on the stage was Robeson Ryder. A skilled orator whose father had been a projectionist at the local movie theatre, Robeson’s words stirred the audience as he talked about the teacher who had helped shape his ideals, and how those ideals had now taken him to a very public arena. He was a man who had dined with presidents and kings, but retained a sense of humility that was appealing. He had an amazing presence, handsome and proud without a trace of arrogance. His voice was a deep rich baritone that could move the crowd to tears or to cheers.

By the time he turned the stage over to Prentice Osborn, Robeson Ryder had the audience on its feet cheering him.

Prentice was no slouch at working the crowd, either. He had them laughing, nodding in agreement and applauding as he told funny stories about himself and his days as a pupil of Mrs. Alberta Brennan. Even his old teacher laughed aloud.

When he was finished Emily strode to the microphone. “Thank you, Robeson, Prentice. Our little town is privileged to have two such famous sons.”

From her position on stage she caught sight of a figure at the back of the room. For the space of a heartbeat the crowd seemed to melt away. All she could see was that face from the past. A strong chiseled jaw and lean handsome features. Those dark poet’s eyes meeting hers and holding her gaze when she tried to look away.

She had to swallow before she could go on. “We have another celebrity in our midst. I wonder if Jason Cooper, bestselling author, would care to say a few words about his former teacher.”

It seemed, to Emily’s ears, that there was a collective sigh sweeping through the room as the tall figure clad in a dark suit made his way to the stage, though there were a few, she noted, who hissed with annoyance. His book had stirred up strong feelings both of admiration and resentment in their town.

Jason didn’t so much walk as stalk, glancing neither right nor left as the crowd seemed to part for him.

Emily set the microphone on the stand and moved to the far side of the stage, folding her hands together and hoping she didn’t appear to be watching too closely as Jason Cooper climbed the stairs and paused center stage.

True to form, he seemed abrupt, edgy, as he picked up the microphone and said, “I came here to honor Mrs. Brennan, who saw something in me all those years ago that I hadn’t even seen in myself.” He turned away from the crowd and stared at the old woman who was watching him so avidly. “Whatever success I enjoy, Mrs. B, it’s because of you. You changed my life, and for that I’ll be eternally grateful.”

He set the microphone back on its stand and strode down the steps, pausing beside his old teacher to press a kiss to her cheek.

Bert was beaming with pride. As Jason walked away, Emily thought she saw her grandmother wipe a tear from her eye.

She stepped to the microphone. “My grandmother has asked me to thank all of you for coming tonight. We hope you can stay for our week-long celebration, which will include a garden luncheon sponsored by the alumni association, an original play entitled An Orchid for Mrs. B, sponsored by the high school, and a chance for individual visits with her throughout the week. Our celebration will culminate in a banquet and fireworks next weekend.”





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