One

Sara was sitting in Jack's drab, sunless apartment on an old chair someone had given him. She let her shoulders droop and her head sag in an attempt to show every minute of her sixty-plus years of life. It wasn't helping that she'd been in boxing class at 6:00 a.m. When she moved her arm, she gave an involuntary gasp. She was sore from all those uppercuts her trainer had made her do.

As she watched Jack stumble about the dreary room on his crutches, she tried not to show how her heart was breaking for him.

To her, Jack was the grandson she should have had. She and his late grandfather, Callum Wyatt, had been born in the same year and had grown up living next door to each other. They'd always been in love, had always planned to marry, but because of things that Sara worked hard not to remember, that hadn't happened. Cal had stayed in little Lachlan and run his father's car repair shop, while Sara had, as Cal used to say, "conquered the world." It was a gross exaggeration, but it had made Sara laugh, so Cal was content.

Jack was her compensation for the past. Since he was eighteen, Sara had been a silent partner in his construction business and they'd spent a lot of time together. When Sara retired, she never thought of going anywhere other than where Jack was. And right now, she didn't feel even a smidgen of guilt about conspiring with his mother and sister to get him to move into her big house with her. Someone needed to take care of Jackson Charles Wyatt because he certainly wasn't doing it!

It looked like the pain she was feeling was worth it because Jack was at last losing that expression she'd seen so many times on Cal—head back just a fraction, chin out, lower lip rigid. "You can't make me do it." His mother said those were the first words Jack spoke. Full sentence, no piddling around with just one word, but the entire statement said at once. And said fiercely.

Now here he was, thirty-one years old, six feet two inches of mostly muscle, his leg in a cast and leaning on crutches—and he looked just like that little kid.

Yes, he was balking at making the move, but Sara had a trick up her sleeve. She'd just told him that her niece was coming to visit. "I can't help it," Sara said, "I'm nervous about her being here."

"Then tell her not to come."

His words were harsh, but she could tell that he was softening. Maybe it was the stairs. His apartment was on the second floor of an old house he'd bought years ago. It was a struggle to carry groceries up the outside stairs while on crutches.

"You must make rules for her to follow." Jack was frowning.

Sara turned away to hide her smile. His tone was just like his grandfather's. Sara used to tell Cal he should try out to play Moses. Stern, lecturing, ready to give out orders.

Sara tried to slump more. Look old! she commanded herself. "It's just that I've lived alone for so long that I don't know how to handle a visitor." She gave a sad little sigh and looked at Jack for sympathy. She saw his lashes flicker. Inside, he was as soft as his grandfather.

"She's my niece, but I haven't been around her since she was a child," Sara continued. "She was so sweet and funny then. And very smart. I've seen lots of photos of her, but..." She gave another sigh. "I just don't know how she's going to be to live with. Will she Tweet and text me rather than actually speaking?" She gave a genuine gasp of horror. "What if she...if she says ‘amazing' in every sentence? How will I stand it? Will she—?"

She broke off as Jack hobbled to the couch and heaved himself down. He was a strong young man and shouldn't have that much trouble with a cast and crutches. But she wasn't worried about him physically. What Sara was concerned about was Jack's mental state. The wreck that smashed his leg had killed his half brother. As Jack was taken to the hospital, he kept saying that it was all his fault. He'd been drinking, so he let Evan drive. Jack had fallen asleep so hard that he didn't wake up until the truck was flipping around and around through the air. He kept saying, "If only I'd stayed awake... If only I'd driven..."

It was Jack's deep sense of guilt and his grief that Sara was worried about. She was determined to do whatever was necessary to get him to stay with her in her huge house. She wanted to make sure that he didn't do...well, do something dumb.

Jack's mother had planned it with Sara. "He won't listen to me," Heather said.

Her eyes were red from days of crying. Evan hadn't been her child but she'd loved him. At the funeral, someone said that Heather had been a better mother to Evan than his own had.

But Sara hadn't been able to come up with anything that wouldn't make Jack dig in his heels and refuse to move. "I'm worried about you" was sure to make him say no.

Then, last evening, she got an email from her beloved niece, Kate. She said she had a job in Lachlan and asked if she could please stay with Sara until she got a place of her own.

The thought of her niece coming made Sara so happy that she turned on some old blues music and danced from one room to another. The house was too big, too empty, and besides, retirement sucked. What was she to do with her mind in retirement? She couldn't think of anything better than having her lively young niece to stay. There was a self-contained apartment on the west side of the house and it opened into a little courtyard with a fountain of a girl dancing in the rain. Kate would probably love it. Maybe she'd like everything so much that she'd stay permanently. Maybe the two of them could do things together. Go places. Maybe—As always, Sara's mind had taken off like a freight train on jet fuel. An hour later, she'd planned three trips she and her niece could take together.

Later, when she stepped into her big, glass-surrounded shower, she thought of Ivy—who was Kate's age—helping to decorate the apartment. Right now there was only a queen-size bed in there, and the living room didn't have so much as a chair.

As she shampooed her hair, she thought how Ivy could—Sara halted. Ivy. Jack's half sister. He shared a father with Evan and a mother with Ivy. And they had all grown up together.

"Eureka!" Sara shouted as she rinsed her hair. Kate's visit might be the key to getting Jack to stay with her. He could take the bedroom by the garage. When he'd remodeled the house, he'd made that room quite nice. There was no furniture in it, either, but one trip to a store and...

By the time Sara got out of the shower, she was hatching a plan. Once she got Jack out of his second-story apartment, she and Heather—and Kate—would make sure he didn't let his grief overcome him.

As she looked across Jack's dull little apartment, Sara said, "I just want to feel safe." She was slumped so far down in the awful old chair that her neck was practically on the seat cushion. Jack had always been one to help a person in need—as long as it wasn't him who needed it.

"You don't think she's after...?" He trailed off.

"Money?" Sara shrugged. "Maybe. I'm an older woman who can pay her bills. I'm a prime target for every scammer on the planet." She drew in her breath. Was that too much for him to believe? But no, Jack nodded in agreement. It took work for Sara not to sit up straight and declare that she could take care of herself. "I'm sure she won't stay for long."

When she saw that Jack was still hesitating, she decided to give his male ego a push. She used the arm of the chair to help herself up. Since her trainer had made her quads so sore that it hurt to stand, her wince was genuine. "I can see that you don't want to do this." There was so much martyred suffering in her voice that she thought he'd laugh at her. But he didn't. "You don't have to do anything. I'll hire someone to help me."

"Hire someone?" Jack grabbed his crutches and nearly fell as he stood up with them. "All right. You win." He sounded disgusted. "You have any furniture for the room?"

"I thought maybe you'd go with me down to Baer's to see Rico and pick out a few pieces. I need some for Kate's rooms, too."

"I don't know anything about furniture. Ivy is the one—"

"What a great idea! So clever of you to think of her. And I do believe that Ivy said she has the morning off." Sara pulled her cell from her handbag. "I'll text her to meet us there. Okay if she brings your mom?"

Jack was glaring down at her. "It sounds like all of you planned this. And you certainly look like you're feeling better. How was your boxing lesson this morning?"

"Brutal. Are you ready to go?"

"No. I need to pack. I'll stop by on Saturday. Or Sunday, maybe."

"You don't need to pack anything. Every piece of clothing you own has concrete splatters or paint on it."

"That's because I spent the last year working on that old house you bought. You kept adding so much that I didn't have time to go shopping." His eyes were narrowed. He was Moses being defied.

Sara went to the door. "That's all right. Your mom picked up a few things for you. Can we go now? If we get there early enough, Rico can schedule delivery for tomorrow."

Jack was looking like a horse that was going to balk at the starting gate.

She gritted her teeth. Real men could be as stubborn as the ones she put in her novels. "Did I tell you that my niece is five foot seven and has dark red hair? And green eyes? She was voted the prettiest girl in her high-school class."

"That makes no difference. I'm not looking for—" He took a breath. "Actual green or brownish green?"

"Emeralds are jealous," Sara said without a hint of humor.

Jack glanced around the apartment, then back at Sara. "I don't think I can fit in that car of yours."

"Don't flatter yourself. You're not that big and MINI Coopers are roomy inside. Wait until you see how many lamps I can jam in there." She held open the door. "You go first. If you fall, I don't want you landing on me."

"Because you're so old and fragile?" He stepped past her. "Fragile as a water buffalo," he muttered as he struggled down the steep flight of stairs. "Just so you know, I'm only doing this because you can cook."

"That is not part of this deal," Sara said, but she was smiling—and offering up a prayer of thanks. Neither she nor Jack were going to be alone. Life was good.