Two

When Kate Medlar saw the big green highway sign that said Lachlan was two exits away, she took the nearest exit. At the wide T in the road, she hesitated. She didn't know which way to go. Of course, the guy behind her blew his horn. Laid on it. It seemed that he was so frantic to get somewhere that a twelve-second delay put him in a rage.

She turned right because it was easier and the other car sped forward. As he passed, the driver gave her the finger and mouthed the "call you next Tuesday" word.

And people wondered why there were shots fired between cars, she thought. There was a little diner ahead and she pulled into the gravel parking lot. Inside, she took a booth by the window so she could watch her car. After all, everything she owned was stuffed inside it.

When the waitress came, Kate ordered an egg-white omelet, a single slice of whole wheat toast and black coffee. No sauce, no butter, no cheese, no flavor. Long ago, she'd learned that she had not inherited her mother's ability to eat fried chicken and doughnuts and remain as thin as a broom handle.

It was one of Kate's complaints about the unfairness of this "I'm fat, you're not" that had brought about what she'd come to think of as The Great Reveal.

Usually, her mother made no comment on Kate's weight complaints, but three months ago, she'd said, "That's because you're like her. That writer woman."

The waitress poured the coffee and Kate sipped. When she'd questioned her mother, she was told that "her" was an aunt she'd never heard of: her late father's only sibling, Sara.

Kate combined the first name and her own last one with the label of "writer woman."

"Sara Medlar?" she asked in disbelief. She'd been sitting on a stool at the kitchen bar in the little house outside Chicago that she and her mother shared. Ava had been standing at the stove, her back to her daughter.

"The Sara Medlar?" Kate repeated, louder. "The writer whose name is on half the paperbacks in the grocery stores? She's my father's sister?"

Ava didn't turn around but gave a curt nod.

"I knew the last name was the same, but I never dreamed there was a connection." Kate felt like she should get angry. Shouldn't she start shouting about the injustice of not having been told this before? But she knew that directing anger at her mother never worked. Besides, the news was oh, so intriguing!

Until that moment the only relatives she'd known about were her mother's three older brothers. Horrible old men!

Kate's brain skipped the drama that she was being cheated out of and she said, as calmly as she could, "Why haven't you told me this before?"

Ava shrugged. "She's famous. She wanted nothing to do with us after dear Randal left."

As always, at the mention of her husband, tears came to Ava's eyes. She'd never made an attempt to "move on" from her beloved husband's early death.

Kate knew when to back off. Her father, Randal Medlar, had died when Kate was just four years old and she remembered nothing of him. Over the years, she'd tried to get her mother to tell her about him. But Ava's memories were more deification than about a real man. Kate wanted to know about him. What made him laugh? What talents did he have? But she could never get answers out of her mother.

To hear that there was someone else who knew her father made her so curious that it was like a fire had been lit inside her. That night she didn't sleep but stayed on her computer, researching the author Sara Medlar.

There was the usual hype around her glorious life and speculations about how she wrote—pen or keyboard?—but no mention of her deceased brother. Kate skipped all that. What she wanted to know was where Sara and her brother had grown up. It took some work, but eventually she came up with the city of Lachlan, Florida.

Further digging, some of it into a paid site that found missing people, said that Sara Medlar had retired from writing and recently moved back to Lachlan.

"Eureka!" Kate said, then began to research the town. She soon found what she was looking for: a local real estate office. Kate had been selling real estate for the two years since she'd graduated from college and she loved it.

There was only one real estate office in Lachlan and it was owned by a woman named Tayla Kirkwood. There was an excellent website, and over the next few days, Kate read it avidly and came to greatly admire Mrs. Kirkwood. She'd spent the past twenty years bringing the derelict town back to life. When Tayla was growing up in Lachlan—at approximately the same time as Kate's father—it had been a peaceful, tight-knit little Florida community. But Tayla had married and moved away. While she was gone, Fort Lauderdale had expanded until it had consumed the town. People moved out; stores closed.

After Tayla was widowed, she returned to find that Lachlan was nearly a ghost town. Several lovely old houses had been torn down.

Angry and determined, Tayla worked to bring the town back to life. She bought and remodeled stores in the downtown area and brought in high-end businesses that drew tourists and shoppers from Fort Lauderdale.

The transformation of Lachlan under Tayla's supervision was admirable, Kate thought as the waitress put a plain egg-white omelet in front of her. "Want some butter and jam with that?"

"I wish," Kate said.

"I hear you on that!" the waitress said as she went back to the counter.

The eggs were tasteless, the toast dry. But it didn't matter—all Kate could think about was the new life she was about to start.

After weeks of reading and researching, Kate had written Mrs. Kirkwood a letter. She explained who she was, complimented her lavishly and said she would like to be considered for a job there.

The reply came back almost instantly:

Yes! I've done a lot, but Lachlan still needs much more work. There's a whole section of the town that's practically a slum. I'd love to have your help. That you're a hometown girl who has come back will mean a lot.

Tayla made Kate feel wanted and needed. And truthfully, becoming part of bringing a town back to life excited her. It was better than selling the same suburban homes over and over.

After Kate had the job offer, she asked Tayla for a favor. Would she please see that a letter got to her aunt Sara Medlar? Kate figured that sending a note through Sara's publishing house was no guarantee that it would ever reach her. Tayla had agreed.

Kate wrote a simple letter to her aunt saying that she had a job in Lachlan and could she possibly stay with her for a few days while she got settled. She didn't mention that she'd only recently found out Sara existed, as that might be a disparagement of her mother.

The response Kate received was enthusiastic and welcoming:

You must stay with me until you find a place of your own. There is a self-contained apartment on the side of my house and it's yours for as long as you want it.

It had all been easy, actually. She had a job and a place to live. The only thing left was to deal with her mother. Ava Medlar's nerves and fears, not to mention her odious older brothers, had been a big part of Kate's twenty-three years of life.

She gathered up her courage and told her mother what she was going to do.

Ava had not reacted as Kate thought she would. To Kate's surprise, she'd said, "That's a good idea. You can help her. The poor thing had to give up writing because her mind couldn't do it anymore. Not that her books ever had any literary merit, but she does need some brainpower to pump them out. And it's good that you'll be living with her. She has a mansion and lots of servants. You need to make sure that none of them are stealing her blind."

Kate was shocked that her mother knew so much about the sister-in-law she'd never once mentioned. How? When? Why? All her questions were answered with variations of the fact that Sara Medlar had cut them out of her life when her brother died. It wasn't Ava's doing, but the aunt's. And Ava had thought it was better to never tell her daughter about a woman who wanted nothing to do with them. "To save you more heartache," she said.

Ava's story was so dire that Kate began to doubt her plan to stay with her famous aunt and move to Lachlan. But by then she and Tayla were exchanging daily emails and sharing photos and telling about their daily activities. Cyber friends.

Kate told Tayla of her hesitation. Maybe it would be better if she rented an apartment and just visited her old aunt.

Tayla wrote back that she had a listing for a second-floor apartment that would be perfect for her. Coincidently, it was vacant because the young man who used to live there had just moved in with her aunt Sara. "‘She must be lonely living in that big house and Jack has always had a way with women,'" Kate said, reading the email aloud to her mother. "‘Such a personable young man! And rumor has it that Sara has started financing his business. It looks like it's working out well for both of them.'"

When she'd finished reading, Ava had given her the "I told you so" look. Kate began to think her aunt needed her protection. Who knew all the ways this Jack character might be planning to take advantage of Sara? She would stay with her aunt.

The next day Ava helped Kate clean out her room.

Three days later, Kate was on her way. The goodbye to her mother had been tearful. It had always been just the two of them and Kate was the strong one. By necessity she'd had to cope with her mother's bouts of depression over the loss of her husband. Kate had had to learn how to take care of herself.

"You'll be all right?" she asked her mother as she got into her car. "You won't let the uncles bully you?"

"I'll be fine. You'll email me?"

"Every day. Just look at the green message app on your phone. Check for texts from me."

Ava, biting her lip to stave off the tears, said, "Don't let her be nasty to you. Stand up to her. She has a horrible temper. She used to scare me half to death."

This was the first Kate had heard of a temper. "She—?"

"And put her on a diet." Ava shut the car door. "Two hundred pounds is too much for her. She's not even five feet tall. If she lost weight, she might not be so bad-tempered all the time." Ava stepped back and blew a kiss. "I love you. Have a good time." She hurried back into the house as Kate drove away.

For the first day of the drive, Kate kept muttering, "What the hell have I done?"

Now she was almost there, and her bravado was draining. New town, new job, new home with a new relative.

What was that list of the ten most stressful events in a person's life? She was facing at least four of them.

She paid and left the diner.

At her car, she halted. "I can do this," she told herself. "I have a job. I even have a friend in Tayla. And I'm..." She swallowed. "I'm staying with, uh..." She took a breath. "With a senile old aunt who has a fierce temper and is living with some guy who's conned her into buying him a business. I can do this." She got in her car. "And if I can't, I can run home to mommy. As a failure."

She got back on the highway, and when the exit for Lachlan came up, she went down the ramp. But her heart was pounding so hard that she had to pull to the side of the road, lean back and try to calm herself.

It would be courteous to first go to her aunt's house. Or rather, her mansion, as her mother called it. But when Kate put the street address into the GPS system, it said there was no such place. She had a map but it didn't show Stewart Lane, either.

That's bad, she thought, but felt relieved. She'd have to go to Tayla's office first, meet her friend in person and ask directions.

The GPS said that the office was only a mile and a half away. An omen, she thought, and pulled back onto the road.

Her first sight of Lachlan made her draw in her breath. She'd seen photos but they didn't do the pretty town justice.

To her right was a fire station, redbrick with two open garage doors. Some muscular men were washing a big red fire engine, a dalmatian nearby. "Like something out of Disney." She saw the blond fireman, the youngest one, pause, rag in hand, and look at her. His wet T-shirt clung to him.

The man next to him hit him with his elbow, but the fireman didn't stop staring. When he smiled at Kate, she smiled back.

"I just might like it here," she murmured as she pulled into the town hall parking lot. Tayla's office was beside it.

She got out and looked around. Across the road from the brick building was a large green area, with trees and benches and a wide oval track. There were joggers and people walking, dogs chasing Frisbees and three families having picnics.

How lovely, she thought, and remembered the photos of the town as it was when Tayla had returned to Lachlan. The green area had once been filled with buildings that had been hit hard by Hurricane Andrew in 1992.

The severely damaged buildings had been repaired, but no one had cared enough about Lachlan to make them beautiful. Ugly concrete block stores dominated. Tayla had torn down and rebuilt to create a recreation area smack in the middle of town. To get people downtown for something other than shopping, she'd told Kate in an email. But, of course, once they're near all those lovely stores, they'll buy things.

Kate had laughed at that. She'd majored in business in college and she agreed with Tayla. Keep the money moving!

Tayla's office was an old house that had been tastefully converted. It was one story with a tall, pitched roof and a couple of dormers. A long porch extended across the front. The two large windows and a wood-framed glass door were a concession to business.

The windows had the current listings taped to them. Kate was too much of a businesswoman not to stop and look at them. There were three fixer-uppers that had peeling paint and sagging roofs, a lovely Victorian-style house and some nice starter homes.

Smiling, Kate stepped back. Judging from the photos, they could use some staging and the yards needed cleaning. Yes, she could work with that.

She opened the door and stepped inside. Immediately, Kate liked the place. The ceiling went up to the roof, exposing the rafters. The dormers let in light that filled the office. The waiting room was furnished with modern, good-quality leather-and-chrome chairs.

No people were to be seen.

"Hello?" she called. No answer. There was a tall counter and Kate picked up one of the brochures that Tayla had sent her. It told what she'd done to the town, with impressive before and after photos. At the bottom was a stamp-sized photo of Tayla with her short gray hair, very stylish, very of-the-moment.

In the back, a door opened and a woman came around the corner. She was older than Kate, late twenties maybe, shorter, and carried a few extra pounds. "Oh, sorry. I didn't hear anyone come in. Chris is usually here, but today—" She broke off as she stared. "You must be Kate."

"I am. Is Tayla here?"

"No. She has some showings in Weston. The couple wanted to be near big stores and flashy streets. We're too quiet for them. Their loss. She won't be back for hours. She said you wouldn't be here until tomorrow."

"I didn't think I would be. I was going to go to my aunt's today but my GPS can't find Stewart Lane."

"I guess it's too tiny to put in the system. I'm Melissa. Want some coffee? Tea? Water from the faucet?"

Kate smiled. "Water sounds good."

"Come on, then, and I'll show you around."

It took only minutes to see the place, and Melissa showed Kate her office. It was a good size, with a window that looked out to the big circle, where people picnicked.

"Try it," Melissa said, nodding toward the tan leather chair. "Tayla ordered it just for you. I tried to get her to buy it in red but she wouldn't."

"Good. I like this one." She sat down and swiveled around in a full circle: L-shaped desk, wall, window. It was an excellent area.

Melissa was leaning against the door frame, cup in hand. "You know, you look a bit like your aunt. I've only seen her once, but I think your faces are shaped the same."

When she paused, Kate knew Melissa was waiting for a reply, but she said nothing. She'd seen a publicity shot of her aunt on the back of her books but she had no idea what she looked like every day.

"If you don't know where Stewart Lane is, then you haven't seen her house, have you?"

"No. Is it great?"

"Mmmm." Melissa rolled her eyes. "Magnificent. Jack spent over a year redoing it."

Again, Melissa paused and Kate had the idea she was supposed to ask something. About her aunt? The house? Ah. "Who is Jack?"

Melissa smiled in a way that let Kate know she'd got it right. "The man women dream about. Gorgeous, built, deep voice. He's charmed Ms. Medlar into letting him move in with her. Rent-free."

Kate turned around in the chair so her back was to Melissa. One thing she'd learned in her life was not to reveal too much. With autocratic, domineering, "stick their noses into everything" uncles like hers, she and her mother knew how to keep quiet. She was not going to tell this snooping woman that when it came to her aunt, she knew nothing about anything.

When she turned around, Kate was smiling. "Jack is in business with my aunt and his stay with her is only temporary."

"Oh." Melissa seemed to be deflated by this news. She straightened. "When he moves out, would you please give him my info? I'll work with him on finding any house he wants."

When Kate stood up, Melissa looked her up and down, as though she was the competition. Puh-lease, Kate thought. She'd never been one for catfights over men.

"I'll do that." Kate looked at her watch. "I have to go." She picked up her handbag and hurried toward the front door. As she opened it, she looked back at Melissa. "I'll be here first thing tomorrow. At eight. Please tell Tayla. Or no, I'll text her. It was very nice meeting you."

Kate quickly exited, her sensible-heeled shoes clicking on the wooden porch. When she got in her car, she saw Melissa watching from the window. Kate waved and smiled, then drove away.

She went around the central green area to park off the street, behind some shops. She put her head down on the steering wheel. It looked like her mother was right, that Aunt Sara was being exploited by some hunk of a guy—and she was going to have to deal with it. Was it too late to run home?

She leaned back in the seat and tried to get herself together. Damn! she thought. She forgot to get directions to Aunt Sara's house—but then, Melissa hadn't exactly volunteered to tell her. Okay, so she'd explore the town and ask someone. Besides, she shouldn't arrive empty-handed. She needed to buy a thank-you gift. Flowers? Candy? A diamond tiara?

Telling herself to cut the sarcasm, she picked up her map. "Distributed by the town of Lachlan, Florida, courtesy of Kirkwood Realty" was written on the back.

She was on Eden Bay Lane, and The Flower Pot, a florist shop, was nearby. She could get flowers there, and chocolates across the street. But considering her aunt's weight problems, maybe she should get her a book instead. Two blocks away was a large bookstore.

She got out of the car and went to the florist. It was an enchanting little shop and it smelled divine. A young woman helped her choose a huge bouquet of flowers and wrapped them in peach-colored tissue paper. Kate asked her for directions to Stewart Lane but she said she lived in Sunrise and had no idea where it was.

Not far away was a fruit shop, with bins of beautifully ripe fruit displayed in front.

Better than chocolate, she thought. He had baskets for sale and she chose a large one and filled it.

Kate started toward her car with her arms full, the flowers half covering her face. "Weston, Sunrise," she muttered as she walked along the sidewalk. As a Realtor, she'd be driving people around to these places and she needed to know where they were.

As she stepped off the curb, she remembered that she'd forgotten to ask the man with the fruit where Stewart Lane was. Suddenly, there was the sound of squealing brakes. A strong hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She jolted hard into a man's body and he caught the flowers and basket before they fell.

Kate turned to see a woman in a car just inches from where she'd been. The driver was angry and yelling, hands gesturing. In the back seat were two wide-eyed children.

"Sorry," Kate said. "Sorry, sorry."

The woman drove past and Kate finally turned to see who had saved her. The man was in his thirties, tall, slim, dark blond hair, blue eyes. Extremely handsome. "I..." she began as she took the flowers from him, but he kept the heavy basket.

"I'm Alastair Stewart," he said.

"Kate Medlar." Her voice was a bit shaky, since she'd nearly been run over by a car. "Thank you so much for what you did, but I should go. I have things to do." But when she took a step, her legs wobbled.

"Allow me." He held out his bent arm for her to take. "I think you need to sit down so you can recover from the dangers of speedy little Lachlan."

She nodded, shifted the flowers that had blocked her view, then took his arm. They crossed the road and he opened a door into a bakery. Inside was a long case filled with delicious, high-calorie, forbidden foods. To the left were tables, several with people looking at them in curiosity.

He led her through a doorway at the side of the bakery to enter an old-fashioned tea shop named Mitford's. Little tables with pink cloths and flowered tea sets filled the sunlit room.

Alastair set the basket on the counter and turned to the woman in the apron. "Bessie, would you please introduce me to this young woman?"

She was short, stout, with a head full of gray curls. "This is Alastair Stewart. Born and bred here in Lachlan. Lived here until the world offered him money and glamour, then he left us to chase after the gold."

Alastair shook his head. "That's not the version I wanted to hear. Just tell her of my sparkling character and my reliability, and that I'm not some unknown vagrant who hits on pretty girls."

Bess's eyes were laughing as she looked at Kate. "He and my daughter used to swim naked together. Remember that time—?"

"No, I don't," Alastair said loudly. He took Kate's arm and led her to a table by a window. "Sorry about that. My intention was to present myself as trustworthy. A pillar of the community, et cetera. And by the way, her daughter and I were two years old when we were skinny-dipping."

Kate sat down, the flowers still in her arms.

"May I take those?" he asked.

She had to look up at him. Way up. He was six-three or -four. She handed him the flowers and he took them to the counter to Bessie. Kate watched them talk, and whatever Alastair said, it made Bessie laugh.

He returned to the table. "I ordered a pot of Darjeeling and a couple of Bessie's orange-peel scones. I hope that was all right."

"Very nice." She could skip dinner to make up for the calories.

For a moment he looked at her in silence, then his eyes lit up. "You aren't by chance Tayla's new employee, are you?"

"I am."

"And your name is Katherine."

"It's just Kate. I was told that when I was born I let out such a yell that my father said I needed taming. As in The Taming of the Shrew."

Alastair smiled. "Your father. That would be Sara's little brother, Randal."

Hearing this so excited Kate she almost shouted. "You knew him?" She glanced at the other customers. "Sorry. I've never met anyone who knew my father."

"I didn't. He was before my time, but there are people in town who did know him. I'm sure Tayla did. She and Sara were in the same class in high school."

"Were they?" Tayla hadn't mentioned that in her emails.

A young waitress put a pot of tea on their table and two delicious-looking scones. Alastair poured. "So how is Sara?"

Kate hadn't wanted to confide in Melissa, but Alastair was different. Maybe he'd been right in the way he introduced himself. It was making her feel secure. "I haven't seen her since I was four years old. What do you know about the man who's living with her?"

Alastair frowned. "I hadn't heard about that. What's his name?"

"Jack something."

Alastair's frown disappeared. "That would be Jack Wyatt. That makes sense. How's your scone?"

"Excellent." She was waiting for him to go on, and he seemed to get the hint.

"The Medlars and Wyatts used to live next door to each other. Will you think less of me if I say it was in the, uh, least financially secure part of town?"

"I'm a Realtor. Nothing about houses shocks me." She remembered Tayla saying that Lachlan had a slum area.

"The connection goes back a long way. You said Jack has moved into the house with her?"

"That's what I was told. I'm just worried about my aunt, as she's there alone."

Alastair looked down at his half-eaten scone.

"What aren't you telling me?" she asked.

"I don't like to spread gossip, but my grandfather was a judge. He lived with us, so Mom and I had to endlessly hear about Jack's father, Roy. He was in and out of jail from the time he was a teenager. He fought with everybody, had problems with drugs and alcohol. He nearly drove my grandfather mad. Roy died a few years ago when he wrapped his truck around a tree. I've never heard that Jack is like him, but just recently—" He stopped talking.

"My elderly aunt is involved in this, so I'd like to know about this man."

"Jack was in a car crash and his brother was killed. I heard that Jack was drunk."

Kate fell back against her chair.

Alastair gave a sigh. "Now I've ruined it. You look like you want to leave Lachlan and never return."

Kate finished her cup of tea and poured herself another one. "Part of me wants to run, but another part wants to protect my aunt. She's my only connection to a father I don't remember. But besides family, I have a job here. I like what Tayla has done and she said there's more to do. I want to help."

Alastair's handsome face broke into a slow smile that widened into a grin. "What a day this has been! This morning I was looking into moving back to Lachlan. And now I've met the prettiest girl to arrive here since Elizabeth Taylor passed through in the fifties."

His compliment was so outrageous—and so untrue—that she laughed.

"Wait a minute! If you're going to be living with your aunt, and Jack Wyatt is there, too, I don't have a chance. I don't understand it, but all women fall for him." Bessie was putting a teapot on a nearby table.

"Bess?" Alastair said. "What do you think of Jack Wyatt?"

She rolled her eyes. "Just as scrumptious as his father."

"But without the prison stripes," a woman at the next table said and they laughed.

"Come on, ladies, help me out here. I'm marketing him as ugly and dumb." That comment only increased their laughter.

Alastair turned back to Kate and lowered his voice. "Seriously, I'll help in any way I can. I work with money, so if you have any questions or suspicions, let me know. I'll gladly go over Sara's accounts to see if anything, shall we say, unusual is going on."

Kate nodded. "I'm not so bad with numbers, either. I'll see what I can find out."

"I like you more with every word you speak."

She smiled at him. "You don't have to worry about this guy Jack and me. I've never been attracted to the leather-jacket, motorcycle-riding type of guy."

"Then I do have a chance?"

"Maybe."

"I'll take that. Could we have dinner on Saturday night?"

"That would be nice."

He paid the check and she noticed that he left a generous tip. Just as he said about her, she was liking him more with every minute.

They went to the counter, Bessie handed the flowers and the basket to Alastair, and they left.

"Where's your car?" he asked. "I'll carry these to it."

They walked together the half a block to Kate's car and put everything in the back.

"Where to now?" he asked.

"It's time to meet my aunt. I'm not sure how to get there, since the GPS in my car told me Stewart Lane doesn't exist."

"The house and lane are right where my grandfather built them."

"Oh." Kate was embarrassed that she hadn't connected the names. "I've heard the house is beautiful. It must have broken your heart to sell it."

"Not at all. Seventy-five hundred square feet to maintain is not my idea of paradise. Carved moldings, marble floors, fifty-pound solid doors and—Are you all right?"

She was smiling in a dreamy way. "The house sounds wonderful!"

"My mother thought so. I had a hard time persuading her to sell it and move into a condo near the ocean. She says she hates it but it's very nice. Clean."

"I bet I've sold twenty just like it."

There was so much contempt in her voice that Alastair laughed. "Just some advice—don't mention the Stewart house to your new boss."

"Tayla?"

"Yes. My mother promised to let Tayla sell the house. But when she got there with the paperwork, Mother had already sold it to your aunt. The entire purchase price—which, by the way, was a healthy seven figures—had been wired into my mother's bank account. And all the papers had been signed."

"And your mother got out of paying Realtor fees," Kate said.

"She did. It seems that when your aunt wants something, she goes after it."

"Or her manager does."

"I didn't know she had one," Alastair said.

"I'm not sure she does, but according to my mother, Aunt Sara isn't in good health, so I assume she has people to handle those sorts of things. Maybe this guy Jack..." She trailed off in thought again, worried for her aging aunt.

"Sorry to hear that about her health. Too bad my mother isn't nearby to give her tennis lessons. But do let me know what you need." Alastair reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. "Maybe you'd give me your phone number?"

Kate tapped it in for him, he sent her a text and it was done.

His eyes grew serious. "I mean what I say. If you need anything, call me at any time. I never turn my phone off and it's always with me."

"Thank you," she said.

His smile returned and he stepped back. "Okay, I'll pull up in front and you can follow me. That way I'll have ten more minutes with you before you fall into the clutches of the spectacular Wyatt kid."

"He's just a boy?"

"He's younger than me, so that's how I see him."

She smiled. "Young, dumb, ugly. I think I'll recognize him."

"Maybe when I see you again, you can tell me all about what's been done to my family home."

"If I do stay there, I'll invite you in to see the place."

"Alastair!" a tall, big man shouted from the opposite side of the parking lot. "We need to get together."

"Oh, no," he muttered. "My former high-school buddy. He only wants to talk about when we were sports stars. He drinks now and..." He turned. "Can't now, Dan," he called out. "Kate and I are going to my house." He looked back at her.

"That sounded like you and I are a couple."

Alastair smiled. "I thought I did rather well with that bit of subterfuge. That makes one fewer male I'll have to fight to win you—not that Dan stays sober long enough to do battle." He waved his hand in dismissal. "I'll get my car. How about if you follow me around town for a look at my beloved Lachlan?"

"I'd like that. Lead on!"