"Don't start the waterworks, Maggie. Please. You'll ruin your makeup and your eyes will be all red and Grace will worry."

  "You're right." Maggie paused, took a deep, bracing breath, and with determination, shook off her tears. Then she answered the door and time stood still.

  Mike.

  "Sorry I'm late. My flight was delayed."

  Maggie couldn't speak. He looked tall and tanned and so handsome that he took her breath away. I've missed you, Mike Prescott. Finally, she found her voice. "I'm so very glad you were able to make it at all. Thank you for coming."

  "Thanks for inviting me." He hesitated, then said, "You look great, Maggie."

  She beamed and preened, smoothing the skirt of her pale pink sundress. "Thanks. You'll see a lot of pink around here today. Grace has decided it's her favorite color."

  "You always were pretty in pink."

  Maggie wanted to kiss him. She wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss his socks off. And maybe more. Now was not the time, however. They still had issues to cover, plenty to settle between them. But his acceptance of her invitation to the Hardemans' anniversary party was a start. A very nice start.

  Maggie was greatly encouraged.

  "We're still getting dressed in here or I'd ask you in."

  She smiled sheepishly as she showed him the hole in her stocking at the ankle. "If you want to take a seat, I'll join you just before the ceremony begins."

  "All right. Good. Well, I'll see you in a few minutes, then."

  Maggie shut the door, then leaned against it, swallowing a squeal of pleasure but allowing her smile full rein.

  "Mike is your date?" Holly demanded. "I thought he was on a boat in the Caribbean."

  "He was. He flew back for me."

  "So you're back together? Why didn't you say something?"

  "We're not back together. We're talking about it."

  "Talking is good," came Grace's voice.

  Maggie and Holly turned as she glided out of the lavatory into the dressing room. Holly clasped her hands in front of her mouth. "Oh, Grace, you're gorgeous."

  Maggie clapped with delight. "It's the Pink Sisterhood dress. The one from St. Louis."

  Grace nodded. "It's perfect. I may be stubborn, but I'm not stupid. It wouldn't do for me to wear anything else. The week after our trip, I called Charlene and asked her to send it. This and one other."

  She unzipped a garment bag hanging on the clothes rack and removed a familiar dress, a vintage wedding gown made of slipper satin and Belgian lace. Maggie's wedding gown. "I didn't feel right about letting it sell to anyone else. Maggie, you have given me so much. Please accept my gift to you in return."

  "On one condition," Maggie said through teary eyes. "Holly must promise me she'll borrow it if the need arises. Which I suspect will happen in the very near future."

  With reverence, Holly trailed a finger across the aged slipper satin and Belgian lace. "It's the most beautiful wedding gown in the world."

  Maggie and Grace leaned forward anxiously. Maggie asked, "So you'll wear it?"

  Holly nibbled at her lower lip, then smiled a Mona Lisa smile. She checked her watch. "It's almost time. Maggie, we'd better find our seats."

  "Holly!" Grace and Maggie both protested.

  Laughing, she opened the door. Grace and Ben's son, resplendent in his tux, stood just outside, his hand raised to knock. "Come on in. She's ready."

  Holly finger-waved a teasing good-bye, took a step from the room, then stopped and looked back over her shoulder. "Congratulations, Grace. You are an inspiration and I'm proud to be sharing this day with you."

  No one spoke for a moment after she left, then Maggie sighed with mock frustration. "So, was that a yes or a no?"

  Grace laughed. "I think it was a definite maybe."

  Nodding, Maggie lifted Grace's bouquet from a florist's box on the dressing table. "Now be careful with this," she said, handing it over. "I still think it was a mistake to use magnolias."

  "Quit being such a worrywart. The doctor said the flower itself won't bother me, and in my opinion, nothing else would do."

  "If you turn into a pink magnolia and clash with your peach cake, don't blame it on me." Maggie kissed Grace's cheek and whispered, "Happy anniversary, sugar. I hope this day is all you dreamed it would be."

  She dabbed at tears as she hurried down the aisle, then slid in next to Mike and offered a loving grin. He leaned toward her, brushed a quick, gentle kiss across her lips, then tucked her arm through his.

  Maggie settled back to watch the ceremony, for the first time looking forward to the second half of her life.

  * * *

  Grace stood beside her son at the back of the church, gazing toward the altar where Ben waited, flanked by their children and grandchildren. Time seemed to stop as her heart overflowed.

  What a gift she'd been given, this life of hers.

  She'd had fifty years with Ben Hardeman. Fifty years. It was hard to imagine that so much time had passed. Gazing up the aisle toward the weathered, wrinkled man, she recalled the freckle-faced boy who'd thrown baseballs at milk bottles to win a figurine for her at the county fair on their first date. She'd always said she fell in love with him the moment he'd handed her the pink chalk cherub.

  They'd had their ups and downs, of course. Some downs lower than others. She had a photograph hanging in her kitchen of a bubbling mountain stream bordered by fir trees and pines and pretty columbines. The caption beneath the photo quoted Carl Perkins. "If it weren't for the rocks in its bed, the stream would have no song."

  It was, Grace thought, a good analogy for life. Her personal life stream had lots of little rocks, a few logs, and a couple of humongous boulders along the way. As water rushed over and around the obstacles, it created that wonderful, exciting music of life well lived. Between the white water, life drifted in placid pools of peace, its song soothing and restful and welcome until rocks appeared to stir up the froth once again.

  Rocks would reappear. Of that she had no doubt. One big boulder in particular lay in wait before her.

  But today wasn't a day to think about endings. Today was a day to think about love and life and living well. She'd been so blessed.

  Ben. Her children. Grace's gaze drifted toward her daughter, then to each of her sons. Babies had been the greatest joy of her life. Her children had fulfilled her, given her life purpose, enriched it and anchored it and sent it soaring. Nothing she'd done in her sixty-seven years was as important as raising her children. Each of them had turned out fine, too. Better than fine. Oh, sure. A time or two her kids had been rocks in her stream, but they'd all made it through the rapids together without getting too terribly soaked.

  And her grandbabies. They were pure pleasure. They were her reward for fighting the fight for the past eight years.

  Her youngest grandson, seven-year-old Sean, saw her watching him and waved. In the second row from the front, Maggie followed the path of Sean's gaze and added a wave of her own.

  Grace smiled. Husband, family, and friends. Dear friends. Friends who brought humor and variety to her world, who supported her during those troubling, rocky times. Dear friends who enriched her life.

  If her stream went dry today, Grace would go knowing she'd taken her own advice. She would die knowing she had lived. In the meantime, she wasn't wasting a minute.

  Grace had living to do.

  * * *

  The big band sounds of Glenn Miller and Tommy Dorsey drifted on the air at the Ashford Hotel. Hot canapés sizzled in buffet trays, the aroma a pleasing blend of spices, meat, and fresh-baked pastry. Uniformed waiters carrying trays of crystal champagne flutes mingled with the guests. At the far end of the room, a small crowd gathered in front of a laptop computer to watch the slideshow of old family photographs the Hardemans' grandson had put together as his gift to his papa and nana.

  Holly primped in the ladies' room. She freshened her makeup, reapplied her lipstick, and rubbed cream perfume on pulse points at her wrists and the base of her neck. She wanted to look her best, needed it to boost her confidence.

  Justin was still annoyed at her for flipping out in Grace's room at the hospital that day and being surrounded by wedding paraphernalia probably wouldn’t improve his mood. She returned to the reception and cast her gaze about, searching for Justin. Maggie and Mike stood near the front of the room admiring his aunt's peach cake. While Holly watched, he reached out and took his wife's hand. Maggie glanced up at him and smiled.

  Holly sighed with satisfaction and continued to survey the room. Meeting Grace's gaze, she grinned and waved. Her friend was laughing, beaming, surrounded by her family and friends. Holly had never seen a woman look so happy.

  Then, Holly found him. Dressed in his dark blue suit, a white shirt, and a sky blue tie, Justin leaned casually against the painted white wall, his arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face. He waited for Holly to come to him.

  "Will you dance with me?" she asked.

  He nodded but didn't speak, leading her onto the dance floor. Holly went into his arms like she was coming home. They danced to "Moonlight Serenade" in silence.

  So much had changed since the day he first asked her to marry him. She was no longer the woman who'd sauntered up Main Street toward the Greystone Hotel, her Life List in her purse, the love in her heart overshadowed by despair. She had changed. She’d conquered her fear. Now, the time had come to prove it to the man she loved.

  When the bad segued into “Stardust” she asked, "Justin, did you mean what you said that day we saw the genetics counselor?"

  "I said a lot that day, but yeah. I meant what I said. Don't worry, Holly. I told you I won't ask you to marry me again, and I meant it."

  "That isn't what I'm talking about. I mean the part about the test results. That you'll love me and want me no matter what the tests reveal."

  He stopped mid-step. "Have you finally made up your mind? Are you going to have the test?"

  "Answer my question first. Did you mean it when you said you'd love me whether I'm positive or negative or have surgery or not?"

  "Of course I meant that!"

  "I thought so."

  "Holly, I—"

  She shushed him with an index finger against his lips.

  "Maggie told me she let slip what I had planned that day at the Greystone."

  He blinked, obviously taken aback by the change in direction of their conversation. "Storeroom sex and crotchless panties."

  Grinning, she dipped her hand into her neckline and pulled out the key she'd carried nestled between her breasts since bribing the maintenance worker earlier that morning. She swung it back and forth in front of Justin's face. "I had set a goal to do something deliciously wicked. Now I simply want to live."

  "Is that a key to...?"

  "I checked it out. The Ashford's storeroom is nicer than the Greystone's."

  He missed a step. "Oh, Holly."

  The band played the refrain of "Taking a Chance on Love" as Justin's hand slid from Holly's waist south. "What about the rest of it?"

  "The rest?"

  "The panties."

  "Now, sweetheart, I don't want to spoil the surprise."

  He groaned and pulled her closer, burying his face against her hair. "Witch."

  Joy bubbled up inside Holly, overflowing her heart. Laughing, she pulled away, took both his hands in hers. "Not anymore. I'm not afraid anymore."

  In the periphery of her vision, she spied Maggie and Grace, standing beside each other, watching her. Cheering her on.

  Then her focus narrowed to Justin. Only Justin. He was her world, her strength, her future. Her love. "What I I'm is asking."

  "Excuse me?"

  "I love you, Justin Skipworth. Will you marry me?"

  "Holly," he breathed out in a long, relieved sigh. His chocolate brown eyes warmed with pleasure and his mouth curved to a satisfied grin. "I thought you'd never ask."

  The End

  Page forward for more by Geralyn Dawson

  Acknowledgments

  I want to thank Linda Robinson, genetic counselor at the University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center, for her time, interest, and expertise. My thanks to the women of the Yahoo Breast Cancer Club, who patiently answered my questions and offered such valuable insight, and also to Susan Friedman and the "previvors" of FORCE, http://www.facingourrisk.org, for sharing your fears and feelings. You helped me breathe life into this story and I'm exceedingly grateful.

  Excerpt from

  The Last Bachelor in Texas

  by

  Geralyn Dawson

  Chapter 1

  "Tomorrow is the anniversary. I simply must be in Memphis."

  Tess McKinney pulled the phone handset away from her ear and glared at it. The tinny-sounding voice continued to yammer without pause. Tess kicked off her Jimmy Choo slingbacks, crossed her ankles, and gazed out her office window toward the hazy Hollywood hills. Her client, Jennifer Hart, was young, she reminded herself. Young and extremely talented. She was allowed a few quirks.

  This, however, wasn't one of them.

  "Well?" she heard. "What are you going to do about it? Tess? Tess!"

  She dragged her attention away from the view and twisted her chair to get a sniff of the lavender-scented, peace-promising aromatherapy candle she kept burning on her credenza. "Jennifer, we discussed this conflict before you signed the movie contract. You specifically agreed to skip your annual trip to Graceland for the vigil. You will be on the set tomorrow morning if I have to haul you there by the hair."

  "But I haven't missed an August sixteenth in Memphis in ten years. It's like a holy pilgrimage."

  Tess rolled her eyes, but gentled her voice. "You pay me to manage your career, Jennifer, so listen to me. I know that staying away from Memphis this year is a big step for you, and I'm proud of you for it. When you find yourself weakening, remember that this film is shaping up to be an Oscar contender."

  "But Elvis—"

  Is dead. "You can send flowers. It'll be fine, Jennifer. You'll be there in heart, and that's what truly matters. Dedicate your scenes tomorrow to his memory and make them the very best you've ever done. It'll be your special tribute."

  "A dedication—I like that. That's a nice idea, Tess."

  Sensing that the crisis was behind them, Tess picked up a pencil and drew a line through Jennifer's name on her call return list. "Now, go wash away those tears and fix up your face. You don't want the paparazzi catching you with runny mascara."

  "All right. You're right. I know that. Thank you. This has been so trying. I never expected the life of a film star could be so difficult."

  Keeping the handset to her ear, Tess dropped forward and quietly banged her head against the cool dark wood of her mahogany desk. Her stapler snagged a strand of her shoulder-length blond hair, and she winced. "You'll get through this, Jennifer, and you'll be stronger for it."

  "True." Jennifer released a dramatic sigh. "Shimmer magazine says that fire is the test of gold, and adversity is the test of strong women."

  The girl had always had a tendency to overact. "Sounds like Seneca to me."

  "Huh?"

  "Nothing. Go to work, Jennifer. 'Bye."

  Replacing the handset in its cradle, Tess lifted her gaze toward the ceiling. "Give me patience, Lord."

  She said the prayer every day. Anyone who attempted to manage creative personalities needed patience at the top of their list of virtues. Lately, Tess had noticed her patience growing thin. She needed a vacation, a long weekend, at least. Maybe she'd take Friday off and drive up the coast, find a little bed and breakfast, and laze around for a couple days. That, or schedule a spa weekend. A full body massage sounded heavenly right now. She loved her job, but stress could eat her alive if she didn't manage it. But then, managing was Tess's job.

  Tess was considered one of Harrison & Associates' top talent managers. She'd started with the firm as a receptionist twelve years ago, fresh off the bus from Texas with a high school diploma and little else. Over time, she'd worked her way both through college and up the Harrison & Associates ladder. Now she maintained her own list of clients, and for the most part, excepting a neurosis or six, she truly liked and respected the people she represented.

  That's why, when her intercom buzzed, she didn't hesitate to respond. "Yes?"

  "Mr. Muldoon is holding on line two."

  "Thank you, Lena." Tess picked up the handset and punched line two. "Good morning, Jake."

  "Hello, beautiful. Do you have a minute?"

  For the Emmy-winning star of television's most popular legal drama and the only man with a law degree she truly admired? Always. "Sure. What's up? Have you made a decision?"

  Jake had been offered a role in a feature film during Line of Defense's hiatus next summer, and for the past three days, they'd debated the pros and cons of taking it. On top of being drop-dead gorgeous and a great actor, Jake was one of the most intelligent men Tess knew. She considered it a great testimony to her skills and instincts that he continued to seek and value her opinion.

  "I'm going to turn it down."

  Smiling, she sat back in her chair. "Why?"

  "Because you're right. That's not the role I should take at this point in my career."

  "Have you told Sam?" she asked, referring to Jake's agent, who'd been pushing him to do the film.

  "Yeah. He didn't take it well. Told me I should fire you."

  She laughed. "That's the third time this month. He sent a new client my way yesterday."

  "He thinks you're the best."

  "I am."

  "Yes, you are. So, is our date still on for tonight?"

  "Business dinner," Tess corrected. After they made arrangements to meet at a small, family-owned Italian restaurant that Jake often frequented, Tess hung up the phone with a smile.

  Business dinner or date. They argued the point every time. Tess didn't date her clients, period. That was bad business all around. Jake had been trying to get her to change her policy for over a year now, and the man was certainly persuasive. Tempting, too. Women all across America—all across the world—fantasized about Jake Muldoon. But Tess had an inviolate list of men she'd never date. Clients, actors, and lawyers occupied three out of the top five slots, and Jake, though sexy, smart, and genuinely a nice guy, was guilty on all three counts.