Tom hadn't bothered to contact his youngest sister. So what else is new? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

  Annoyed with herself, Kate dismissed her brother and took a good long look at her sister. Sarah, looking pale and exhausted, lay with her feet propped slightly higher than her head.

  Kate's concern must have shown because Sarah smiled with reassurance. "I'm all right. The baby is all right."

  Kate closed her eyes, said a quick prayer of thanks.

  "Daddy's situation is more serious, but Dr. Hardesty assures us that it's reasonable to expect he will have a full recovery."

  "I barely saw him. The nurse said something about surgery?"

  Tom nodded. "He had a deep puncture wound in his thigh. Lucky he didn't sever an artery and bleed to death."

  Kate's knees suddenly felt weak, and she sank onto the black vinyl chair beside her sister's bed. "What exactly happened? He turned in front of a car?"

  "A truck," Sarah responded. "He was making a left turn into the Dairy Queen parking lot. A pickup hit him broadside." She continued with a seemingly unending list of muscle damage, cuts, abrasions, bruises, and bumps suffered by their father. When Sarah started talking about heart arrhythmia, blurred vision, blackouts, and delusions, Kate began massaging her forehead between her fingers. Delusions? Strong-minded Jack?

  "Dr. Hardesty expects he'll be here for three to four days," Sarah concluded. "After that... well... he can't live alone anymore. At least, not for the time being."

  For a few moments, a contemplative silence descended on the room. Then Tom folded his arms and frowned. "It's too bad Cedar Dell doesn't have an assisted living center. I hate to put him in Colonial Valley."

  Colonial Valley was the town's only nursing home. It was a nice enough place, but people went there to die. "Dad would never forgive us."

  Sarah plucked at a loose thread on her blanket and nodded her agreement. "He doesn't want to leave his home."

  "He may have to leave his home." Tom lifted his hands, palms up. "What choice do we have? I spent all afternoon on the phone trying to hire home health care. This town only has a handful of full-time providers, and they're all committed."

  "What about Jenny Wilson?" Alan asked. "Ben Wright passed on last week. Jenny should be free."

  "I tried her. She's already accepted another position. With Alma Peters."

  Sarah sighed loudly. "Alma Peters will outlive us all."

  "I do have one name I haven't tried... Bertie Ellis."

  Kate shot her brother an incredulous look. Bertie "The Narc" Ellis had gone to school with Kate. The nickname stood for narcolepsy rather than narcotics and arose from an incident during their senior year when Bertie, a second-string tight end, had nodded off during the Class 3A football playoff between Cedar Dell and Bowie High.

  "Tom, we can't use Bertie," Sarah said. "I wouldn't trust him to watch my cat, much less my father."

  "I thought we could hire Bertie to tend to Dad's personal needs until he's up and around, but also call upon The Widows to take up the slack."

  "The Widows?" Kate sent a beseeching gaze toward the ceiling. "Oh, jeez. They'd casserole him to death."

  "Well? Can you think of a better solution?"

  Actually, Kate had thought of something better—actually, someone better—but the thought, the commitment, froze on her tongue.

  Alan West, insightful brother-in-law that he was, pinned her with a challenging look, and casually observed, "Seems to me y'all are overlooking the obvious."

  No, Alan.

  "What about Kate?"

  Thanks, Alan.

  Sarah's eyes rounded. Tom wrinkled a puzzled brow. "Kate?" he repeated, darting a skeptical gaze toward his sister. "What? Do you know someone who could stay with Dad? Do you have connections in the health-care industry?"

  "Don't be thickheaded, Tom." Sarah turned a hopeful gaze toward her sister. "Would you do it? Would you come home and nurse Dad?"

  "Kate!" Tom exclaimed, gaping at Sarah. "You're kidding. Dad's going to need help for at least three months, if not permanently. She'd rather milk rattlesnakes for a living than move back to Cedar Dell, even for the summer."

  Kate offered a saccharine smile. "Thank you so much, brother dear. I find it terribly taxing to speak for myself."

  He had the grace to look ashamed. "I'm sorry. It's just that... well... you know Dad. With the trouble between the two of you... he'd hate having you care for him."

  Kate wanted to blame the hospital's antiseptic smell for the nausea churning in her stomach, but she couldn't. "So in your opinion, he'd rather go into a nursing home than have me help him?"

  Tom shifted and looked away. "I didn't say that."

  "Oh, didn't you?"

  Anxiously, Sarah said, "Please, let's not get ugly."

  "What?" Kate snapped, pinning her brother with an angry gaze. "And break family tradition?"

  Kate had never forgiven her brother for the way he'd treated her when their mother died. The horrible scene outside the church following her mother's funeral had haunted their every meeting since—all five of them. The whole Harmon clan didn't gather if they could avoid it.

  "Hey, I'm not the one who made a scandal of our family name. I'm not the one who—"

  "That's enough." Alan stepped forward. "This isn't good for any of us, particularly Sarah and the baby."

  "That's right." Lying flat on her back, Sarah still managed a regal pout. "Stress is detrimental to a woman in my condition. Now, personalities and old feuds aside, this family is in a bind, and if Kate is willing to step into the breach, I, for one, think we should be graciously grateful. Can you do it, Kate? Will you do it? Will you come home and take care of Dad?"

  Kate's pulse kicked up a notch on an adrenaline rush. She forced herself to think. This decision involved other people. "I have to consider Ryan."

  "If you bring him to Cedar Dell, the gossips will eat him alive," Tom warned.

  Maybe. Probably. That's why she'd stayed away for fifteen years. The gossips would gnaw on her hard-won peace of mind in several ways.

  "Ryan wouldn't necessarily come with me," Kate said, thinking out loud. "He has friends at home. His Select baseball team plays through July, and we've lined up an internship for him at Loring Engineering. He'd be fine at home with Adele."

  Sarah's teeth tugged at her bottom lip. "I hate to separate you from your son. It's been obvious the times we've spent together at the lake house that you and Ryan are close."

  "Bring him, Kate," Alan encouraged. "Bring him and Adele. She'll keep Jack stirred up, and it'll do the boy good to spend time with his grandfather."

  Nodding in agreement, Sarah said, "That's right. Dad thinks a lot of Ryan. He'd want him here. He'd want you here."

  Her brother's lips twisted in a doubtful grimace, but Kate barely noticed. Deep inside, a dormant seed of hope blossomed. Maybe, just maybe, some good could come from this near disaster.

  "And of course, you should bring Adele," her sister continued, "Dad's house has plenty of room, and she'll be good company for him."

  "If she can refrain from telling him off," Kate muttered. Adele had strong opinions about Jack Harmon's treatment of his daughter and grandson.

  Tom shuffled. "I still think Colonial Valley might be a better option."

  That was just the push Kate needed. She took a deep, bracing breath. "I want to clear it with Ryan, but yes. Yes, I'll do it. I'll come home for the summer and see to Dad."

  Sarah's eyes went bright with pleasure. Alan grinned. Tom scratched at his five o'clock shadow, his mouth set in a frown. "All right, then. It's settled."

  They spent the next few minutes hammering out the details of the arrangement. Because Kate would continue her accounting work during the summer, she'd need an office. They agreed that before Tom returned to Houston in five days, he would have phone lines and office equipment installed in his old bedroom. Tom would also hire Bertie and talk to The Widows about covering for them the days between their father's release from the hospital and the two weeks until Ryan's school let out for the summer. Alan promised to drop by the house often to make certain The Narc didn't spend too much time sleeping on the job.

  With the plans made, her brother walked to the bed and pressed a kiss against Sarah's brow. "I'm whipped. I'll see you in the morning. You get some sleep tonight, you hear?"

  "I will."

  He spoke a moment with Alan, then turned toward Kate. He gave her an awkward handshake. "Uh, thanks, Kate."

  She met his gaze, so much like Jack's, briefly. "Uh, sure."

  Tom left the hospital room just as a nurse arrived to take Sarah's vital signs. Suddenly exhausted, Kate seized the chance to escape. Standing, she said, "I need to be going. I want to visit Dad before I head back to Dallas."

  "You shouldn't drive all that way tonight," Sarah protested, as the nurse wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her upper arm. "Stay at our house or at Dad's."

  "No, I have a ride waiting and I need to work tomorrow. I've lots to do in order to be ready to return to Cedar Dell in two weeks."

  She felt a sudden and unexpected urge to kiss her sister's cheek good-bye, but settled for a wave and turned to leave.

  Sarah's voice stopped her at the doorway. "Kate, I know it can't be easy for you, but I really appreciate what you're doing for Dad."

  Kate glanced back over her shoulder. "He's my father, too."

  Sarah briefly closed her eyes, then nodded. "That's some funeral dress you're wearing, by the way."

  "This old thing?" She gave the skirt a flip. "It's not my funeral dress. I save my short red one for that."

  Chapter 3

  Max Cooper knew what he was after. The soft mist of morning. The snuggled comfort of golden curls against fluffy white. The sleepy dawn of awareness in sky-blue eyes as they opened to love.

  So he waited, unmoving, steeped in the quiet peace of birdsong and snuffles. Light from a rising sun beamed through the window, traveled a snail's pace across pink-dotted Swiss, and finally kissed a button nose dusted with freckles.

  Max's finger hovered. Ready... ready...

  Soft as an angel's kiss, lashes lifted. Ready... ready...

  Love.

  His camera shutter clicked.

  "Daddy." The smile stretched with sleepy delight. "Good mornin'."

  She was, quite completely, his heart. "Good mornin' to you, Shanabanana. Did you sleep well?"

  "Yep." Six-year-old Shannon Cooper nodded, rubbed her eyes, and sat up in bed. She held out her arms to her father. "I'm hungry."

  And so their day began.

  In the kitchen, Max kept a close eye on the clock as he whipped up Shannon's second-favorite breakfast, French toast, orange juice, and bacon. Froot Loops occupied the number-one slot. After long and intense negotiation, father and daughter had settled on a twice-a-week Froot Loops limit as long as French toast made at least one appearance each week.

  "Hurry up, Shan. Breakfast is almost ready. We have fifteen minutes before we need to leave for school."

  "Coming, Daddy." Sneakers thundered downstairs, and his favorite whirlwind burst into the room and took her seat at the kitchen table. "We can't be late today. Mrs. Litton said if I'm late one more time, she's going to give you a D-hall."

  "Oh, yeah?" Max set Shannon's plate in front of her. "I didn't know kindergarten teachers could give D-halls to parents."

  "Dad-dy." Shannon rolled her eyes theatrically. "Mrs. Litton can do anything."

  "Hmm..." Max couldn't put up much of an argument with that. After all, Mrs. Litton had taken a sad, silent little girl beneath her wing and coaxed this happy, healthy live-wire kindergartner into being. Because of that, Max would serve a hundred D-hall's for Mrs. Litton if she asked.

  "Is your backpack ready to go?"

  Shannon nodded, then turned her attention to her breakfast. She took her last bite of French toast, then her eyes went wide. "Oh, no. I forgot. It's Show-and-Tell Day. What can I take?"

  Max considered the question. "How about photographs again? You could take the ones we made together of Edinburgh Castle."

  "No. That's boring. I could show them my doll Matilda. I was going to show her last week, but I didn't, and she's still at school, only I'm not in the mood for Matilda today." She licked syrup from her fork, then lifted her plate to lick it, too. A stern look from Max managed to stop her. She set down her plate and flashed a happy smile. "I have an idea."

  Hopping down from her chair, she skipped across the kitchen to the junk drawer, then rummaged around for half a minute. "Here it is." She pulled out an old cork and held it up like a prize.

  "You want to take a cork to show-and-tell?"

  "It's a stopper, Daddy, and they are so cool. You can use it for tons of things."

  Max started to ask, but thought better of it. Knowing Shannon, she'd want to demonstrate, and they'd be late to school. Again.

  He'd just as soon avoid getting a D-hall.

  Shortly after they moved to Cedar Dell in January and Max enrolled Shannon in kindergarten, he realized morning time management presented one of his little family's biggest challenges. For four years he and Shannon had been accustomed to doing things on their own schedule. They'd enjoyed that luxury owing to his work and Shannon's beloved Nana Jean.

  Nana Jean had joined their family as a baby-sitter for infant Shannon after Max's wife, Rose, died. When Max left the Air Force a short time later and turned his photography hobby into a second career, Nana Jean came with them. The widow of a retired army staff sergeant, organization had been Nana Jean's strong suit. She'd enjoyed the constant travel Max's lucrative new job required, and she managed to make continent-hopping with a toddler an enjoyable experience.

  Nana Jean's loving support and kick-in-the-ass attitude helped Max make it through the most difficult time of his life, and she became the only mother Shannon had ever known. Losing her last September to a heart attack had crushed both Max and Shannon. Guilty, grieving, and in search of safety and security for the family he had left, Max moved back to his hometown, Cedar Dell, and embarked on his third career, that of full-time dad.

  He was still trying to get the hang of it.

  Today, he was off to a good start, though, delivering Shannon to school with a kiss and three minutes to spare. He waited by the curb, watching until she disappeared inside the front door. Despite how well kindergarten was going for Shannon, he looked forward to the summer break. The vacation was longer in coming this year because of the furnace failure and burst water heaters that had delayed classes for two weeks back in January. Once school let out for summer, he wanted to drive over to Arlington and ride that new coaster that opened at Six Flags Over Texas. He and his wild child were both crazy about coasters.

  In the meantime, he had to go to work. He flipped down his visor and checked the day's schedule. Well, hell. It hadn't changed. Max had fifteen minutes before he was due at Harmon Lanes to photograph members of the Cedar Dell Golden Ladies morning bowling league in action.

  "Just enough time to drop you at Doc Murphy's." He glanced down at the small Heinz-57 stretched out on the seat next to him. Max had rescued the dog from a Phoenix animal shelter back in November in an attempt to distract Shannon from her grief in the wake of Nana Jean's death. The dog had quickly become a member of the family. Shannon adored the animal she'd christened, to Max's dismay, Muffykins. To compound the insult, the poor dog was male. Max offered him what dignity he could by refusing to call the canine by his name. Shannon scolded Max about it at least once a day, but on that, he held firm.

  Max pulled into the parking lot at the vet's and stopped the car. He fastened Mutt's leash to his collar, then set him on the ground. The dog planted his paws and whined. "Don't do that," Max warned. "I've found you in Shannon's bed the past three nights. You're getting dipped whether you like it or not."

  Leaving the vet's, Max checked his watch, sighed, then glanced next door at the neon sign shaped like a bowling pin. In the six months since he'd returned to Cedar Dell, Doc Murphy's office was the closest he'd come to Harmon Lanes. That was about to change.

  Harmon Lanes. In all his travels, first as an Air Force pilot, then as a photographer, he'd never stumbled upon another place quite like it.

  Established in 1948, Harmon Lanes had evolved into something much bigger than a simple bowling alley. The transformation began back in the sixties, when a tornado destroyed much of Cedar Dell. To help his friends and neighbors, Jack Harmon closed off half his lanes and donated the space for meetings and events like wedding receptions, baby showers, the Tuesday morning quilting circle, and the Thursday afternoon diet-and-exercise club. At the urging of the ladies in town, he remodeled a storeroom in back where Elizabeth Beck could set up her beauty shop. According to Max's next-door neighbor, she had yet to move out.

  Max had spent many an hour in that building in his youth. Jack Harmon had given him his first job. He'd polished rental shoes and built Coke floats behind the soda fountain salvaged from the storm-ravaged drugstore. Max had a vivid memory of sweeping the floor of the beauty salon while holding his breath against the assault of perm solution. The Willie Mays baseball card he'd purchased in the Harmon Lanes Gift and Antique Shop was still one of his most prized possessions.

  According to Max's barber, the soda fountain continued to attract a crowd, and the community room was still the nicest one in town. The president of the Fain Elementary Parent-Teacher Association had mentioned that the quilting circle still met every Tuesday night. The diet-and-exercise group apparently had evolved into a daily 7 a.m. aerobics class.

  Harmon Lanes was both special and unique, and at times since his return, Max had missed mingling at the town's social center. Up until today, he had given the place a wide berth. The fewer times he had to look Jack Harmon in the eye, the better.

  Max counted twelve cars in the Harmon Lanes lot. Nice crowd for a weekday morning.

  He threw the gearshift in park and turned off the ignition. He sat staring, lost in bittersweet memories. Best put a lid on memory; it hurt more often than it helped. He grabbed his camera bag from the backseat and headed for the building.