They had some trouble with Grace, who kept tugging on Maggie's sleeve and fretting about costs. Finally, Maggie asked the manager to excuse them, then she launched into a long-winded explanation of how and why she could negotiate a rock-bottom rate. Grace's sensibilities were soothed. Holly didn't believe Maggie for a minute.

  The woman was up to something and she intended to find out what. Her opportunity arrived when Grace wanted to call Ben and ask his opinion about the number of guests they might expect.

  "Okay, so spill it."

  "Spill what?"

  "You are not going to get cheap prices because you're a Junior Leaguer and your husband's corporation does a lot of entertaining."

  "Well, maybe not, but I do think it will help."

  "What are you up to, Maggie Prescott?"

  Maggie told Holly how she'd contacted the Pink Sisterhood Foundation and arranged to pay for Grace's wish herself. She explained about the surprise "wedding" and touched on a few of her ideas.

  "Sounds like an event more suited for royalty than the Hardemans."

  Maggie drew herself up, affronted. "You doubt my taste?"

  "No. I doubt the intelligence of going behind a friend's back."

  "It's not going behind her back. It's a surprise party."

  Holly pursed her lips. Maggie had a point there. Still, something about the entire enterprise troubled her. "Are you sure Grace will like it? Look how she worries about spending the foundation's money. Aren't you afraid she'll have a fit about spending yours?"

  Maggie folded her arms. "Well, if so, she can just get glad in the same pair of panties she gets mad in. It's my money and if I want to spend it on my friends, I will."

  "But Maggie, this is such a special occasion. Are you certain you want to do anything that could spoil the day for her?"

  "Holly, trust me. I won't spoil anything. I want to make it the best day of her life."

  "Why? You hardly know her. Why does it matter so much to you?"

  "Mike and I have money, Holly. What I spend on Grace's golden anniversary won't be a drop in our bucket. I can't do anything about her cancer, but I can make this wish of hers more than she dares to dream. I need to do this. Not just for her, but for me, too. I've taken care of other people nearly all my life. Right now, those other people don't seem to want to have anything to do with me. I need somebody to help."

  "You need somebody to mother," Holly said, her eyes going soft with understanding.

  "Yes. Yes, I do." Maggie flashed her a crooked grin. "Watch out or you'll be next."

  "Hmm... in that case, I like my cars red and my vacations at a beach."

  Maggie looped her arm through Holly's. Grace ambled across the lobby toward them. "So, will you tell on me or will you help me? I want you to help, Holly. I'll let you choose the flowers for the sanctuary."

  "I'll help. And I'll keep your secret." Holly just hoped they were not making a really big mistake. "But I want to test the Ashford's chocolate torte before we go any further."

  They finished their meeting and dawdled on the way to the garage where, it turned out, both Maggie and Holly were parked. Holly bought a beautiful wooden whirligig from a California artist. Grace found a leather wallet for Ben.

  "Why don't I take you home instead of Maggie," Holly suggested to Grace. "I'm going by my dad's place and it's right on the way."

  With travel arrangements settled, they returned to the garage. They exited the elevator on the second level, then made their way toward Holly's car. Grace and Maggie were in the middle of a heated debate on the best Cary Grant movie, so Holly didn't hurry them along upon reaching her Mustang. A couple minutes later, she wished she had.

  A little girl's squeal echoed through the parking garage, a man's laughter on its heels. Maggie obviously noticed, too. She straightened and dropped her purse when the child giggled. "Uncle Mike, you're so silly."

  "Uncle Mike?" Maggie muttered.

  Holly felt as if she were watching a traffic accident in the process of happening. The man walking toward them was Mike Prescott. He carried a preschool girl on his shoulders and a pretty, petite woman in her late twenties or early thirties walked beside him. Smiled up at him. Clearly besotted.

  The trio didn't notice Holly, Grace, and Maggie, whose face had now drained of all color. At least, they didn't notice them until Maggie stepped into their path and chirped out a bright, "Hello, Uncle Mike."

  "Maggie." Dismay and what looked to Holly like guilt flashed across Mike Prescott's face.

  Holly wanted to punch him in the nose. Maggie slashed him with her tongue.

  "I've been meaning to call you about a few little problems." She ticked each item off on her fingers. "Let's see, the kitchen compactor is on the blink. Also, the commode in your bathroom is stopped up, and I think you must have taken the dog's pooper scooper with you when you left. Since these are all subjects... well... how do I say it? Dear to you? Close to your heart? Part of you? Yes, that's it. Since these subjects are all part of you, I wanted to have the opportunity to tell you about them to your face."

  As she talked, he lifted the little girl from his shoulders and set her on the ground. His face turned as red as his wife's toenail polish. "Maggie—" he warned.

  "That's all I have. Y'all enjoy your date." She finger waved and walked back onto the elevator. "Ta-ta."

  "Ta-ta?" Holly muttered, scrambling with Grace onto the elevator just before the doors shut.

  Maggie fell back against the wall, pale and trembling. "Oh spit. Oh spit. Oh spit."

  They rode the elevator to the very top of the parking garage. When the doors opened, Maggie rushed outside, crossing to the waist-high concrete guardrail around the perimeter of the building. She turned her face into the breeze. "Oh spit. Oh spit. Oh spit."

  Then she started to cry and Grace took her in her arms, holding her, stroking her hair and crooning, "Cry it out, sweetheart. It's okay. Let it go."

  Holly had a knot in her throat. She didn't know what to say to Maggie. How to act. Did she make excuses for the man? Cuss him out? At a loss, she patted her shoulder and made a totally inane observation. "I didn't know you had a dog."

  "I don't," she wailed.

  No dog? Then what was the pooper scooper comment all about?

  Holly thought back over what Maggie had said. The answer came to her and she began to giggle. Grace glared at her, but Holly couldn't help it. "My God, Maggie. You are a true Southern woman. I'm so proud of you, and I am proud to be your friend."

  Grace was now totally confused, but the words seemed to work on Maggie. Her tears dried and she stepped away from Grace. A hint of a smile played about her lips.

  "I don't understand," Grace said.

  Holly explained. "Think of what she said to him. The trash compactor. The commode. The pooper scooper. In that sweet Southern way of hers, Maggie just called her husband garbage and a piece of shit. Am I right?"

  "Oh." Grace pursed her lips in thought, then nodded. "You go, girl."

  Chapter 6

  Maggie was a mess.

  Oh, she'd put up a good front with the girls. She'd pulled herself together in under twenty minutes and had sent them home with a smile and a wave. They hadn't wanted to leave her, but she'd insisted. She'd needed to be alone.

  In her contrary way, being alone meant returning to the crowds on Main Street. Now, despite the fact she shared the street with probably seventy-five thousand other people, she'd never felt more lonely in her life.

  The good thing was she didn't need to worry about running into Mike again. He'd been leaving when she saw him, so the Arts Festival was the one place in Fort Worth where she could feel safe. If she ever felt safe again, that is.

  Mike had a girlfriend. His girlfriend had a little girl. A little girl who wore hair bows and a sundress with watermelons and ruffles on it and called him Uncle Mike.

  If she hadn't seen the proof of it with her very own eyes, she wouldn't have believed it. She'd considered the possibility, of course. Under the circumstances, she'd have been a fool if she hadn't. But up until an hour ago, she thought she knew the man. She'd have bet her most comfortable bra that Mike had never cheated on her.

  She felt like such a fool.

  She wandered the street for the better part of an hour and purchased three paintings, four sculptures, two pieces of furniture, and seven pairs of earrings, arranging to have everything except the earrings delivered the following week. All the shopping didn't make her feel better. In fact, it made her feel worthless. It reminded her how useless she was these days.

  All she knew was how to be a wife and mother. Only now she had no one at home to be a wife to, no one to mother.

  Heavens, she didn't want to go home. But she didn't want to stay here, either. She didn't want to shop anymore, she didn't want to listen to music. She didn't want to watch the dancers.

  A voice—her mother's voice—sounded in her head. Didn't. Didn't. Didn't. Didn't. Girl, what's the matter with you? Let's hear a "do" or two.

  "But that's the problem, Mama. Haven't really felt any 'dos' since you died."

  Maggie did an about-face and headed once again for her car. As she approached Alan MacCraken's booth again, she pointedly turned her head away. That's when she spied the line of tables decorated with the banner: COOKS CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL. At the table farthest on the right, seated behind a sign saying HELP FIGHT CHILDHOOD DIABETES, Dr. Justin Skipworth handed a brochure to a young couple pushing twin two-year-old daughters in a stroller.

  Holly's young man. She'd been thinking about him, wondering how he'd been doing in the wake of the Greystone contretemps. Wondering if he missed Holly as much as she obviously missed him.

  Now she wondered if he'd had any dates with another woman.

  This was her chance to find out. Besides, talking to Justin would delay her return to her empty house. Her empty life. Maggie couldn't ask for a better distraction.

  Approaching the booth, Maggie smiled. "Hello. It's Justin, isn't it?"

  "Yes, Justin Skipworth." He studied her for a moment, then offered a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry. I don't remember you."

  Maggie clicked her tongue, shook her head, then gave an exaggerated sigh. "That's exactly what a woman loves to hear from a man."

  When he winced, she laughed and added, "Don't worry. I'm teasing. I'm almost old enough to be your mother. Emphasis on the word 'almost.' However, it's the mom in me that would like a few moments to visit with you. Could you take a break from your duties here?"

  "I suppose, but I don't know—"

  "I'm a meddler as well as a mother. I'm Maggie Prescott. I had planned to call you next week, but I'd love to talk with you now if you can steal a few minutes. I was in the ladies' lounge with Holly at the Greystone that day."

  "Oh." Light dawned in his expression. The brochure he held slipped from his fingers and fell back onto the table. "You're the lady in the antique wedding gown."

  "Yes. Holly and I have become friends since then. She's not happy and I'd like to try and help her if I can."

  Maggie watched a dozen different emotions play across his face before he made his excuses to his fellow booth workers, then stepped out from behind the table. "Where should we...?"

  "Somewhere more quiet, I think." Maggie jerked her chin toward the Tarrant County courthouse, half a block north of where they stood. "The side steps, perhaps. It's away from the music, but I enjoy the view."

  They made get-to-know-each-other small talk as they purchased bottled water and ears of roasted corn at a concession booth, then walked the short distance to the courthouse. A rock band took the stage and cranked up their amplifiers, making conversation difficult, so Justin led the way around to the north side of the courthouse, which overlooked the wildflower-dotted banks of the slow-flowing Trinity River. He dusted off a place for them to sit on the stone steps. Maggie wished she'd worn jeans instead of her favorite floral sundress.

  By unspoken agreement, they spent a few minutes savoring their snacks before tossing the cobs into a nearby trash can and getting down to business. Justin twisted the cap on his water bottle and swigged back a sip as if it were a bracing shot of whiskey. "How is she?"

  Maggie licked salty butter from her fingers. "You don't know?"

  He shook his head. "I haven't seen or spoken to her since that day at the wedding gown sale."

  Maggie's heart sank. "That's what I was afraid of. She hasn't been exceptionally forthcoming with information about you. I tend to babble my business to anyone, but Holly keeps her mouth zipped. She's not happy, I can tell that much."

  Sipping her water, Maggie watched a flock of pigeons feast on breadcrumbs offered by a darling little redheaded boy. "One thing I do know. Holly loves you, Justin."

  "She has a funny way of showing it." He sighed heavily. "I don't understand what happened. You were there. You saw it. Do you understand what happened?"

  Recalling Holly's meltdown in the ladies' room, Maggie realized she had a fine line to walk. She wouldn't betray her friend's confidence, but my heavens, these two seemed to be made for one another. She wanted to help them find their way back together. Love was too precious to throw away. "I have my suspicions, but that's all they are."

  "So what did she say?"

  Maggie shook her head. "Sugar, the ladies' room is like a confessional and under the circumstances, I don't feel right betraying her confidence. What I will say is that I don't think we heard the whole story from her. It's my opinion that she thinks she's doing you a favor by turning you down."

  "What? Doing me a favor. Is she crazy?" He scooped up a pair of small rocks from the step below him and chucked them one at a time toward the trunk of a nearby oak. "It's my mother, isn't it? The whole North Dallas society thing. She scared Holly off with that wedding gown shopping trip."

  "Do you honestly think that?"

  Again, a sigh. "No. Holly is stronger than that. But I don't know what to think."

  Maggie reached behind her for another small stone.

  Handing it to him, she said, "Talk to her, Justin. Get her to talk to you."

  The rock hit the oak's trunk dead center. "How the hell am I supposed to do that? She never answers her phone."

  "So you've called her?"

  "Yeah. A time or two." He shrugged and stretched out his legs. "She never picks up, and I'll be damned if I'll talk to her machine."

  Justin's long face made her want to reach over and hug him, but instead, she tried lightening the moment by patting his knee and teasing, "If you don't do something about that hound-dog expression, Doctor, we're liable to risk a leash law violation."

  He looked at her with sad, golden-brown eyes. His mouth twitched, then he let out a low, mournful howl.

  Maggie laughed, then gave in to the impulse to give him a hug. "You're a mess, too, Justin. As big a mess as me, I do believe, and that is saying a lot."

  "How's that?"

  "For one thing, my love life is in even worse trouble than yours."

  "That's hard to believe."

  "It's true. It's one of the reasons Holly and I bonded in the bathroom." Now it was Maggie's turn to offer a rueful smile. "She witnessed a scene between me and my husband that afternoon that gave yours a run for its money. She witnessed a repeat of a sort here today."

  "Here? Holly's downtown?"

  "Not anymore. She took our friend Grace home after the scene with my husband."

  "Oh."

  Justin pitched one more rock at the tree, then shot her a curious look. Maggie could tell he wanted to ask about Mike. It was human nature to compare scars, wasn't it?

  "I don't want to talk about my husband. I don't even want to think about him. To be perfectly honest, that's one of the reasons why I'm meddling."

  The pigeons took flight, swooped over them. Maggie shielded her head with her hands until they were gone. "Justin, in your heart of hearts, why do you think Holly refused your proposal?"

  He sighed heavily and leaned back, resting his weight on his elbows and stretching out his legs. He fastened his gaze on the leafy branches of a giant oak where a pair of mourning doves sat cooing side by side. "I honestly don't know. What does that say about our relationship? I've dated the woman for months. I thought I knew her, but obviously I misread her big time. My romantic proposal turned out to be a major disaster."

  Romantic? He'd considered that romantic? What happened to candlelight and soft music? Maybe Holly had the right idea by refusing him, after all. "Why did you propose to her there, like that?"

  "At the wedding gown sale, you mean?"

  Maggie nodded.

  Justin snorted with disgust. "I did it as a tribute to her mom. Her mother died of breast cancer. Holly talks about her a lot. They were very close. I thought she'd be pleased, that she'd feel like her mom was with her at such an important moment. Dumb idea, huh?"

  Maggie winced. "It was a lovely thought, but in hindsight, I think you'd have been better served with candlelight and flowers."

  "Yeah. I figured that one out myself." Justin rolled up to a seated position, then clasped his hands between his knees. "I never thought she'd turn me down."

  It wasn't the self-mocking tone of voice that caused Maggie concern so much as the hopelessness in his expression. Reaching out, she touched the younger man's arm and spoke from her heart, spoke from her experience. "Justin, don't give up on Holly. Don't forget that her problems, whatever they are, are real to her. Respect that, even if you don't always understand it. Don't forget that she's hurting and needs patience and support. She's been there for you when you needed her, hasn't she? If you really love her, how can you quit on her?"

  "What?"

  "Think about it, Justin. Try to figure out why she turned down your proposal."

  "What do you think I've been doing for the past couple of weeks? All I do is think about it." He shot a heated scowl her way. "And I didn't say anything about quitting on her. Look, she cold-cocked me that day at the Greystone, but I recovered. It took a few days, but I called her. Of course, since she won't pick up the phone I might as well be calling Mars. Collect. I love Holly, but dammit, I'm human, too. This can't be all one-sided. She's got to make an effort, too. Every time she knocks me down, I'm a little slower getting up. Honestly, unless something changes, one day I'm afraid I won't get up at all."