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A Time To Come Home
Darlene Gardner


Enjoy the dreams, explore the emotions, experience the relationships.Old secret. How do you tell your high-school sweetheart he’s the father of your nine-year-old daughter? Diana Smith still has feelings for Tyler Benson. But they’re not lovesick kids any more. He’s a straight-arrow prosecutor, and she’s a single mum trying to make a fresh start. New love!Diana protected him from the truth once before. Now she has to risk her own future to save him from himself – except that Tyler’s determined to raise his daughter with the woman he loves!A Little Secret… …a big surprise




Tyler saw what he thought was a mirage.

Walking towards him was a grown-up version of Diana Smith, the girl who’d broken his teenage heart. He blinked, expecting the woman to disappear, but she kept coming.

Her figure was curvier, the glossy brown hair she’d once worn parted in the middle feathered around her face and her features overall were more mature, but there was no mistake about it. It was Diana, who’d left Bentonsville – and him – ten years ago.

Her step didn’t falter, her slight smile didn’t waver, as though seeing him again hadn’t affected her. “Hello, Tyler,” she said, her voice still low, still smoky.

“Hello, Diana.” He knew he was staring, but couldn’t help it. Although her oval-shaped face appeared virtually the same, her eyes seemed different, as if they’d seen more than she’d bargained for.

“This is quite a surprise,” he said. “I hadn’t realised you were in town visiting.”

“I’m not visiting, Tyler. I’ve come home…”


For my son Brian and my daughter Paige,

because writing this book drove home for me

how precious our children are. And for my

husband, Kurt, for giving them to me.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Darlene Gardner has worked as a features reporter and then a sports writer for daily newspapers in South Carolina and Florida before deciding she’d rather make up quotes than solicit them. Darlene, a Penn State graduate, lives in Virginia with her journalist husband and two children.



Dear Reader,

Have you ever done the wrong thing for the right reasons? Does trying to do what’s right lessen the gravity of our mistakes? These are two of the questions that inspired A Time To Come Home, the sequel to A Time To Forgive.

Diana Smith is far from the perfect heroine, which is obvious from the opening pages when she abandons her much-loved daughter at her brother’s home. It’s the latest in a long line of Diana’s mis-steps, for which she’s trying to redeem herself.

Which brings up some more interesting questions. Can we expect others to forgive us when we can’t forgive ourselves? And can love survive the sins of our past? Please read on as Diana and Tyler re-create their special bond.

All my best,

Darlene

PS You can visit me on the web at www.darlenegardner.com.




A Time To Come Home


DARLENE GARDNER




www.millandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




PROLOGUE


WITH ONLY THE DIM GLOW of the bathroom night-light to guide her, Diana Smith moved silently through the upstairs hall of her older brother’s pricey town house. The low heels of her boots sank into the plush carpeting, muffling her footsteps.

Shifting the weight of her backpack more comfortably on her shoulder, she stopped in front of the bedroom where her nine-year-old daughter Jaye slept and carefully eased open the door. The hinges groaned in protest, the sound gunshot-loud in the quiet house. Diana froze, her breath catching in her throat.

She glanced down the darkened hall to her brother’s bedroom door, waiting for Connor to emerge and find her awake and fully dressed. But the door remained closed.

She exhaled, her breath coming out ragged. Careful not to nudge the door, she peered around the crack into the room.

Jaye was still asleep but stirred restlessly, turning over onto her side. Diana stood perfectly still until the girl settled into position and her chest expanded and contracted in a rhythmic motion. Weak moonlight filtered through a crack in the blinds, bathing Jaye in soft light.

Her face was relaxed, her cheeks rosy and her full lips slightly pursed as she slept. Her long, blond hair spilled over the pillow like a halo.

A wave of love hit Diana hard. Three days ago, she’d decided on the course of action she must take. Gazing upon her daughter now, however, she wasn’t sure she had the strength to carry through.

She was reminded too vividly of another place, another time and a man whose features she glimpsed in the sleeping child. She’d done right by Tyler Benton, too, but the doing had shattered her heart.

From necessity and long practice, she shoved Tyler from her mind and concentrated on the moment. Before she could muster the will to retreat, she broke into a cold sweat, her muscles and her very bones aching. She fought off a bout of nausea as her stomach pitched and rolled.

If she needed a sign that leaving Jaye was the right thing to do, her physical condition couldn’t have provided a better one.

Since losing control on a slick stretch of road and slamming her car into a towering oak tree, she’d felt ill, but not due to injuries sustained in the crash. She’d walked away from the one-car accident remarkably unscathed, considering she might have died if she’d struck the tree a few inches left of impact.

The police had attributed her accident to bad luck, but Diana feared the pain pills she’d popped after leaving her job at a Nashville clothing warehouse had been the true cause.

She’d been using the drug since straining her back six months before, devising new and clever ways to secure the tablets long after her prescription ran out.

Horrified that Jaye could have been in the car with her, she’d faced the fact that she was addicted. Then she’d flushed the rest of the Vicodin down the toilet, only to find a new stockpile a few days later in one of her hiding places.

Since then, she’d lost her job after failing a random drug test at work and confronted some more harsh truths. She needed help to kick her habit and she wasn’t fit to be around her daughter.

After much thought, she’d packed up Jaye and the child’s meager belongings and boarded a bus for the two-day trip from Tennessee to Connor’s town house. They’d arrived in Silver Spring, Maryland, not even six hours ago, surprising a brother she hadn’t seen in years.

Jaye made a sweet, snuffling sound in her sleep and hugged the soft, stuffed teddy bear that Diana had bought her when she was a toddler. Diana longed to rush over to the bed and kiss her one last time, but couldn’t risk waking her.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she whispered.

Tears fell down her cheeks like rain as she memorized the planes and angles of the sleeping child’s face before moving away from the door. She left it ajar, unwilling to risk making another sound.

She crept down the hall and descended the stairs as silently as a ghost. When she reached Connor’s state-of-the-art kitchen, she turned on the dim light over the stove, dug Jaye’s school transcripts and birth certificate out of her backpack and set them on the counter.

After locating a pad and pen, she thought for long moments before she wrote:

Connor, I need to work some things outand get my head on straight. Here’s everything you need to enroll Jaye in school. Please take good care of her until I come back. I don’t know when that will be, but I’ll be in touch.

She put down the note, read it over, then bent down and scribbled two more words: I’m sorry.

A fat teardrop rolled from her face onto the notepaper, blurring the ink of the apology.

Wiping away the rest of the tears, she headed for the front door. Her chest ached. Whether it was from being without Vicodin or from the hardest decision she’d ever had to make, she couldn’t be sure.

Within moments, she was trudging down the sidewalk by the glow of the street lamps toward the very bus station where she and Jaye had arrived.

She knew that abandoning her child was unforgivable, just as what she’d done to Tyler Benton ten years ago had been unforgivable.

But it couldn’t be helped.

She’d been barely seventeen when Jaye was born, no more than a child herself, grossed out by breast-feeding, impatient with crying and resentful of her new responsibilities.

A tidal wave of love for her daughter, which gathered strength with each passing day, had helped Diana grow up fast. She tried her best, but harbored no illusion that love alone would make her a good mother.

Diana waited for the sparse early-morning traffic to pass before crossing a main street, placing one foot in front of the other when all she wanted was to turn back. But she couldn’t. Not only did she lack the courage to confess to her brother that she had a drug problem, she couldn’t risk having him say Jaye couldn’t stay with him.

Despite his bachelor status, Connor represented her best hope. Her parents, to whom she hadn’t spoken to in years, were out. She had no doubt that her brother would take good care of Jaye. Until Diana kicked her habit and put her life back on track, Jaye was better off with him. And without Diana.

She blinked rapidly until her tears dried, then turned her mind to her uncertain future. Once she spent a portion of her dwindling cash on a return bus ticket to Nashville, she’d need to find a cheaper apartment, search for a job that paid a decent wage and somehow figure out how to get into drug treatment.

Even now she craved a pill. She reached into the front pocket of her blue jeans, her fingertips encountering the reassuring presence of the three little white Vicodin tablets left from her stash.

Despite her desire to do right by her much-loved daughter, she couldn’t say for sure whether the pills would still be in her pocket when she reached Nashville.


CHAPTER ONE

Six months later

DIANA SMITH WIPED away the bead of moisture trickling down her forehead with the pad of her index finger. It felt warm against her skin, a marked difference from the drenching sweats that used to chill her body when she denied herself the Vicodin that held her in its grip.

It had been months since she’d stopped desiring the prescription pain pills, longer since she’d done an abbreviated stint in detox and then gone through the hell of withdrawal. And longer still since she’d crept from her brother’s town house in the dark of night while Connor and Jaye slept.

The air had been crisp then, cold enough that she could see her breath when she exhaled. Now it was stagnant and sultry, the kind of heat typical of Maryland in the waning days of August. But the heat wasn’t what had Diana sweating.

She sat in the driver’s seat of her secondhand Chevy with the driver’s-side window rolled down, a good half block from her brother’s brick town house. No lights shone inside as far as she could determine, suggesting nobody was home. She had no way of knowing if anyone would arrive soon, although it was past six o’clock on a Friday.

She waited, her entire body on alert whenever a car appeared. But it was never the silver Porsche her brother drove. She counted up the months since she’d last been here in Silver Spring, surprised that six of them had passed. It felt twice that long, because every day without her daughter seemed to drag to twice its normal length.

She hadn’t spoken to Jaye once in all that time. She’d picked up the phone countless times, but fear had paralyzed her. How could she expect a child to understand she’d done what she thought best when her own adult brother didn’t?

She’d left phone messages on Connor’s answering machine to let him know she was okay but had only spoken to him the one time, after he’d tracked her down through a private investigator.

Connor had kept his temper in check, even offering to put Jaye on the line. Diana had ached to hear her child’s voice and longed to promise her they’d be together soon. But she’d resisted the allure, unable to face the questions about why she’d gone or when she’d be back.

As she waited, she heard birds singing, the distant sound of a stereo playing and a quiet that made little sense. A neighborhood like this should be alive with activity late on a Friday afternoon, after businesses shut down for the day. Only holiday weekends followed a different pattern.

“Oh, no,” she said aloud, as the importance of today’s date sunk in. The last Friday in August. The start of the long Labor Day weekend.

Connor could have gotten off work early and headed somewhere with Jaye to enjoy the last gasp of summer. She might not glimpse her daughter today after all.

Her hopes rose when she heard the whoosh of approaching tires on pavement, but a blue compact car and not her brother’s Porsche came into view. Before discouragement could set in, the car pulled into Connor’s driveway.

Diana slouched down in her seat, her right hand tightening on her thigh. Both doors opened simultaneously. A woman with short, dark hair emerged from behind the wheel, something about her vaguely familiar. But Diana barely spared her a glance, her attention captured by the passenger. By Jaye.

The little girl reached inside the car and pulled out a number of plastic shopping bags. Her hands full, she bumped the door closed with her hip, then came fully into view. Her long gilded hair was the same, but her skin was tanned by the sun and she appeared a few inches taller. A growth spurt, common enough in a nine-year-old. But Diana had missed it.

The sun was low in the sky. It backlit Jaye so that she looked ephemeral, as out of reach to Diana as if she were an other-worldly creature.

Diana remembered the unexpected wave of love that swept over her the first time she held Jaye in the hospital. The love no longer surprised her. She braced herself for it, but it still hit her like a punch.

The dark-haired woman joined Jaye at the foot of the sidewalk and took a few of the bags from her. The woman said something, and Jaye giggled, the high-pitched girlish sound traveling on the breeze. Diana’s lips curved. She leaned closer to the open window, closer to Jaye, forgetting her notion to be inconspicuous.

The woman ruffled the top of Jaye’s blond head, and then Jaye skipped up the sidewalk to the front door of the town house.

The woman followed, a small object that could only be a house key in her free hand. Despair rolled over Diana, settling in the pit of her stomach. The woman unlocked the door. A cry of protest rose in Diana’s throat. Feeling as though she was choking, she watched helplessly as the woman opened the door.

Jaye scampered inside, out of sight. The woman closed the door behind them. This time it was a tear and not sweat that slid down Diana’s cheek.

A sharp tapping interrupted her thought. The knocking came again. Faster. Louder. Diana turned toward the sound—and saw her brother’s handsome, scowling face through the passenger window.

Her stomach pitched as she mentally called herself all kinds of a fool. Checking her rearview mirror, she spotted the silver Porsche parked behind her car. She’d been so absorbed in Jaye that she hadn’t heard Connor pull up.

He rapped sharply on the closed window again. “Diana, unlock the door,” he ordered.

The temptation to flee was so sharp that Diana’s foot moved to the gas pedal, but she suppressed it. Her brother deserved better. She reluctantly pressed the unlock button, and Connor opened the door and slid onto the worn fabric of the passenger seat, not bothering to close the door behind him.

He was dressed as though he’d come from the brokerage firm, in a navy silk tie, a long-sleeved blue dress shirt and dark, tailored slacks. But his resemblance to a cool, collected stockbroker ended there.

“I don’t know whether to hug you or yell at you,” he said in a low-throated, angry growl. “My P.I. told me you quit your job and moved out of your apartment. Where in the hell have you been?”

She tilted her head. “You’re still using that private eye?”

“Off and on. I need someone to tell me what you’re up to. You certainly won’t. Do you know how worried I’ve been about you?”

She gazed into her lap and fought tears. She’d been on her own for so long it hadn’t occurred to her that he’d worry. “I’m sorry,” she said without raising her head. “I should have let you know I was moving.”

“Hell, yeah, you should have. You should return my phone messages, too,” he said gruffly, his voice thickened by emotion. “You didn’t even call after I told you about Drew Galloway being denied parole.”

The date Galloway could have gained his freedom seared into her memory, Diana had discovered the outcome of the parole hearing before she received Connor’s message. But her throat had swelled at the mention of her brother’s killer, so she didn’t tell Connor that.

Connor heaved a sigh and ran a hand over his forehead. “It must be a hundred degrees in this car. Come into the house so we can talk where it’s cooler.”

“No.” She punctuated her comment with a firm shake of her head. “I can’t come in.”

“Want to tell me why not?”

In a softer voice, Diana said, “Jaye’s in there.”

“Isn’t Jaye the reason you’re here?”

She nodded. “Yes. But only to see her, not to talk to her.”

“What?” The word erupted from him, like lava from a volcano. “My God, Diana. I was planning to fly to Nashville next week to talk some sense into you. You haven’t had any contact with her since you discarded her.”

Guilt, her constant companion, slithered through Diana before she reminded herself of her reasons. “I didn’t discard her. I left her with you.”

He shifted in his seat, turning more fully toward her. “A bachelor with no experience taking care of a child.”

“The best man I know. And I was right to do it. I saw her just now. She looks happy, Connor. You’ve done a wonderful job.” She dug into her purse and removed an envelope containing cash she’d managed to set aside from her two jobs. “I was going to mail this to you. It’s not much, certainly not enough, but I’ll never be able to repay you for all you’ve done.”

His lips thinned, a manifestation of the stubborn streak he’d developed way back in childhood. “I’m not taking your money, Diana. If you really want to repay me, come inside and talk to your daughter. Spend the weekend with us. We’re driving to the Maryland shore tomorrow.”

“You don’t know how much I’d like to but I can’t.” She swallowed, then stared at him, silently pleading for understanding. “But I will talk to her. Just as soon as I get my life organized.”

“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing for the past six months?”

“It’s what I’ve been trying to do.” After a brief stay at a detox center, she’d run short of cash to pay for treatment and stayed off the pills through sheer strength of will. The withdrawal symptoms had lingered for months, but she’d managed to secure a secretarial position and then work a second job as a waitress. “But I can’t see Jaye. Not yet.”

“Why?” His eyes seemed to bore into her, where her secrets lay buried. “What is it that you’re not telling me? Are you sick? On drugs? Is that what this is all about?”

Shame billowed inside Diana, the same humiliation that had engulfed her when she’d attended the Narcotics Anonymous meetings. She hadn’t been able to own up to her addiction in a room full of strangers. Admitting to her problem was downright impossible in front of her strong, self-assured brother.

“I’m not on drugs,” she said. Not now. And hopefully not ever again. “But this isn’t about me. It’s about Jaye. It’s a lot to ask, but I need you to keep her a while longer.”

She read resistance on his face, and the enormity of what she’d done struck her. “Oh, my Lord. It didn’t even occur to me that you might not want her.”

“Not want her?” He made a harsh sound. “I love her like she’s my own daughter. Abby loves her, too.”

Relief caused Diana’s limbs to feel boneless. “Abby? Is she the woman I saw with Jaye?”

He nodded. “Yeah. She’s Jaye’s violin teacher. We’re also getting married in October. I would have told you about her if I could ever get you on the phone.”

“Congratulations,” Diana said in a small voice, ashamed she hadn’t known about this major development in her brother’s life. She sensed he was about to say something else about his fiancée, then heard herself speaking her next thought aloud. “I didn’t know Jaye played the violin.”

“That’s my point, Diana. You’ve missed too much of Jaye’s life already. Abby and I are happy to take care of her, but she’s your daughter. You need to be in her life.”

“I can’t,” Diana said miserably. “Not yet.”

“You still haven’t given me a good reason why not.” He practically spit out the words.

Because I’m afraid.

The words imprinted themselves on Diana’s mind, but she felt too raw to admit her fear to Connor. He’d always been the strong one in their family, the one who followed the straight and narrow path and never disappointed anyone. He’d never find himself in her situation.

“I want her back so much it hurts. You’ve got to believe that. And I have a plan to get her back. But I can’t face her until I know everything will work out. I’ll call her. I will. Just as soon as I settle in.”

“Settle in where? What’s this plan you’re talking about?”

“I enrolled in a career training program in Gaithersburg. I’m going to study business administration. I also lined up a waitressing job. And I have a lead on an apartment, too.”

She deliberately left out the most difficult part of the plan, the piece that involved Tyler Benton.

“In Gaithersburg?” His eyebrows drew together. “I can’t figure you out, Diana. That’s not even twenty miles from here and only thirty from Bentonsville.”

“Thirty miles can be a long way.”

“So you’re not planning to visit Mom?”

Unwilling to confide she had a more important visit to make, she dodged the question. “I’m not moving to Gaithersburg because it’s close to Bentonsville. I’m moving there because it’s close to Jaye.”

He was quiet for long moments, then said, “You’ll call and leave a number where I can reach you?”

“I will.” She sensed that he didn’t believe her. “I promise.”

“What am I supposed to tell your daughter in the meantime?”

Making a snap decision, Diana again reached into her purse, this time pulling out a sealed envelope she’d planned to mail when she got to Gaithersburg.

She extended the envelope to him, her fingers shaking slightly. “Could you give this to Jaye? But don’t tell her you saw me. It already has a stamp, so she’ll assume I mailed it.”

He took her offering, his expression grave. “Are you sure about this, Diana?”

The lump that hadn’t been far from her throat since she pulled into the neighborhood formed with a vengeance. “I’m not sure of anything.”

Least of all the portion of her plan that would enable her to set the rest in motion. Nobody knew better than Diana what a struggle raising a child alone could be, but there was no longer any reason for her to be solely responsible for Jaye.

She hadn’t returned to Bentonsville since she was a pregnant sixteen-year-old, but she needed to go back home now. Not to see her mother, but to tell Tyler Benton she’d lied ten years ago when she claimed she’d slept with half the guys at Bentonsville High.

In reality, she’d only had one lover—Tyler.

THE AIR-CONDITIONED COOL of the town house contrasted sharply with the oppressive heat inside Diana’s Chevy. So, too, did the cheerful chatter drifting into the foyer from the family room.

Connor hung his suit jacket on one of the brass hooks beside the front door and followed the noise, easily identifying Jaye’s girlish voice. “I like the folder with the Redskins on the cover the best, but the one with the pink unicorn isn’t bad.”

Then he heard Abby’s somewhat deeper voice, light and teasing: “I’m surprised a girl as musical as you pays any attention to football.”

“I like how the players crash into each other,” Jaye stated with enthusiasm. “It’s way cool.”

Connor rounded a corner and the two females came into view. His niece balanced on her knees beside a coffee table stacked with folders, packages of pens, pencils and binders. Abby, sitting on the love seat dressed in a yellow sundress, looked as pretty as a summer flower.

“Hey, Uncle Connor.” Jaye smiled at him with her eyes as well as her lips. “We went shopping for school supplies.”

“I can see that,” he said, moving deeper into the room.

“And I just discovered Jaye has a passion for football.” Abby rose to her feet and walked into his embrace, looping her arms around his neck.

He kissed her, his passion heading in a direction that had nothing to do with football, as it always did whenever he touched her. But he kept the kiss brief because Jaye was in the room.

“Jaye watched a Redskins preseason game with me the other night,” he remarked. “Now she’s hooked.”

“Oh, no,” Abby said dramatically. “That means I’m outnumbered. What am I to do?”

“Learn to like football,” Connor said. “Jaye has.”

“I’d do just about anything for you, Connor Smith.” Abby batted her long, dark eyelashes at him, then scrunched up her face. “But not that.”

He smiled at her antics, wishing he didn’t have to break the lighthearted mood. The envelope in his hand felt as though it was scorching his skin. He held it out to his niece. “I have something for you, Jaye.”

“Really?” Her eyes brightened with the excitement of somebody who never got mail. “Who from?”

“Your mother.”

The color visibly ebbed from her face, the pleasure in her expression gone. Connor glanced at Abby, whose anxiety came across as tangibly as the sick feeling in his gut.

He extended the envelope to Jaye, praying she didn’t possess enough knowledge of post office procedure to notice the stamp hadn’t been cancelled.

It appeared for tense moments as though Jaye would refuse his offering, but then she tore the envelope out of his hand, ripping the plain white paper open as though it contained a Christmas present.

She unfolded a single sheet of paper and read, the hope he’d briefly glimpsed on her young face vanishing. Her mouth formed the mutinous line he hadn’t seen in a very long time. In one swift motion, she ripped the letter in two, letting the pieces drift to the floor.

“I hate her,” she exclaimed before brushing by him and running up the stairs.

His heart dropping like a stone in his chest, Connor picked up the two parts of the letter and pieced them together. Abby came up beside him, touching his arm. “What does it say?”

“Only that she loves her and will make things up to her one day.”

Abby glanced at the now-empty path Jaye had taken when she’d sprinted from the room, then regarded Connor with worry etched into her features. Their minds often operated on similar wavelengths, but never more than now.

“I don’t think your sister realizes how difficult making things up to Jaye is going to be.”

WAY BACK in what seemed like another lifetime, Diana’s mother used to say there was no time like the present…to do her homework, to clean her room, to practice the piano.

The saying had been Diana’s first coherent thought upon awakening in her hotel bed. Possibly because Diana was geographically closer to her mother than she’d been since running away to her aunt’s house as a pregnant teenager.

Or maybe because there was no time like the present—to tell Tyler Benton about Jaye.

The realization that she had to come clean with Tyler had dawned on her slowly, the same way she’d accepted her need to rectify the mess she’d made of her life.

It had gradually become clear that the future she planned to build for her daughter should include more than a better-educated mother with a higher-paying job. Diana had never been close to her own father, but that didn’t justify her in keeping Tyler and Jaye apart. She supposed that, deep in her heart, she’d always recognized that father and daughter deserved to know each other.

Especially because the very valid reason she’d had for keeping Jaye a secret from Tyler no longer applied.

“No time like the present,” she said aloud in a scratchy morning voice that no one besides her could hear.

She had nothing else on her agenda. She couldn’t start her waitressing job at the Gaithersburg location of the national chain she’d worked for in Nashville until Tuesday, the same day classes began. The apartment building where she planned to live wouldn’t have a unit available until Friday.

Today was Saturday, the official start of the Labor Day weekend.

Nothing was stopping her from getting in the car and making the short drive through the Maryland countryside to the town where she’d grown up and Tyler still lived.

Nothing except cowardice.

A memory of the unhappiness she’d glimpse on Jaye’s face in the last few months they’d spent together flashed in Diana’s mind. To be worthy of reuniting with her daughter, she needed to start somewhere.

She sat up and swung her legs off the bed.

As she drove over rolling hills and past lush, green fields inexorably closer to Bentonsville a short time later, she reassured herself that this was the right thing to do. Just as she’d been right years ago when she’d lied to Tyler about her sexual history and left town without telling him she was pregnant.

He’d been such a good friend, sticking steadfastly by her after her brother J.D. died—even after she’d sunk into a dark place where none of the other students at Bentonsville High had dared follow.

He’d kept her company on the black nights when the thought of going home to the house with the empty bedroom her brother would never occupy again had been too painful.

He’d rubbed her back the night she’d gotten so wasted she’d spent half of it emptying the contents of her stomach.

And he’d held her when she cried.

How could she have let him take responsibility for her pregnancy when it would have tarnished his excellent prospects for a bright future? Especially after he’d gushed about being accepted at Harvard?

He hadn’t been just any seventeen-year-old, but along with her brother J.D., he was one of the golden boys of Bentonsville High. Everybody knew Tyler Benton, honor student and all-around great guy, was destined for great things. The town had been named for his great-grandfather, his father was the Laurel County state’s attorney and the senior class had voted Tyler Most Likely to Succeed.

Everybody also knew Diana had gone off the deep end after her brother died: skipping school, shoplifting, drinking. Before Tyler, she’d also made out with a few boys who’d greatly embellished how far they’d gotten with her.

She still remembered the hurt in his eyes when she’d confirmed the false rumors about her loose reputation, the utter look of betrayal on his face the night before she’d left Bentonsville for good.

She blocked out the image, replacing it with the beauty of the countryside. The deep, rich green of the grass hinted at a summer generous with its rain. Wildflowers in purple and yellow added splashes of color. Horses grazed near white-framed homesteads and cool, blue ponds.

The transformation from rural to urban happened gradually, with a gas station and a convenience store announcing the small town ahead. She drove the lightly traveled street past the timeless brick beauty of the town hall, what looked like a newly built fire station and a quaint shopping area where not much had changed.

Cutaway, where her mother had taken her and her brothers for haircuts, still occupied a corner building. She also recognized Bentonsville Butchers, the local dry cleaner and the convenience store where she’d been caught shoplifting cigarettes and beer.

At a red light, she glanced down at the piece of paper lying on the passenger seat. The address she’d gotten from the white pages of an Internet search engine jumped out at her in black, bold letters: 276 Farragut Street.

She’d mapped the location, again on the computer, to help her remember how to get there. Tyler’s neighborhood was grander than the one where she’d grown up, but the suggested route took her through her old haunts.

The cut-through street was long and winding, the houses spaced a fair distance apart. If she turned right at the next corner, she’d reach the house where the mother she hadn’t seen in more than ten years still lived.

She braked at the stop sign, but then continued straight ahead on a road that transported her back in time. For there was the playground where she and her brother J.D. used to compete to see who could swing the highest. Heavy wooden equipment with plastic toddler swings had replaced the metal swing set, but the weeping willow nearby was the same.

Diana remembered sitting motionless on one of the swings after J.D. had been stabbed to death by another teen during his senior year of high school. She’d stared at the tree, wondering how she could feel so miserable without actually weeping. The playground had later become the place she met Tyler when she snuck out of her house.

Not that her parents, consumed by their own grief, would have noticed had she strolled out the front door. Later, her mother had all but pushed her out, screaming that she’d shamed the family instead of recognizing that what her pregnant daughter needed most was support.

She stepped on the gas pedal, driving faster than she should past the playground with its collection of memories, some sad, some merely bittersweet. Within moments, the tenor of the neighborhood changed. The yards became more spacious, the houses bigger, the very feel of her surroundings more exclusive.

She would have known Tyler had fulfilled his early promise even if she hadn’t researched him on the Internet. A third-generation graduate of Harvard Law, he worked as an assistant state’s attorney in the same Laurel County office as his father before him. Tyler had already distinguished himself by winning a number of high-profile cases.

She rolled her car to a stop in front of an impressive two-story Colonial she thought was his, except another man hosed down his golden BMW in the driveway.

Spotting her parked in front of his house, the man turned off his hose and approached her car. Trim, gray-haired and wearing tailored shorts and a polo shirt, he looked like someone who would have his car washed for him. She hit the automatic control that rolled down the window and breathed in the scent of freshly cut grass.

“Can I help you?” The man bent at the waist to peer into the car. “You look lost.”

He didn’t know the half of it, she thought. “I’m looking for 276 Farragut.”

“You’re in front of it.”

“Then Tyler Benton lives here?”

“You’re looking for Ty?” Interest bloomed on his face, but he merely pointed down the street. “You must have transposed the numbers. He lives at 267. Four doors down on the left. The only Cape Cod in the neighborhood. You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.” She rolled up the window, not taking a chance that curiosity would get the better of him, and drove on.

She soon spotted a pale yellow house with blue-shuttered windows, a wide, inviting porch, a spacious lawn and lots of charm. Exactly the kind of place she’d choose if she could afford to buy a single-family house.

Two people stood on the porch, one with wheat-colored hair she instantly recognized as Tyler. She braked, her palms growing slick on the steering wheel. Taller and broader than he’d been at seventeen, he towered over the woman whose hand lightly touched his chest. Her face tilted up to his, her long, black hair cascading down her back.

They both wore sunglasses and casual clothes, as though heading for a picnic or perhaps a day on the water. Tyler’s parents, she remembered, had kept a motor boat docked at a marina on the Potomac River.

With the backs of her eyes stinging, Diana pressed her foot down on the accelerator. Now, obviously, was not the time to approach Tyler. Especially considering the woman might be his wife. She could have discovered his marital status easily enough on line, but she hadn’t thought to check.

Diana blinked rapidly a few times until her eyes felt normal again. She couldn’t let whether or not Tyler was married matter. Not when she’d given up her foolish dreams of a future with him when she was sixteen.

In retrospect, it had been naive to expect Tyler to seek her out after she’d taken refuge at her aunt’s house. Still, she’d envisioned him getting wind of her pregnancy and showing up at the front door. She’d imagined him claiming to know in his heart that he was her baby’s father.

But Tyler never came. He never even called.

She supposed his silence had been understandable. What high school boy sought to be saddled with a baby—or the stupid girl who’d dreamed of becoming his wife?

But she hadn’t considered Tyler to be a typical teenage boy. She’d thought he was… special.

She pushed aside the long-ago hurt and tried to view the new development dispassionately. She needed to think about whether the possibility of Tyler being married impacted her decision to tell him about Jaye. She supposed not. He was either the kind of man who’d seek to develop a relationship with his daughter—or he wasn’t.

She knew from experience that not all men made good fathers, whatever the circumstances. She’d spent most of her formative years in a traditional household with two parents, and she’d never been close to her own father.

Denny Smith had been a good provider, but he’d focused most of his attention on ensuring that J.D.—the second of his three children—developed his amazing physical gifts.

Her mother had explained that Denny had passed on his dreams of playing pro football to his son. Unlike his father, J.D. had a spectacular arm, superior coordination and good speed. Armed with a full scholarship to Penn State, J.D. had also had an excellent chance of making his pro-football dream come true.

Diana didn’t remember resenting J.D. for being the favorite or her father for favoring J.D. That’s just the way it was. In his own way, she knew, her father loved her. When Diana had lived with her aunt during the first years of Jaye’s life, her father had regularly mailed checks to help with baby expenses.

He still wanted to send her money. She’d called him on a lark yesterday, expecting to be grilled about her ten years of silence. Instead he’d talked her ear off about his pregnant second wife and the athletic accomplishments of his young son. Then he’d asked what amount he should fill in on a check she’d had too much pride to accept.

She expected Tyler to be more involved in Jaye’s life than her father had been in hers, but she’d misjudged Tyler before.

She drove on auto pilot, reaching the edge of town before it registered that her fuel gauge light shined at her like a beacon. She sighed, the high cost of gas doing nothing to improve her spirits.

She pulled into the gas station, selected the cheapest grade of fuel, then put the gas pump on automatic. As she watched the dollar amount on the display head quickly upward, a man called her name.

“Diana Smith. Is that really you?”

She glanced up to see a man striding away from a car she assumed was his. About her age with extremely short dark hair and eyes that hinted at his mother’s Asian heritage, she would have known him anywhere.

“Oh, my gosh. Chris Coleman,” she cried.

He met her halfway, picking her up and swinging her around as though she weighed almost nothing. She giggled, feeling like a kid again. After the three-sixty, he set her down but still held her by the shoulders.

“What happened to your hair?” she asked, wondering if she’d ever had such a clear view of his distinctive cheekbones, long straight nose and straight brows. His hair had hung down to his shoulders in high school, with much of it falling into his face.

“I decided to get a clearer view of life,” he said.

She laughed.

“You look good.” His friendly gaze roamed over her, perhaps comparing her to the emotional wreck she’d been when she left town. He hadn’t been in much better shape, his sorrow heightened because he and J.D. had drifted apart in the months before her brother’s death. “With your mom still living in Bentonsville, I hoped I’d run into you one of these days. And today’s the day.”

She didn’t correct his mistaken impression, loath to explain, even to Chris, why she was really in Bentonsville.

“So you never left town?” she asked him.

“I left to go to college in Pennsylvania, a small school called East Stroudsburg.”

“On a football scholarship. I remember you and J.D. talking about it,” she commented as it came back to her. Chris and J.D. had been the only two players on the Bentonsville High team good enough to play at the next level.

“My scholarship paled next to J.D.’s.” Chris fell silent, possibly thinking the same thing as Diana. That J.D. had never played football at Penn State. Or ever again.

“So you returned to Bentonsville after college?”

“Yeah, which is ironic since my parents retired to Florida. I majored in social work. When it came time to look for a job, I found out I was a Maryland boy at heart. How about you? Where have you been all these years, Diana Smith?”

“In Tennessee, mostly,” she answered evasively.

She heard the click of the gas pump turning off and automatically glanced toward her car.

“No way,” he said, sensing the direction her thoughts had taken. “I was heading out of town to spend the weekend with friends, but they’re not expecting me at any specific time. So you’re not getting away until I find out what you were doing in Tennessee. There’s a Starbucks around the corner.”

“A Starbucks? In Bentonsville?”

“Things have changed,” he said. “So how about a cup of joe?”

Why not? she thought. Not only had she always enjoyed Chris’s company, but he’d know exactly how much things had changed since she’d left Bentonsville. Not only with the town, but with Tyler Benton.


CHAPTER TWO

DIANA SIPPED from her caramel-flavored frappuccino, nearly shutting her eyes in delight. She’d managed to rid herself of most of her vices over the years, but not her love of coffee.

With its rich wood-themed interior and strong scent of brewing coffee, the shop resembled any of a hundred other branches of Starbucks. But as Diana settled into a slat-backed chair across from Chris at a table for two, the setting seemed unreal because it was within the borders of her hometown. A place to which she thought she’d never have the guts to return.

She glanced around at the half-dozen or so other patrons, relieved not to recognize any of them. Maybe she was still lacking in the guts department.

Chris leaned back in the chair that looked too small for his frame, grinned and asked, “So what have you been doing with yourself, Tag-Along?”

It had been so long since anyone had used the nickname, she’d forgotten about it. Chris and J.D. had come up with it when they were high school freshmen and Diana was a mere eighth grader. Nothing had seemed cooler than hanging out with the two boys and their friends.

She smiled wryly. “Not following the fun, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, no. Why’s that?”

Regretting her too-frank answer, she affected a shrug. “Life’s not as simple as it was when we were kids. I have responsibilities now. I didn’t go to college. I’ve worked secretarial jobs mainly, with some waitressing thrown in. But making enough money is always a struggle.”

“You’re a single mom, right?”

Diana nodded. She’d left Bentonsville before her pregnancy showed, so she couldn’t be sure how many people knew about Jaye. But Chris wasn’t just anyone. Growing up, he’d spent so much time at her house he’d seemed like a third brother.

“Yeah. Her name’s Jaye.” From the look that passed over Chris’s face, she gathered pointing out she’d named her child after her late brother was unnecessary. “She’s smart and sweet and the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“I’d love to meet her.” He sounded sincere, a quality she’d always associated with him. “Is she with your mother?”

She hesitated only briefly before saying, “She’s staying with Connor in Silver Spring until I get settled.”

Her brain spun, devising new replies should he ask follow-up questions but he fastened on something else.

“Until you get settled? What do you mean by that?”

“I’m in the process of moving to Gaithersburg. I’m starting classes this week at a career training center not far from there.” Before he could ask when Jaye would join her, she continued, “But enough about me. What are you up to?”

Chris had always been shrewd. His dark piercing gaze told her he still was, but he let her get away with changing the subject.

“I’m the director of a community center that started up a few years back. I love it. We’ve got programs for seniors, aerobics classes, day care, community theater and meeting room space. We’re always hopping.”

“That’s great, Chris. It seems like you’ve found a job that suits you.”

He tapped a finger on his chin. “Is that another way of saying I’ll never be rich and famous?”

“As though you want to be,” she teased. “If making money was important to you, you never would have gone into social work.”

He lifted both of his hands, palms up. “You’ve got me there.”

She perched her elbows on the table, balanced her chin in her hands and made her eyes dance. “Okay. On to the good stuff. Are you married? Engaged? Seeing anyone?”

His hesitation was so brief she thought she might have imagined it. “Nope, nope and nope. How about you?”

“Ditto,” she said, removing her elbows from the table. She’d dated some over the years but had never felt as intensely about anyone as she had about Tyler. She’d forced herself to put him out of her mind a long time ago, spurred by the crushing knowledge that despite the lies she’d told he would have come after her had he really loved her. “I always thought I’d get married some day, but I’m starting to think I was wrong.”

“I hear you,” Chris said.

Her brain whirled as she tried to figure out how to bring the topic around to Tyler. The more she knew about him, the better prepared she would be to tell him about Jaye. “I imagine a lot of people we went to school with are already married.”

He nodded. “That’s true.”

What to say? Diana wondered. How to say it? “Funny, I just happened to see one of our ex-classmates when I was driving through town. Tyler Benton.”

This time she was sure she didn’t imagine Chris’s body stiffening. She tried to sound nonchalant. “Is Tyler married?”

The seconds ticked by before Chris answered, marked by the heavy beating of her heart. Things would go more smoothly if Tyler wasn’t married, she told herself. Not all wives would be accepting of a child from another relationship.

“No,” Chris finally said, causing the knot in her stomach to unfurl. “Although I don’t expect he’ll wait much longer.”

The knot balled up again. “Do you mean he’s engaged?”

Chris fidgeted in his seat. “Not as far as I know. I meant the right kind of wife can help further the career of a guy like Benton, and the woman he’s dating fits the bill. Any particular reason you’re so curious?”

“Not really, except we used to be friends,” she said quickly while she wondered what kind of impact the sudden appearance of a child would have on Tyler’s life.

“That’s right,” Chris said. “I vaguely remember that now that you mention it.”

“We weren’t all that close,” she said, deliberately downplaying the connection. Until she told Tyler about Jaye, she couldn’t afford to get tongues wagging, not that Chris had ever struck her as a gossip. “I probably wouldn’t have much to say to him even if I had stopped and talked to him. Because, like I said, we weren’t close.”

Shut up, Diana, she instructed herself.

It appeared as though her long-winded explanation had piqued Chris’s curiosity instead of sating it. But when he spoke, it wasn’t of Tyler. “Getting back to the career training center you mentioned, what are you planning to study?”

She relaxed slightly. That question was simple enough to answer. “Business administration.”

“Do you have a job lined up?”

Another easy question. “Yeah. I was waitressing at a Scarlet Pimpernel in Nashville. Do you know the chain? There’s a restaurant in Gaithersburg.”

He tapped the top of the table with the fingertips of one hand, and she could almost see gears turning in his brain. “What I’m going to say might sound crazy, but would you consider working for me instead?”

She felt her jaw drop. “Here in Bentonsville?”

He smiled. “That is where the community center is located.”

Bentonsville was also the place of so much hurt for her, the place where Tyler and her mother still lived. Merely driving here had been emotional. “Working in Bentonsville never occurred to me.”

“That’s because you didn’t know I’d offer you a job. My office manager left last week. Doing both jobs is getting to be a strain. I wouldn’t expect you to step into her position right away, but I could sure use the help, and from someone I know I can trust.”

“You’re serious.” She read the verification on his face. “But don’t you have an application process where you need to interview other candidates?”

“We’re a nonprofit organization that operates under a grant that comes up for review every few years. I don’t answer to anyone other than myself on personnel issues.”

“But you don’t know anything about me anymore.”

“That’s not true,” he said. “I know you’re a single mom with secretarial experience who used to live in Bentonsville. I also know you’re the sister of the guy who used to be my best friend.”

Chris and J.D. had once been as tight as two people could be, hanging out in the weight room, on the football field, in the halls at school. But they hadn’t been close at the end. If guilt festered inside Chris, it was a different variety than the kind Diana lived with every day of her life.

“This is just about J.D., isn’t it?” she asked quietly. “That’s why you’re offering me a job.”

He glanced briefly away before his eyes settled on her once again. “I’ve always felt bad about how we drifted apart. So, yeah, J.D. has something to do with it. The fact that I used to think of you as a kid sister does, too. But the bottom line is I need to hire somebody soon, and you need a job.”

“I have a job lined up.”

“Not in the field you’re planning to study, you don’t. I’ll show you the ropes, teach you some things about running an office. Think of it as on-the-job training.” He named a figure on par with what she expected to earn as a waitress. Then he threw in better benefits.

She had to admit the job sounded like a godsend, but the allure of the position warred with panic at the thought of being back in Bentonsville. “I couldn’t work nine to five, because my classes are in the mornings.”

“Then work one to nine. Nine o’clock is when the community center closes. We’re open seven days a week, but you can have two days off. Say, Sunday and Thursday.”

“That would mean driving back to Gaithersburg every night on the dark, country roads.”

“Don’t live in Gaithersburg. Live in Bentonsville. You could even stay with your mother.” He must have picked up on her tension, because he added. “Or rent an apartment. Housing costs in Bentonsville are relatively cheap. I might even know of a place.”

She fidgeted with her coffee cup. The people who remembered her would recall that she’d been pregnant and unmarried when she left home, subjecting Jaye to unwanted curiosity once the child moved in with her. But while Diana’s mind rejected Chris’s suggestion that she live in Bentonsville, she didn’t entirely dismiss the idea of working in town. It might be awkward for her, but she’d faced a lot worse than awkward the last few months and survived.

“I’m tempted,” she said, thinking aloud.

“Wait ’til you see the center. There’s not much going on today because of the holiday weekend. But come with me, have a look around first.”

“You sure you have the time to give me a tour?”

“For you, Tag-Along, I’ll make the time.” Chris stood up, extending his hand to her. “So what do you say?”

The safe thing would be to refuse on the spot, but instead she placed her hand in his. What could it hurt to look?

DIANA INSERTED a chicken marsala frozen dinner in the compact microwave, set the controls on high for five minutes, then flopped down on her hotel bed.

A rerun of the pilot episode of Everybody Loves Raymond played on the television set across from the bed. As she watched the hectic beginning scenes, she vaguely remembered the plot. Ray’s wife’s birthday was approaching, and she wanted peace and quiet away from ringing phones, demanding kids and friends and family dropping by unannounced.

Three shrill beeps signaled her food was ready. Diana grabbed the remote and flicked off the TV before getting up from the bed.

Spending a quiet birthday wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. She should know. She’d had one last month. It had been only slightly more bearable than the lonesome Labor Day weekend that was finally coming to an end. But she had only herself to blame for that. If she were really through being a coward, she’d have accepted Connor’s invitation to spend the holiday with him. And Jaye.

Setting the packaged dinner down on the desk, she removed a cola from the small refrigerator and sat down. Through the walls, she could hear a young girl’s high-pitched giggle and the deeper voices of a man and a woman.

She glanced at the streamlined phone by the bedside, longing to pick it up and make a connection with her own daughter. But the reason she’d given Connor for not being in touch with Jaye still stood.

She was like a leaf swirling in the wind, without a place to touch down. How could she even think about having Jaye with her until she’d landed?

She cut off a piece of chicken with her plastic knife, put it in her mouth and chewed. The taste didn’t compare to the chicken marsala served by the Scarlet Pimpernel, which is what she could be eating tomorrow night after she’d attended her first day of classes and started her new job.

But the position the restaurant manager in Nashville had lined up for her no longer seemed as attractive. Supposedly the Scarlet Pimpernel had prospective waitresses lining up at the door, but Diana kept thinking about the Bentonsville Community Center.

She’d make about as much money as she would at the restaurant, which would still enable her to afford a nice-sized unit in the apartment complex she’d chosen. But not only would she have more scheduling flexibility, she’d have better health coverage for Jaye.

She heard a door opening, then closing, and the voices of the family that had been in the next room growing softer as they moved down the hall toward the elevator. Then the quiet was so pronounced, she could hear herself chew.

When she and Chris stopped by the community center on Saturday, the place had been, to use one of Chris’s words, hopping in spite of the holiday weekend. Small children and their parents had gyrated to the music in one of the all-purpose rooms hosting a Mom & Me exercise class. Senior citizens had congregated in the great room for their weekly Saturday afternoon bingo game. And a raucous basketball game had been going on at an outside court.

Pushing her half-eaten container of food away from her, Diana got to her feet and picked up her purse from the floor beside the bed. She rummaged through it, finally pulling out a business card.

Not giving herself time to change her mind, she punched in the number on the hotel phone and counted the rings. One. Two. Three.

“Hello,” Chris Coleman said, his voice coming through bright and jovial. Commotion reined in the background, as though the community center had hit a particularly busy spell.

“Hi, Chris. It’s Diana Smith. Is the job you offered me still available?”

TYLER BENTON RUSHED through the Bentonsville Community Center in the direction Valerie, the receptionist, had directed, aware of minutes ticking by that could be spent preparing for trial.

It couldn’t be helped. He needed to take care of this today.

The high-pitched chatter of the children in center-based day care mingled with the rusty voices of seniors playing bridge as he stood at the head of a large room, scanning the crowd.

“Yoo hoo, Tyler.” The greeting came from one of the women at the nearest card table: his sixth-grade teacher, the white hair piled on her head adding inches to her height.

“Hello, Mrs. Piper.” He tamped down his impatience and smiled at her. The other women at the table looked up from their cards. Tyler knew two of them, who he greeted by name. Mrs. Piper introduced him to the third, Mrs. Ruth Grimes, a plump woman with old-fashioned horn-rimmed glasses.

“Tyler here is an assistant state’s attorney,” Mrs. Piper told her, “although we all know he’s destined for even better things.”

Mrs. Grimes peered at him with interest over the top of her glasses. “Oh, really? Then perhaps you’d like to meet my granddaughter. She’s a peach.”

“I’m afraid that adorable Lauren Fairchild got to him first.” Mrs. Piper lowered her voice as though confiding a secret. To Tyler, she said, “I saw you two together at church on Sunday. You make a lovely couple.”

Tyler’s father, who’d invited the omnipresent Lauren to sit with them, had voiced the same sentiment. Tyler let Mrs. Piper’s comment slide, the same way he’d ignored his father’s verbal shove in Lauren’s direction. If he claimed not to be serious about Lauren, he’d find himself on a blind date with Mrs. Grimes’s granddaughter.

“Have any of you seen your director?” he asked. “I’ve got some business with him.”

“I wondered what you were doing here in the middle of the day.” Mrs. Piper craned her neck just as Chris Coleman stood up from a chair he’d pulled up to one of the other tables. “There’s Chris now. He’s such a sweetheart.”

The three other woman nodded, their assessment of Chris unanimous.

“Don’t let me interrupt your bridge game any more than I already have,” Tyler said, his mind on taking care of business and getting back to work. “It was a pleasure to see you ladies.”

He moved toward Chris, who excused himself from the foursome to whom he’d been talking. The charming smile the director had bestowed on the ladies of Bentonsville disappeared.

“Benton,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

“Chris.” Tyler inclined his chin. “I’ve got to talk to you.”

“Now? It couldn’t have waited until tonight?”

Tyler spent some of his very limited free time on the center’s outdoor basketball court, playing ball with the teen boys who congregated there. “I can’t make it tonight. Or any time soon, I’m afraid. I’m about to go to trial.”

“Then what’s so important you’re here now?”

Tyler looked around, encountering a half-dozen sets of interested eyes. He indicated a nearby hallway with a jerk of his head. Receiving his silent message, Chris walked with him until they were out of hearing range of the card players.

“Okay, what’s up?” Chris asked.

The director’s manner was friendly. His eyes were not. Although they’d never run in the same social circles, Tyler had graduated from high school the same year as Chris. The animosity he sensed rolling off the director hadn’t appeared until recently. Lately, it seemed as though Chris plain didn’t like him. Well, Tyler didn’t like what Chris had done.

Tyler carefully kept his next statement non-accusatory. “Jim Jeffries told me you backed out of buying his pool tables.”

Jim owned a bar and two regulation-size pool tables he was about to replace. He would have sold them to the center at well under retail. Tyler should know. He’d negotiated the price.

“That’s right. I took a closer look at the budget and decided the center couldn’t afford it.” Chris crossed his arms over his chest, as though reluctant to explain himself. That didn’t make sense. Chris often stated that the community deserved a say in matters concerning the center.

“Jim says he has another offer. The center can’t afford not to buy those pool tables,” Tyler argued. “As soon as the nightly basketball game’s over, the kids scatter.”

“Pool tables aren’t enough to make them stick around.”

“They’re a start,” Tyler snapped. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated at himself for raising his voice. Every good lawyer knew cool logic got better results than heated words. “We’re on the same side here, Chris. We both want to keep kids off the street. But how can we do that if we can’t keep them at the center?”

“I don’t disagree.” Chris’s body language said differently. “But I have to consider what’s good not only for the teen program, but for the center as a whole. Our grant’s up for renewal in a few months. How can I justify spending such a large chunk of money on our least represented group?”

“By explaining that you’re trying to increase attendance.”

“Except I believe you can’t solve a problem by throwing money at it. Look at some of the things we’ve tried since the center opened. Paid speakers who talked to mostly empty rooms. Dances where nobody came. A study lounge hardly anybody uses.”

Tyler addressed only his last concern. “That’s because there are no computers in the study area.”

“Computers cost money, which we don’t have much of. I’ve got a tight budget. And, like I said, a lot of other programs to consider.”

“Then I’ll donate the pool tables,” Tyler said, surprised the solution hadn’t occurred to him before now. He’d sunk most of his disposable income into the house he’d bought last year, but he could afford used pool tables. “And maybe you could do some fund-raising for the computers.”

“Any fund-raising I do is global, benefiting the center as a whole. I can’t—”

“What if I get somebody to donate the computers?” Tyler asked, although he could ill afford the time. His work schedule was jammed.

Chris transferred his weight from one foot to the other. “That’d be great. But I’m still skeptical that pool tables and a couple computers will increase attendance.”

“It can’t hurt.”

“I hope you’re right,” Chris said, then nodded to him. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some things I need to do.”

Without another word, Chris headed down the hall. Tyler turned to leave and saw what he thought was a mirage. Walking toward him was a grown-up version of Diana Smith, the girl who’d broken his heart. He blinked, expecting her to disappear, but she kept coming.

Her figure was curvier, the glossy brown hair she’d once worn parted in the middle feathered around her face and her features more mature but there was no mistake about it. It was Diana, who’d left Bentonsville—and him—ten years ago.

Memories slammed into him. Of Diana’s tears dampening his T-shirt while she cried over her dead brother. Of her hazel eyes reflecting the attraction he hadn’t been able to deny. Of her face infused with pleasure and passion as he made love to her.

Of her lips telling him she’d cheated on him with countless other guys.

The last memory was the strongest, perhaps because it had been the impetus he’d used to get over her.

And he had gotten over her. Years ago. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t thought about her and wondered what had become of her. Especially recently when her mother had been on a quest to keep her brother’s killer from getting parole, gathering signatures on a petition in front of the grocery store and placing ads in the local newspaper.

With her clear skin, apple cheeks and gently arched brows, Diana had a natural quality that had always captivated him. She’d gotten even more appealing with age, something his infatuated teenage self wouldn’t have thought possible.

Her step didn’t falter, her slight smile didn’t waver, as though seeing him again hadn’t unduly affected her. It could have been because she’d done the spurning, although he could no longer blame her for that. With the wisdom that comes with age, he understood that she’d turned to him out of grief. But it still stung that he hadn’t mattered much to her while she’d been vital to him.

“Hello, Tyler,” she said, her voice still low, still smoky.

Annoyed at his reaction to her, he tried to pull himself together but still couldn’t manage to smile. “Hello, Diana.”

He knew he was staring, but couldn’t help it. Although her oval-shaped face appeared virtually the same, her eyes seemed different, as though they’d seen more than she’d bargained for. His gaze slid downward to the tiny mole to the left of her mouth that he used to like to kiss. Before she’d told him he hadn’t been the only guy she’d granted access to it.

The thought snapped him out of his embarrassing stupor. He wasn’t a teenager anymore but an accomplished adult who prided himself on his poise. He could deal with the unexpected appearance of a girl from his past.

“This is quite a surprise,” he said, pleased his voice sounded the way it always did. “I hadn’t realized you were in town visiting.”

A few beats of silence passed before she shook her head. “I’m not visiting. I’m working here at the center.”

“You’re working at the center?” he repeated numbly, barely keeping the incredulity out of his voice. “Since when?”

“Since today, actually.” She slipped one of her hands in the front pocket of her slacks, where she seemed to be fiddling with something. He tried to wrap his mind around the startling revelation that she wasn’t only back in Bentonsville temporarily. She was back to stay. “I’m going to school in Gaithersburg. My plan was to work there, too. But I ran into Chris over the weekend, he offered me a job and here I am.”

Yeah, here she was. Back in Bentonsville for a reason that had nothing to do with him.

Blindsided that he’d subconsciously wished she’d returned to town because of him, he felt the need to put space between them. He wasn’t that naive kid who’d once stupidly confused a grieving girl’s dependence for something it wasn’t.

But for the life of him, he couldn’t make himself move.

“How about you?” She broke the deafening silence between them. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to Chris.” His spinning brain furnished a reason why he was still frozen in place. Should he prepare himself to run into her around every Bentonsville corner? “Are you living here in town?”

“No, I’m not. I’m in a hotel right now but I’ll probably get an apartment in Gaithersburg.”

“I hope it all works out for you,” he said shortly. Move, Tyler, he told himself. Leave before you say something you’ll regret. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to be getting back to work.”

“Oh, of course,” she said, taking a step sideways so he had more room to pass. The way she turned her head subtracted years from her face, peeling the decade away and taking him back to the time he was trying to forget. A time when he’d dreamed of a perfect girl, a girl he cared about and who cared about him.

He walked determinedly past her, banking his urge to speed up. His vaunted poise hadn’t held up as well as he’d hoped, but a hasty retreat might give her the idea that her long-ago betrayal still hurt.

Which, unfortunately, it did.


CHAPTER THREE

DIANA SAT on the tall stool behind the welcome counter during a temporary lull, nursing her third cup of coffee of the day and turning over and over a smooth, flat stone with a psychedelic design.

Jaye had painted it last year during art class, then gravely presented it after Diana crashed into the tree. Amidst all the upheaval in their lives, Diana had forgotten the stone’s existence—until she’d found it inside a box last night, its bold slashes of red, blue and yellow demanding to be noticed.

Her daughter had insisted it was a good-luck charm. After Diana’s earlier encounter with Tyler, during which she’d held onto the stone like a lifeline, she seriously doubted it held hidden power.

She’d wondered if Tyler had thought to ask about her child, paving the eventual way for her to tell him he had a daughter. But he’d been silent, showing no more interest in the subject than he had a decade ago.

Disappointment rose up in Diana. He’d seemed like a stranger and not the boy she’d loved.

She hadn’t remembered him being over six feet, but then he’d been young when they were together and possibly still growing. His chest and shoulders had filled out, changes apparent despite his well-cut gray suit. His face was different, too. The shape more rectangular, his clefted chin squarer, his blue eyes warier.

Once she’d been able to tell him anything, but she’d had a hard time getting out any words at all, let alone about Jaye.

She pushed off the floor with her right foot, sending the stool revolving in a complete three-sixty. She couldn’t let their difficult first meeting deter her. Her reasons for telling Tyler about Jaye hadn’t changed. Clearing her conscience so she could start her life anew constituted only a minor part of it. Doing right by her daughter—and, by extension, Tyler—made up the rest.

When the stool faced frontward again, a vaguely familiar woman with dyed red hair and a matronly figure was approaching.

“Aren’t you Elaine Smith’s daughter, Diana?” the woman, who was probably in her sixties, asked in a voice Diana recognized at once.

Diana’s hand closed around the stone. She’d told Chris filling in at the welcome desk while the regular receptionist went on lunch break wasn’t a problem, but she’d lied.

She’d gotten through her initial meeting with Tyler, but she wasn’t ready to face her past and the rest of the people who populated it.

Please, God, she prayed, don’t let the woman have worked at the high school. Teachers talked, and Bentonsville High’s insulated community ensured that everybody knew Diana had been trouble. After Diana abruptly left town amidst rumors that she was an easy lay, speculation that she was pregnant must have been rampant.

“You’re right,” she admitted slowly. “I am Diana Smith.”

The woman smiled broadly, causing the tension in Diana’s shoulders to ebb but not entirely abate.

“I thought that was you. Elaine and I used to volunteer together in the school library when you were in elementary school. Have you worked here long?”

“Chris just hired me.”

“He’s such a dear, isn’t he?” The woman didn’t wait for her answer. “I’m Jake Wilson’s mother. You remember Jake, don’t you?”

Diana faintly recalled a boisterous kid with strawberry-blond hair, but Mrs. Wilson chattered on before Diana could respond. “Jake’s an engineer in Baltimore. He’s married with two adorable kids. How about you?”

Diana squeezed the stone tighter. “I have a daughter.”

Mrs. Wilson’s expression softened. “I know, dear. It’s too bad about your fiancé dying in that car accident right after your brother died, God rest both of their souls. What a tough time that must have been, with you being so young.”

Her fiancé?

“Your mother was beside herself, poor dear, especially because she was the one who insisted it’d do you good to get away from Bentonsville. You went to live with an aunt, didn’t you?”

Speechless, Diana nodded. That was the only true part of the entire story.

“I’d love to meet your little girl one day,” Mrs. Wilson said. “Please tell your mother I said hello and that she should give me a call. Or, better yet, I’ll call her.”

Diana had yet to inform her mother she’d returned to Bentonsville, a fact she wouldn’t have revealed even if her mind hadn’t been on the fiction the older woman had spun. Was Mrs. Wilson’s version of events what everybody in Bentonsville thought had happened? Is that what Tyler believed?

Mrs. Wilson chatted blithely on for a few more moments before announcing she was off to a pottery-making class, stopping along the way to talk with Chris. Diana nearly rushed the pair so she could drag Chris away and interrogate him but waited to flag him down until he finished talking.

“Tell me something, Chris,” she said before he reached the counter, not able to hold off another second. “What do you know about what happened to me after I left Bentonsville?”

Confusion stamped his features. “A lot. Don’t you remember? We talked about it over coffee a few days ago.”

“I don’t mean recently. I mean right after I left town, when I lived with my aunt.”

He scratched his head, taking a maddeningly long time to answer. “Only what your mother told me. That you met a guy and got pregnant and that he died in a car accident. I didn’t ask you about Jaye’s father because I thought it still might be a sore spot.”

“It is,” she verified, but for a different reason than Chris suspected. Jaye’s father wasn’t dead, but very much alive—and quite possibly sure he hadn’t gotten Diana pregnant.

Chris anchored both hands on the counter, obviously believing she’d cued him to change the subject. “How’s the job going, Diana?”

“Great,” she said, the wheels in her head spinning madly as the pieces of the past clicked into place. It had never occurred to her that Tyler wouldn’t have figured out she was pregnant when she left town.

“I’m glad everything’s working out,” Chris said with genuine enthusiasm. “I got the feeling you weren’t too keen on manning the welcome desk.”

She hadn’t been, fearing the people who recognized her would try to figure out who in Bentonsville had fathered Jaye. Because of the story her mother had concocted and spread, that wouldn’t be the case.

“You got me there,” Diana admitted. “I’ll have to put on my tin-foil hat the next time I see you coming.”

He laughed. “I don’t have to be a mind reader to tell you were nervous about running into people you used to know. Don’t forget, I knew you way back when.”

But he didn’t know her secret. Apparently nobody except her immediate family members were aware that the father of Diana’s child was from Bentonsville.

“I need you to do something for me,” Chris announced, drawing her attention back to the present. She’d think about Tyler and the implications of what she’d learned later. Chris might be her friend, but first and foremost he was her boss. “Remember how I mentioned the turnout for the teen program has been disappointing? Tyler Benton is planning some fund-raising so we can equip the study lounge with computers.”

Surprise jolted through her even though she’d seen Tyler in the community center only a few hours before. “I didn’t know Tyler was involved with the center.”

“People as ambitious as Benton get involved with places like this all the time,” Chris said, then remarked, “It looks good on their resumes.”

Even as a teenager, Tyler had talked about surpassing the accomplishments of his very successful father and grandfather and one day becoming a judge. To that end, he’d taken the most advanced classes at Bentonsville High, read incessantly and applied to the best colleges. He poured himself into whatever he did, whether it was playing on the basketball team or taking an exam. Or kissing her. But something inside Diana rebelled at Chris’s comment.

“Tyler wouldn’t use the community center to make himself look good,” she said. “He’s not like that.”

Chris squinted at her. “I thought you said you didn’t know him that well.”

“I don’t. I mean, I only know what I remember about him.”

“People change, Diana. You’d do well to remember that. But I’m not going to question Benton’s motives. What I need you to do is let me know if he makes any progress on getting those computers.”

“Okay,” she said, her heart beating harder at the prospect of seeing Tyler again. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“You won’t need to try too hard. Benton’s a semi-regular at the basketball games that go on here at night. He mentioned he’s about to start a trial, so you might not see him for a couple days. But believe me, he’ll be around.”

Diana’s stomach jumped with anticipation at seeing Tyler again now that she was armed with her newfound knowledge. A bitterness she hadn’t realized she harbored seemed to melt away from her heart as her mind formulated a plan.

Maybe she could ask Tyler out for coffee, possibly at the same Starbucks where Chris had taken her. The establishment had an outside seating area, where they could talk in relative privacy.

“Diana, are you listening to me?”

Her head snapped up. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“I asked if you figured out the filing system and familiarized yourself with the types of programs the center offers?”

“I did,” she said.

He lightly rapped the desk. “Great. Let me know if you need anything else, including the number of the Realtor who’s renting that place I told you about.”

He’d mentioned the apartment enough times that she’d devised a tactful reply about being careful not to act in haste and repent in leisure. But that was before she’d learned the story her mother had invented about her pregnancy. Before she realized nobody would gossip about Jaye after her daughter moved in with her.

“Actually,” she said, “I would like that number.”

He grinned, reached into his wallet, pulled out a business card decorated with a Realtor’s logo and slapped it on the counter. “Hot damn. That’s good news. It means my newest hire is here to stay.”

She smiled at his enthusiasm. “How do you figure that?”

“You wouldn’t consider living in Bentonsville if you didn’t think things would work out here.”

She rested her hands on her hips. “I’ll have to get out that tin-foil hat after all.”

His good-natured laughter lingered in her ears even after he was gone. The sound traveled through her and stirred up the hope bubbling inside her.

Mere days ago, the thought of returning to Bentonsville had terrified her. Now with a little luck she’d be able to move out of the lonely hotel room in the next few days. Then she’d have the fast-approaching weekend to fix her new place up to her liking. She could spend part of it decorating the second bedroom in shades of pink, Jaye’s favorite color.

She still had some major hurdles to overcome before she could get Jaye back—including dealing with her mother—but the biggest obstacle no longer seemed so high.

To think that for all these years she’d harbored an unfounded grudge against Tyler for not at least trying to find out whether he was Jaye’s father.

The hope that everything would work out rose in her like the helium in a balloon. She picked up the colorful stone from the surface of the desk, tossed it into the air and caught it.

For the first time since she’d set foot in Bentonsville again, she truly believed the town where her daughter’s father lived represented the perfect place to start over.

TO MOLLY JACOBY, anywhere was better than home. Even the community center, with the funny old ladies playing cards and the little kids squealing on the playground.

Besides, she’d catch hell if she got home before school let out. If there was anybody home to catch her. Her dad had moved in with his girlfriend after the divorce and still lived in Virginia, which Molly liked better than this nothing little town. Her mom was a nurse who was always around except when she needed her.

Not that Molly had needed her in a very long time. Not like her younger brothers and sister did. Jeremy and Jason, the twins, were second-graders. Little Rosie had just started kindergarten.

Molly was sixteen, as her mom constantly reminded her. Old enough to chip in now that her dad was gone. So how come Molly didn’t help around the house more, babysit the kids and make better grades while she was at it?

Nag, nag, nag.

It had gotten so bad Molly invented lies so she didn’t have to come home. Her mom actually believed she was on the technical crew for the school play. As if Molly would have anything to do with a production as lame as Peter Pan.

Although the center was one of her daytime hangouts, she seldom showed up after dark. The past couple nights, she’d hung with the crowd that snuck into the county park after closing. She’d made few friends since moving to town a month ago so she’d jumped when Bobby Martinelli told her she should come. She’d almost died on the spot that a boy as good looking as Bobby had noticed her at all.

He and his friends mostly drank beer at one of the picnic shelters. It tasted gross, so Molly didn’t take more than a swallow or two even though Bobby urged her to drink more. Bobby had been pushing her to do a lot of other things, too, but so far she hadn’t let him past second base.

Her mom would throw a fit if she knew where Molly had been spending her nights. And who she’d been spending them with. But her mom was so busy with the little kids and so bitter about the divorce, she didn’t have the energy to keep tabs on Molly.

She sure could muster the strength to yell at her, though.

The teen study lounge was deserted, pretty much its usual state. Molly had lurked outside the center until Valerie, the usual receptionist, had left her post, then slipped inside, minimizing the chance that anybody would give her the third degree.

Molly dropped her backpack beside an armchair, then dug around for her CD player. Most of the other kids had iPods, but not Molly. Her mom claimed they were an “unnecessary extravagance.”

She put in a CD by a loud rock band, plugged in her earphones and curled up on the chair with a book she’d lifted from the school library just to see if she could.

She tucked her legs up under her and soon lost herself in a Terry Pratchett book set in a make-believe land with trolls and elves and lots of other cool stuff. Just when she was getting to the epic battle, a shadow fell over her.

A woman she’d never seen before wearing a name tag that identified herself as a center employee stood over her. Younger than most of the people at the center, she was still a good ten years older than Molly. An adult. Rolling her eyes, Molly took out her earphones, cutting off a heavy metal riff.

“You surprised me, too,” the woman said. “I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

Molly said nothing, hoping the woman would take the hint and go away. She looked nervous enough. Instead, the woman asked, “Good book?”

Molly shrugged. “It’s okay.”

The woman angled her head, reading the author’s name on the back cover. “Oh, I love Terry Pratchett. Have you read the one where the Grim Reaper takes an apprentice? That’s my favorite.”

Molly loved that book most, too, but she only grunted.

The woman’s smile faltered, but she stuck out a hand. “I’m Diana Smith. I started working here a couple days ago.”

Molly ignored her hand, but enough manners had been drilled into her that she grudgingly said, “I’m Molly.”

“So, Molly,” she said, her voice wavering a little, “what brings you here at this time of day?”

So that was what this was all about. Goody Two-shoes obviously knew school was still in session. Molly went on the defensive. “They don’t care if you leave early if you have study hall last period.”

Diana squirmed, as though talking to Molly made her uncomfortable. But that couldn’t be. She was very pretty with great skin, clear and pale. Molly used tons of zit cream to ensure she didn’t scare young children.

“How’d you do it?” Diana asked. “Forge a note about a doctor’s appointment or slip out that back door by the gym?”

“How’d you know about the back door?”

“I went to Bentonsville High,” she said. “If you go out that door and cross a road, the woods are right there. Then you’re home free.”

“You used that escape route?” Molly injected heavy skepticism into her voice.

“All the time.” Diana’s words carried a ring of truth, although she seemed ashamed of the admission.

Well, Molly didn’t feel guilty. “I went out the back door. It was easy because I have PE last period. The teacher loses track of who’s there and who’s not.”

Molly had forged her mom’s signature before, too. She’d never leave school without covering her tracks. A terrible thought occurred to her, and her heart raced. “You’re not going to tell my mom, are you?”

“Why would I do that?”

Molly’s heart rate returned to normal. “Because I shouldn’t be skipping school.”

“Then why are you?”

“Why did you?” Molly shot back.

Diana didn’t answer for a moment. “I guess because I didn’t want to be there.”

“That’s my reason, too.”

“Okay,” Diana said, as though she actually accepted that. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

She’d almost reached the door when she turned around. “If you ever want to talk about anything—Terry Pratchett books, school, anything—just come find me. I’ll be around.”

Then she left.

Molly frowned, wondering what had possessed her to admit she’d skated out of her last class. How could she be sure Diana wouldn’t rat her out?

Diana had seemed okay. She wasn’t too old and she hadn’t lectured Molly about doing the right thing. But Diana was one of them. An adult.

Molly snorted, disgusted with herself for revealing anything at all to Diana. She put her headphones back on and opened her book, wondering how long it would be until she caught hell for skipping school.

THE APPLE-CHEEKED KID on the stand looked about fifteen years old, although Tyler’s court documents stated his age as nineteen.

Unlucky for the kid.

The juries in adult cases usually came down harder on offenders than juvenile court judges, a bad thing for Grant Livingstone. Because Tyler was about to prove without a reasonable doubt that the teenager had committed arson.

Nobody had died, but the owner of the single-family home that had burned to the ground suffered second-degree burns trying to contain the flames before the fire department arrived.

“I’d like to make sure I have some of the facts straight,” Tyler said, sidling up to the young man. Up close, dressed in a too-big navy blue suit, Grant looked like a boy playing dress-up in his father’s clothes. “Is that okay, Mr. Livingstone?”

“Uh, sure.” The kid clearly wasn’t used to being addressed formally.

“You say the empty gas can police found in your parents’ garage is one you used to fill up the tank of the lawn mower. Is that correct?”

“Yeah,” Grant said, then seemed to remember where he was. “I mean, yes, sir.”

“You also maintain that you were seen in the vicinity of the fire shortly before it started because the house that burned down was along your running route. True?”

“Yes, sir.” The teen straightened and spoke louder, more confidently. “I pass right by that house, I mean where that house used to be, when I go out for a run.”

“How long have you been running that route?”

“Not long. I change my route all the time.”

“I see,” Tyler said.

And he did. Circumstantial evidence had been enough to bring Grant to trial, but not enough to convict him. Without a motive, the odds of the teenager walking free were sky high.

Grant knew that. That’s why he’d refused to plea bargain and why his wealthy father had shelled out big bucks to hire a defense attorney. However, they were unaware of what Tyler knew.

“Mr. Livingstone, do you know a Dr. Millicent Osgood?”

Shock flashed across the kid’s face, which he quickly masked. But Tyler had seen it and knew the case was as good as won.

“Objection,” Grant’s defense attorney called, clearly not recognizing the name. “Irrelevant.”

Tyler glanced back at the young lawyer, a junior associate at a legal firm that counted one of Tyler’s neighbors as a partner.

The attorney had mounted a fairly impressive defense but erred when he let Livingstone take the stand. The law didn’t require defendants to testify, a marked advantage if your client was guilty. A prosecutor who’d done his homework could almost always get a guilty man to incriminate himself. The younger the defendant, Tyler found, the more likely he was to slip up.

All of which meant that the very young lawyer from Ernst, Cooper and Pettinger must actually believe his even younger client wasn’t guilty.

“If the court will bear with me,” Tyler told the judge, a statuesque woman in her sixties. “I’ll show how Dr. Osgood relates to this case.”

“Overruled,” the judge said. “The defendant will answer the question.”

“Dr. Osgood was my twelfth-grade biology teacher at Bentonsville High.”

Tyler waited a moment for that fact to sink in with the jury. “Mr. Livingstone, do you have a high school diploma?”

Grant squirmed in his seat. “No.”

“Why not? You were supposed to graduate with your high school class last year, weren’t you?”

“I, uh, didn’t pass all my subjects.”

“Isn’t it true that the subject you flunked was biology and Dr. Osgood was the teacher who flunked you?”

The pause before Grant answered stretched longer than before. “Yeah.”

“Where do you go to school now, Mr. Livingstone?”

“Rockville Prep.”

“If not for that grade in biology, you’d be in college, correct?”

“Objection, Your Honor,” the defense attorney interrupted, not without a touch of panic. “I fail to see how any of this is relevant.”

Before the judge could rule, Tyler said, “I’d like to submit a phone book into evidence, Your Honor. It goes directly to relevance.”

“Don’t try my patience, counselor,” the judge told Tyler. “Connect the dots in the next minute or you’ll have to move on from this line of questioning.”

“Understood.” Tyler strode to the prosecutor’s table and picked up the community phone book he’d placed there. While walking back to Grant, he flipped it open to a bookmarked page, then handed it to the defendant.

“Mr. Livingstone, would you please read the address listed next to Dr. Millicent Osgood’s phone number?”

The kid reminded him of a caged animal, his eyes frantically searching for a means of escape. After a moment, he cleared his throat and read, “9926 Fairmont Road.”

“Do you know the address of the place that burned down?” Tyler asked.

“No, I don’t,” Grant said, but his eyes and his manner said otherwise.

“Let the record show that address is 9962 Fairmont Road.”

Tyler didn’t relish the gasps and shocked murmurs that reverberated throughout the courtroom. Despite the arrogance that shined through in his manner, Grant seemed more like a misguided kid than a bad one. He’d set the fire in a trash can, probably only intending to frighten. But the wind had been gusty that day, spreading the flames to the branches of a nearby tree that butted up against the house. The resulting inferno had happened very fast.

Tyler spent a good chunk of time trying to get Grant to admit to arson, with no success. But by the time the judge adjourned for lunch, the damage was done. Tyler had furnished the jury with a motive and a defendant who couldn’t meet his eyes when he lied.

The defense attorney would probably spend the lunch break talking to his client about trying to make a deal, but it was too late for that now that Tyler had the case won. Tyler’s boss, the state’s attorney, took pride in his office’s high conviction rate and would never approve a plea bargain at this late stage.

Tyler gathered his papers, placed them in the expensive calfskin leather briefcase his father had bought him last Christmas and headed for the exit.

“Impressive job in there, Tyler.” Jon Pettinger, the neighbor who lived a few doors from him, separated himself from the crowd and shook his hand. Jon kept himself in such good shape that he could have passed for a man a few decades younger if not for his gray hair.

“Thanks, Jon. That’s big of you to say, considering it was your colleague sitting at the defense table. I’m lucky you weren’t there beside him.”

“I’m working another case or I might have been. I was only present today because I happened to be at the courthouse and thought I’d check up on him. I didn’t see much, just the fireworks at the end. You caught my guy unawares, which is a good lesson for him.”

“It’s all about gaining experience and putting in the time. Next time your associate will be better prepared so the prosecution doesn’t surprise him again.”

“You’re right. But next time he won’t be up against an opponent who might become the youngest circuit court judge ever appointed in Maryland.”

“I take it you heard I put in an application for the vacancy.”

“I heard more than that. I heard the judicial nominating commission is very impressed with you. Unless you blow the interview, they’ll recommend the governor appoint you to the bench for sure.”

The thirteen-member commission, armed with background information and statements from local bar associations and interested citizens, would soon meet to interview all the candidates. Tyler had every intention of sailing through the interview, the same way he’d aced his tests in college and law school.

“That’s only the first step,” Tyler said. “The commission can recommend up to seven candidates.”

“I still wouldn’t bet against a guy as accomplished as you, although I’d go nuts if I put in the time you do,” he said with a laugh, then lowered his voice as though they were coconspirators. “Just tell me one thing. Did you get the idea to cross check the addresses because of what happened on Labor Day weekend?”

Tyler cocked his head, trying to remember back to last weekend. He’d spent most of it working, although Lauren Fairchild had stopped by his house in an unsuccessful attempt to persuade him to come to her family’s cookout. “I don’t follow.”

“With that woman who transposed our house numbers. She stopped at my place on Saturday by mistake, but I pointed her in the right direction. Don’t tell me she never found you.”

“I was at the office most of the day Saturday,” Tyler said, then quickly asked, “What did this woman look like?”

“Very attractive. Brown hair a little longer than shoulder length. Big hazel eyes. Oh, and a tiny mole to the left of her mouth, like the one that supermodel has.”

The woman he’d described was Diana Smith.

If his neighbor hadn’t pointed out the mole, Tyler never would have come up with her name.

What could she possibly have come to his house to say after all these years? And why hadn’t she said it when he’d run into her at the community center?

A number of hackneyed expressions ran through his head: water under the bridge. Let bygones by bygones. What’s done is done.

He didn’t listen to any of them. What Diana had to say shouldn’t matter and probably wouldn’t in the long run. But one way or the other, he intended to find out what it was.


CHAPTER FOUR

THE TRIAL KEEPING Tyler away from the community center had entered the second day of its second week. Diana knew this, because the front page of the Laurel County Times had faithfully reported each day’s events. Speculation was that the judge would hand over the case to the jury today.

The last time Diana had read the Times in any detail had been years ago when the prosecuting attorney had been Tyler’s father and the boy on trial the one who’d murdered her brother.

This trial also had a teenage defendant and sensationalist elements, but there the similarities ended. A different Benton was prosecuting this case, the teenager’s weapon had been a gas can instead of a knife and nobody had died.

Diana relegated J.D. to the back of her mind, from where he never left, and put aside the stack of registrations she’d been inputting into a computer spreadsheet. She stood up and stretched her arms overhead.

The hour hand on the wall clock had passed seven, meaning the pickup basketball game on the outside court was well underway. Since Tyler had finished presenting his side of the case, maybe he’d joined the game.

She reached into the pocket of her slacks, fingering the good-luck stone. For the first time in forever, it seemed as though things would work out. She enjoyed her job, and she was doing well in her classes. She’d also moved into the perfect place over the weekend: an affordable two-bedroom garage apartment in a neighborhood filled with children.

She’d yet to make contact with her mother but had tried calling twice, both times getting her answering machine and both times failing to leave a message. Baby steps, she reminded herself, even though she was poised to take a giant one.

All the ingredients had come together for her to tell Tyler about Jaye: tonight. Call her crazy, but she even looked forward to it.

She expected him to be angry at first, but he’d always been reasonable. Once she explained her belief that a baby would have dimmed his bright future, he’d come to understand why she’d lied.

She ventured into the twilight, following the sounds of young men chattering and a basketball bouncing until she reached the lighted court behind the community center. She kept close to the building, bracing herself for the sight of Tyler.




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