"I love him."

"I know you do."

"But I should sign a prenuptial agreement to protect my a.s.sets in case we get divorced."

"I'm a lawyer. Protecting people is what I do."

"You protect strangers. Members of your family are a different thing."

Meghann looked down at her drink, then said softly, "I guess."

Claire wished she could take back that little cruelty. What was it about their past that made them wound each other so consistently? "I know you're trying to help, but how can you? You don't believe in love. Or marriage."

It was a moment before Meg answered, and when she did speak, her voice was soft. "I've never seen a baby crow."

"What?"

"On my way to work, I see crows cl.u.s.tered along the phone lines in the waterfront park. So I know that every spring there are nests somewhere, filled with tiny newborn crows."

"Meg, are you having a seizure?"

"My point is: I know things exist that I never see. Love has to be one of them. I'm trying to believe in it for you."

Claire knew how much it cost her sister to say something like that. No one who'd grown up in Mama's shadow found it easy to believe in love. That Meghann would try, for Claire's sake, really meant something. "Thank you. And thanks for planning the wedding. Even if you are keeping every detail a secret."

"It's been more fun that I thought. Kinda like being on the prom committee-not that I ever would have been on such a thing."

"I was Prom Queen." Claire grinned. "No kidding, and Rhododendron Princess, too, at Mountaineering Days."

Meghann laughed. Obviously she was relieved by a return to casual conversation. "What does the rhodie princess do?"

"Sit in the back of a 1953 Ford pickup in a dress the color of Pepto-Bismol and wave at the crowd. The 4-H Goat Club walked behind us in the parade. It was raining so hard that I ended up looking like Tim Curry at the end of The Rocky Horror Picture Show The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Dad took about three dozen photos and put them all in an alb.u.m."

Meghann looked down at her drink again. It was a moment before she spoke. "That's a nice memory."

Claire immediately regretted her comment. All it did was highlight Meghann's fatherlessness. "I'm sorry."

"You were lucky to have Sam. And Ali is lucky to have you. You're a great mother."

"Do you regret it?" Claire said, surprising both of them with the intimate question. "Not having kids, I mean."

"Being a divorce lawyer made me sterile."

"Meghann," she said evenly.

Meg finally looked at her. "I don't think I'd be any good at it. Let's just leave it at that."

"You were a good mother to me. For a while."

"It's the 'for a while' that matters."

Claire leaned toward her sister. "I'd like you to baby-sit Alison next week. While Bobby and I are on our honeymoon."

"I thought you weren't taking a honeymoon."

"Dad insisted. His wedding gift was a week's trip to Kauai."

"And you want me me to baby-sit?" to baby-sit?"

Claire smiled. "It would mean a lot to me. Ali needs to know you better."

Meghann released a fluttery breath. She looked nervous. "You'd trust me?"

"Of course."

Meg sat back. A tremulous smile curved her lips. "Okay."

Claire grinned. "No taking her to the shooting range or teaching her to bungee-jump."

"So, skydiving lessons are out. Can I take her for a pony ride?"

They were still laughing when Dad pushed through the door and came into the living room. He was already dressed for the rehearsal in black pants-freshly ironed-and a pale blue denim shirt with a River's Edge logo on the pocket. His brown hair had been recently cut and was combed back from his forehead. If Claire didn't know better, she'd think he'd moussed it.

"Hey, Dad. You look great."

"Thanks." He flashed an uncomfortable smile at her sister. "Meg."

"Sam," Meg said stiffly as she got to her feet. "I need to get dressed. Good-bye."

When Meghann had disappeared upstairs, Sam sighed and shook his head. "I feel about two feet tall when she looks at me."

"I know the feeling. What's going on, Dad? I need to get dressed." She looked past him. "I thought you were playing checkers with Ali?"

"Bobby is trying to French-braid her hair."

Claire laughed at that and started for the stairs. "I'll redo it before we leave. You want to pick me up in forty-five minutes?"

"I need to talk to you first. Just for a minute. I didn't know if I should talk to Bobby at the same time-"

She smiled. "I hope this isn't my long-overdue s.e.x talk."

"I talked to you about s.e.x."

"Don't do it is not a talk." is not a talk."

"Wisea.s.s." He nodded toward the couch. "Sit down. And don't give me any lip. This'll just take a second."

He sat down on the coffee table. "Margaritas, already?" he said, glancing at Meg's gla.s.s.

"I was a little nervous."

"It makes me think of when I married your mama."

"Let me guess, she was power-drinking all day."

"We both were." He smiled, but it was a little sad, that smile, and it excluded Claire somehow.

After a short pause, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small black box, and opened it.

Inside was a marquise-cut yellow diamond set on a wide platinum band. "It's your grandma Myrtle's diamond. She wanted you to have it."

The ring sparked a dozen sweet memories. Whenever her grandmother had dealt a hand of cards, this diamond had splashed tiny colored reflections on the walls.

Dad reached out, took her hand. "I couldn't let my baby get married with a tinfoil ring."

She tried it on. The ring fit as if it had been made for her. She leaned over and pulled him into her arms. "Thanks, Dad."

He smelled of woodsmoke and bay rum aftershave, as he had for the whole of her life, and in that moment, as she held him with her face pressed against his cheek, she remembered a dozen times from her girlhood. Nights they'd gone bowling and had dinner at Zeke's Drive-In . . . the way the porch light flickered ten seconds after she and her date pulled into the driveway . . . the stories he used to tell her at bedtime when she felt scared and alone and missed her big sister.

After tomorrow, she would be a married woman. Another man would be the center of her life, another arm would keep her steady. She would be Bobby's wife from now on; not Sam Cavenaugh's little girl.

When Dad drew back, there were tears in his eyes, and she knew he'd been thinking the same thing.

"Always," she whispered.

He nodded in understanding. "Always."

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

MEGHANN WISHED TO G.o.d SHE'D NEVER AGREED TO LET Gina host and plan the rehearsal dinner. Every moment was pure h.e.l.l. Gina host and plan the rehearsal dinner. Every moment was pure h.e.l.l.

Are you here by yourself?

Where's your husband?

You don't have children? Well. That's lucky, sometimes I wish I could give mine away. This one was followed by a clearly uncomfortable laugh. This one was followed by a clearly uncomfortable laugh.

No husband, huh? It must be great to be so independent. This one was always followed by a frown.

Meghann knew that Claire's friends were trying to make conversation with her; they just didn't know what to say. How could they? This was a group of women who talked endlessly about their families. Summer camp start-times were a big topic of conversation; also resorts that were "kid friendly" on Lake Chelan and along the Oregon Coast. Meghann had no idea what kid friendly kid friendly even meant. That they served ketchup with every meal, maybe. even meant. That they served ketchup with every meal, maybe.

They were trying to include her, especially the Bluesers, but the more they tried to make her a part of the group, the more alienated she felt. She could talk about a lot of things-world politics, the situation in the Mideast, where to get the best deal on designer clothes, real estate markets, and Wall Street. What she couldn't talk about were family things. Kid things.

Meghann stood at the fireplace in Gina's beautifully decorated house, sipping her second margarita. This one, like the first, was disappearing much too quickly. There were pods of people everywhere-on the deck, in the living room, sitting at the dining-room table-all talking and laughing among themselves. Across the room, Claire stood at the kitchen bar/counter, eating potato chips and laughing with Gina. As Meghann watched, Bobby came up behind Claire and whispered something in her ear. She immediately turned into his arms. They came together like puzzle pieces, fitting perfectly, and when Claire looked up at Bobby, her face glowed.

Love.

There it was, in all its quicksilver glory.

Please, G.o.d, she found herself praying for the first time in years, let it be real. let it be real.

"Okay, everyone," Gina said, coming into the room. "Now it's time for the second part of the evening."

A hush fell. Everyone looked up.

Gina smiled. "Hector is opening the bowling alley just for us! We leave in fifteen minutes."

Bowling. Rented shoes. Polyester shirts. The division of people into teams. Rented shoes. Polyester shirts. The division of people into teams.

Meg eased away from the wall. Taking a sip of her c.o.c.ktail, she realized that she'd finished it. "d.a.m.n."

"We haven't really met yet. I'm Harold Banner. Karen's husband."

Meghann was startled by the man's presence. She hadn't heard him approach. "h.e.l.lo, Harold."

He was a tall, thin man with bushy black eyebrows and a smile that was just a bit too wide, as if maybe he had too many teeth. "I hear you're a lawyer."

"Yes."

"Let me ask you then-"

She tried not to groan.

He barked out a braying laugh. "Just kidding. I'm a doctor. I get the same thing all the time. Everyone I meet mentions a pain somewhere."

In the a.s.s, maybe. She nodded and looked down into her empty gla.s.s again. She nodded and looked down into her empty gla.s.s again.

"I guess you left your husband at home, huh? Lucky guy. Karen makes me show up at everything."

"I'm single." She tried not to grit her teeth, but this was about the tenth time she'd had to reveal that tonight.

"Ah. Footloose and fancy-free. Lucky you. Kids?"

She knew he was just being nice, trying to find some common ground for conversation, but she didn't care. Tonight had been brutal. One more reminder that she was a woman alone in the world and she'd probably scream. Normally she was proud of her independence, but this small-town crowd made her feel as if she lacked something important. "I'm sorry, Harold. I need to go now."

"What about bowling?"

"I don't bowl." She walked across the living room and came up beside Claire, gently putting her hand on her sister's shoulder.

Claire turned. She looked so happy right then it took Meghann's breath away. When she saw Meghann, she laughed. "Let me guess. You're not a bowler."

"Oh, I love bowling. Really," she added at her sister's skeptical look. "I have my own ball." She knew immediately that she'd gone too far with that one.