"You were only seven when he died. It must have been hard." Her voice was thick with unshed tears. For her father? For Bree? Or for herself? She'd lost so much and survived it all, but she wasn't sure she could survive losing Tom.

"I missed him terribly, just like you did. He used to sing this song." Bree hummed a few bars, then started singing in a clear, steady voice. Halfway through the chorus, Holly joined in.

When the last note faded, she smiled faintly. "I'd forgotten that."

"For years I sang it to myself every night at bedtime, and I wondered about you-if you missed him and me as much as I missed you and him." Bree's sigh was soft, sad. "And you didn't even know I existed."

"Now I know."

"Now you know," Bree echoed, then hesitantly asked, "are you going to fire me?"

"You don't fire family."

"Are we-are we family?"

All the years she'd been alone drifted through Holly's mind. All the holidays she'd spent with friends because she had no family. All the emptiness she'd tried to fill with strangers. And all that time she'd had a sister, who was also in need of family. Taking the secret of her existence to his grave with him might be the one sin she could never forgive Lewis for.

"I always wanted a sister," she said as she got to her feet. She started toward the door, then returned to hug Bree. "Welcome to the family. And about-" Embarrassed to mention the tears, she merely gestured. "Thanks for being there."

Bree smiled, and for an instant, Holly saw what Margery had seen-a little bit of herself-in the girl. "Hey, what are sisters for?"

It was after eleven o'clock Tuesday night when Tom walked into his apartment. After the drive back from Bethlehem , he'd spent a long day in the office. He would have spent the night there if he'd been able to find something to occupy his mind, but after realizing he'd spent nearly two hours staring out the window, thinking of nothing but Holly and his failure, he'd called it a night.

The apartment was cool, quiet, lifeless. Exactly the way he'd wanted it for years. Exactly the way he would learn to want it in the future. He set his bags down inside the door, then wandered through, turning on lights, working hard to avoid unfavorable comparisons to the warmth and welcome of the inn.

A check of the kitchen turned up a six-pack of beer in the refrigerator. He took one to his office, where he broke one of the few unbroken rules in his life. He opened the safe in the credenza, pulled out the envelope marked Private and Keep Out, and loosened the tape.

He never opened his list of goals between birthdays. But tonight he drew the paper out, unfolded it, and smoothed it flat on his desk pad. The only goals left to fulfill were on opposite sides of the paper. Get married on the front, and Fall in love on the back.

He'd thought the first would be easy, the second damn near impossible. Everyone managed to get married. But fall in love? For a man who'd forgotten what love was? He might as well have wished to sprout wings and fly.

But he was farther from getting married than he'd ever been, and he'd fallen in love so easily, so smoothly, that he hadn't even realized it was happening until it was a done deal. As if all he'd had to do was open himself to the possibility, and it had happened.

He didn't kid himself that it would happen again.

Fall in love.

Taking a pen from the desk drawer, his hand less than steady, he drew a thick, black line through the words.

Then, he added another goal. Like getting married, it might not be attainable, but he was going to do his damnedest anyway.

Survive.

Chapter 18.

T here were worse things than having everyone tease you about a wedding you hadn't yet agreed to, Holly discovered as the week wore on. There were the sympathetic looks she received wherever she went. The obvious care everyone took not to mention Tom, weddings, diamonds, or Buffalo. The cautious way they acted around her. She wanted to scream at everyone in Harry's that Saturday afternoon that she was all right, that it was no big deal Tom was gone, that she wasn't going to break down sobbing in their midst, that they were driving her crazy with their concern.

But she didn't scream anything because the simple truth was that she wasn't all right. It was a horribly big deal that he'd left the way he had, and she just might burst into tears and never stop.

For protection, she'd gotten in the habit of taking Bree with her wherever she went. Bree's position as recently discovered illegitimate daughter of a man they'd all thought they'd known well deflected a good deal of attention from Holly's broken heart. When that failed, Bree kept people at a distance and steered all conversations away from dangerous ground. Holly was more grateful to her than she could find words to express.

There was a downside to keeping Bree nearby, of course. She was absolutely convinced that some terrible misunderstanding had occurred. All Holly had to do, she firmly believed, was go to Buffalo and talk to Tom, and everything would be resolved. He would come back. Holly would be happy again. The wedding plans would proceed.

"There weren't any wedding plans," Holly said for the millionth time as she stirred her coffee. "He asked. I said no."

"But you would have eventually said yes if something hadn't gone wrong. You love him, and he loves you, and sooner or later you would have agreed because it's the right thing to do."

"My parents were married and were miserable. Your parents weren't married and were very happy."

"But they pretended to be married. I think, in their hearts, they really were." Bree smiled faintly, at least temporarily distracted from Holly's life by her own. "When Daddy died, we couldn't go to the funeral. At the time, I didn't even know what a funeral was, but as I got older, I wondered why Mom and I weren't there when he was buried. Now, of course, I understand. Mom couldn't risk showing up with me."

"Might have made for a more interesting service if she had," Holly said dryly. At twenty-two, she'd been young enough, forgiving enough, to better deal with her father's secret life. It would have been easier to face a grieving Allison, to accept a seven-year-old Bree. She'd come into ownership of the house upon her father's death, and she could have taken them in, and maybe learned what a real family was like. "Are you interested in seeing his grave?"

"I'd like that ... if you don't mind showing me."

Holly smiled tightly. The cemetery might be the one place in all of Bethlehem where no one would give her sympathetic looks or treat her like an emotional time bomb. On a gray, cold day like today, there weren't likely to be many living, breathing visitors, and the residents had a tendency to mind their own business.

No one else in Bethlehem did.

The cemetery was located on the north side of town. The wrought-iron gates were propped open, and the grounds were neatly maintained. Holly drove to the oldest section, then pulled to the side of the narrow road. The McBride family plot was a large one, with gravestones dating back more than two hundred years to the first McBride. Lewis's grave was near the iron fence, marked with a stone that gave his full name, dates of birth and death, and a simple tribute: Loving husband and father.

Holly pointed it out to Bree but didn't follow her through the gate. Instead, she waited beside a tall maple, its bare branches reaching into the leaden sky. Thinking of the words carved on her father's tombstone, she snorted quietly. "'Loving husband and father.' Yeah, right. Maybe we should add, 'and consummate liar.'"

"Now why would you want to do a thing like that?"

Giving a little cry, Holly jumped, then whirled around to find Gloria leaning against the opposite side of the tree. Holly raised one hand to her throat, then drew a deep breath. "A cemetery is not the best place to sneak up on people, you know."

"Sorry if I startled you. I forget that not everyone finds the same peace here that I do." Gloria came around the tree and stood a few yards in front of Holly. Her cheeks were ruddy from the cold, but she was smiling as if she found it most pleasurable. "Your father was a good man."

"And how would you know that?"

"I know a little about everyone here." She indicated the rows of markers. "I know that, for the most part, they're people who tried to do their best. They made mistakes, like your father, but they tried."

"And which one of us was my father's mistake? Me? Or Bree?"

"Babies are never mistakes!" Gloria declared. "Your father loved you both dearly. He never would have given up either of you."

But he had. In the last seven years of his life, he'd spent as much time in Rochester as he could. He'd neglected Holly to be with Bree.

Already feeling about as blue as she could bear, Holly said, "I'd really rather not discuss my father anymore."

"All right. You were talking about epitaphs. What would you like on your tombstone someday?"

Holly glanced past her at the graves. The engravings on most McBride women's markers were unoriginal: Beloved wife to... Loving mother of... "I suspect mine will say one of two things, depending on when I die. 'She was easy,' if I die young, or 'One classy broad,' if I have enough time to improve with age."

Gloria didn't look amused. "Ask me what mine would say ... if I were to have one, of course."

Grudgingly, Holly did.

"'She made wishes come true.'" She gave Holly a sly glance. "You made a wish. And I, with a little help, of course, made it come true."

A shiver raced down Holly's spine. She huddled deeper in her coat and worked up her best scoff. "Everyone makes wishes-on shooting stars, in idle conversation, on birthday candles."

"Not everyone makes a wish on someone else's birthday candles."

Holly was speechless. Then a logical explanation popped into her head. "You've been talking to Emilie."

Gloria shook her head. "Wishes, dreams, prayers ... That's my job. You wished for Mr. Flynt to wish for you."

"Flynn," Holly corrected impatiently. "His name is Flynn."

"Well, of course it is. You wanted him to want you, and now that he does, you're pushing him away."

"I'm not pushing him away! I didn't push him out of bed Tuesday morning. I didn't push him all the way back to Buffalo without so much as a 'So long.'"

"No, but you made it impossible for him to stay. He loved you, Holly. He wanted to marry you. And yet when he asked you what he was allowed to want from you, you told him nothing. Nothing. Not your time, your love, your friendship, not even the smallest bit of your affection. Is it any wonder he left?"

Anxiety tightened Holly's chest and started a pounding in her head. "That isn't why he left! He left because-" She'd finally given in and had sex with him? They both knew that wasn't true. "Because-" He was a coldhearted bastard who cared about no one but himself? They both knew that wasn't true, either. "He left because-"

"You took away his hope, Holly. He thought he would eventually win you over. He thought he could earn your trust, that someday he could deserve your love. But you told him he couldn't have anything. No hearts and flowers, no commitment, no marriage, no love. Just sex. You offered him nothing you weren't willing to give every other man in your life."

Holly turned away from the woman and her kindly, motherly concern and stared across the grounds. Just sex. That was a hell of a description for the most incredible lovemaking she'd ever experienced. She'd given him passion that she hadn't known she possessed, trust that she hadn't known she could give. She'd fallen in love with him. And he'd walked away. Like every other man who'd never wanted her after he'd used her.

"He left me," she said, her voice unsteadier than she wanted, her eyes damper than they should have been. "He didn't even have the decency to tell me he was going. He just left."

A long silence fell and when it was broken, it was by Bree, not Gloria. "So go to Buffalo and tell him it was a lousy thing to do. And as long as you're there, tell him you love him, and you miss him, and you want him back. But before you do that..." A puzzled tone came into her voice. "Who were you talking to?"

Holly turned in a slow circle, but she and Bree were the only people around. It was entirely possible that Gloria was just out of sight behind another tree or one of the memorials placed around the grounds. She would have to have moved pretty quickly, but it was a more logical conclusion than the only other option-that she'd simply disappeared. "Myself, apparently," she said with a sigh. "But Gloria was here."

"Gloria? Older lady, graying hair, very maternal? Pops up in odd places?"

"Knows more than she should? Then disappears?" Holly met Bree's gaze and knew that her own eyes mirrored the disbelief in her sister's. Goose bumps rose on her arms, and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Then, as if on cue, they both laughed.

"It's a cemetery," Bree said, as if that explained everything.

"Right. And you can't keep any secrets in Bethlehem ."

"Well ... Daddy could."

They exchanged looks again, then laughed again. It felt natural, cleansing, and made Holly feel about ten years younger. She slipped her arm around Bree's waist, and they started toward the car. "I need a favor, Bree. Can you take care of things at the inn for a day or two?"

Bree stared at her. "Me? In charge of the inn? Holly, what if I break it?"

"You can't break a building." Though she could burn it down or blow it up. But Holly couldn't concern herself with that. She had more important things on her mind. "Don't worry about it. You'll be fine."

After studying her for a moment, Bree took a deep breath as if drawing strength, then smiled. "You're right. I'll be fine. Where are you going?"

" Buffalo ." Holly mimicked her strengthening breath. "I've got a few things to take care of."

* * * It had been a typical Saturday for Tom. Up at five, breakfast at his desk, then the entire day alone in his office. After a solitary dinner across the street, he would go home alone, have a drink alone, go to bed alone. If he was lucky, he would sleep a few hours, then find the strength to get up and go though the whole routine again.

If he was lucky...

He was about to close his briefcase when a blue box caught his eye. Taking it out, he pulled the diamond necklace free and let it puddle, row by row, in his palm. He'd managed to forget it, even though he was in and out of his briefcase every day.

What he only pretended that he'd forgotten was the ring box in his coat pocket. Now he dropped the necklace into the same pocket and left the office.

The restaurant on the twenty-fifth floor was crowded, as usual. He put his name on the list, then found a table in the bar. Within minutes, a woman dressed to entice approached him. "It's busy tonight. Do you mind if I join you?"

When he nodded once toward the tall stool, she eased onto the seat and crossed her legs, displaying a tremendous amount of skin. A few months ago, he would have automatically considered her a likely prospect for a short diversion. She was leggy, blond, beautiful, and sexy-his type of woman.

In the past.

Her name was Lacie, and they chatted about nothing.

If he'd met her before he'd gotten involved with Holly, he thought as he ordered a second round of drinks, he probably would have proposed to her. She met all the requirements on his initial list. And she had one definite advantage over Holly-she would never be able to break his heart.

"Do you like diamonds?" he asked when a lull came in the conversation.

"What woman doesn't?" she replied with a husky laugh.

He reached into his pocket, then drew out the necklace. "Hold out your hand." When she obeyed, he placed the necklace into her palm. "Happy ... Saturday."

For several moments she stared at the necklace, slowly stretching it out from end to end. Her face went pale, and her lips parted on a soundless gasp. "Oh my God ... These are ... Are these ... ?"

"Real? Yes."

"My God, they're beautiful! I've never seen anything so-" Abruptly, she glanced at him, and a sympathetic look came into her eyes. "What about the woman you bought this for?"

"No story there. I wanted to get married. She wanted to have an affair." He shrugged as if he didn't care, and wondered if it looked as phony as it felt.

She pressed the necklace into his hand. "You can't just give it away like this. Maybe she'll change her mind. Maybe someday you can give it to her for a wedding gift. Maybe-"

The bartender stopped beside their table and put down Tom's drink hard enough to make it splash. He intended to give her an annoyed look, but was too surprised when he saw Sophy glaring at him. "Hey, Mr. Flynn. Long time no see."

"Sophy. How is it you only fill in here sometimes and it's always the times I'm here?"

"You're just lucky, I suppose." She set down Lacie's drink, then rested one hand on her hip. "How is Holly?"