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Praise for Marta Perry and her novels

“Opens with a great scene that doesn’t disappoint. The characters are delightful and endearing.”

—Romantic Times BOOK reviews on Hunter’s Bride

“Marta Perry knows how to write romance and A Mother’s Wish is another fine example of her talent.”

—Romantic Times BOOK reviews

“In Marta Perry’s Unlikely Hero, emotionally charged characters and situations will leave readers entranced. The realistic portrayal of someone caught in abuse will resonate long after the last page is turned.”

—Romantic Times BOOK reviews

“Marta Perry’s Hero Dad shows the power of God and family to overcome trials. Detailed characterization brings the story to life.”

—Romantic Times BOOK reviews

Hunter’s Bride & A Mother’s Wish
Marta Perry

CONTENTS

HUNTER’S BRIDE

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

A MOTHER’S WISH

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

MARTA PERRY

has written everything from Sunday school curriculum to travel articles to magazine stories in more than twenty years of writing, but she feels she’s found her writing home in the stories she writes for Love Inspired.

Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania, but she and her husband spend part of each year at their second home in South Carolina. When she’s not writing, she’s probably visiting her children and her six beautiful grandchildren.

Marta loves hearing from readers, and she’ll write back with a signed bookmark or her brochure of Pennsylvania Dutch recipes. Write to her c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, e-mail her at marta@martaperry.com, or visit her on the Web at www.martaperry.com.

Hunter’s Bride

For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord.

Plans to prosper you and not to harm you.

Plans to give you hope and a future.

—Jeremiah 29:11

This story is dedicated with much love

to my daughter Lorie, my son-in-law Axel,

and especially to my grandson, Bjoern Jacob.

And, as always, to Brian.

Chapter One

Chloe Caldwell was in trouble—deep, deep trouble. She tried to stand up straight against the intense, ice-blue stare of her boss, Luke Hunter. He wore the look some of his business rivals had compared to being pierced by a laser. She began to understand the feeling.

Southern women have skin like magnolia blossoms and spines like steel. Gran’s voice echoed in her mind. Have you lost yourself up north among them Yankees, Chloe Elizabeth?

Maybe she had. She took a strained breath and met Luke’s gaze. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He arched his black eyebrows. “It’s a simple question, Chloe.” He held up a sheet of off-white note-paper covered with spidery handwriting. “Why does your grandmother think you and I are a couple?”

Possibly, if she closed her eyes, she’d open them to find this was all a dream—no, a nightmare. Oh, Gran, she thought despairingly, whatever possessed you to write to him? Luke must have picked up the mail when she’d been out of the office for a few minutes. If she’d seen it—But she hadn’t.

Luke was waiting for an answer, and no one had ever accused Luke Hunter of an abundance of patience. She had to say something.

“I can’t imagine.” Liar, the voice of her conscience whispered. “May I see the letter?”

She held out her hand, trying to find enough of that steel Gran insisted she had so that her fingers wouldn’t tremble and give her away. Luke held the paper just out of her reach for a moment, like a cat toying with a mouse, and then surrendered it. He leaned back against the polished oak desk that the Dalton Resorts considered appropriate for a rising executive. He should have looked relaxed. He didn’t.

She shot a hopeful glance toward the telephone. It rang all day long. Why not now? But the phone remained stubbornly silent. Beyond the desk, large windows looked out on a gray March day in Chicago, an even grayer Lake Michigan. No sudden tornado swept down to rip the sheet from her hand.

She forced her attention to Gran’s letter. She’d barely begun to decipher the old-fashioned handwriting, when Luke moved restlessly, drawing her gaze inevitably back to him.

She’d long ago realized that Luke Hunter was a study in contradictions. Night-black hair and eyebrows that were another slash of black contrasted with incredibly deep blue eyes. The strong bones of cheek and jaw reflected his fierce tenacity, but the impression was tempered by the unexpected widow’s peak on his forehead and the cleft in his chin.

It didn’t take one of Gran’s homegrown country philosophies to tell her what to think of Luke. A man with a face like that had secrets to hide. He wore the smooth, polished exterior that announced a rising young executive, but underneath was something darker, something that ran against the grain. She’d been his good right arm for nearly six years and had never seen more than a hint of it, but she knew it was there.

She took a breath. “I’m sorry that you received this.” The paper fluttered in her grasp. “I don’t know why Gran decided to send you an invitation to her eightieth birthday party next Sunday.”

“Oh, she says why.” Luke leaned forward, invading her space. “She thinks I’m your ‘beau.’” His tone put quotes around a word she’d never expected to hear from him. “Why does she think that?”

“My grandmother is an elderly lady.” She would try to convey the image of someone frail and confused, while sending a fervent mental apology to her peppery Gran. No one who knew Naomi Caldwell would dare to call her frail or confused.

“She sounds pretty coherent to me.” He plucked the letter back from her, and she had to fight to keep from snatching it. “If she thinks that, it must be because someone gave her that idea.”

Please, Lord.

She stopped the prayer before it could become any more self-serving than it already was. Obviously no heavenly intervention was going to excuse her from the results of her own folly.

“I’m afraid I must have.” She picked her way through the words carefully, as if she were back on the island, picking her way through the marsh grasses. “I think it happened when you gave me those symphony tickets. When I told her about it, she misunderstood. She assumed we went together.”

“And you didn’t correct her?”

She felt color warm her cheeks. “I thought…” Well, that sentence was going nowhere. Try again. “My grandmother worries about me. You have to realize she’s never been farther from home than Savannah. Chicago is another world to her. Once she thought I was dating someone safe, she stopped worrying so much.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Am I safe, Chloe?”

She’d stepped in a bog without seeing it. “I mean, someone she’d heard of. Naturally, I’ve often spoken of my boss.” Probably more than she should have. “I didn’t tell her any lies. I just…didn’t clear things up.” It was time to get out of this situation with what remaining dignity she had. “I’m sorry you were bothered with this. Naturally, I’ll tell her you won’t be coming to Caldwell Cove.”

Luke looked again at the letter, with some sharpening of attention she didn’t understand.

“That’s in South Carolina, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “It’s on Caldwell Island, just off the coast.”

“Caldwell Cove, Caldwell Island. Sounds as if you belong there, Chloe.”

The faint trace of mockery in his voice made her stiffen. “I belong here now.”

“Still, to have a whole island named after you must mean something.”

“It only means that my ancestors were the first settlers. They gave their name to the village and to the island. It doesn’t mean every descendant stays put.” She hadn’t.

She held out her hand, hoping he’d give her that embarrassing missive so she could destroy it. “Again, I’m sorry.”

But he turned away, dropping the letter onto his desk. He glanced back at her, amusement in his eyes. “I’m not. It’s been an interesting break in the routine.”

“Speaking of which—” She looked at her watch. “You have a meeting with Mr. Dalton at eleven.”

“No.” The amusement disappeared from his face. “He was in early and he talked with me then.”

It went without saying that Luke had been in early. She sometimes wondered when he slept. “I see. Are there any meeting notes I should take care of?”

“None.” His voice contained an edge. “Just get me the Branson file, that’s all.”

He moved effortlessly back to Dalton Resorts business, obviously dismissing her and her small problems from his mind. She could escape. She’d reached the door when his voice stopped her.

“Chloe.”

“Yes?” She turned back reluctantly.

“Too bad I won’t be seeing Caldwell Cove. It might have been fun at that.”

Fun? She tried to imagine Luke Hunter, urban to the soles of his handmade Italian shoes, in Caldwell Cove. No, she didn’t think that would have been fun for anyone, least of all her. She gave him a meaningless smile and scurried out the door.

Once safely behind her desk, she took a deep breath, trying to quell the flood of embarrassment. It’s your own fault, the voice of her conscience said sternly, sounding remarkably like her grandmother. You set this in motion with your fairy tales.

Fairy tales, that’s all they’d been—innocent fairy tales. Letting Gran believe she and Luke Hunter were a couple had let her believe it, too, for a time. She shied away from that thought.

She should have realized that sooner or later this would backfire. She pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to erase the pounding that had begun there. She’d known he’d never give up until he had the whole story. That tenacity of Luke’s had played a major role in his success at Dalton Resorts.

She’d seen that quality when she first met him, when she came to Chicago six years ago. His office had been the size of a broom closet then, and she’d been the greenest member of the secretarial pool, homesick for the island and trying to find her way through the maze of corporate politics.

She’d learned fast, though probably not as fast as he had. She’d discovered that she had to get rid of her soft Southern drawl if she didn’t want to be made fun of. She’d found that there were as many alligators in the corporate structure as she’d ever seen in the lagoons on the island. And she’d realized that if you wanted to survive, you attached yourself to a rising star.

That star had been Luke Hunter, with his newly minted MBA and his fierce, aggressive intelligence. They’d come up together, working long hours, until they’d become a team, almost able to read each other’s thoughts. She’d identified herself with his interests, and she’d never regretted that move. Until, possibly, today, when her two worlds had collided.

She looked at the framed family photo on her desk, and warmth slipped through her. The Caldwell kin, everyone from Gran to little Sammy, aunts, uncles, brothers, cousins, even second cousins twice removed, had gathered on the dock for that picture. It was a wonder the weathered wooden structure hadn’t collapsed. She could still smell the salt tang in the air, feel the hot sun on her shoulders and the warm boards beneath her bare feet, hear the soft Southern voices teasing.

She’d told Luke she belonged here now, but she wasn’t sure that was true. She’d made friends, found a church home, learned her way around, but she’d never developed that sophisticated urban manner her friends wore so easily. Maybe the truth was, she was trapped between her two worlds, and she wasn’t sure which one claimed her.

But Luke Hunter didn’t need to know that. Any more than he needed to know the real reason she’d let Gran believe she was dating him. Not for Gran’s sake, but for her own.

You’ve got a crush on that corporate shark. She could still hear the incredulity in her friend Marsha’s voice when she’d let her secret slip. Girl, are you crazy? That man could eat you alive.

Chloe hadn’t been able to explain, but she hadn’t been able to deny it, either. Marsha hadn’t seen the side of the man that Luke sometimes showed her.

Chloe traced the family photo with one finger. When the call had come two years earlier about her father’s accident, it had been Luke who’d taken control in that nightmare moment. She’d been almost too stunned to function at the thought of her strong, vibrant father, the rock they all depended upon, lying still and white in a hospital bed.

Luke had arranged her flight home, he’d driven her to the airport, then he’d stayed with her until the Flight was called. He’d even watered the plants on her desk while she was gone. He’d never questioned her need to stay on the island until Daddy was on his feet again.

No, Marsha didn’t understand that. All the same, she’d been right. Chloe Caldwell did indeed have one giant-size crush on her boss.

Luke spun his chair around to stare out at the city. His city. Having a window big enough to look at it meant he was on the verge of success.

Or failure. The brief skirmish with Chloe had diverted his attention from the problem at hand, but now that situation drove back at him like a semi barreling down the interstate. Chloe had innocently mentioned the meeting with Dalton. She couldn’t have known just what kind of bomb Leonard Dalton had set ticking this morning.

A vice-presidency was in the offing, and the CEO had laid it out very clearly. Luke could prove he was ready by finding the ideal location for the next Dalton Resort and negotiating a favorable deal. If not—

Luke’s hand formed a fist. Opportunity didn’t knock all that often. He intended to answer the first time. He’d come too far, and he wasn’t going to be denied the reward for all his effort.

His mind took a reluctant sidelong glance at just how far he’d come. He didn’t let himself look often, because that was looking into a black hole of poverty, ugliness, rejection—a hole that might suck you back in if you looked too long.

He forced the image away by sheer willpower. No one in his current life knew about his past, and no one would. He’d be the next vice-president, because he wouldn’t accept anything else. And Chloe, quite without meaning to, might have given him the key.

Amusement filtered through him. That must have been the first time he’d seen Chloe Caldwell—quiet, composed, efficient Chloe—embarrassed by something.

Well, however embarrassing Chloe had found the exposure of her little fib, he’d have to thank her for it, because the mention of Caldwell Island, South Carolina, had rung a bell in his memory. He spun back to the computer and flicked through the past several years of site survey reports.

There it was. The area surrounding Caldwell Island had appeared on a list of possible sites for a new Dalton Resort three years ago. Dalton hadn’t established a new resort at that time, and this report had quietly vanished. He might be the only one in the company who remembered Caldwell Island.

He skimmed through the report quickly, his excitement mounting. Something—the little vibration he’d learned to trust—told him this was worth pursuing.

He leaned back, smiling. One of the hardest things about looking over a possible site was keeping the locals from learning what you were doing and thus sending prices soaring. Chloe, with her sweet little deception and the frail old grandmother she wouldn’t want to disappoint, had just given him the perfect way to check out Caldwell Island for himself.

Chloe hadn’t had enough time to forget her humiliation when the buzzer summoned her, insistent as an angry mosquito. Snatching a pad, she marched toward Luke’s office. All right, there was to be no reprieve. She’d go in there and show Luke that they were back to business, as if the morning’s fiasco had never happened.

“Chloe.” He looked up from a file on his desk. “I was thinking about that letter from your grandmother.”

All right, she wouldn’t be able to pretend it hadn’t happened. Steel, Chloe Elizabeth.

“Please forget about it. I’ll take care of it.” She raised the pad. “Was there something else you wanted?”

“I can’t forget about it.” He leaned back in the padded executive chair. Beyond him, gray rain slashed against the window, as relentless as he was. “I keep picturing your frail old grandmother being disappointed on her birthday.”

Wouldn’t he be surprised by the real Gran, one of a long line of strong Caldwell women who’d wrestle a gator if necessary to keep her family safe. “Gran will be fine.” She tried to put a little of that strength into her voice. “After all, the rest of her kin will be there.”

The word slipped out before she could censor it. Northerners didn’t call people “kin.” She’d been thinking too much about Gran today.

“But not her favorite granddaughter.” He smiled. “I’m sure you are the favorite, aren’t you?”

Warning bells began to ring. When Luke turned on the charm, he wanted something. “That’s probably my sister, Miranda. After all, she’s produced a great-grandchild.”

Luke swung forward in his chair, his feet landing on the carpet. “In any event, she’d be disappointed. I just can’t let that happen.”

She stared at him blankly, not sure where he was going with this. “I don’t…”

“Besides, what is it to us? One short weekend out of our lives to make an elderly lady happy.”

Panic rocketed through her. He couldn’t be saying what she thought he was.

“You can’t be talking about going.” Her voice rose in spite of herself.

He stood, planting both hands on the desktop and leaning toward her. “That would solve everything, wouldn’t it?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

Her mind worked frantically. “We can’t pretend to be dating in front of my whole family.”

“Again, why not?” His words shot toward her, compelling agreement.

Her throat closed on the difficulty of telling him all the reasons. As usual, standing up to Luke Hunter was about as possible for her as flying to the moon. “We just can’t, that’s all.”

“Nonsense. Of course we can.” He swept past her objections, and with fascinated horror she saw him launching into the deal mode that no one ever managed to stop. “In fact, I’ve already done it.”

“Done what?” Her thoughts twisted and turned, trying to find a path out of this impossible situation.

“I called and talked with your father.” There might have been something a little malicious in his smile. “He was delighted that we’re coming. I’ll fly down with you on Friday. We’ll come back Sunday night after the birthday party.”

“But I can’t. We can’t.”

“Of course you can. All you have to do is reschedule my Friday meetings and pack, and we’ll make your grandmother happy. Aren’t you pleased, Chloe?”

Pleased? She could only stare at him, the horrible truth rolling inexorably toward her. Thanks to her weakness for storytelling and her total inability to stand up to Luke Hunter, she was condemned to spend the weekend pretending to her family that he cared for her.

She might have dreamed, in her weaker moments, of going back to Caldwell Cove with Luke on her arm. But this wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare, and yet it was only too real.

Chapter Two

“We’re almost there.” Chloe leaned forward in the passenger seat next to Luke, sounding as eager as a ten-year-old on a vacation.

“How can you tell? It all looks the same to me.” Luke pressed his hands against the steering wheel of the rental car and stretched. The trip to Caldwell Island from the airport in Savannah was less than an hour, but the narrow, two-lane roads wove through apparently endless miles of tall pines alternating with dense, dark undergrowth. It might have made sense for Chloe to drive, since she knew the road, but he hated letting someone else drive him.

He was also starting to have serious doubts about this whole expedition. Nothing he’d seen so far would lead him to consider this area for a Dalton Resort. It looked more like Tobacco Road.

Chloe flashed him a smile. “Just a little farther, and you’ll see the bridge.”

He’d see it. Then he’d see this precious island of hers. He’d be able to tell in half an hour, probably, if Caldwell Island was worth further investigation. If not, what he’d want to do was take the first plane back to Chicago.

But he couldn’t. Like it or not, he’d committed to this weekend, to pretending he and Chloe weren’t just boss and secretary, but something more. A faint apprehension trickled along his nerves. Chloe, with her honey-colored hair and her golden-brown eyes, was appealing, but certainly not his type. He went for sophisticated, not girl-next-door. Pulling this off could be tricky.

“There!” Chloe’s exclamation was filled with satisfaction as they emerged abruptly from yet another stand of pine trees.

He blinked. Ahead of them, lush grass stretched on either side of the road, golden in the sunshine. It might have been a meadow, but the grass grew in water, not earth. In the distance a cluster of palmettos stood dark against the sky, like an island. Sunlight glinted from deeper streams, turning the scene into a bewildering world between earth and sea. His apprehension deepened. Everything about this was alien to him.

Chloe hit the button, and her window whirred down, letting in a flood of warm air that mixed salt, sea and musky vegetation. “Smell that.” She inhaled deeply. “That’s what tells me I’ve come home.” She hung out the window, letting her hair tangle in the breeze.

“Doesn’t smell like home to me. Not unless it includes exhaust fumes, sidewalk vendors and pigeons.”

“Sorry. Would you settle for a great white heron?” She pointed, and he saw an elegant white bird lift its long neck and stare at them.

This was a different Chloe, he realized. One who knew everything here, one who was in her element. Just as he was out of his. The thought made him vaguely uneasy.

The road swept up onto a white bridge, shimmering in the sunshine. Tall pylons marched beside the bridge, feet in the water, carrying power lines.

“We’re crossing the inland waterway,” Chloe said, pressing her palms against the dash as if to force the car to move faster. “And there’s Caldwell Island.”

The car crested the hump in the middle of the bridge, and Chloe’s island lay ahead of them. His breath caught in spite of himself. The surrounding marsh grass made the island shimmer with gold, and it stretched along the horizon like an early explorer’s dream of riches.

“Golden isles,” Chloe said softly, as if she read his thought. “That’s an old name for the sea islands. The Golden Isles.”

The channel merged with marshes, then the marshes merged with the gentle rise of land, as if the island raised itself only reluctantly from the sea. A village drifted along the curve of shore facing the bridge, looking like something out of the last century, or maybe the century before that. A church steeple bisected it neatly.

The island was beautiful. It was desirable. And unless there was something unexpected out of his sight, it was also completely uncommercialized. Excitement stirred in him.

“What’s the ante-bellum mansion? A hotel?”

She glanced toward the far end of the village, then shook her head, smiling. “That’s my uncle Jefferson’s house. Uncle Jeff’s family is the rich branch of the clan. There aren’t any hotels on Caldwell Island, just the inn my parents own and a few guest houses.”

He didn’t want to raise her suspicions, but he risked another comment. “You’re not going to tell me vacationers haven’t discovered this place.”

She seemed too preoccupied to notice, staring out as if cherishing every landmark. “There have always been summer visitors, but they’re people who’ve owned their homes here for generations.” She pointed. “Turn left off the bridge. Town’s only three streets deep, so you can’t get lost. We’ll go straight to the inn. They’ll be waiting.”

He followed her directions, wondering a little at the sureness in her voice. They’ll be waiting.

He passed a small grocery, a bait shop and then what seemed to be a boatyard with the Caldwell name emblazoned on its sign. Before he could ask if her family owned it, Chloe spoke again.

“There it is. That’s The Dolphin.”

The inn sat on their right, facing the waterway, spreading out gracefully under the surrounding trees. The core of the building looked only one room deep, but succeeding generations must have added one wing after another as their families, or their ambitions, grew. Gray shingles blended with the gray-green of the lace-draped live oaks, and rocking chairs dotted a wraparound porch.

“Those are our boats.” She pointed to a covey of boats at the dock on their left. “Everyone’s in. I told you they’d be waiting for us.”

Apparently here they counted boats, instead of cars, to tell them who was where. He drove into a shell-covered driveway and pulled to a stop, discovering a knot of apprehension in his gut.

Ridiculous. He dismissed it quickly. Chloe’s family had no reason to suspect him of anything, and their opinions didn’t matter to him in the least. Simple country people, that’s all they were.

Simple, maybe. But had Chloe warned him there were so many of them? He stepped out of the car into what seemed to be a mob of Caldwells, all talking at once. Chloe was right—they’d been waiting. An unidentifiable breed of half-grown dog bounced around the crowd, its barks adding to the general chaos.

He looked to Chloe for help, but a woman who must be her mother was enveloping her in an enormous hug. A younger woman, with Chloe’s heart-shaped face but auburn hair and green eyes, wrapped her arms around both of them. All three seemed to be talking and crying at once.

“Don’t suppose we’ll get any sense out of those three for a time.”

The rangy, sun-bronzed man who held out a large hand was probably about Luke’s age. Big—that was his first thought. Luke stood six foot, and this guy had a couple of inches on him at least. The hand that grasped his had power behind it. One of the brothers?

“Guess I’d best do the introductions, since our Chloe’s forgotten her manners,” he continued. “I’m Daniel. This is David.”

Luke blinked. There were two of them. “Chloe didn’t mention her brothers were twins.” He shook hands with the other giant, trying to assess the differences between them.

There weren’t many. Both men were big, both sun-brown, both lean and muscular. They had identical brown eyes and identical sun-bleached hair. David wore a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, apparently the only way Luke would ever tell them apart.

“She wouldn’t.” Daniel seemed to do the talking for the pair of them. “She always said it wasn’t fair there were two of us to gang up on her.” He reached out a long arm to pull over a gangly teenager. “This one’s Theo. He’s the baby.”

The boy reddened under his tan, shooting his brother a resentful look before offering his hand to Luke. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Luke, please.”

His effort at friendliness just made the boy’s flush deepen. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s Miranda’s boy, Sammy, trying to make his mutt pipe down.” Daniel gestured toward a boy of six or so, wrestling with the dog over a stick. “And this is our daddy, Clayton Caldwell.”

Luke turned, and his smile stiffened on his face. There could be no doubt of the assessment in the sharp hazel eyes that met his gaze. He was abruptly aware of intelligence, shrewdness, questioning.

“Luke. Welcome to Caldwell Cove.” Chloe’s father was fully as tall as his twin sons, his grip just as firm. But despite the words of welcome, the quick friendliness Luke had sensed in Daniel and his brothers was missing here. Clayton Caldwell looked at him as if he’d been measured and had come up wanting. “We’ve been waiting to meet Chloe’s…friend.”

Everything in Luke snapped to attention. Chloe’s father, at least, couldn’t be classified as “simple country folk.” He wasn’t accepting Chloe’s supposed boyfriend at face value.

So this little charade might not be the piece of cake he’d been telling himself. The thought only made his competitive juices start to flow. When the challenges were the greatest, he played his best game.

Chloe had finally broken free of her mother and sister, and he reached out to grasp her hand and draw her close against his side. For an instant she resisted, and he gave her a challenging smile. This was your invention, Chloe, remember? Now you’ve got to take the consequences.

She leaned against him, perhaps a little self-consciously.

Luke smiled at her father. “We’re happy to be here. Aren’t we, sweetheart?” He tightened his grasp into a hug, faintly surprised by how warm and sweet Chloe felt against him.

“Yes.” Her voice sounded a bit breathless. “Happy.”

“Well, so tell me all about him.”

Chloe had started for the dining room with a large bowl of potato salad, when Miranda caught her by the waist and spun her into the pantry. She went with a sense of resignation. She couldn’t have hoped to avoid Miranda’s third degree much longer. They’d always shared everything.

Miranda’s green eyes glowed with curiosity. “You’ve been awful closemouthed, sugar. Come on, ‘fess up. Are you serious about him?”

The question twanged inside her, reverberating like a plucked string. She tried to shut the feeling away. She didn’t want to lie to her sister. Probably she couldn’t if she tried. Miranda knew her too well.

“Serious?” She tried to smile. “I don’t know if serious is the right word. It’s complicated. He is my boss, after all.”

Miranda eyed her sternly. “Complicated. That means you do care about him, but you don’t know if it’s going to work, right?”

“How did you get so smart, little sis?” She tried to turn their perpetual rivalry over the eleven months between them to her advantage, hoping to distract Miranda.

Miranda shook her head, but not before Chloe had seen the quick sorrow in her eyes.

“I didn’t get smart quick enough, remember?”

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” Chloe plunked the bowl onto the linoleum-topped counter and put her arms around her sister. “I shouldn’t have said that.” She’d wanted to distract Miranda, not remind her of the man she’d loved and the marriage that had ended almost before it started.

“It’s okay.” Miranda’s strong arms held her close for a moment. “I’m okay. Really.” She answered the doubt she must have seen in Chloe’s eyes. “I’m happy. After all, I have Sammy and the family.”

But not the only man she’d ever love. The thought lay there between them, unexpressed.

“I just want you to be happy.” Miranda squeezed her. “You be happy, sugar, okay?”

“I’ll try.” Chloe swallowed the lump in her throat. People said that Caldwell women were destined to love only one man. If true, that didn’t bode well for either Miranda or her.

She tried to reject the thought. She didn’t love Luke. She admired him. She admired his intelligence, his tenacity, his ambition. She’d been touched by his kindness to her, by the unexpected, intangible longing she sometimes surprised in his eyes, as if he yearned for something he couldn’t have. But that wasn’t love.

The thought lingered at the back of her mind all through dinner. She watched as Luke turned to answer some question Theo had asked. The chandelier’s light put shadows under his cheekbones, showing the strong bone structure of his face, the determined jaw, the quick lift at the corner of his mouth when something amused him.

It also showed a certain tension in the way his hand gripped the fork. That sent a ripple of unease through her. Was he just nervous about this charade he’d embarked on? Or was something else going on—something she didn’t know about?

As soon as the meal ended Luke gravitated to her side. Her heart gave a rebellious little flutter as she looked up at him. “Get enough to eat?”

“I don’t know how your family stays so thin if they eat like that every night.” Luke patted his flat stomach. “One more of those buttermilk biscuits, and you’d have to roll me away from the table.”

“They don’t sit in an office all day.”

He grinned, and the unexpectedly relaxed expression fluttered her heart once more. “Touché. I’ll have to remember that.” He glanced around the large room. “But the inn doesn’t seem to have any guests right now.”

“This is Gran’s birthday weekend. They don’t take reservations this weekend, so the whole family can celebrate.”

“They turn away paying customers?” He seemed to imagine an entire row of Dalton Resorts executives, all frowning at such folly.

“They put Gran first, that’s all.” The defensiveness in her tone surprised her. “The Dolphin Inn isn’t a Dalton Resort.”

“Obviously not.” His lifted eyebrow spoke volumes. “Anyway, this isn’t a busy time. We don’t start getting a lot of guests until Easter weekend.” It had never occurred to her to wonder why the inn wasn’t more successful than it was. We make enough to get by, Daddy always said. She shouldn’t have to defend her family’s values, but that seemed to be what she was doing.

“I can understand why, if you close down for a birthday party.”

She came perilously close to losing her temper with him. “If you—”

“Gran’s here,” Miranda called from the porch.

Every other thought flew from Chloe’s mind, and she raced out the door. Gran marched up the shell path. Chloe met her halfway, to be wrapped in arms still as strong as ever. Gran’s familiar lily-of-the-valley scent enveloped her.

“Gran, it’s so good to see you.” She pressed her cheek against her grandmother’s.

Gran held her back a little, putting her palms on Chloe’s cheeks. Her gaze was every bit as laser-like, in its way, as Luke’s.

“’Bout time you were getting home, child. Where’s this young man of yours?”

“I’m right here—”

She spun at the sound of Luke’s voice, smooth as cream, behind her. He held out his hand to Gran.

“I’m Luke Hunter, Mrs. Caldwell.”

Gran focused on him. Every one of Chloe’s nerve endings stood at attention. How had she ever thought she’d get away with this? Why had she let Luke maneuver her into it? Gran’s wise old eyes saw everything. They’d see through this.

But Luke seemed to be standing up well to that fierce inspection. After a moment, he asked, “Will I do?”

“Guess it’ll take a bit of time to decide that.” Gran looked him up and down. “You look a little fitter than I figured, for a city fellow.”

“So do you. I expected someone a lot more frail.”

He shot a challenging glance toward Chloe, and she felt herself shrivel. If he told Gran what she’d said, she’d never live it down.

“Chloe must be fibbing about the number of candles on your cake.”

Gran gave a little snort that might have been a chuckle, and then nodded shortly. “Might as well call me ‘Gran.’ Everyone else does.” She took Luke’s arm. “Let’s go set on the porch a spell.”

Chloe, following them, discovered she could breathe again. But she couldn’t fool herself that happy state would last for long. She should never have let Luke talk her into this. She just should have told them all the truth and found some way to live with the disappointment in their eyes.

Gran settled in her favorite rocker. The others filtered out of the house to receive Gran’s kiss and find a place to sit. Nothing they had to do was so pressing that they couldn’t enjoy the warm spring evening.

Chloe perched on the rail, and little Sammy hopped up to lean against her. Gran motioned Luke to the seat next to hers, and Chloe felt as if she were waiting for disaster to strike. Surely, sooner or later, Luke would falter, and someone would realize he was playing a part.

But Luke seemed content to lean back in his rocker, his gaze moving from one member of her family to another, letting them do the talking. What did he think of them? It shouldn’t matter to her, but it did. And what did they think of him?

She took a breath, inhaling the sweet scent of the azalea bushes around the porch. It mingled with the salty scent of the water. Home. If she’d been plopped here blindfolded, she’d know in an instant where she was, just by the smell.

She glanced around at the familiar faces, and love welled in her heart. She wanted to tell them the truth. She didn’t want to hurt Gran. She didn’t want them to be disappointed in her.

Please, God. She wasn’t sure what to say. Please. I don’t want to hurt them. Please just let me get away without hurting them.

She probably should be praying for the courage to tell the truth and be done with it, but somehow she couldn’t. In a long line of brave Caldwell women, she must be the one exception.

Sammy wiggled against her. “Gran, tell the Chloe story, please?”

Her breath caught. That was one story she’d rather Luke didn’t hear, especially now. “Sammy, you must have heard that story a hundred times, at least.”

He grinned up at her. Sammy’s heart-shaped face came straight from Miranda, but those dark eyes of his were just like his father’s, and just as apt to break hearts.

“But I love that story, Aunt Chloe. Don’t you?”

“’Course she does,” Gran said. “She’s that Chloe’s namesake, isn’t she?” She glanced around.

Daniel groaned. “Have a heart, Gran. Sammy might just have heard it a hundred times, but I’ve heard it a thousand.”

“Won’t hurt you to listen again,” she said tartly. “You might learn something.” She turned her chair so that it faced Luke’s. “Chloe’s beau ought to hear it, anyway.”

Chloe sent a helpless glance toward Luke. He leaned forward, smiling at her grandmother. “I’d love to.”

“Well, it’s this way.” Gran half closed her eyes, as if she saw the story unrolling in her mind. “Years and years ago, before there was a Caldwell Cove, a girl lived here on the island. Her name was Chloe. A wild creature, she was. Folks said she talked to the gulls and swam with the dolphins.”

Sammy slid off the railing and went to lean against Gran’s knee. “Wasn’t she afraid?”

“Not she. She wasn’t afraid of anything.”

Completely unlike the modern-day Chloe. The thought inserted itself in Chloe’s mind and clung like a barnacle.

“One night there was a storm. Not an ordinary storm, no. This was the mother and father of all storms. It swept ships from their courses and snapped the tallest pines like matchsticks. In that storm a boat capsized, throwing its crew into the sea. Only one sailor made it through the night, clinging to a piece of wreckage, all alone.”

Gran’s voice had taken on the singsong tone of the island storyteller. As often as they’d all heard the story, still everyone leaned forward, listening as intently as if it were the first time.

“What happened to him?” Sammy’s voice was hushed.

“He was played out. Poor man could see the island ahead of him, glistening like gold in the dawn light, but he knew he’d never make it. He gasped a last prayer. Then, before he could sink, creatures appeared next to him in the waves, holding him up. Chloe and her dolphins. They saved him. They pulled and pushed him through the surf until he staggered up onto the sand and collapsed, exhausted. But alive.”

As often as Gran told the story, it never altered by an iota. She told it the way her mother had told it to her, and her mother before that.

Sammy leaned close. “Tell what happened to them, Gran.”

Gran stroked his cheek. “You know that part of the story—He opened his eyes, took one look at her and knew he’d love her forever. He was the first Caldwell on the island, and he married her and started a family, and we’ve been here ever since.”

“And the dolphin.”

“He carved for her a dolphin out of a piece of cypress washed up by the storm. They put it in the little wedding chapel, and folks said every couple who married under the gaze of the dolphin would have a blessed union. And so they have.”

Chloe’s throat was so tight she couldn’t possibly speak. It was plain silly, to be so moved by an old story that probably didn’t have much truth left in it. But she was. They all were, even Luke. She could read it in his intent gaze.

“Is the dolphin still there? I’d like to see it.”

Luke must be aware of the strained quality of the silence that met his question. Here was the ending to the story no one wanted to tell.

“Chloe’s dolphin is gone,” Gran said softly. “Stolen one night by someone—no one knows who.” Her wrinkled hand cupped Sammy’s cheek. “But the story still lives.”

Chloe’s father stood, the chair rocking behind him. With a muttered excuse, he walked inside, favoring his bad leg as he did when he was tired.

His departure was a signal. David stood, stretched and held out his hand to Sammy. “Come on, guy. Time you were in bed.”

“But—”

He swept Sammy along, stilling his protest. “Best get some sleep. I need you to help me take Chloe and Luke dolphin watching tomorrow, okay?”

Gran smiled. “Seems to me Chloe and Luke could stand a bit of time away from family.” Her hands fluttered in a shooing motion. “Go on, now. Take your gal out for a walk in the moonlight.”

Fortunately, it had gotten dark enough that no one would be able to see her flush. “Gran, we don’t need to take a walk.”

But Luke had already risen and was holding out his hand to her. “Come on, Chloe. Do what your grandmother says.”

Apparently she didn’t have a choice. She stood, evading his hand, and started down the three steps to the walk. But by the time she reached the bottom, his hand had closed over hers. It was warm and firm, and the pressure of his fingers told her that if she tried to pull away, he wouldn’t let her.

Shells crunched underfoot, then boards echoed as they walked onto the dock. Moonlight traced a silvery sheen on the water. The mainland was a dark shadow on the horizon, pierced by pinpoints of light. They came to a stop at the end of the dock and leaned on the railing.

Chloe cleared her throat. This was amazingly hard. “I’m sorry about that. Gran has certain expectations about what she’d call ‘courting couples.’ I should have warned you.”

He turned toward her. She couldn’t be sure of his expression in the soft darkness, but she thought he was amused.

“It doesn’t matter, Chloe. She’s right, this is a beautiful moonlit night. I don’t mind taking a walk with you to fulfill her expectations.”

It was the kind of phrase he’d use in reference to a business deal, and the language didn’t mesh with the gentle murmur of waves against the dock and the cry of a night heron. He didn’t fit here, and maybe she didn’t, either, any longer. The thought made her shiver.

“You’re cold.”

Luke ran his hands down her arms, warming them, sending a thousand conflicting messages along her skin and straight to her heart.

“We should go in.” But she didn’t want to. She wanted to stay here with him.

“That would disappoint your gran.” His voice teased. “I’m sure she’d expect me to warm you up in a more old-fashioned way.”

Before she could guess his intent, he’d leaned forward. His lips touched hers.

The dock seemed suspended in space, and she put her hand on Luke’s shoulder to steady herself. This was crazy. She hadn’t bargained on this. The shape of his mouth felt firm against hers.

Crazy. This whole charade was crazy, but at this moment she never wanted it to end. Tenderness and longing swept through her in equal measure with despair.

Chapter Three

Luke frowned at his laptop the next morning. Chloe’s face kept appearing on the computer screen, overlaying the words—soft and vulnerable, with the moonlight turning her skin to ivory.

He was trying to get down his impressions of the Caldwell Island area in a preliminary report. He’d settled in one of the rockers on the porch after breakfast, letting the herd of Caldwells scatter to whatever occupied them. He had to work, not think about Chloe.

That kiss last night had been a mistake. He’d begun by teasing her, but he’d let himself be carried away by the charade. The next moment he was kissing her, and he’d known in an instant he shouldn’t have. You didn’t get involved with people who worked for you. Chloe was too valuable to him as an employee to risk ruining that.

He had to concentrate on the job he’d come here to do. That was his ticket to success. His initial impressions of the island were favorable, but plenty remained to be determined. He’d focus on collecting the data he needed, not on how unexpectedly beautiful Chloe had looked in the moonlight.

“Hey.”

He glanced up, startled to find Chloe next to him, and snapped the laptop shut. He’d have to tell her what he had in mind at some point, but not yet. Chloe, in denim shorts and a T-shirt, looked ready for anything but business.

“Hey, yourself.” He’d already noticed that everyone he met here used that word as a greeting.

She glanced pointedly at the laptop. “Are you ready to go? We have a date with David and Sammy to go dolphin watching, remember?”

Dolphin watching, as in…taking a boat out. The huge breakfast Chloe’s mother had forced on him turned to lead in his stomach. Or maybe it was the grits, gluing everything together. “Why don’t you go without me? I have some work I’d like to get done.”

“Work?” She frowned at the computer. “I thought you were taking the weekend off. What are you working on?”

He didn’t intend to answer that question. “Just keeping up with some reports. I don’t care much for boats.”

Being on the water gives me the shakes. No, he wouldn’t admit that to her. He didn’t like admitting it to himself. His childhood hadn’t included a place like this, and there hadn’t been swimming pools in the back alleys that had been his playground.

“Come on.” She held out her hand. “The Spyhop runs as smooth as silk. Besides, it’s the best way to see the whole area.”

That was the only argument that would get him on a boat. She was offering him the chance to see just what he needed to, in an unobtrusive way. And he couldn’t keep refusing without having Chloe guess that what he really felt was something a lot stronger than reluctance.

“Okay. I’ll put the computer away and be right with you.”

Fifteen minutes later he stood on the dock with Chloe, wishing he’d stuck to his refusal. “Kind of small, isn’t it?”

“The Spyhop? She’s a twenty-six-foot catamaran. You should see the crowd they fit on her later in the summer, when the visitors are here. I’m sorry she’s riding so low, but the channel’s tidal. It’s not hard to get into the boat.”

Chloe stepped from the dock down to a bench seat in the boat, then to the deck, balancing as lightly as if on a stairway instead of a rocking deck. She looked up at him.

“Need a hand?”

Aware of David and Sammy watching from the boat’s cockpit, he shook his head, grasped the post to which the boat was tied and clambered down. Okay, he could do this. Nobody needed to know that his stomach was tied in more knots than the mooring line. With luck, they wouldn’t find any dolphins, making the trip short and uneventful.

David turned the ignition, and the motor roared to life. He waved at Chloe. “Cast off, will you, sugar?” He grinned. “Or don’t you remember how?”

Chloe stuck out her tongue at him, then climbed nimbly over the boat’s railing to perch on the narrow space at the back and lean across to untie the ropes. Luke had to clench his fists to keep from grabbing her. Chloe had probably done this all her life. She wouldn’t thank him for making a big deal of it.

Then the boat started to move, and he clutched the seat and concentrated on not making a fool of himself. Chloe dropped onto the bench next to him and gave him an enquiring look. More to distract himself than because he cared, he nodded to the cockpit.

“I thought Daniel was the one who ran the tours.”

“They both do, but David’s the real expert on the dolphins. His degree is in oceanography, and he’s officially in charge of the dolphin watch for this region.”

“Degree?” He couldn’t help the surprise in his voice. “But I thought—” What had he thought? That they were a bunch of uneducated hicks?

The amusement in Chloe’s gaze said she knew just how surprised he was.

“David knows his stuff, but he doesn’t really like doing the narrative for a boatload of tourists. Daniel does that.” She smiled. “You know how it is in a big family. We each have our roles.”

“I was an only child.” At least, he guessed he’d been. Nobody had stayed around long enough to tell him. “Tell me about it.”

“Well, Daniel’s the oldest, so he always thinks he has to be the boss—”

She wrinkled her nose, something he’d never seen her do in the office. It intrigued him.

“David’s the quiet twin. Miranda is the beautiful one. And Theo, whether he likes it or not, is always going to be the baby.”

He found himself wanting to say that she was just as beautiful as Miranda, and quickly censored that. “And what about Chloe? What is she?”

He thought a faint flush touched her cheeks, but it might have been the sun. “Oh, I guess I’ve always been the tomboy. Having two older brothers does that to you.”

He nodded toward Sammy and spoke under the rumble of the motor. “Where does Sammy fit in?”

She stiffened, as if he implied something with the question.

“Miranda was married briefly when she was eighteen. It didn’t work out.”

Her tone told him further questions weren’t welcome. “Sammy seems to have plenty of family looking out for him.” He recognized, with surprise, a twinge of jealousy. He hadn’t had a father, either, but no one had stepped up to take on responsibility, at least not until he met Reverend Tom and his Fresh Start Mission.

“Yes.” The tension in Chloe relaxed. “What with the twins, my father, my uncle, the cousins—he probably has more male role models than most kids.”

“Lucky boy,” he said, and meant it. The tempo of the motor changed suddenly, and he grasped the seat. “Is something wrong?”

Chloe looked surprised, then shook her head. “We’re just going around the end of the island, into Dolphin Sound. There are a few of the summer houses I told you about, and that’s the yacht club.” She pointed to a covey of glistening white boats, lined up neatly along a dock. “Summer sailors,” she said, as if dismissing them.

Waves slapped against the hull, and a fine spray of water blew in his face. He nearly ducked, but saw Chloe lift her face, smiling.

“Now you can see it.” She leaned forward, sweeping her arm in a broad gesture. “This is Dolphin Sound, between Caldwell Island and the out-islands. Beyond is the ocean.”

Luke drew in a breath. He might not be much of a sailor, but he knew what would draw vacationers to a resort area. Sunlight sparkled on the sound and reflected from the white wings of seagulls. Small islands shimmered on the horizon like Bali Hai, with empty golden beaches and drifts of palmettos.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Cat Island, Bayard Island. Angel Isle.” Her voice softened as she gestured to the most distant of the three. “My favorite.”

Sammy scampered back to them, moving nimbly as the boat danced through the water. He touched Chloe’s arm, then pointed. “Look, Aunt Chloe. They’re here.”

He followed the direction of the boy’s hand, seeing only the gentle swell of the waves. “I don’t—”

A silver crescent broke through the surface of the water, not more than twenty feet from them, describing a glittering arc as the dolphin plunged back beneath the waves. Before he’d caught his breath he saw another, then another.

“Chloe, get the camera,” David shouted. “The whole pod is here.”

Chloe yanked a camera from its case and knelt on the bench seat, snapping as one glistening shape after another wheeled before them. David throttled back, and the boat slowed to a stop, rocking gently.

“Oh, you beauties,” Chloe breathed, leaning out perilously far.

He couldn’t help himself—he had to grab the loop on her denim shorts. “Be careful, or you’ll be swimming with them, like your namesake.”

She glanced back at him, face alight with laughter. “Can’t do that. It’s against the law to swim with wild dolphins now, much as I’d like to.”

David left the wheel to grab a clipboard and jot down notes, murmuring as he did so. “One of the best sightings I’ve had lately. You two brought us luck.”

“Look, Uncle David, that’s Onion for sure.” Sammy bounced next to Chloe on the seat. “It is, I know it!”

“Got it in one, Sammy. You’re a good dolphin watcher.” David reached out to tousle the boy’s dark hair. “Your name will go in the log.”

“You’re really keeping track of them?” Luke glanced at David’s notes, which certainly seemed to be some sort of official report. “Is this your job?”

“Job?” His glasses shielded David’s brown eyes, but Luke couldn’t miss the passion in them. “Not in the sense of being paid for it, that’s for sure. We’re part of the dolphin watch that runs all the way up the coast.”

One of the dolphins balanced on its tail, looking at Luke with enquiring eyes and that perpetual dolphin smile. Luke stared back. “I’d think there would be money in this one way or another.”

David shrugged, not seeming to care. “We make a bit on the dolphin cruises. That’s enough.”

Enough? Luke opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. It wasn’t his business to talk David into seeing what he had here. If he tried, he’d only emphasize the difference in their values. That would make staying any longer more difficult.

And he had to stay. He’d seen enough today to convince him of that. This place was the perfect site for the next Dalton Resort hotel, and setting that in motion would take more than a brief weekend that was already half over. His mind ticked away with all he had to do. Chloe could—

“She’s always been able to do that,” David said softly.

Luke turned. Chloe leaned over the railing, reaching out toward the dolphin, and the creature lifted from the water as if saying something to her. The curve of her body matched the curve of the dolphin, and the sunlight made both of them glow with a kind of harmony that startled and disturbed him.

It was as if the Chloe he knew back in the office had transmuted into a different being here, one as alive and natural and free as that first Chloe. He didn’t know how he felt about that—but he did know it was going to make their relationship different in ways he couldn’t even imagine.

“Chloe Elizabeth, I hear you brought a young man home for your family to meet.” Her father’s second cousin, Phoebe, squinted across the crowded dining room at Luke. “’Bout time you were settling down. When is the wedding? Not June, I hope. That’s nowhere near enough time for your momma to get ready.”

Chloe nearly choked on a mouthful of shrimp toast. Was that what everyone was thinking? “We’re not ready to set a date yet,” she murmured.

Cousin Phoebe gave her a sharp glance. “That’s not what your gran says. She’s already planning the wedding quilt for you. Asked me to look out some fabric for her, so I said I would. You’d best decide on colors soon, heah?”

The shrimp turned to ashes in Chloe’s mouth. Could this get any worse? If she denied it further than she already had, Cousin Phoebe would be rushing off to Gran with the story. Perhaps she could distract her.

“Cousin Phoebe, is that Aunt June’s daughter over there?”

The sight of another relative she could interrogate always appealed to Phoebe. She veered off, replaced immediately by Gran herself.

“Gran, are you enjoying your party?” Chloe hugged her, feeling a rush of love at the soft, papery cheek next to hers. And feeling, too, a rush of guilt. She shouldn’t be letting Gran and everyone else believe a relationship existed between her and Luke.

Gran patted her cheek. “It’s a good party, Chloe girl. But the best part is that you’re here, and you’ve finally brought a nice young man home with you.” Gran’s eyes twinkled. “Even if I did have to invite him myself.”

The “nice young man” seemed to be the topic of the day with her elderly relatives. Chloe glanced across the room. Luke stood by the window, deep in conversation with her cousin Matt. Matt, a television news reporter who’d come all the way from Egypt for Gran’s birthday, ought to be able to talk about something Luke would understand. She recognized a similarity in them and wondered if Luke would see it—they were both driven, intense, competitive.

“I think he’s having a good time.” She couldn’t actually bring herself to say she was glad Gran had gotten her into this fix. In fact, the truth pressed against her lips, wanting to burst out. If she told Gran all of it, Gran would understand, wouldn’t she? Or would she look at Chloe with disbelief that her granddaughter had behaved this way?

Gran held Chloe’s hand, her gaze fixed on Luke, too. “Maybe one of my grandchildren will finally find a lasting love. I’d started thinking the dolphin ruined that for all of you.”

Chloe blinked. “What are you talking about?”

A faint flush mounted Gran’s cheeks. “’Spose you’ll think it nonsense.”

“You know I’d never think that. But what do you mean? What dolphin?”

“Chloe’s dolphin, child. What else?” Gran’s eyes brightened with tears. “That dolphin carving disappeared from the church, and no Caldwell has been married under it since. It’s not right.”

“Gran, you’re not superstitious, are you?” She’d known Gran mourned the loss of the dolphin that was part of the family heritage, but hadn’t imagined it meant more than that to her. “You don’t really believe that old story!”

Gran looked at her sternly. “Chloe Elizabeth, there are more true things in stories than you can explain. I’m not saying folks can’t have happy marriages even though the dolphin’s not there anymore. Look at your daddy and momma—they’re as much in love as ever. But it seems to me God’s plan got messed up when that dolphin disappeared, and we need to see him back where he belongs.”

Gran had always had a strong streak of the romantic in her, but Chloe hadn’t expected this. She didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t worry about it, Gran. We’ll all find the right someone to love, eventually.” It was the most comforting thing she could think of, though none of the grandchildren had managed a happy ending yet.

“It’s not just that.” The lines in Gran’s face deepened as she looked from Chloe’s father, on one side of the room, to his brother, as far away as he could get and still be in the same room.

The breach between her daddy and Uncle Jefferson had existed long before Chloe was born, an established fact all her life. Everybody on the island knew that Uncle Jeff called Daddy a straitlaced prig and a failure, and that Daddy felt his brother’s ambition had killed off his honor. They kept up a semblance of civility for Gran’s sake, but their feud obviously still hurt her.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“Not much we can do about them, I’m afraid. But as for you young ones—seems to me you’ve found someone to love, dolphin or no, haven’t you.”

“I don’t know. It’s not…not really serious between us—not yet, anyway.”

Gran’s wise old eyes studied Chloe. “Don’t think you can fool me, Chloe Elizabeth.”

Her heart stopped. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I can see how well the two of you fit together. You care about him, don’t you?”