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“Your point,” Raine allowed, watching with admiration as her sister deftly flipped the omelet onto a plate. “I’d just never pictured you living in Coldwater Cove.”

“We’re not all cut out for big-city life.” Savannah cut the omelet, slid the halves onto two pottery plates, placed the plates on the table and refilled both their coffee cups. “I’m almost afraid to mention it, but if those dark circles under your eyes are any indication, it doesn’t look as if you are, either.”

“It’s been a rough few months,” Raine hedged. Not eager to have to defend herself yet again, she took a bite of omelet and nearly wept. “This is delicious.” It was also so light and fluffy it could have floated off the plate.

Savannah shrugged. “An omelet’s easy.”

“For you, maybe. Newsflash, baby sister, more Americans eat a Pop Tart or Egg McMuffin for breakfast than dill-and-cheese omelets.”

“All the more reason they’ll want to stay at my inn,” Savannah pointed out. “As flattered as I admittedly am by your appreciation of my culinary skills, I believe we were discussing your life?”

“There’s nothing to discuss. At least it doesn’t make me cry at night.” Not yet, anyway.

“You heard.” Savannah didn’t look all that surprised.

“I heard.” Raine put down her fork with a sigh that was directed inward, reached out and linked their fingers together atop the table. “I was a rotten sister not to try to do something about it.”

“There’s nothing you could have done.” Savannah looked down at their joined hands. “I was just so angry. Angry at Kevin. But angrier at myself. For avoiding the truth all these years.” Her smile was less brilliant and more than a little chagrined. “But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Since you and I are both queens of denial.”

Raine’s first thought was that perhaps that description fit Savannah, who tended to look at life through rose-colored lenses, but she’d always been unflinchingly honest with herself. When that idea caused a little twinge somewhere deep in the far recesses of her mind, Raine’s second thought was that she didn’t want to think about this.

“This conversation is getting depressing,” she said. “Why don’t you tell me what kind of house you have in mind?”

Savannah did not need a second invitation. As she shared her rosy, if a bit overly optimistic, plans for her future, her face lit up with enthusiasm. Raine felt a quick, unexpected stab of envy.

Which was, of course, ridiculous. In spite of the good face her sister was trying to put on it, Savannah’s life had just crumbled down around her. While Raine’s own, on the other hand, was right on course. After all the years of personal sacrifice, of long hours, take-out meals eaten at her desk, and restless nights anticipating or rerunning trials in her dreams, partnership was finally in sight.

When she finally achieved that long-sought-after objective, she could afford to kick back and relax a little. She could begin eating more healthily and return to the running that had burned off the excess tension during her law school days. Perhaps she’d even take up meditation. Heaven knows, Brian swore by the practice, claiming it soothed both his mind and body.

Of course she currently didn’t have the twenty minutes to spare each morning and evening Brian spent chanting his mantra or whatever one did while meditating. But she would soon. Once she made partner.

“Enough about me,” Savannah said, drawing Raine’s attention back to their conversation. “Gram’s told me you’re about to make partner. Which didn’t surprise me, since when he was reporting your oil story, Peter Jennings actually referred to you as the up-and-coming attorney of choice for the high-powered corporate world. I think it’s wonderful and I couldn’t be more proud of you. But what I really want to know about is your personal life.”

“What personal life?” Raine’s laugh lacked humor.

“Well, to cut it down to one word—men. Since my love life’s turned to mud, why don’t you cheer me up by telling me that you’re having a mad, passionate affair with some eccentric, bearded SoHo-artist type who adorns your hot naked flesh with edible body paint, then spends all night licking it off.”

This time Raine’s laugh was genuine. “A bearded artist type?”

“It’s always an artist in the movies.”

“That proves it. You’ve definitely been living in LaLa Land too long.”

“Well, you may be right about that,” Savannah allowed with a little laugh of her own. “But you’re dodging the question.”

“I don’t have time to think about men. At least not in that way.”

Raine didn’t dare admit that since arriving back home, she’d been thinking about one man
that way
. Too much for comfort.

N
ow that her sister had arrived, Raine could return to New York. After helping Savannah with the breakfast dishes, then spending an hour on the phone with Brian and another two hours catching up on e-mail and some brief-writing that needed to be done, she went upstairs to begin packing.

As she went to open the drawer, her attention was drawn to a photograph atop the bureau. She remembered the day as if it were yesterday. It had been the summer of her eleventh year and she and her mother and sister had spent a rare, carefree day at the beach. She held the photo up to her face, pulled her hair back, tried to see any part of her mother in the reflection looking back at her from the mirror, and with the exception of a possible faint resemblance around the eyes couldn’t see anything that declared her to be Lilith’s daughter.

Driven by feelings that had been simmering on the surface since she’d first arrived home, Raine put the photo back, then went into the closet beneath the eaves and took down the box she’d hidden beneath another box of blankets. She placed the box on the bed, opened the lid, and pulled out a scrapbook. The yellowed newspaper clippings were as crisp as dried autumn leaves. As she ran her fingertips over one, the edges that had come loose from the Scotch tape crumbled beneath her touch.

Sighing, she returned to the mirror and held the book up, this time comparing her reflection with a photo of her father that she’d cut out of
Newsweek
so many years ago. Again, nothing. She could have been a changeling.

Which was just fine with her, since she preferred to think of herself as her own woman. A self-made woman who was intelligent and self-confident. A woman capable of fighting her own battles. A woman who didn’t need anyone.

Liar
.

Raine thought back on those hurtful words Lilith had thrown at her the other night, the accusation that her entire life had been nothing but an attempt to gain her famous father’s attention. That wasn’t true. Oh, perhaps it had been in the beginning, but most of the time Raine was resigned to the idea that she and Owen Cantrell would never have any sort of father-daughter relationship.

She stared into the mirror, looking hard and deep, now searching for Xena. But the Warrior Princess appeared to have abandoned her.

“Just like Lilith,” she murmured, beginning to understand that her personal armor had first been donned to protect a child against feelings of anger, confusion, and fear. And it had done its job well, for so many years. But now it was beginning to unravel and Raine realized that if she wanted to finally heal her relationship with her mother, she was going to have to discard it entirely.

That idea was more terrifying than any court case she’d ever presented. Even more frightening than facing that mob on the federal courthouse steps last week. Feeling as if she were suffocating, Raine practically ran down the stairs, fleeing old ghosts and ancient hurts.

She didn’t know how long she sat on the porch swing, vaguely aware, on some level, of the distant buzz of a lawnmower. As she breathed in the scent of newly mown grass, Raine reminded herself that in contrast to her flighty mother, she preferred an orderly life. Since she didn’t like leaving things undone, it was time to try to resolve her rocky relationship with her mother.

Knowing that this could take time, Raine decided that if Stephen Wells wouldn’t allow her to continue to work away from the office, at least until after Gwen’s baby was born, she’d just take advantage of the firm’s generous family leave policy.

Not that she knew anyone who actually ever had taken precious work time off for family. But there had to be a first time, Raine thought. Why not her?

Jack’s mind kept wandering on the morning of the planting party, making it difficult to keep his mind on his daughter’s conversation.

“Gramma made cakes for the party,” she revealed as they cleared the table. “One’s devil’s food.” She was carrying the plates over to the counter. When the stack tilted precariously, Jack managed to refrain from reaching out to take it away from her. “The other’s carrot cake. With her special frosting.”

“Your favorite.”

“Even better than strawberry shortcake with whipped cream,” Her youthful brow furrowed. “Do you think Raine will like it?”

“I can’t imagine anyone not liking your grandmother’s carrot cake.”

“Yeah. It’s really good. That’s why she always wins the blue ribbon at the fair. Grandpa always said that Gramma is the best baker in the county.”

“Your grandfather knew what he was talking about. Since he had the biggest sweet tooth in the county.”

“I know. He always carried those M&Ms around in his pocket and let me have the red ones…. I wonder if Raine can make cakes.”

“She’s Ms. Cantrell to you, Pumpkin,” Jack corrected, “I have no idea if she can bake or not.” However, if he were to hazard a guess, he’d say no.

“I know you said I should always call adults by their last name, but when we were in the Dancing Deer, she told me I could call her Raine,” Amy reminded him as they stacked the plates in the dishwasher. “Maybe you could ask her today.”

Jack dragged himself back from a fantasy of licking fluffy clouds of whipped cream off Raine Cantrell’s slender, but eminently appealing body. “Ask her what?”

“About if she knows how to bake.”

“Maybe we should just mind our own business,” he suggested on a mild tone that invited no further discussion. “How about bringing me your milk glass?”

“I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s just a question.” Amy’s frustrated sigh ruffled her pale gold bangs as she returned to the table. “Don’t you always tell me that if I want to know something, I should just ask?”

Jack was extremely grateful that the citizens of Coldwater Cove were more inclined than his daughter to view him as a symbol of authority.

“Whether or not
Ms. Cantrell
”—he stressed again—“bakes is not only none of our business, it’s beside the point. Since she’s going back to New York soon.”

“Maybe if she has a good enough time at the party, she’ll decide to stay here. I’ll bet she doesn’t ever plant Christmas trees in New York.” She put the glass in the top rack and gave him a guileless smile Jack didn’t buy for a minute. His daughter was many delightful things. Subtle definitely wasn’t one of them.

“They sell Christmas trees in the city.”

“I know that. But if she stayed here, she could just cut one of ours. Or you could cut it for her.”

“She’s not staying in Coldwater Cove.” Less than pleased by the memory of allowing himself to think along much the same lines somewhere just before dawn, he poured the detergent in the machine and slammed the door with more force than necessary. “Her job is in New York.”

A job he realized was immensely important to her. It had only taken Dan a few calls to learn that Raine Cantrell was definitely on the fast track to partnership in an old, established practice Dan had described as a “white shoe” firm. How many people would be willing to turn their back on that? Especially to come home to Coldwater Cove, where her biggest case could involve a dispute over a parking spot?

How many people would be willing to turn their backs on a career that undoubtedly paid in the mid—six figures, for the type of practice where clients occasionally paid their bills with fresh-caught fish, poultry, or baked goods? Not many he’d guess. And not her.

“
Your
job used to be in Seattle,” Amy reminded him. “But now we live here.”

“That’s us.” He smoothed his hand over the top of her head. “It doesn’t work that way for everyone, kiddo.”

Jack had always vowed to keep his daughter out of his personal life, when and if he ever got around to having one. Unfortunately, it appeared he wasn’t doing a very good job where Raine was concerned.

“Maybe if we asked her to stay, she would.”

“We’re not going to ask. Because Ms. Cantrell’s life is none of our business,” he reminded her yet again.

“It is if you like her.” She paused a beat, then looked up at him through a fringe of thick lashes. As impossible as it was, since she was still a child, she almost reminded him of the way Vivien Leigh had looked at Clark Gable when she’d put on drapes and gone to coax Rhett Butler into giving her the money to save Tara. “You do like Raine, don’t you, Daddy?”

Wondering where on earth his six-year-old daughter had picked up such a blatantly female seductive look, it took Jack a stunned minute to answer. “Well, yeah. Sure I do, but—”

“I do, too,” Amy said quickly, before he could add a qualifier. “I think she’d make a neat Mommy. And besides, you’re not getting any younger, Daddy. If you don’t stop being so particular, you’ll be too old for anyone to marry you.”

With that pronouncement hanging in the morning air, she swept out of the kitchen, leaving Jack more than a little bemused and feeling as if he were growing more ancient by the minute.

Although Shawna and Renee had moved to their aunt and uncle’s home in Bremerton, there’d been no thought of going to the planting party without them. Raine had picked them up earlier, then taken them back to the house to join the others. She’d been relieved when they’d assured her that they were fitting into their new home just fine.

“Oh, look at that!” Gwen said as they drove past the acres of conical blue-green fir and spruce trees. “They look exactly like Christmas trees.”

“Duh,” Shawna responded with teenage disdain. “Maybe that’s why they call it a Christmas tree farm.”

“I knew that,” Gwen said with a toss of her Orphan Annie curls. “I just never imagined that they’d look so…well, finished.”

“They’ve been shaped,” Raine revealed. “Even though the spruce and fir trees are trained to grow in more of a pyramid shape than pine trees, they still need to be trimmed at least once a year to shape them.” Gwen was right in a way, though, she thought. The only thing missing were gilt angels smiling benevolently atop the trees and some lights and colored glass balls.

“How in the world do you know that?” Ida, sitting beside Raine in the front seat, shot her a curious glance. “I wouldn’t think there’d be much need for you to be an expert on growing Christmas trees in New York.”

“No. There’s not.” Raine kept both her expression and her tone casual. “And I’m far from an expert. I just happened to wander across a few sites on the Internet while I was retrieving my e-mail last night.”

“I can see how that might happen,” Ida agreed dryly. “Cyberspace being such a small, intimate place, I’ll bet it’s almost impossible not to stumble across Christmas-tree-growing tips. Especially in May.”

“All right.” If she hadn’t been driving, Raine would have thrown up her hands. “So I did a little research. But only so I wouldn’t appear too clueless today.”

Lilith leaned over from the back seat to give her daughter a knowing look. “Raine, darling, believe me, Jack O’Halloran doesn’t give two hoots whether you know anything about his silly old trees. As for being clueless, surely you’re aware that the sheriff is head over heels over cowboy hat over you.

“As a matter of fact, Mother and I were talking about that just this morning, and we both agreed that we’re feeling a bit guilty for keeping you so occupied solving our problems.”

“That’s what I came back for.”

“True. And we all appreciate it, don’t we girls?” Lilith asked, drawing a heartfelt response from the three teenagers. “But we’ve had a little meeting and decided that we’re going to pitch in so you’ll have more time with Jack. You’ve no idea how pleased everyone is that he’s finally dating again.”

“We’re not dating,” Raine said firmly, wondering which one of them she was trying to convince. Herself or her mother. Another thought occurred to her. “And what do you mean by everyone?”

“Why, all of us, of course. When I stopped in at the market to pick up some coffee yesterday, Olivia Brown was working the cash register, and she mentioned it. Then, Ingrid, from the Viking Café, was standing in line behind me and she said she thought it was high time Jack paid some personal attention to someone besides his daughter. Not that Amy isn’t a delightful child, but—”

“Wait a minute.” Raine held up a hand. “Are you telling me that my relationship with Jack O’Halloran, not that we even have one,” she insisted yet again, “is the talk of the town?”

“Of course. Coldwater Cove’s a small community, Raine. Everyone cares about each other.”

“About each other’s business,” Raine complained. “I may admittedly be a little rusty on the logistics, but I’m positive that you don’t take your entire family along on a date.”

“I don’t know,” Lilith argued. “You just might. If you were dating the kind of man who puts family first.”

“It’s not a date.” Raine’s expression was firm, her voice was not.

“Well, then, darling,” Lilith drawled as they approached the farmhouse. “Someone should have remembered to tell Jack. Because I doubt if the man is going to stand outside to greet every one of his guests today.”

Oh God, Raine groaned inwardly. Just the sight of him, tall and rangy, leaning against a porch pillar, looking a lot like a young Gary Cooper in his work-weathered jeans, plaid shirt, and spring-straw Stetson, was enough to make any woman suffer an estrogen meltdown.

With her heart thudding like a foolish schoolgirl’s, she somehow managed to park the Jeep between a white Chevy pickup and a forest green Explorer. As the rest of the family clamored out of the Jeep, she stayed where she was, her gaze transfixed on his face. Although the day had dawned a bright one, Raine imagined she heard the rumble of thunder in the distance. And when his mouth curved in a welcoming smile, she felt as if a bolt of lightning had suddenly struck from out of the robin’s egg blue sky.