The House on Hope Street - By Danielle Steel Page 0,3

any crap from her ex-husband. She's a walking victim, and you know it.”

“And you're a bleeding heart, and I love you,” he said as he took a step closer and wrapped his arms around her. It was nearly one o'clock by then, and they were closing the office between Christmas and New Year's. And with five children at home, there was no doubt in either of their minds that they would be busy. But Liz was better about leaving the office behind her, when they went home, than Jack was. When she was with her children, they were all she could think of, and Jack loved that about her.

“I love you, Jack Sutherland,” she said with a smile as he kissed her. He wasn't usually amorous with her at work, but it was Christmas after all, and they had finished everything they could before the holiday, especially now that Amanda Parker's hearing was behind them.

Liz put her files away, and Jack stuck half a dozen new ones into his briefcase, and half an hour later they left in separate cars, Liz to go home and get ready for Christmas Eve, and Jack to do a few last-minute errands downtown. He always finished his Christmas shopping at the last minute, unlike Liz, who did hers, and theirs for the kids, in November. She was intensely organized and detail-conscious, which was the only way she could manage both a large family and a career. That and the wonderful housekeeper they'd had for the last fourteen years, Carole, who was devoted to their children. Liz knew without a moment's doubt that she would have been lost without her. She was a young Mormon woman who had come to them at twenty-three, and loved the Sutherland children almost as much as Jack and Liz did, particularly Jamie, who was nine.

As he left, Jack promised to be home at five or five-thirty. He still had Jamie's new bike to put together that night, and Liz knew he'd be frantically wrapping gifts for her in the office he kept at home, at midnight. But Christmas Eve at their house was everything it should be. They had come to each other with years of Christmas traditions they cherished, and over the years had managed to blend them into one big warm cozy celebration, which their children loved.

Liz drove the short distance to their home in Tiburon, and smiled to herself as she pulled into the driveway on Hope Street. All three of her daughters had just returned from shopping with Carole, and they were getting out of the car with all their packages. Megan was a willowy fourteen, at thirteen Annie was stockier but looked just like her mother, and Rachel was eleven, and looked just like Jack, despite her mother's red hair. The three got on surprisingly well, and were in high spirits as they argued good-humoredly about something with Carole. And all three smiled when they saw their mother walk toward them.

“What have you been up to?” Liz put an arm around Annie and Rachel, and then narrowed her eyes as she looked at Megan. “Is that my favorite black sweater you're wearing again, Meg? Or do I even need to ask? You're bigger than I am and you're going to stretch it.”

“It's not my fault you're flat-chested, Mom,” Megan said with a guilty grin. They were always “borrowing” clothes from each other and their mother, more often than not without the owner's permission or approval. It was really the only argument the girls had between them, and hardly a serious problem. Liz felt lucky just looking at them, she and Jack had great kids, and they loved being with them.

“Where are the boys?” Liz asked as she followed them in, and noticed that Annie was wearing her mother's favorite shoes. It was hopeless. They seemed destined to share a communal wardrobe, no matter how many things she bought for them.

“Peter's out with Jessica, and Jamie's at a friend's,” Carole filled in for her. Jessica was Peter's latest girlfriend. She lived nearby in Belvedere, and he was there now more often than at his own home. “I have to pick Jamie up in half an hour,” Carole explained, “unless you want to do it.” Carole had been a pretty blonde at twenty-three, and over the years had widened more than a little, but at thirty-seven, she was still pretty, and she had a warm, affectionate way of handling the children. She was part of the