was so hard, so cold. Lila wanted to block it out, but Rivka held her hands so she could not. "And I saw the same thing in his face. Tom loves you. I never saw a man light up so much as he did when you walked in the room. When I told him you weren’t coming to that last meeting, I thought he was going to faint, Lila, that’s how bad he looked. Tom Caine almost wept in front of me because I told him you weren’t coming to a stupid meeting."
"You don’t know." Lila forced the words through parched lips. "You don’t know what happened."
"I don’t have to know. I know you’re afraid. William was a dirty, lying jerk, and I wish you wouldn’t even grant him the dignity of having hurt you, but I understand." Rivka squeezed Lila’s shoulder gently.
"You and Mick—" Lila began, desperate to turn the conversation away from herself.
"Just because I’ve been lucky enough to find my Mickey doesn’t mean I can’t remember how it was to be hurt!" Rivka knelt beside Lila, who had somehow slid from the bed to crouch on the floor. "Lila, my sister, I hurt a thousand times watching you let the things William said wear away your self-confidence. I hurt when you hurt."
Lila shook her head blindly. "The woman in the restaurant called me his charity case. It was just like William all over again. I was stupid to think a man like Tom would ever look at me twice, much less fall in love with me. And even if he did think he loved me, it’s better this way. Better it ends now, when I can handle it, than years from now when he decides he wants a woman like Jennifer on his arm and not someone like me."
"Now when you can handle it?" Rivka didn’t sound convinced. "You’ve lost weight, Lila, and you’ve got circles under your eyes. You aren’t handling it at all."
Lila wiped her face. "I could be handling it, if you’d just leave me alone about it. I’ll get over him."
Rivka moved away, disdain on her perfect features. "You let a man who wasn’t worth the ground you spit on take away what I’ve always admired about you. William made you Lila forever. You’re not bold at all."
Rivka left the room. Lila stared after her until the tears dried on her cheeks. The words her sister had said stung worse than a swarm of bees, but Lila no longer felt boneless and weak. She felt angry and not at Rivka. At William, who had made her sister ashamed of her. And at herself, for letting him.
Emma was singing in the shower. Her enthusiastic, off-tune words floated down the hall into Tom’s bedroom, where he was trying—without success—to sleep. He gritted his teeth against her happiness and buried his face in the pillow.
He could not begrudge his niece her joy. If only she wasn’t so vocal about it! Tom had never heard more love songs in his life than in the past week. Emma, it seemed, was an incurable romantic. She quoted Romeo and Juliet over breakfast. She made up terrible but heartfelt poetry and read it aloud to him in an awful Elizabethan accent, and expected him to give his true opinion about it. She had even invited Michel to dinner at the house and baked him a heart-shaped meatloaf. The girl was crazy. He listened to Emma’s song crescendo into an almost unbearable, deliriously love-struck trilling.
Months ago, Emma’s behavior would have made him laugh. A week ago, he’d probably have been singing right along with her. Since Lila had shut him out of her life, Tom had never felt less like listening to the wonder and beauty of love as seen by his freckle-faced niece.
He had fired both Jennifer and Wendi, despite their threats of claiming sexual harassment. He’d risk it, he’d told them. They’d get their last paychecks in the mail, don’t bother coming in to The Foxfire, good-bye and I hope not to see you later.
None of that could bring Lila back. After the confrontation on her porch, he had itched to dial her number a thousand times, but never had. He had driven past her house, but did not stop. He wanted to see her so badly he ached, but what could he do? She didn’t want to see him. She didn’t trust him. She didn’t love him.
But ah, God! He still loved her! Every note of music on