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the morning when she woke, he was gone. Aurora was already up and in the kitchen, dressed in her housecoat. Elise poured herself a cup of coffee. She knew David had left for work; he was usually on the road by seven. The house remained quiet. Before long, the boys would be up and so would Maverick. Elise savored these few minutes alone with her daughter.

"Mom," Aurora said tentatively. "Did you know Dad's moving?"

Elise nodded. "He told me...last night." Embarrassed, she kept her back to Aurora as she added cream to her coffee, stirring more than necessary.

"You and Dad seem to be getting along quite well."

"Uh...We are."

"It's all gone so much better than I expected."

"Yes, but then your father always was a charmer," Elise said tartly. She turned around and her face heated up at Aurora's speculative look. "Oh, all right, if you must know, your father and I are sharing a bed." Elise didn't understand what possessed her to blurt it out like that. It made their love sound sordid and wrong, when sleeping with Maverick was the most natural thing in the world.

Aurora tried to hide her amusement by taking a sip of coffee. "It's no secret. David and I guessed right away."

This was embarrassing. Might as well go for broke. "He wants me to marry him."

"Will you?"

If she knew the answer to that, she wouldn't be discussing it with her daughter. "I...I'm not sure what to do. Your father - well, you know your father."

"I don't, Mom, not really. I have an image of him, but what Dad's really like...I guess it's somewhere between reality and my fantasy."

"He's been here all these weeks."

"Yes," Aurora said with a deep sigh. "He's been wonderful with the boys. They adore him and I do, too - but then I always did."

"I know," she whispered. There'd been a time when Elise had resented her daughter's love for her father, but no more. "I've made so many mistakes in my life," she confessed. "I don't want to make another one."

"Follow your heart, Mom," Aurora said quietly. "Follow your heart."

CHAPTER 31

BETHANNE HAMLIN

Bethanne was almost afraid of her newfound happiness. Her fledgling business showed real promise. With every birthday party she designed, she booked two and often three more. But Annie was right. She couldn't continue to do this without paid employees and additional help. With school starting in a few days, she wouldn't have any choice but to hire an assistant.

What she needed, according to Paul, was a start-up business loan. He seemed so confident she'd get one that her doubts fell away. Because she'd never established credit on her own or even filled out a loan application, he'd promised to look everything over before she visited the bank.

They were meeting Monday at noon on the Seattle waterfront at Myrtle Edwards Park. She'd packed a thick deli sandwich, fruit and a drink as a small thank-you for his thoughtfulness. She was too nervous to eat and intended to go directly to her local bank following their meeting.

She had a picnic table staked out early and sat there, enjoying the late-summer day. The sun's reflection on the water made it a deep greenish-blue and the wind off Puget Sound was fresh with the briny scent of the sea. A Washington State ferry could be seen leaving the dock, heading for either Bremerton or the town of Winslow on Bainbridge Island.

Bethanne rarely had reason to take the ferry, but in the painful aftermath of divorce, she'd taken one to Bremerton. She'd stood outside in the coldest, wettest part of the winter, tears streaming down her cheeks. The wind and the rain pummeled her, and she prayed with desperation that she'd catch cold and die because death seemed preferable to this horrible pain. How grateful she was now that her prayer hadn't been answered. It felt as though the sun was shining on her life these days.

She didn't see Paul until he stepped up to the table. "You're certainly preoccupied," he said with a smile.

"Paul," she gasped. Impulsively she reached out and hugged him - and was shocked when he wrapped his arms around her. They talked almost every day and saw each other two or three times a week. He'd become her confidant and her friend, and they relied on each other for moral support. She didn't want that to change, and she'd assumed he understood her feelings. Gently she disengaged herself.

"How's my favorite party girl?" he teased.

"I'm great - I think." She'd know