into the light but she had been a product of her upbringing, raised on a diet of keeping family secrets hidden away in the shadows.
She told herself not to ask for the moon, to be satisfied with this tiny piece of it, but she couldn't help wishing for answers to the questions she could never ask.
#
"...parents work for Mrs. Chase at the house. The youngest, Storm, is almost fourteen... doing Thanksgiving dinner there..."
Gracie tried hard to pay attention but the combination of warm soup, a cozy sofa, and exhaustion were taking their toll. She had already nodded off three times while her father was talking and she was determined not to nod off a fourth time.
"You should get a little shut-eye," he said, reaching down to scratch Pye behind his left ear. "You're out on your feet, Graciela."
She started to protest but he was having none of it. "Get some sleep. We'll have plenty of time to jaw tomorrow when Laquita's home."
Gracie barely stifled a yawn. "I wanted to stay up and see her tonight."
"She won't be in until after two," Ben said. "I don't think there's a way in hell you could stay awake that long."
She looked at the clock. It read ten-fifteen. "You're right," she said. "I'll never make it." She stood up and battled that yawn one more time. "I really enjoyed this, Dad."
He stood up and gave her an awkward pat on the right shoulder. "So did I."
"Am I sleeping in the sewing room?"
"No," he said. "Laquita fixed up Gramma's place for you. We figured you might like a little privacy."
"That's wonderful," she said, appreciating the gesture. "What a nice thing to do." Mending fences was hard work. They would all benefit from a little breathing room.
"It is yours, after all."
She stopped mid-stretch. "I keep forgetting that."
"Things have changed, Graciela."
"I know." She hesitated, then leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm glad."
Ben helped her unload the Jeep. She carried a squirming Pyewacket across the rain-soaked yard then deposited him in the front room.
"You sleep well," her father said, giving her an awkward pat on the shoulder.
"You too." She looked away for a moment. "Please apologize to Laquita."
"We'll see you at breakfast?"
She nodded. "Absolutely."
She went to lock the door after him then remembered where she was and she laughed softly. She was back home in Idle Point.
#
Mornings were the worst. Sophie didn't like mornings at all and no matter how many times Noah told her it was time to get up, she burrowed more deeply under the covers and clung to sleep as if her life depended upon it.
"Come on, Soph." He shook her tiny shoulder. "You're coming to work with me today and we can't be late." Okay, so that wasn't strictly true. His family owned the Gazette. He could be as late as he wanted.
She opened one sleepy eye. "No school today?"
"No school for three days," he said as she sat up and yawned, tiny fists pressed against her mouth. "You're on suspension?"
"What's that?"
"A punishment," Noah said, "for biting your classmates." He reminded her of the fact that Mrs. Cavanaugh was still quite displeased with her behavior but he couldn't tell how much of an impact that news had on his little daughter.
"Can I play with a computer?"
"Sure," he said, "but you can't go to the office and play with the computers if you don't get dressed."
I'll be damned. He watched as she ran barefoot to the bathroom and started brushing her teeth. A little good old-fashioned bribery and he was in business. Why hadn't anybody told him that logic and reason were for the birds? Bribery was the only real way to a child's heart. There was a lesson to be learned there and it wasn't one that Dr. Spock would have embraced.
The truth was, he barely knew Sophie. Each day he learned something new about her, something that reminded him either of himself or, now and again, of Catherine. Or what little he knew of Catherine. Their affair had lasted only six months. They had parted amicably when Catherine’s acting career took her from London to Sidney. Neither one of them had suggested Noah join her. He had that effect on women.
He took a little pair of jeans out of the closet, a white shirt with a lacy collar, a pink sweater, and laid them down on the bed. He tapped on the bathroom door. "Sophie, do you need help in there?"
"Go away!"
Five years old and guarding her privacy. He had