LITMIR.BIZ

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determined to make the clinic her grandmother had founded the best of its kind. Even that, though, wasn’t enough for Mari. The biomedical facility she wanted to build would not only bring needed jobs into Merlyn County, it would spearhead research into infertility and stem cells and other life-saving—though possibly controversial—areas.

      Lily sighed as she stood in the center of the lobby and let her gaze drift from one woman to another as they read magazines or chatted. What were they thinking? Oh, she knew they’d come for prenatal care and that was all to the good. But Lily had also heard the talk flying around town. Gossip about Mari and her plans, and about the high-powered backers who’d pulled out their monetary support for the facility. There was just too much gossip, Lily thought. Of course, in a small town, you really couldn’t avoid it. Still, one would think that the very women Mari was working so hard to serve would be willing to defend her rather than talk about her behind her back.

      Mari worked like a dog to make sure the women in this part of Kentucky could have good prenatal care—and a clean, welcoming place in which to give birth, whether the women wanted to use a midwife or a doctor. But sometimes, Lily told herself, it was the people who owed you the most who enjoyed talking you down. Maybe people just didn’t care to be beholden to anyone.

      The chatter around her lifted and fell, then dropped away completely as she pushed through the glass door and stepped into the afternoon sunlight. The weather was close, as it had been all summer. Humidity made the air thick enough to chew. But beyond the misery of the heat, there was a clean freshness to the Kentucky mountain air that she’d never found anywhere else.

      New York’s crowded streets with their racing pedestrians and noisy cabs seemed a world away, and Lily was glad for it. She’d needed this change. This chance to step off the treadmill and enjoy her life a little. The work at the clinic was challenging enough to keep her happy—while giving her time to explore the new world she found herself in.

      She’d only been in rural Kentucky a few months, but already it felt like home. Here, no one cared if she wanted to walk barefoot down Main Street. There were no reporters ready to snap a picture of Lillith Cunningham being anything less than dignified. And, there was enough of a buffer zone between her and her family that Lily felt free, for the first time in her life.

      Two or three pickup trucks dotted the parking lot, alongside a couple of minivans and a station wagon that looked to be on its last legs. Sunlight speared from the sky and glanced off the asphalt until heat waves shimmered in the air.

      “Like walking with a wet electric blanket wrapped around you,” Lily muttered as she slipped out of her suit jacket and stepped out of her heels. The parking lot felt red hot against the soles of her feet and still it was more comfortable than walking another step on three-inch heels.

      For all the problems crowding in on the clinic, Lily didn’t for a moment regret moving here. Binghamton, Kentucky, was as far removed from New York City as the moon was from the sun. Everything was different here. Even she was different.

      All right, maybe not so different. But at least here, Lily thought, her differences fit right in. Growing up in an “old money” family, she’d been the black sheep almost from the moment of her birth. Born in the family limousine on the way to the hospital, Lily had never lived down her “undignified” entrance into the world. In fact, she’d pretty much done all she could to live up to it.

      In high school she’d dyed her hair purple, worn her skirts too short and dated all the “wrong” boys. She drove too fast, listened to what her parents called “appalling” music and took part in protest marches. By the time she left home for college, Lily could have sworn she could actually hear the stately old Boston family home breathe a sigh of relief. Heaven knew, her parents had.

      At college things were different. At UCLA she’d discovered a whole new world. In California life was more relaxed, less rigid. There were fewer rules, and no one thought of wearing anything more formal than a pair of clean jeans. Lily had found a place where she fit in. She’d thrived on the distance from her caring, but stiffly formal family. She’d even fallen in love.

      “But then,” she muttered as she hit the button on her keychain that would unlock her car, “nothing’s perfect.”

      Her marriage hadn’t started out badly. Everything had been fine. Until the day a doctor told Lily she couldn’t have children. And just like that, it was over. Jack was packed and gone within the week—the divorce was final six months later.

      Lily opened her car door and tossed her purse across to the passenger seat. Tilting her face up, she looked at the cloud-scattered sky and blew out a breath. The past didn’t matter anymore. Whatever paths she’d taken in her life, they’d eventually led her here. And that was all that mattered.

      Sliding into her car, she jammed the key home, turned it and instantly flipped up the volume on her radio. An oldie but goodie came pouring out of the speakers and as Lily put the car in reverse, she started singing along.

      She turned left out of the lot and headed toward downtown. In no rush to hurry home, she decided the heat of the day called for a reprieve. Driving to South Junction Burgers, she kept singing as she imagined getting her hands on one of the burger joint’s famous milkshakes.

      The air-conditioning hit her like a slap, and Lily almost reeled with the impact. The diner felt like heaven. Only a handful of customers were inside, and Lily smiled at them as she headed back to her favorite…and luckily empty booth.

      She slid onto the worn Naugahyde and didn’t even bother picking up one of the menus tucked between the sugar and the salt and pepper shakers. What would be the point? South Junction wasn’t fine cuisine. People came here for one reason.

      “Hey, Ms. Cunningham.”

      Lily smiled up at her waitress. “Hi, Vickie.”

      Vickie Hastings had a mountain of blond hair, pulled up on top of her head and then lacquered into complete submission. Her blue eyes were lined heavily with black eyeliner, and her mascara had been layered on so thickly, she looked as if two caterpillars were taking naps on her eyelids. She snapped her gum and wore her short uniform dress way too tight, across breasts she seemed inordinately proud of, but she had a nice smile and was always friendly.

      “The usual?” Vickie asked, pulling her pad and pen from her apron pocket.

      Lily laughed. Good God. She was a regular at a diner. Her mother would be hysterical. And that cheered Lily a little. “You bet. Only tonight, make the milkshake strawberry for a change.”

      Vickie chuckled. “I don’t know. Living dangerously. If you don’t have a chocolate shake on Thursday nights, the world might stop spinning.”

      “Let’s risk it.”

      “You got it.” Vickie filled out the order pad, but didn’t move away.

      “Is something wrong?”

      “Well.” The waitress threw a glance over her shoulder at the long counter behind her and the open pass-through to the kitchen where her boss was cooking. When she was assured no one was paying attention to her, she turned back to Lily and said, “Now that you mention it…”

      The air-conditioning had done its job. Lily felt refreshed enough to handle whatever it was that had Vickie worrying her bottom lip. “What’s wrong?”

      “I’m uh—” she leaned in a little closer and lowered her voice “—pregnant.”

      Lily blinked. This kind of news wasn’t usually delivered with all the stealth of a CIA man making a hand-off to his partner. “Congratulations?” she asked, unsure if Vickie was wanting to celebrate or commiserate.

      “Thanks.” A brief smile curved Vickie’s mouth and then disappeared again a moment later. “Billy’n me’re real happy about it. But the thing is,” she leaned in even closer, and soon, Lily thought, the two of them would be nose to nose. “I was wondering. You work at the clinic.”

      “Yes…” A flicker of irritation started at the base of

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