LITMIR.BIZ

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refused to be anything other than the cool and confident daughter of Ken and Molly. She supposed it was growing up as the only child of parents who desperately wanted more children. They loved her without question, but at the same time, they were always vocal about their disappointment in having only one. When they started taking in foster children, it made it even harder to get attention. At first, she tried to excel in school to prove to them that she was good enough to make up for being the only one. She was well-behaved, polite and never caused the tiniest problem for her parents.

      It had worked. To a point. They were always quick to praise her, but her parents continued to bring in foster children. Perfection became her way to stand out and get noticed. It wasn’t until after the incident with Tommy that she threw an uncharacteristic fit and demanded her parents stop bringing in other children and pay attention to her for once. It was selfish. And she felt horrible doing it. But she couldn’t risk another boy coming to the Garden of Eden who might look at her the way Tommy did.

      “Are you doing okay this morning?” Molly asked her.

      “Yeah. Heath stayed in the guest room so I wouldn’t be alone. We talked last night and a couple of us are going to come stay here for a few months. Through the New Year, at least, to help with Christmas and such.”

      Molly’s chin shot up—her mother was ready to argue—but she stopped herself and nodded. They both knew she couldn’t run the farm alone. Her petite frame and increasingly stiff fingers couldn’t haul Christmas trees twice her size. Having the kids here would take the pressure off of her and keep Ken resting the way he should. “Which of you are coming up?”

      “Heath and I. He’s taking a few months away from the advertising agency. I’ve sold my house in Sag Harbor and I’m moving here until Dad is better, then I’ll find someplace new.”

      “What about you and, uh…” Molly’s voice trailed off.

      Her mother couldn’t remember the name of her boyfriend. That said volumes about her ill-fated relationship history. “Danny,” Julianne offered. “We’ve broken it off.”

      “Oh,” Molly said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

      “Liar,” Julianne said, smiling into her coffee mug as she took a sip.

      Molly shrugged, but didn’t argue with her on that point. “I’ve been speaking with a private medical care company about bringing your father home to recuperate instead of putting him in a nursing home. They recommended moving a bed downstairs, and they could provide a live-in nurse for a few weeks.”

      “That sounds perfect.” She wanted her father to have the best possible care, but she hated the idea of him in a nursing home, even if temporarily.

      “Well, except that you’d have to stay in the bunkhouse. We’d need to move one bed downstairs and have the other for the nurse. Is that okay?”

      “Absolutely,” Julianne responded, although the idea of close quarters with Heath didn’t thrill her. Last night was bad enough. “It will give me some room to store my equipment, too.”

      “Speaking of which, what about your studio? And your gallery showing? You have to keep working, don’t you?”

      “The store is fine without me. My place in the Hamptons does too well to move and my staff there run it beautifully. As for my studio, I’m thinking I can work here and it wouldn’t impact the show. Since I’m staying out there, maybe I can use part of the bunkhouse.”

      “You know,” Molly said, “the storage room there hasn’t been used in ages. We could clean that out and you could use it.”

      “Storage room?”

      “Yes. You know what I’m talking about. In the bunkhouse, under the staircase. It’s about twelve by twelve, I’d say, with a window and its own door to the outside. That’s where we used to hide your Christmas presents when you all were small. Right now, I think it might just have some boxes of the boys’ old toys and sporting equipment.”

      Honestly, she hadn’t given much thought to the nook under the stairs. Her time in the bunkhouse was usually spent watching television or messing around with the boys, not surveying the property. “Now I remember. If it’s as big as you say, that would be perfect.”

      “If Heath is staying,” Molly continued, “perhaps he can help you get the space ready. There should be some time before the holiday rush begins.”

      “What am I helping out with?” Heath stumbled sleepily into the kitchen in jeans, a casual T-shirt and bare feet. His light brown hair was tousled. It was a far cry from his expensive tailored suits and perfectly styled hair, but it impacted Julianne even more powerfully. This morning, he looked more like the Heath she’d fallen in love with. The successful, powerful advertising executive was a stranger to her.

      “We need you to help clean out the old storage room in the bunkhouse,” Molly answered.

      He located a mug and made his own cup of coffee. “The one where you hid our Christmas presents?”

      A light flush of irritation rose to Molly’s cheeks. Julianne had her mother’s same pale, flawless complexion. It was always quick to betray their feelings. They blushed bright red at the slightest provocation.

      “You knew about that?” Molly asked.

      Heath smiled and took a step farther from his mother under the guise of looking in the cabinet for something to eat. “We’ve always known, Mom. We just didn’t have the heart to tell you.”

      “Well, hell,” Molly said, smacking her palm against the table. “Just as well we turn it into a studio, then.”

      “Mom says that Dad’s surgery is tomorrow,” Julianne added, steering the conversation in another direction.

      Heath pulled down a box of cereal and nodded. “Once we’re certain that he’s doing okay after surgery, I’ll probably head back to New York for a few days and get my things. I need to make arrangements with work and such, but I can probably be back up here in two or three days.”

      Julianne nodded. She had plenty of things to take care of, too. “Same here. I’ve got to close on the house. Most of my things are already boxed up. I’ll put what I can in storage somewhere and bring the rest.”

      “How are you going to get all your stuff into that little bitty sports car?” Heath asked.

      “The Camaro is bigger than your Porsche,” she countered.

      “Yeah, but I’m not hauling all your sculpting supplies and tools. What about your kiln?”

      “I’m selling it locally,” Julianne said, although she didn’t know why he was so concerned. “I wanted a new one anyway, so I’ll get it delivered here.”

      Heath frowned at her and crossed his arms over his chest in irritation. She tried not to focus on the way the tight fabric stretched across his hard muscles when he moved, but her eyes were instantly drawn to it. She followed the line of his collar to the lean cords of his neck and the rough stubble along his jaw. Her gaze stopped short when she noticed his amused smirk and arched eyebrow. He’d caught her. At that, she turned her attention back to her coffee and silently cursed herself.

      “You need movers,” he persisted. “And a truck. I can get you one.”

      Julianne scoffed at the suggestion. This was so typical of the way the last few years had gone. They avoided the big issues in their relationship and ended up quibbling about stupid things like moving trucks. She supposed to others, they seemed like bickering siblings, when in fact they were a grumpy, married couple. “I might need a truck, but I don’t need you to pay for it. I’m capable of handling all that myself.”

      “Why won’t you—”

      “We’ll discuss it later,” she interrupted. She wasn’t going to argue with him in front of Molly. She eyed her mother, who was casually sipping her coffee and sorting through

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