LITMIR.BIZ

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Charlene said the name aloud.

      And then she blinked some more, shook her head and read the note again. And again—three times through before her stunned mind could finally encompass the enormity of all this.

      Her baby sister had a baby of her own, a baby who just happened to be lying right there beside Charlene, kicking her tiny feet under the blanket, staring up at the slanted, beamed ceiling, making those adorable happy-baby sounds.

      A baby named Mia, whose father was…Brand?

      No. Charlene couldn’t bear to believe that—and really, it just wasn’t possible. Was it?

      Of course not. He wouldn’t…

      Yes, it was true that she had a low opinion of Mr. Bigshot Lawyer and Confirmed Bachelor, Brand Bravo. Anyone in town could tell you that. Still, Charlene would have sworn he’d never sink so low as to seduce a mixed-up kid like Sissy, a kid who just happened to be Charlene’s own sister.

      But then again…

      Well, the timing did add up. And last year, during Sissy’s disastrous month back in town, she’d grown swiftly notorious. And not only for her skimpy outfits, spiked purple hair and the safety pin she wore in her nose, but also for the way she would throw herself at every guy in sight.

      And even if her style was way out there for a conservative community like New Bethlehem Flat, no one could deny that she was pretty in her own über-Goth kind of way. It was just possible that she’d caught Brand in a moment of weakness.

      “Ga,” the baby said. “Wa…”

      And what about the way Sissy left last June, vanishing in the middle of the night on the same night that someone ransacked Brand’s law office and stole his petty cash drawer? The thief had never been caught, but everyone in town—including Charlene, though she’d never admit it out loud—knew it had to be Sissy.

      Why would Sissy do that, trash Brand’s office, steal the cash drawer and disappear into the middle of the night, unless she was really mad or desperately hurting—or both?

      The baby kicked, sharply nudging Charlene’s thigh. Charlene instinctively responded, smoothing a hand on the blanket, feeling the shape of that tiny, perfect foot, almost smiling in spite of the shock and confusion she was dealing with.

      And besides, she thought, though Sissy had problems—a raft of them—there would be no point in her lying about Brand being the father. Even a messed-up nineteen-year-old has to know that all it takes is a simple paternity test to settle that question once and for all.

      So. Well. It had to be true, didn’t it?

      This baby, her niece, was Brand Bravo’s child.

      “Oh, no,” Charlene whispered and put her head in her hands. “Oh, God, no…”

      Chapter Two

      Let it never be said that Charlene Cooper didn’t take care of business—no matter how impossible and distressing that business might be.

      A half hour later, she’d made use of the contents of the diaper bag to feed and change her niece. She’d called Teddy, the cook, and told him she wouldn’t be in until later, and she’d found another waitress to open up for her.

      She carried Mia into her own room and put her down on the bed, bolstering her with pillows on either side. Then she collected the car seat from the living room and went out to strap it into the backseat of her AWD wagon.

      Charlene had zero experience with baby seats, so the process took longer than expected. She read the half-worn-off instructions on the side of the seat and followed them as best she could, feeling edgy and frustrated the whole time, hoping the baby was all right, alone in the house.

      Finally, after twenty-five minutes of fiddling with the darn thing, she managed to get it in place and secure. She rushed back inside, where she found Mia right where she’d left her, tucked among the pillows, sound asleep, sucking her tiny thumb.

      Those bright blue eyes popped wide for a moment as Charlene picked her up, but then she only snuggled in on Charlene’s shoulder and went back to sleep. Same thing when Charlene put her in the car seat. She blinked awake, yawned and promptly dropped off again, her head drooping to the side, the little tufts of peach fuzz on her pink scalp clinging to the musty-looking fabric of the seat cover.

      Charlene ran back inside to grab her purse and the diaper bag. She threw them both across the front seat, climbed in behind the wheel and started the engine. At the end of her gravel driveway, she turned right onto Upper Main.

      In no time she was driving through the heart of New Bethlehem Flat—known to all who lived there as, simply, the Flat. Resisting the temptation to continue past the diner farther along and make sure her cook and substitute waitress had got the place open all right, she turned left on Commerce Lane and crossed the Deely Bridge, passing Old Tony Dellazola strolling over town on foot as he did every morning at about that time.

      Old Tony was one of Charlene’s diehard regulars. He spotted her silver-gray wagon going by and frowned, probably thinking that she ought to be at the diner, awaiting his arrival, a full pot of decaf close at hand, ready to make sure Teddy fried up his bacon just right. Charlene pasted on a smile for him, sketched a jaunty wave and drove on, past the Sierra Star Bed and Breakfast—which was run by Brand’s mother, Chastity—on the right and the Methodist Church on the left.

      Up the street and around the corner, Commerce Lane became the highway. She was heading east out of town, the steep mountain to her left, a sharp cliff dropping down to the river on the right, the occasional bridge providing a way across the swiftly flowing water to the cabins and houses on the other side. She passed the bridge to the Firefly Resort and a second that led across to a series of vacation homes. At the third bridge, which was just wide enough for one car to pass at a time, she turned.

      On the far side, she took the road to the left. It was a short ride to the sign that read Bravo. 301 Riverside Road. She turned into the driveway.

      The new, chalet-style house appeared before her, nestled attractively among the evergreens. Charlene had never seen it from the driveway side before. It looked kind of cozy and unassuming. From across the river, its soaring walls of windows gleamed and twinkled in the sun, and the wraparound redwood deck was spacious and inviting.

      Brand loved his new house. Everyone in town said so.

      Charlene had to admit that even from the plainer, driveway side, it was a fine-looking house. Not that it mattered, not that she cared.

      She pulled in next to the garage and got the baby out of the back. Mia did a little blinking and squinting at being disturbed, but quickly settled back to sleep, snuffling at Charlene’s shoulder, sighing in the sweetest way.

      Charlene pushed the door shut. It closed with a tight, final sort of sound. Somewhere in the trees nearby, a woodpecker rat-tat-tatted and a little farther off a mourning dove cried. The air smelled of cedar and of woodsmoke from some nearby cabin’s chimney. Above the canopy of pine branches, the morning sky was clear and blue as Mia’s eyes.

      A beautiful setting, so picturesque and peaceful.

      Yet Charlene’s pulse raced. Her stomach ached, it was tied in such a tight knot of fury and hurt and unswerving determination.

      She followed the stone walk around to the main entrance, on the west side of the house. She marched right up to the big front door and rang the bell.

      The sound echoed within.

      She waited, gently rocking the sleeping baby in her arms, trying to take slow breaths and think peaceful thoughts. She wanted her mind clear as a mountain spring when he answered, she needed to be logical and calm when she spoke to him.

      Through the leaded glass that decorated the top half of the door, she could see a slate-floored entry area, daylight slanting in from a skylight above. No sign of him, though.

      She shifted the baby a little more firmly

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