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gifts.”

      “You didn’t get Christmas presents when you were a kid?” Katlyn asked in obvious dismay.

      “I was given what I needed at other times of the year,” Brett explained.

      “Even Santa Claus forgot you at Christmas?”

      Brett prided himself on never lying, for any reason. But he also knew from the warning look on Nancy’s face that his answer to Katlyn’s last question had better be the right one.

      “What did you ask Santa for this year?” Brett asked, trying to both deflect his inquisitive cousin and to maintain his integrity.

      “I sent Santa a whole list. I sure hope he reads it. Why don’t you ask Santa to bring you a mountain so you don’t have to go away?”

      “Katlyn,” Nancy intervened, “leave your cousin alone now so he can eat his breakfast in peace.”

      “I’m out of syrup,” Ronald Scroogen complained in his typically too loud and too sour tone.

      Nancy immediately rushed to her feet to get more from the kitchen. Brett flashed Ronald a disapproving look. The young man could have easily gone to the kitchen and gotten it himself.

      Ronald was Dole Scroogen’s twenty-two-year-old son from a previous marriage. He resembled his father physically, right down to the sour puss and whiny tone of voice. He also had that insecure, young man’s way of making everything that came out of his mouth sound like a challenge or a complaint.

      Nancy returned to the table with the syrup. Ronald took it out of her hand without a word of thanks.

      Brett caught Nancy’s eye over the beautiful handmade wreath of fragrant bay leaves adorning the table’s center. He sent her an appreciative smile.

      “Everything smells, looks and tastes wonderful.”

      The surprise and gratitude of her returning smile confirmed Brett’s suspicion that his aunt wasn’t accustomed to getting any appreciation from the two other males sitting at this table. He took a sip of her excellent coffee and worked on controlling his growing irritation.

      Brett was only here because of Nancy’s call for help. If it hadn’t been for Nancy and her little girl, he’d be long gone on his postponed climb. Seeing how her husband and stepson treated her, Brett was surprised that the full-spirited Nancy he once knew wasn’t long gone, too. What was keeping her here?

      Love, he supposed. Brett stabbed his pancake and shoved it into his mouth, knowing it did no good to wonder how anyone could love Dole Scroogen.

      Love was an incredibly imbecilic malady that struck even the sanest of souls and overnight turned clear reasoning power into gooey rubber cement. He remembered the affliction well.

      He also remembered what it felt like to wake up the next morning only to realize he’d fallen for a fantasy.

      Thank God that nonsense was all behind him.

      “I don’t suppose you came over this morning just for pancakes, Merlin,” Dole said in his usual sour tone. “What’s on your mind?”

      Brett swallowed and took another sip of coffee, trying not to let his uncle’s naturally abrasive manner get to him.

      “What you said last night on the telephone disturbed me. It also disturbed me that you hung up afterward when I asked you to wait while I let in room service with my dinner.”

      “I’m not a man accustomed to waiting, Merlin. And I meant what I said about that Osborne woman.”

      “Look, Dole, we’ve already gone over all the reasons for handling this matter my way. Mab Osborne is popular. Insisting on a head-to-head confrontation would just generate more sympathy for her cause. Getting people to laugh at her instead of listen to her is the proper approach.”

      “The Community Development Department is uneasy about all the mail and telephone calls they’ve received,” Dole said. “I’m getting heat from the chamber of commerce, too.”

      “They are reacting to the public opinion Mab Osborne has stirred up. But the chamber can’t stop you, and I’m not letting Community Development withdraw your building permits. They were legally filed and approved and I’m making sure they abide by them.”

      “But it’s getting worse every day. I even received a threatening letter from the old fools.”

      “I wish you didn’t have to force the seniors out of their center, dear,” Nancy interjected.

      Dole turned to his wife, his sour puss and whiny voice in full evidence. “Whose side are you on?” he demanded.

      “Yours, of course, dear,” Nancy said, sounding immediately conciliatory. “I just wish there was another way.”

      “Was the threatening letter signed?” Brett asked.

      “No. But I’m certain it’s on Silver Power League stationery and Mab Osborne sent it.”

      “Hand it over to the police. Let them investigate.”

      “I’ve already done that. They say it could be weeks before they know,” Scroogen grumbled.

      “All these irritations are temporary,” Brett assured him. “Once Mab Osborne has been defused, so will that public opinion.”

      “What if your plan doesn’t work? What if she continues to whip up public sentiment against me?”

      “After the initial article in this Sunday’s paper, I have three follow-up articles scheduled to be released over the next week with selected excerpts from her ‘Senior-Sex-Talk’ programs.”

      “What good will that do?”

      “Mab Osborne likes to say shocking things to get her listeners’ attention. Each excerpt I’ve selected is taken out of context and is more sensational than the last. She’ll be so busy defending herself, she’ll have no time to whip up anything. Be patient. These things take time to work, but they do work.”

      “And if they don’t?”

      “Then I will take the next appropriate step. Mab Osborne is like a fly on your wall, Dole. Its buzzing may be annoying, but we don’t need a shotgun blast to get rid of it. A flyswatter should do the trick.”

      “It had better, Merlin.”

      Brett didn’t take that kind of sour tone and threatening language from his paying clients, much less from a man he was only representing for the sake of his aunt. Enough was enough. He put down his fork.

      “Dole, if you don’t like what I’m doing, then you can go—”

      “No!” Nancy interrupted, obviously reading the look on Brett’s face and eager to stop what he would say. She leaned across the table to rest her hand on his.

      “No, Brett,” she said in a calmer tone. “Dole is grateful, as I am, for all your help. He’s worked so hard to make this condominium complex happen. It’s the dream of a lifetime. We need you to stand by us to see this dream come true. Isn’t that right, dear?”

      Dole deigned to look up from his breakfast.

      “Yeah. You do your thing, Merlin, so I can do mine. I need more coffee here, Nancy.”

      For once Nancy didn’t obediently jump up. Her hand remained on Brett’s arm, her pleading eyes on his face, waiting for his response. “Brett?”

      Brett exhaled a frustrated breath as he nodded.

      “The coffee?” Dole’s irritated voice reminded.

      Nancy smiled as she rose to her feet. “Coming, dear.”

      Brett shook his head as he witnessed the domestic scene. Whoever said someone could become a slave to love knew what he was talking about.

      “The city water and sewer lines were connected a day ago,” Scroogen

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