“I’m sure you do. Good-bye, then.”

“Son of a bitch…” Jenna pressed the silent phone to her ear. “I think she hung up on me.”

Gard leaned a hip against the side of her truck, berating herself for taking Jenna Hardy’s, or Cassandra Hart’s, or whatever her name was, cold indifference personally. She should know better than to lose her temper, but the woman’s perfunctory, dismissive manner had hit every one of her sore points. She knew this kind of woman—the one for whom simple human niceties didn’t even register on her radar. Jenna Hardy was either too busy being successful or too used to the insulation provided by her wealth and power to care about how her actions affected others. All the same, Hardy was a bereaved relative and after all this time, Gard should be immune to people lashing out at whoever happened to be handy. Even the people who didn’t deserve it.

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Gard muttered. She’d let Jenna Hardy get to her because she reminded her of Susannah. And her mother. And her sister-in-law. All the women in her life who had cared more for their social status, their financial security, and public opinion than things like love and trust and forgiveness. She’d thought she was past all that, that she couldn’t be hurt any longer by disdain and contempt, but one—no, two conversations with Jenna Hardy had catapulted her a dozen years into the past. How was that possible? She’d moved three hundred miles away, cut all her ties with a family that had made it clear she was no longer a part of it, and rebuilt a life based solely on what she did day in and day out as she made her way from farm to farm. No one up here knew her family, knew her history—or her shame. But in a few brief moments, this stranger had managed to remind her of all of it.

She hoped she never had to talk to Jenna Hardy again.

Jenna awoke from an uneasy sleep in the late afternoon. She’d opened the windows in her high-rise apartment when she’d finally arrived home after convincing Alice she did not need company. Now a thick blanket of hot, humid air weighed on her chest, and for a few seconds, she was back in the tiny airless bedroom in the sweltering trailer. Unable to catch her breath, her mind filling with crushing dread, she gripped the sheets and forced herself to breathe slowly and evenly.

I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m home.

Eventually, the tightness in her chest receded. Panic attack. She’d never forget the last one. She’d been seventeen and had awakened in the eight-by-ten room at the far end of the trailer to the labored grunts of Darlene and her latest boyfriend having sex in the room next to hers. She hadn’t wanted to listen, but the walls were thin and Darlene wasn’t trying to be quiet.

Jenna wasn’t supposed to have been home. She’d told Darlene she was staying over at Betty Sue’s house, but she’d come home early, bored with the endless conversation about boys and babies. She’d known since she was fourteen she wasn’t going there. Not with the boys, for sure. She’d fallen asleep reading and the groans and dull thud of the platform bed striking the wall woke her. She’d recognized the sounds instantly, she’d heard them all her life. She’d rolled over, tuning them out, and then she’d heard her name.

“You think I don’t know the real reason why you been coming around,” Darlene said. “I’ve seen you looking at her. You want something young and fresh, and you think you know just where to find it.”

Jenna had shivered, feeling trapped. The only way out was past Darlene’s room, and every footstep in the single-wide was audible. They’d know she was home, that she’d been listening.

“I ain’t been giving you no cause to accuse me of that sort of thing,” Floyd said.

Darlene laughed. “I got eyes. That’s all the reason I need.”

“You don’t sound all that mad, just the same.”

Floyd had a playful note in his voice that made Jenna’s skin clammy.

“Could be I’m not,” Darlene said.

“How’s that?” Floyd asked in a cautious tone.

“Could be I’m not opposed to the idea of you and her, if we were to make it a little more interesting.”

“Interesting. How would that work?”

“I was thinking we might make it a family affair.”

His laughter was as harsh as the hand squeezing Jenna’s throat. Her stomach twisted and she could hardly breathe.

“Jesus, Darlene, she’s your daughter.”

“You know, she’s not. Not by blood. She was Frank’s, and when he left, I got stuck with her. But at least I get money to keep her.” Darlene laughed. “Besides, I’m not into girls that way. It’d just be fun to double up on you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.”

“That’s not what the stiff thing between your legs is saying.” Darlene’s voice dropped low and Jenna had tried really hard not to imagine what they were doing. “I’d say your thinking is already done.”

Jenna hadn’t waited to hear Floyd’s answer. She’d crept across the room and clicked the flimsy lock on her door. She’d known it wouldn’t keep them out if they’d wanted to come in, but she couldn’t think of anything else to do right then. By morning, she had known what she had to do. She’d packed her clothes, taken whatever money she could find while Darlene and Floyd snored, and walked the three miles into town. She’d climbed on a bus going north and ridden it until it stopped.

“And here I am,” Jenna whispered into the silence. She had nothing to fear. Her past was behind her, except when she slowed down enough to let the memories catch her unawares, and she was careful not to do that. That helpless girl, that empty life, were dead and buried. Dead and buried.

She thought about the phone call and a stranger in Vermont, her distant relative. A woman who had known her name and just because of that, had left her all that remained of her life. Jenna had gone so long without a connection to anyone other than Alice, she resented this person she’d never known reaching out from beyond death to touch her life. Her face heated as she recalled the last conversation she’d had with the coroner. She’d been rude, she realized now. She had the excuse of having felt one step away from death herself, but she wasn’t usually so cold and abrupt. But what else could she do?

She had a life of her own, a busy life with many obligations. She couldn’t take time out to go… Time out. Time away. Just what the doctor had ordered.

Now that Alice had canceled her upcoming engagements, she’d be stuck in Manhattan for the summer—with Alice worrying and watching her to see that she didn’t overwork—whatever that meant. If she wasn’t going to tour, she was definitely going to write, and she didn’t want the specter of this minor episode hanging over her head. Alice would no doubt want an accounting of her time. If she escaped to Vermont, she could work with no one to bother her. No one could claim she wasn’t resting or taking a break if she was sequestered in some off-the-map town in the middle of nowhere, for God’s sake.

Jenna threw the sheet aside, her mind racing. She could fly up, take care of whatever paperwork needed to be taken care of, stay on to get a jump on her next book, and make everyone happy. She might die of boredom, but at least she wouldn’t be defending her every action to her overprotective agent. By the time she came home, Alice would have forgotten all about this little event and life could get back to normal.

A few weeks in hiding. The perfect solution.

Jumping naked from bed, she needed a second to get her balance. Damn, she was still light-headed. After retrieving her phone, she called Alice.

“Jenna, hi,” Alice said when she answered. “How are you feeling? Did you sleep?”

“What? Oh. Yes. I’m good. Listen, can you contact the travel agent? I need you to make plane reservations to Vermont for me. Tonight.”

“I’m not following,” Alice said.

“I think the doctor’s right. I should probably take a little break. That phone call earlier—turns out a distant relative died and I need to take care of—things. I’ll need hotel reservations too.”

“Can’t you go tomorrow or the next day? You need to—”

“I think I should go now,” Jenna said. “I should probably see to the funeral arrangements myself.”

“I can do that for you,” Alice said.

“I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to.”

“All right, if you’re sure.”

“I’m very sure.”

A few weeks. A month at the outside. She could handle anything for a month.

Chapter Five

Gard fingered the loose change in the pocket of her khakis while staring out the solitary window at the two Rutland Airport runways. At almost midnight on a weeknight, the small regional airport was nearly deserted. The occasional footstep or distant cough echoed down the empty halls. Behind her in the tiny arrivals waiting area, a prematurely careworn woman in her early twenties juggled a sleeping baby and two fussy toddlers while, despite the din of whining children, an elderly gentleman somehow managed to snooze in the row of black plastic chairs. Replaying the unexpected conversation she’d had with Jenna Hardy a few hours before, Gard tracked the lone set of red lights on the arriving aircraft as it descended through a sea of glittering stars in the inky sky.

“Dr. Davis,” Jenna had begun as soon as Gard answered the phone, “I’ve decided to come to Vermont tonight to take care of the arrangements for my…uh…Elizabeth Hardy.”

“Tonight?”

“I want to get things settled. I was hoping you could help with that.” Hardy’s tone had been brisk and businesslike. And definite. The woman sounded as if she was used to calling the shots, and Gard hadn’t wanted another argument with her. Just the same, she bristled at the near command.

“Of course.” Gard had still been at the clinic, finishing up her billing and reviewing the financial statements for the last quarter. Her stomach churned with a mixture of fatigue, acid, and aggravation. Her part-time office assistant, Bonnie, had failed to file the last quarterly unemployment taxes and now Gard owed penalties. She was as annoyed with herself as she was with Bonnie since she should have been overseeing the accounts and financial paperwork, but not only didn’t she have time, she hated doing it. Growing up, she’d never had to worry about where money came from or where it went. If she needed something, all she had to do was write a check or use the credit card her father had presented her on her thirteenth birthday. Clothes, car, private school tuition. Vacations in the Hamptons. Winter skiing in Vail. She hadn’t thought of herself as a spoiled rich kid, she was simply living the life she’d been born into. How could she know her experience was vastly different than that of the majority of people in the world? All her friends were of the same economic and social class. By the time she’d entered Harvard she’d been aware of the great divide between the wealthy and the non, but not until she’d had the blinders ripped away one morning by a stranger did she really understand that privilege came at a price—a price often paid by others.