Erin donated most of the proceeds from the sale of her pictures to a foundation she and Parker had set up to help young unwed pregnant women get support and stay in school.

“Daddy, up.”

Erin smiled as Parker bent over and picked up two-year-old Sam. His miniature suit was rumpled and stained, and bits of cookie clung to his mouth.

“Your son already found the buffet line,” Parker said.

“Your son needs cleaning up.”

Parker kissed her cheek. “Let me take the monster to the men’s room and I’ll fix him right up.” He strolled through the crowd.

Erin stared after him for a minute, and wondered how she’d gotten so lucky. She didn’t know there was this much happiness in the world. The past five years had flown by.

“This is an important collection,” she heard a familiar but young voice say. “Not only because of the theme but because of the departure from the artist’s usual subjects.”

She turned around and saw Christie talking to an elderly man. Her nine-year-old had grown up. In her taffeta dress and patent leather shoes she looked more like a teenager than a little girl.

She strolled over and held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Erin Hamilton. I see you’ve met my daughter.”

“A very knowledgeable young lady,” the man said and adjusted the glasses perched on the tip of his nose. He was short and squat, with white hair and a beard.

Erin touched her daughter’s shoulder, then glanced at the pictures. Usually she took photographs of children and families, but the collection on the wall was a study of different carousel horses.

“How much for all of them?” the man asked.

“They’re not for sale,” she said and pointed to the small sign explaining that.

“I’ll give you a hundred thousand dollars for all eight.”

“Sorry, I can’t.”

“Two hundred thousand. They’re for my wife.”

Erin stared at the man for a moment. “I can’t sell these particular photos, but I still have the negatives. I would be willing to do up prints for you. Fifty thousand for all eight.”

“Done,” the man said eagerly.

“Write your check to the Stacey Ridgeway Foundation,” she said.

The man pulled out his checkbook.

Parker came up behind her. Sam looked a little cleaner. He was already getting sleepy. The boy rested his head on his father’s shoulder and yawned.

“You’re not selling the horses are you?” Parker asked, placing his hand on her swollen belly. Their next child, a girl, was due in a month.

“A copy of them. I have to keep the originals.”

“I know,” he said.

She leaned against him and sighed in contentment. Parker knew everything about her. He understood that the horses reminded her what was important. That she had to grab on to happiness with both hands, then hold fast. If she was willing to risk everything, her dreams could come true.

She covered his hand with hers, glanced at Sam, then drew Christie close. She looked up at her husband. “You’ve been the best time of my life,” she murmured.

Ignoring the crowd milling around them, he kissed her. “It’s only going to get better,” he promised.

And she knew that he was right.

SUSAN MALLERY

SUSAN MALLERY is a USA TODAY bestselling author of over eighty books and has been a recipient of countless awards, including the National Reader’s Choice Award. Her combination of humor, emotion and downright sexiness has made her a reader favorite. She makes her home in Southern California with her husband, her very dignified cat and her not-so-dignified dog. Visit her Web site at www.SusanMallery.com.