“I know exactly what you want,” Deanna assured her. “Tiny crab cakes, smoked bluefish, seared tuna. Oysters. Some of our fabulous local vegetables—I’ll email you a list of my recommendations and you can chose.”

“Wonderful. Could I ask you to send it sooner rather than later? Time is getting short …”

“You’ll have it within the hour. Just look it over, make your selections, and I’ll get right on it.”

One more big item crossed off, Carly thought, and wasn’t she lucky that Deanna had had an event cancel on her right before Carly called, ready to apologize for the late call and prepared to plead with the caterer to take on the event.

She went back over her list. She’d ordered the champagne for the reception and sent invitations to all the local dignitaries. She’d asked several friends to host at the mansion once the doors were opened to the public, just to keep an eye on things, and she had a list of volunteers to take shifts so that they could all check out the main event. She’d included those people—Vanessa, Steffie, Brooke, Sophie, and of course, Ellie and Cam and Gabi—on the guest list. Dallas and Grant had been on the VIP list, inasmuch as he was a member of the town council. Dallas’s great-aunt Berry was included because, well, she was a true VIP.

Carly had sent Grace an invitation, but was afraid she wasn’t going to be able to attend due to her injuries. She mentioned as much to Ford that evening right before she fell asleep.

“It’s such a shame your mom can’t make it to the opening,” she said.

“Who said she wasn’t coming?” He yawned.

“Really? You think she’ll make it?”

“Really? You think she’d miss it?” He yawned again. “Don’t worry. We’ll get her here. She’s already put out the word.”

“Great. I’d hate for her to miss it. She was so instrumental in getting the project off the ground, you know?” When he didn’t respond, she turned over to find him sound asleep.

Well, he’s been really busy with the paper, she reminded herself. Interviews every day, and all the time he’d started spending at the office. She knew it must please Grace that he was really into the Gazette these days. Carly hoped that meant he’d be staying, but she never had the nerve to ask after that one time. Maybe his answer would still be “I don’t know.” If he were to stay, she’d stay. Well, maybe not every day, but she’d come back on weekends when she could. Maybe sometimes during the week. Maybe she’d keep the lease on the house, or if Hal wanted to sell it, maybe she’d put an offer in. She’d already started to think of it as their house …

She fell asleep thinking happy thoughts about the way things could turn out.

And awoke to the sound of a ringing phone, and Ford’s voice.

“When? Where?” He got out of bed and grabbed his clothes and started putting them on.

Dreaming, she told herself. Must be dreaming. Why else would he be getting dressed in the middle of the night?

“All right. Yes, by morning. Hold the plane for me. I’ll be there.”

The next thing she knew, he was leaning over her, calling her name.

“Car? Carly? Wake up, baby.”

“What?” She opened her eyes. He was fully dressed. It hadn’t been a dream.

“I have to go.”

“What do you mean, you have to go?” She looked at the clock. “It’s three in the morning.”

“I have to leave.”

“Where are you going?”

“Raymond Nakimbe has been arrested. I’m going back.”

“Wait. You’re going to Africa? Now?” She sat up. “I thought you said you were out of the military.”

“I am out of the military. I’ve been asked to go back to give testimony against him about what I know, what I observed. I want to go, Car. I have to go.”

“For Anna …”

“For Anna and for the two guys from my unit. Our old commander has arranged for all of us to go.”

“They’re going to put him on trial.”

“Eventually.” He kissed her, long and deep. “I’m sorry, baby.”

He kissed her again, and then he was gone.

Carly heard the side door open, then close, heard the engine start in the driveway. She sat still as a stone in the middle of the bed, trying to figure out what had just happened. Finally she lay down on his side of the bed and held on to his pillow while she sobbed.

For Carly, the next twelve days were a blur. Stolen Moments went on sale and the first of the reader reviews were glowing, thanks in no small part to Dallas MacGregor making it known that she was dying for the film rights and was hoping to make it her second film. The splash was loud enough that three of the four people who had previously refused to have the Carolina Ellis paintings they owned put on display—including Susan Lane and Ariel Peters—had reconsidered and now wanted in. Unfortunately, Carly had had to tell them there was no space for last-minute additions, but she promised to call them should a subsequent exhibit be planned.

The catalogs had come back from the graphic designer and had to be mailed out immediately to the invitees on the VIP list. The rest would be available at the door on opening day. Ellie and Gabi had offered to help, but Carly had declined. It would take her three times as long, but if her mind was occupied, she’d have less time to think about Ford and where he was and what he was doing and whether or not he was still alive. On more than one occasion, he’d mentioned how dicey, how unsettled and volatile the area was. The country was in the midst of a civil war. What if some of Nakimbe’s followers decided to eliminate whoever was going to testify against their leader? What if the government was overthrown while Ford was there? What would happen to him?

She was glued to the TV channels that broadcast mostly news, just in case. She missed him so much it physically hurt.

There were no phone calls, no emails. Nothing but silence. It was almost as if he’d never been there at all.

On the morning of the dedication of the art center and the opening of the gallery, she awoke with an ache in her head and a cramp in her heart. She’d looked forward to this day, meticulously planned every detail. She’d staked her reputation in part on the success of Carolina’s works, and was nervous about unveiling them to the rest of the world. What if the buzz wasn’t what she’d anticipated? What if the paintings weren’t well received? What if no one else saw the genius in the paintings that Carly saw? What if what if what if …

The dedication ceremony was scheduled for two in the afternoon, and the reception for the gallery at five. Since she would attend both, she tried to find something in her closet that would be appropriate for the outdoor dedication as well as the cocktail reception. Finally accepting that she owned no such animal, she pulled out the blue dress she’d worn on her first date with Ford. She’d fantasized that he’d arrive at the party, see her in that dress that had done a number on him the last time, and he’d swear to never leave her again.

Her fears about the exhibit had been unfounded. Carolina Ellis’s name was on everyone’s lips, and Carly was asked to pass along offers to Ellie from art patrons and gallery owners alike.

“I cannot believe how you pulled this off.” Ellie hugged her when she arrived. “The paintings all look so much better hanging on these walls than they did standing up in my attic.”

Carly laughed. “It’s amazing what a good cleaning and some good lighting can do. But you’re right. They all look fabulous. It seems that everyone on the VIP list has a favorite that they’d like to buy when you’re ready.”

“I don’t know, Car.” Ellie bit her bottom lip. “It’s so hard to decide which ones to part with.”

“Sweetie, you don’t have to part with any of them if you don’t want to,” Carly assured her. “You can keep them right where they are forever, if you like.”

Ellie sighed. “You’re right. I shouldn’t feel any pressure, even if everyone I meet wants to buy one.”

“Go. Bask in the glow of being the owner of all this gloriousness.”

“I will. Oh, look, there’s Dallas.” Ellie leaned in and whispered, “Is she really interested in the film rights, or was that just promotional hype?”

“Go ask her.”

“I will.” Ellie disappeared into the crowd.

Carly saw her parents at the door and went to greet them.

“Sweetie, we’re so proud of you.” Carly’s mother hugged her before passing her off to her father.

“So proud,” her father repeated, giving her an extra squeeze. “We’ve been following the hype in the Times. You really did call out the big PR guns this time.”

“Enrico did most of the heavy lifting, but yes.” Carly nodded. “I called in every favor I was owed and I’m not ashamed to say it.”

“This is an interesting building.” Her mother stepped out of the doorway to let the next group of arrivals enter. “Look, Patrick. Open beams. So beach house.”

“Go look at the paintings, Mom, Dad.” Carly ushered them toward the exhibit. “I have a lot of people to chat up and a short amount of time in which to do it.”

“Go do your thing, Carly.” Her father patted her on the back. “If we don’t catch up later, we’ll see you in the morning at brunch.”

“You were able to get a room at the inn?” Carly asked.

“We have a lovely suite of rooms,” her mother told her. “It even has a name. The Captain Something or Other Suite. Some ancestor of the inn’s owner. The views of the Bay are divine. Now go, mingle. We’re keeping you from your work.”

Carly watched her parents drift toward the exhibit area and exhaled gratefully. So far, everything was going as she’d planned.

“It’s all so gorgois,” Enrico crooned in her ear. “All these fabulous works under this one rustic little roof. The photos didn’t do them justice. Carolina really was a genius, Carly.”