Noticing that Rooster was watching him intently, Max advanced another step. The house was exactly as he'd left it, exactly as he remembered. Directly in front of him was a stunning view of the Pacific Ocean through the floor-to-ceiling windows. White leather furniture was tastefully displayed; a black grand piano rested in one corner of the living room and a huge natural-rock fireplace took up the far wall. The original artwork was worth ten times what Kate had paid for it. She'd always had an eye for talent.

"What are you thinking?" Rooster asked. "How do you feel?"

Max heard the hesitation in his friend's voice. He didn't know what he was supposed supposed to think, what he should feel. Closing his eyes he tried to remember what it was like when he'd lived here with Kate and their daughter. Happy. He'd always love Kate, but she was gone and he was alive. He hadn't realized how much life he was capable of until he'd met Bethanne and discovered he could feel again, love again. to think, what he should feel. Closing his eyes he tried to remember what it was like when he'd lived here with Kate and their daughter. Happy. He'd always love Kate, but she was gone and he was alive. He hadn't realized how much life he was capable of until he'd met Bethanne and discovered he could feel again, love again.

"This is a beautiful house," Rooster commented.

"Kate loved it," Max said. And so had he. Their home had been a place where friends and family gathered, where they enjoyed good food and wine and one another's company. "I did, too."

He moved into the kitchen, and then the family room. Portraits of Katherine at different ages lined one wall; her wheelchair and special computer had been stored in her bedroom.

"I kept an eye on the wine cellar," Rooster said.

Despite himself, Max grinned. "I a.s.sumed you would."

"Do you want me to get us a bottle?"

That sounded like a good idea. "Go ahead."

Rooster disappeared, and Max found two winegla.s.ses in the alcove off the kitchen and brought them out. One day he'd share a bottle of exquisite wine with Bethanne....

The minute she came to mind, he experienced a burning need to hear her voice. He missed her smile, her scent, missed being with her. Before he could continue with these thoughts Rooster returned with a bottle of expensive French Bordeaux.

"Are we celebrating?" Max had to ask. The wine wholesaled for one hundred and fifty dollars, or it had three years ago. It was probably more now.

"Yes, we are. We're celebrating the fact that you're home."

"Home," Max repeated. He hadn't expected to feel this sense of welcome. He was really, truly back, and it felt d.a.m.n good.

Rooster opened the wine and left it to breathe as they wandered from room to room, inspecting the house.

Max paused just inside the master bedroom door. The walk-in closet was filled with Kate's things-her clothes, shoes, jewelry. Seeing it gave him an emotional jolt. Automatically, he turned and walked away. He'd deal with that later. It was still too soon.

By the time he returned to the living room, Rooster had poured the wine. They sat across from each other in a comfortable silence. With a friend as good as Rooster, words weren't necessary. They savored the wine; Max decided it was worth every penny.

"Have you heard from Bethanne?" Rooster asked after a while.

"No, have you?"

Rooster chuckled. "Not lately."

"She's with her ex."

His friend's eyebrow arched. "You worried?"

Max could brush off his concern but Rooster would see through that easily enough. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't." He tried not to think of Grant and Bethanne together. No one needed to tell him that the ex would do everything in his power to persuade Bethanne to give him another chance. For that matter, maybe she should. They had plenty of reason to try again.

"Are you going to do anything?"

"Like what?" Max reached for his wine goblet, holding the stem as he studied the dark purplish liquid. It helped if he focused on something like the rich color of the wine rather than his feelings for Bethanne.

"You could always call her. It wouldn't hurt to keep in touch, you know. Her ex phoned her every day, sometimes more than once. Fair is fair."

Max didn't remember it that way and said so.

"Okay, so Grant talked to the daughter, but you can bet Annie relayed every message."

Annie was definitely Grant's ally, as she should be. With Max out of the picture and Grant pleading his case, Max had to wonder if he stood a chance. "There's a good possibility I'll lose her."

"You okay to sit back and let that happen?"

"I don't have any choice." Before they parted, Max had told her he'd give her breathing room, and he was keeping his word.

"What do you mean?" Rooster argued. "The least you can do is tell her how you feel. Fight fire with fire."

Max mulled over his friend's advice. "I'll take it under consideration."

"Do."

Rooster left a little while later. Max remained in his chair, the winegla.s.s in his hand. His cell phone was attached to his belt, within easy reach. Not once since they'd parted had he called her, although she'd phoned him that one time. Their conversation had been far too short-and then silence. And he knew why. Grant was being persuasive. No doubt about it, the ex had the advantage.

He unclipped his phone, punched out the number and closed his eyes as he waited for her to answer.

"h.e.l.lo."

She sounded busy, harried.

Background noise made it difficult to hear. "It's Max."

"Max. Oh, Max..."

This wasn't the warm reception he'd been hoping for. The tension between his shoulders increased.

"Can you talk?" he asked.

"Give me a minute," she said. "I need to go out on the patio. I'm in a restaurant and it's hard to hear you."

The background clatter died down as Bethanne apparently stepped outside. "Where are you?" she asked.

"Monterey, California. At the house where Kate and I lived."

"Are you okay?"

Funny how that was the first question everyone seemed to have.

"So far. What about you?"

"I'm fine. Everything's good. Annie, Grant and I threw prom night for Ruth and Royce yesterday evening-they're out with friends right now. We fly home next Sunday, after the reunion."

"Prom night?" He frowned. "You arranged a prom night for your ex-mother-in-law and her high school boyfriend?"

"It's a long story. I'll explain later."

So there'd be a later for them. Or at least it sounded that way. "Bethanne, listen, there are things I need to tell you, things I should've told you before."

"Please don't say anything-it isn't necessary."

A chill went through him. "Are you telling me you've made a decision and you and Grant are getting back together?" That seemed the only logical explanation.

"Yes...no. I don't know... He's been so wonderful and...well, I didn't think it was possible, but after the past few days I'm wondering if maybe we should give it a shot."

Max couldn't blame her, although his disappointment was devastating. "Are you sure sure this is what you want?" this is what you want?"

"No...no. Oh, Max, the minute I heard your voice my heart went crazy. Grant's here and everything seems idyllic. But I'm afraid this won't last." She sighed. "Try as I might, I can't get you out of my mind."

He relaxed a little. "I can't get you out of mine, either." He couldn't lose her so soon after he'd found her. "There's no need to decide anything now," he said. "You have time."

"Andrew and Courtney's wedding. I have to get through my son's wedding." Her voice was frantic. "I have to-"

"Bethanne." He murmured her name. "Stop. Take a deep breath and listen to me."

"Okay."

He heard her soft intake of air. "Everything's going to work out. I'm not going to pressure you one way or the other. This is up to you, and if you want to reconcile with Grant, then I'll abide by your decision and get out of your life."

"You'd do that? You'd walk away without a word?"

He would. He hated the thought of it, but he would. "Yes. I'd respect your wishes."

"But..." She sounded hurt, confused.

"Bethanne," he said. "That's what people do when they love the other person. Your happiness is paramount to me."

"Do you love me, Max? Is it possible to love someone after such a short time?"

These weren't questions Max felt qualified to answer. "I don't know." Anything less than total honesty would be wrong. "What I do know is that I feel alive when I'm with you. You inspire me to open my eyes and accept the past and not worry about the future."

"Oh, Max."

"If that's love, then that's what I feel. If you think Grant's the man who'll make you happy, then I'll remove myself from the equation."

"Max, hold on a minute."

She'd lowered the phone, but Max could still hear. "Tell everyone I'll be back in a minute." Someone else spoke, although Max couldn't tell who it was. "I'm not being rude. I'll be inside when I'm finished."

This wasn't a good time. He shouldn't have phoned.

"I'm back now. I'm sorry," Bethanne said.

"It's all right-I understand. I'll let you return to your meal." If he'd been smart enough to remember the three-hour time difference, he would've realized it was the dinner hour.

"I...want to see you," she whispered as though it was a weakness of character. "I know I'm being completely unfair and that you deserve so much more than to be left hanging. I'll be able to think more clearly once I'm back in Seattle and Andrew and Courtney are married. I...apologize that I can't be more definite than that."

At this point Max was willing to take whatever she was willing to offer. "Get through your son's wedding and then we'll talk. I'll fly up to Seattle and we can meet face-to-face."

"Does this mean we won't talk until after the wedding?" she asked.

"I'll leave that up to you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it would be better if you phoned me instead of the other way around."

"Okay." She seemed uncertain. "Do you want want to hear from me?" to hear from me?"

That was an understatement. "Yes, very much."

"Okay."

"I'll wait for your call."

"All right."

"Now go back inside that restaurant and enjoy your dinner."

"I will. Bye, Max."

"Bye." He didn't want the conversation to end, didn't want to break the connection. So he continued to hold the cell phone against his ear. He heard the click and knew she'd terminated the call.

He was losing Bethanne. He felt it and was powerless to do anything more than hope.

Twenty-Nine.

Annie's suitcase was packed, and while her mother and grandmother ran a few last-minute errands, she stayed at the hotel. Her father would be picking the three of them up early that afternoon for the evening flight to Seattle.

While she waited, she sat in the restaurant that overlooked the Atlantic and read through her emails. Vance sent her as many as five a day. He said basically the same thing in each one.

He was miserable.

As he should be!

He wanted to come back to Seattle.