proud of.

She'd taken great pains to decorate it so that it reflected exactly what she had pictured in her mind-old-world class.

Cutting corners, she and Kerry had hung the patterned wallpaper

themselves.

"Like common people," her mother had chastised angrily.

Regina Cassidy hadn't wanted Caitlin to buy the shop in the first

place, especially not if she was going to actually work in it.

Her mother was of the opinion that when you were born into wealth, you had an obligation to your forebears to perpetuate an aura. That meant socializing with the right people, doing and saying the right things.

In the beginning, Caitlin had attempted to abide by her mother's rules.

She had been the obedient daughter until she reached high school.

At fifteen she had struck her first blow for independence by insisting on going to the local public high school instead of boarding at one of the private schools her mother thought worthy of a Cassidy.

Her father, bless him, had backed her up, and she had gotten her way.

And her life had irrevocably changed when she'd stepped @'through the front doors of Horace Greeley High.

With effort, Caitiin blanked out her mind.

She didn't want to think about that now, didn't want to think about

anything except the handful of women who were in the store, drifting from display to display.

She chose one and focused on her.

Putting on her best smile, Caitlin approached the slightly bemused older woman.

"Hello, may I help you with something?"

The woman held a teddy in her hands.

It was almost as red as the blush on her cheeks.

She looked at Caitlin a little uncertainly.

Caitlin recognized embarrassment when she saw it.

The woman shrugged helplessly as she fiddled with the teddy's satin

straps.

"My James said that I should buy myself something slinky for our

anniversary. Married to the man for thirty years and now he wants slinky."

Caitlin laughed.

It was a soft, mellow sound that drifted in the scented air between

them and set the woman instantly at ease.

Behind her, the tiny bell at the door announced the entrance of another customer. Caitlin had opted for an old-fashioned bell rather than any other intrusive sound, such as a buzzer.

She supposed she was an oldfashioned girl at heart, a throwback to another, more romantic era.

She smiled at the woman.

"Lucky for you you have the figure for it."

The woman visibly bloomed.

The glow of embarrassment on her cheeks turned to one of anticipation

and excitement at the possibility of an adventure.

She regarded the teddy with new interest.

"Is there somewhere I can ... ?"

Her voice trailed off.

"The dressing rooms are on the right."

Caitlin pointed toward the three discreetly curtained booths in the

rear.

She saw Kerry emerging from the office.

"Kerry will take care of you," she promised as the latter came

forward.

"Selecting the right one isn't always easy."

She handed the teddy to Kerry and ushered the customer toward the

dressing area.

"Take all the time you need to decide. Kerry will assist you if you

need something else."

"First time?"

Kerry asked.

When the -woman nodded, Kerry glanced at the teddy in her hand.

"Great choice."

Kerry, Caitlin thought, was one of I those people who could sell ice to Inuits.

She turned toward the door, ready to assist the next customer.

For the second time that morning, Caitlin froze.

The first time horror had stiffened her limbs.

This time it was disbelief.

She felt as if she had been plucked up and bodily deposited into the past.

He'd felt ii, Graham realized, as soon as he'd entered the store and

heard her laugh.

That old feeling had washed over him, as sure, as strong as if it were a physical wave.

That old feeling that had always wrenched his gut and reduced him from a six-foot-two strapping man into someone whom he hardly recognized.

or was willing to admit to.

He felt it even though it had been years since he had seen her.

Years since she had been part of his life.

And torn it into shreds .

There were times, even now, when he'd be reminded of her.

A song, a word; a stray, unbidden thought and she would drift back to him like some sort of unattainable dream he would never be free of.