Sam glanced at her for a hard moment. "You mean you'd walk away with that secret because you respected their privacy? Or because it would be one more thing to tie you down in the quicksand?"

She stuck her chin out but didn't respond. Instead, she rode the rest of the way watching the town of Walton flash by outside the car window, aimlessly fingering the gold charms around her neck.

Despite the weather, Miss Lena sat on her front porch, stockings rolled down around her swollen ankles, the ever-present romance novel clutched in her hands. She waved wildly, her smile showing perfect white dentures.

Her smiled softened as Cassie walked up the porch steps. "Catherine Anne," she said, reaching for Cassie's hand. Cassie put the pot down on the floor and placed her hand inside the old woman's.

Sam's voice was gentle. "No, Miss Lena, this is Cassandra. Catherine Anne's oldest."

The woman gripped Cassie's hand tighter. "She was such a pretty young thing-no one knew why she wanted to marry the judge. She could have had any of the young men in the county, but instead she chose a man old enough to be her father." She studied Cassie's face closely. "Nobody would have ever thought he'd outlive her." She stroked Cassie's cheek with her other hand. "You're the spittin' image of her, too." She glanced up at Sam. "Is she just as sweet?"

"Sweet as vinegar." He reached for Miss Lena's elbow. "Come on; let me help you inside." The old lady giggled as Sam gently pulled her from the chair.

Cassie was left to bring in the pot, and she resisted the impulse to dump the contents on Sam's sandy-brown head. She walked inside the small but immaculate house, making her way to the back kitchen. The wood floors gleamed with polish, and the stainless sink shone. As Cassie opened the refrigerator door to deposit the stew, she noticed a large color-coded chart on the door. Curious, she looked at it closely.

Days of the week and familiar names filled out the chart's heads. On closer inspection, she realized it was a food-and-cleaning schedule. Apparently, most of the women in the town contributed to Miss Lena's daily upkeep. Every day somebody was scheduled to come by and clean and keep her company, while somebody else brought break-fast, lunch, and dinner.

As Cassie made room for the stew pot in the tidy and clean refrigerator, she thought briefly of the old homeless woman who appeared frequently on the corner of the street in New York where Cassie worked. She was dirty, her hair unkempt, her clothes tattered. The crowd on the sidewalk swayed in unison, like a great big roiling wave, to avoid her. It was doubtful anybody had ever brought her a covered casserole.

She shut the refrigerator door with a thoughtful thud and returned to the living room, where Miss Lena sat comfortably in a worn recliner as Sam took her blood pressure.

The older woman smiled. "Come over here so I can see you better. I don't think I've seen you in a very long time. Where have you been, child?"

Cassie sat on a stuffed vinyl ottoman next to the chair. "I live in New York now."

Afrown shadowed Miss Lena's face. "You poor, poor child. I'm so sorry. Will they let you come home soon?"

Cassie bit her lip as she looked up at the older woman. "I'm quite happy there, actually. I'll be going back soon." She reached up and placed Lena's soft and gnarled hand in her own and patted it gently.

A confused frown covered Lena's face for a moment, then she smiled. "Do you read, sugar? I've just finished the best book, and I'd love for you to borrow it."

Sam took the blood-pressure cuff off her arm, and she leaned to a nearby table. "Here-take it, and when you're done, we'll discuss it."

She handed Cassie the same book that Lucinda had given her to return. The book that was still in her purse waiting to be given back to Miss Lena.

Cassie stared at the cover of the half-naked people. "Thank you, Miss Lena. I'll look forward to it."

As Cassie opened her purse to put it next to the other book, Miss Lena sat up and leaned forward so Sam could place his stethoscope on her back.

"I know you'll love it, too. It has the best love scenes. His swollen manhood is supposed to be just absolutely enormous and is quite adept at pleasuring his women." She chortled gleefully. "My favorite scene is when they're riding bareback-naked. Oh, my-it just about gives me heart palpitations every time I read it."

Cassie swallowed, then smiled, nodding agreeably. "I see. Why, aren't they lucky!"

She could see Sam valiantly trying not to laugh as he spoke to his patient. "Miss Lena, I need you to lean back now and unbutton the top button of your dress so I can hear your heartbeat."

Miss Lena's eyes clouded, and she looked up at Sam as if she'd never seen him before. "Young man, I hope you're not taking liberties with me. I might have to tell your mama."

Sam calmly took a step back. "No, ma'am, I wouldn't think of it. I just need to put this on your chest to hear your heart beat-like I do every week. It will just take a second."

The older woman pressed her lips tightly together. "No, sir. I'm an unmarried woman."

Cassie looked at Sam. His expression remained calm, his arms relaxed against his sides. He seemed to be weighing different tactics to get Miss Lena to cooperate.

The patient sat indignantly in her chair, bright spots of color suf-fusing her cheeks. Her eyes remained cloudy, momentarily confused with what was happening around her.

Cassie leaned forward and placed the woman's hands in her own. "Miss Lena, I'm here. How about if I stay next to you and hold your hands while Dr. Parker listens to your heart? I'll make sure that he treats you with the utmost respect."

Miss Lena blinked, as if trying to focus. "Doctor?"

Cassie nodded. "Yes, this is Dr. Parker, and he needs to listen to your heartbeat. Will you let him?"

The older woman gripped Cassie's hands tightly, then nodded her head.

Gently, Sam undid her top button, then slid his stethoscope to her chest. The room was in complete silence, the only sound that of the clock ticking away life's moments on the mantel.

As Sam put the stethoscope back into his black bag, Cassie buttoned up the collar. When she moved her hand away, Miss Lena held it. "Thank you, dear." Her gray eyes were suddenly clear and moist with unshed tears. The look of gratitude in them made Cassie's heart feel as if it had swelled just a bit.

She leaned forward and kissed the older woman's cheek, surprised at the softness of it. "You're very welcome," she said, and meant it.

When they were ready to leave, Sam leaned over Miss Lena with a smile. "You're still healthy as an ox. We'll see you next week, all right?" He, too, planted a kiss on her cheek.

She beamed up at him, her early reticence apparently forgotten. "I'll look forward to it." She pushed herself up to whisper in a conspiratorial tone, "And don't forget to bring Catherine Anne's daughter. Although I'm sure I won't need to ask you twice." She elbowed Sam in the ribs, making him grunt.

"I'll try, ma'am. But that woman is like a pig in grease to pin down."

They each winked at each other, looking like accessories in a great plot and making Cassie want to laugh out loud.

The clouds had scattered along with the rain, leaving no obstacles in the sun's direct rays. George barked in greeting from the truck as Sam and Cassie walked down the porch steps toward him. "If I'm not mistaken, Sam Parker, you just called me a greased pig."

"Not exactly . . ."

Cassie stopped, holding up her hand. "That's all right. I'll forgive you because you were so sweet to Miss Lena. And I guess I don't need to ask if you ever bill her."

Sam opened the truck door and threw his bag in the backseat. "It's one of the perks of being old. You get a lot of things for free. Which reminds me, I gotta ask Ed if he can trade mowing days with me at the end of the month. I hate even talking to the man, but we're the only two on the schedule, and I've got to switch. I'm going down to Atlanta for a conference. I thought I'd check through the hospital birth records while I'm there, if you like."

Cassie looked up into those infernal blue eyes, trying to read them. "Why are you being so nice to me? It's not like I've gone out of my way to ever be nice to you."

Sam studied her for a moment, his eyes unreadable. "Because . . ." He looked away for a moment. "Because you used to make me laugh. After Tom died, I didn't find much to laugh about. And then, in sixth grade, we were put in the same homeroom together, and you put that giant cockroach in Susan Benedict's lunch box because she'd said something mean about Harriet. I laughed till I almost wet my pants. I was hooked after that; you changed my life. You showed me that there's nothing in life that can't be laughed about." His eyes turned somber. "I guess you could say I'm still a fan."

His mouth was so close to hers, reminding her of how delicious his lips had tasted the night before. She stepped back, her hand flying to the necklace around her neck.

"And I appreciate what you did for me in there with Miss Lena. I don't know what I would have done without you."

Cassie shrugged and scrambled into the truck. "Glad I could help," she said, staring out the windshield as Sam shut the door.

After Sam climbed in, Cassie turned to him. "Do you have any plans right now?"

Something flickered in his eyes, but his expression remained neutral. "I don't have office hours until one o'clock, and I have my beeper in case anybody needs me sooner. Why?"

"Could you drive to Harriet's? She's been complaining of being fatigued and out of sorts lately, and she is looking a little peaked. I asked her if she had been to see you, but she said she hadn't seen you for an appointment since her postpartum checkup after Amanda was born. I thought that since she wouldn't go to you, I could bring you to her. Maybe you can prescribe her some vitamins or something."

Sam cranked the engine but didn't answer right away. He looked oddly distracted.

"Sam?"

"Um, yeah. Sure." With a slight grin, he said, "Still taking care of your little sister, huh?'

Cassie stuck out her chin. "Old habits die hard, I guess." He pulled out onto the street. "Careful, Cassie. People might start thinking that you care."

Cassie didn't answer and remained silent for the short ride to her sister's.

Screaming and laughter led Sam, George, and Cassie to the backyard of Harriet's house. Aunt Lucinda stood in her red heels, leaning over the patio table and cranking an old-fashioned ice-cream machine. Madison stood next to her, trying to hold the table steady so it wouldn't rock in response to Lucinda's exertions.

Sarah Frances, Joey, and Knoxie were running around with what looked like the majority of the neighborhood kids, telltale signs of peach ice cream dripping down their chins. Another bin of home-made ice cream, the frost on the outside quickly dissipating in the heat, stood open, a puddle of peach-colored liquid swimming in the bottom.

A card table stood nearby with large wedges of watermelon dec-orating a red-and-white-checked tablecloth. Two boys stood next to it, globs of the pink fruit staining their faces and shirts, large chunks of watermelon gripped in grimy hands as they spat out the seeds to see who could spit the farthest.

Lucinda greeted Sam and Cassie with a wide smile, and she momentarily lifted her hand from the crank to wave. "Hi, y'all. Come join the party. I should have known that the sound of this here machine would bring people out of the woodwork."

Homemade peach ice cream. The name alone brought back memories of long summer days spent in the gazebo with Harriet. The cones would drip down their forearms in the ever-losing battle of trying to lick the drips before they fell. They'd spend hours out there during summer vacation talking about everything, especially boys. And the summer when Harriet was away at camp, Cassie had sat in the gazebo eating her ice cream alone, watching Joe slap coats of blue paint on the ceiling and falling in love in the process.

Cassie searched the crowd of little people for her sister. "Where's Harriet?"

Lucinda straightened, putting a hand on her hip. "That girl was just about give-out. I had to force her to go inside and take a rest. She said she'd only go in for a minute, but last I checked on her, she was sound asleep."

Sam stowed his bag underneath the table. "In that case, we'll let her rest a while longer. That'll give me a chance to dig into this ice cream." At Lucinda's direction, he went inside to the large freezer and brought out another bin.

Cassie held out two cones as Sam dropped generous portions on top. When Cassie bent her head to get a bite, her nose bumped into the large mound of ice cream, leaving a dollop of the peach stuff on the tip.

"That's cute, Cassie," Sam said after taking a small bite from the side of his.

"Here, then." With her index finger, she scooped up some ice cream from her own cone and gently placed it on the tip of Sam's nose.

Knoxie, who had come to stand by her aunt, giggled uproariously and stuck her nose in her own cone.

Sam looked at the little girl. "You think that's funny, sweetheart? Watch this." He stuck three fingers into his cone and deposited a sticky cold chunk onto Cassie's cheek.

With that, Cassie squeezed her hand over her cone, making sure her fist was full of the sweet stuff, and carefully wiped it through his hair.

Most of the children had now stopped to stare at the two adults making spectacles of themselves.

Lucinda stopped cranking and came and stood between them. "All right, you two, that's enough. It's going to take forever to get all that sugar out of his hair. . . ."

"Excuse me, Lucinda." Gently, Sam guided Cassie's aunt to the side. Then he calmly plopped his cone upside down on Cassie's head.

Cassie decided that she really should be more angry, but laughing made it difficult. God, it felt good. When was the last time she had laughed so hard?

"Cassandra?"

The voice brought her back to reality, and she immediately quieted, turning on her heel toward the sound of the voice.

Andrew stood at the corner of the property by the swing set. His double-breasted suit jacket hung open, the front of his shirt saturated with sweat. His blond hair appeared streaked with brown, and perspiration dripped down his forehead. He clutched his suitcase with his left hand, his rumpled Burberry raincoat tossed over the other.

Cassie stared at him for a moment, feeling the ice-cream cone on her head slip to the side and then fall with a gentle plop on the ground beside her. Then she said the first thing that came to mind. "Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit."

Thirteen.

Cassie grabbed a couple of napkins off the red-and-white-checked tablecloth and handed one to Sam. She wiped the other one over her face, pieces of paper sticking to her nose and cheek. Forcing a smile, she approached her fiance, trying to ignore his look of shock. "Andrew. This is a . . . surprise. We weren't expecting you for another week."

He dropped his suitcase on the ground and loosened his tie. "After our last phone conversation, I decided I'd better come earlier. What the hell's going on, and who's that guy?"

Before she could answer, Sam swaggered forward. She blinked, wondering why he was walking as if he spent most of his days straddling a horse. He stuck out his hand toward Andrew. "Hey! Now ain't this a pleasure. You must be Cassie's beau. I'm Sam Parker."

Cassie didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or just run away screaming. The ice cream in Sam's hair had started to melt and drip down the side of his face, while pieces of yellow napkin stuck to his beard stubble and fluttered as he moved. He looked utterly ridiculous but amazingly, completely, appealing.

Andrew looked down at the outstretched hand for a moment before shaking it. "Nice to meet you. Andrew Wallace." When he let go, he rubbed his hands together.

"Nice to meet you, Andy. Our Cassie's just been talkin' up a storm about you, and finally gettin' to meet you is just about gooder'n grits."

It was Andrew's turn to blink. "Um, it's Andrew."

Not able to stand looking at the yellow scrap of napkin stuck on Sam's nose, Cassie reached over and pulled it off, Andrew scrutinizing her movements. He stepped toward her, grabbed her arm, and pulled her close in an intimate embrace. When she looked up to protest, he kissed her, sliding his tongue against her lips. She stiffened, but he didn't let go of her. He smiled as he lifted his head. "I've missed you."

She put her hands on his chest and tried gently to push away. "I've missed you, too." When he bent his head toward her again, she raised her hand between them to wipe sweat off her forehead. "Gosh, it's so hot. Let's get you home so you can change into something more comfortable."

He dropped his arms from around her, his lips smiling but his eyes cool.

Cassie looked at the large suitcase in the grass. "I'm assuming you had a taxi drop you off at Daddy's house and nobody was there. Why didn't you leave your suitcase on the porch?"

Andrew sent Cassie a curious glance. "That's expensive luggage. I wasn't about to just leave it on a porch." He glanced around at the children running around the backyard. "Some old guy wearing overalls in a pickup truck even offered me a lift. Hard to believe. But he at least told me where I could find you."

Sam leaned down and scooped up the suitcase. "Heck, Andy, people here in Walton are so honest, they'd put stuff in your suitcase." He gave them both a wink. "Now, seein' as how you're without transportation, let's all just pile into my truck and I'll take you home."

Andrew's face blanched. "You mean my car's not here? Is there anything wrong?"

Cassie smiled brightly. "Nothing that can't be fixed. I'll fill you in later."

Sam waved to Lucinda and led the way to the front of the house. Cassie briefly introduced Andrew and Lucinda, then rushed to follow Sam. George gave them all a welcoming bark, making Andrew take a step back, but he withheld any complaints he might have had as he saw his suitcase lifted into the bed of the truck with the dog.

Sam pulled open the driver's side door. "We'll all have to squeeze into the front seat. Got all my huntin' gear back there, and there's just no room."