Finally, he spoke. "I think the best way to get through this is to just start, so let me begin." He cleared his throat. "As you are probably aware, Mrs. Anderson's sophomore civics class took a field trip to the state Capitol last Thursday. Your niece"-he indicated Cassie with a dip of his head-"was on that trip along with Lucy Spafford."

He stood and took a paper cup from a table next to a water dispenser. "Water, anyone?" Cassie and Sam declined and waited for the principal to fill his cup and return to his chair.

"Anyway. At the entrance to the Capitol building there's a metal detector where all visitors to the building must pass through." He took a long drink of water, draining the cup. "When Lucy Spafford put her purse through the detector, it beeped. The security personnel, as is their job, then had to manually examine the purse to find the cause of the beeping." He stopped speaking, then lowered his head, looking up at Cassie through heavy eyebrows.

"What was it?" Cassie's voice cracked, and she swallowed. All of a sudden she had the clear image in her head of Principal Purdy's red-and-white-striped boxer shorts flying high atop the flagpole. She bit down on her lip, hard.

He cleared his throat again. "It was a . . . um . . . a sexual device. I believe the term is a vibrator. A battery-operated model."

Sam coughed, but Cassie continued looking at the principal with a straight face. "And what has this got to do with Maddie?"

"Well, Lucy's best friend, Lauren North, said she's seen a, ahem, Adam & Eve catalog in Maddie's locker. Seems anyone can just call their 800 number and request a catalog." Sam and Cassie waited while the principal helped himself to another cup of water. He sat down again and continued. "When I questioned Maddie, she admitted to putting the, uh, device into Lucy's purse. She didn't even try to deny it. I think she enjoys the attention." He looked pointedly at Cassie, who tried to keep a bland expression on her face.

Cassie crossed, then recrossed, her legs. "This happened last Thursday? Why wasn't I notified about this earlier?"

"I, well . . ." He coughed again into his rounded fist. "I was waiting for Harriet and Joe to return, but I understand they're expected to be gone for some time." With a short pause, he continued, "And Lucy and her parents are eager to move beyond this . . . this incident."

Cassie nodded, her grown-up expression plastered seamlessly on her face. "I will discuss this with Maddie and come up with a suitable punishment."

Principal Purdy nodded, his expression one of relief, then slid back his chair in a clear signal that the meeting was over. "I don't think this calls for a suspension-not this time, anyway. I'm sure a lot of this has to do with Harriet's illness, and it's natural for a girl such as Maddie to act out. And your niece is a very spirited girl, Cassie. A good student, too. Reminds me of another student we used to have." He winked in Cassie's direction. "She just needs to rein in that energy- focus it in some other, more worthy, direction."

"Yes, sir. I understand. I'll be sure to bring this up with Harriet and Joe when they return." Rising, she leaned forward and shook the principal's hand, then Sam followed suit.

They left the office quietly, only the soft tapping of their heels following them down the deserted after-hours school halls and out the door. They remained stoic and poised until Sam's truck had turned out of the school's parking lot. Barely past the intersection, they both burst out laughing.

Sam pulled the truck onto the side of the road, howling with laughter. Cassie leaned her head against the seat back, trying to catch her breath. "Oh, my gosh-I have such a mental image here. Can you just see Lucy Spafford looking at what they pulled from her purse? Oh, Lord, it's just so damned funny."

Sam leaned his forehead against the steering wheel. "Man, I'm just picturing all those kids staring at that thing and wondering what in the hell it was." He shook his head and looked at Cassie. "That's the funniest damned prank I have ever heard of. I think you're going to have to retire your crown; she's got you beat."

"I'll gladly relinquish it. She's a worthy successor." They were silent for a moment before Cassie suddenly turned toward Sam. "Oh, my gosh! I just remembered her asking me if batteries were metal. That was over a month ago. To think she's been conniving all this time!"

Sam elbowed her gently, still laughing. "She comes by it honestly."

Cassie grinned. "Yeah. She does. Just a chip off the ol' block."

"Are you going to tell her parents?"

Cassie shook her head. "No, I don't think so. I think they have enough on their plate right now. Besides, I don't want to be the one to have to explain to Harriet what a vibrator is."

He grinned, allowing a flash of white to show. "Are you going to at least punish Maddie?"

Cassie watched a convertible filled with teenagers whiz by them on the road. "You bet. Besides an apology to Lucy, I'd say the whole first floor of my house needs waxing, wouldn't you?"

Sam started the engine. "I seem to remember you with wax under your fingernails a few times."

Nodding, Cassie buckled her seat belt. "And I'm a damned fine floor waxer, too, I'll have you know." She flipped down the overhead visor and fixed her hair. "But if she's anything like me, this won't make her sorry in the slightest. It'll just make her try harder next time so she doesn't get caught."

Sam chuckled. "I can't believe she's Harriet's child. She's you made over, through and through. Poor Har." He shook his head, a wide grin on his face. "I just keep thinking about Maddie explaining to her mother what a vibrator is. If it ever comes to that, I want to get it on film."

That made Cassie start laughing all over again, barely able to contain herself. She laughed until she started to cry, thinking of the marvelous girl who was her niece and of the girl's mother who might not be there to see her daughter grow into womanhood.

As if sensing the change, Sam slid his arm over her and let her nestle in his shoulder. No more words were spoken, but his warmth and understanding were enough. She buried her face in his denim shirt and cried for her own motherless childhood, for Harriet, and mostly, for Maddie.

Twenty-One.

Cassie hopped on one foot as she struggled to put on her swimsuit as quickly as she could. Sarah Frances and Joey were already down-stairs in the foyer, suited up and with sunscreen-coated faces and bodies, waiting impatiently for her to come down and take them to the creek.

As she fastened the tie on her back, she spotted a deep gash in the wood of her bed's footboard. It was a fresh wound, the wood pale and supple, and it was apparent that something large and heavy had fallen and hit it, taking out a chunk of cherry wood. Leaning to press her fingers on the mark, she noticed three envelopes half-hidden under the dust ruffle of the bed. Kneeling, she picked them up.

One by one, she slid out the letters and examined them. The first two she recognized as having read before from the stack inside the writing box. But the third envelope was smaller than the others and completely blank on the front; no handwriting, postmark, or stamp. She was sure she hadn't seen it before and wondered if it had remained hidden among the larger envelopes in the box and been easily overlooked. Turning it over, she pulled out a letter and unfolded it. Her heart squeezed when she recognized her father's handwriting, with the heavy brush strokes and large capital letters.

August 18, 1981 Dear Son, I'm sorry not to be addressing this to your name, but despite my best efforts, I've never been able to find out what they have named you.

In the possibility that I might die before ever seeing you, I am writing this letter so that you might understand why we have never met. It is likely that you will never read this and that I'm merely writing it to ease my own mind. It is small comfort, but it is the only one I can seem to find.

Your mother, with your best interests at heart, gave you up for adoption against my wishes. She left the country after giving birth to you and has told me that you were adopted overseas. I have reason to believe that is not the true story, but I have found no evidence to either substantiate it or to refute it. I've wanted to find you-not to take you away from a family who has no doubt grown to love you and accept you as their own, but to make sure that you were happy. But the only news I could ever find out about you from your mother was that I had a son.

I have pictured you over the years growing up, and I have an idea in my mind of what you must look like. I can only hope that one day I will be able to see you face-to-face and tell you that you have your mother's eyes or my nose or my father's hands.

Know that I love you-as much as I love your two sisters-and since the day you were born I have prayed daily that one day you might walk into my life. I will keep that hope alive until I am blessed enough to see your face or until I go to meet my Maker and will have to atone for my wrongs against your mother. Please forgive me for not giving you a name. I would give up my very home just to be able to hold you in my arms but once.

Harrison R. Madison III Cassie held the letter for a long moment, relief flooding through her. Relief that her father had not deliberately abandoned or forgotten her brother and that he had looked for him over the years. Her gaze caught sight again of the gash in the footboard, and she stood so suddenly that her head swam. The writing box. The writing box is gone. She had left it on the bed and could still see the indentation on the bedspread. Dropping to her knees, she peered under the bed but found it empty except for her slippers.

She slipped the letters into her purse, then, her gaze scanning the room one last time to make sure the writing box wasn't there, ran downstairs shouting Lucinda's name.

Her aunt stuck her head out from the kitchen, flour from her home-made biscuits smeared on her nose. "What's wrong, sweet pea?"

Cassie struggled to calm her voice. "Have you seen a large wooden writing box? I left it in my room, and it's gone."

Lucinda's penciled brows furrowed. "No, I haven't seen it. And you know I wouldn't take anything out of your room without your per-mission. Are you sure you didn't misplace it?"

Cassie shook her head. "No. I know I didn't."

"Aunt Cassie, can we go now?" Joey's voice from the foyer carried each consonant in a drawn-out whine.

"I'll be there in just a minute." She turned back to Lucinda. "It was Daddy's writing box. It has his initials on the top." She thought for a moment. "Did anybody come look at the house this morning while I was out?"

Lucinda shook her head. "Nope. Not that I know of, anyway. I was in the back, weeding my vegetable garden."

Cassie frowned, deep in thought. "Well, if you do come across it, could you please put it back in my room?"

Lucinda nodded, and Cassie slowly left the kitchen, wondering what had happened to the writing box. Maybe because she was so preoccupied she had put it elsewhere and just forgotten where. She turned the corner into the foyer and spied her niece and nephew sitting on the bottom step, already wearing their masks and snorkels, and she couldn't resist a smile. She'd think about the writing box later. It hadn't walked off by itself and would surely show up later.

Cassie stood perched on a rock by the creek, her bare toes gripping its slippery surface, her hair slicked back off her face and dripping water down her back. The temperature had been hovering in the high nineties all week, and the coolness of the water felt heaven-sent.

"Shark attack!" she shouted as she made a shallow dive into the water. When she emerged, eyes tightly shut, the delighted screams of the chil-dren in the creek alerted her as to where her victims were hiding.

"Shark!" she shouted again, diving for a nearby squealer that sounded suspiciously like Sarah Frances. Grabbing a small, wet body, Cassie tickled the girl mercilessly until the child shouted, "Shark bait!" Cassie hugged her, then let her go. "Your turn to be the shark."

As the dripping Sarah Frances climbed up onto the rock, Cassie skimmed under the water again, delighting in the cool sluicing of the water over her body. She opened her eyes and stared up at the mottled sky, the surreal sun casting an uneven light under the surface. It was quiet and peaceful under there; no worries, no sickness, nobody clamoring for her attention. And no Sam to mess with her mind. She blew bubbles from her mouth, round little bubbles that rose to the surface and exploded into light and air. A shout from the bank brought her crashing up to reality. Blinking the water out of her eyes, she spot-ted Ed Farrell approaching.

"Hey, Ed," she said, waving with an arc of water.

"Hey, Cassie." He smiled broadly and waved back. "I saw Lucinda walking with Knoxie and Amanda, and she told me where to find you. Thought I'd go for a swim, too." He stopped near the edge of the water, his hair sticking to his forehead in sweaty streaks. His wore a T-shirt and faded blue flip-flops and carried an Atlanta Braves towel.

Dropping the towel, he pulled off his oversized shirt, revealing a powder blue Speedo swimsuit. He thumped his pale chest. "Yep, gotta get my daily workout, and swimming is as good as any exercise." He stepped slowly into the water, adjusting himself to the temperature. "As a matter of fact, I'm planning a fitness facility in downtown Walton, and I can guarantee we'll have an Olympic-sized swimming pool in it. Easier to do laps and all that stuff than in a creek."

Cassie nodded, averting her eyes from the skimpy strip of blue nylon that seemed to bounce on the surface of the water.

"Hey, Ed. Remember my father's writing box? I was holding it one day when you stopped by, and you admired it."

Ed nodded. "Sure do. Beautiful antique. Why? Have you changed your mind about selling it?"

"No. I just can't find it. I don't think I misplaced it, but can't figure why it isn't where I put it. If somebody you brought to the house took it, you'd notice, right?"

Ed splashed water on his face. "Absolutely. It would be kinda hard sneaking something like that into my car without me noticing, you know?"

Cassie breaststroked away from him, enjoying the cool sluice of water on her arms and chest. "Yeah, I guess so. I just can't understand what happened to it."

Joey let out an ear-splitting scream before landing in the water with a perfect cannonball and successfully drenching everybody.

Ed sucked in his breath as the cool water hit his skin. "Hey, kid- watch who you're splashing."

Cassie sent the boy an admonishing glare that wasn't quite successful. Joey stifled a smile, issued a perfunctory "Sorry, Mr. Farrell," then swam over to his sister.

Cassie rolled her eyes, counting again the days until school started. Even though Maddie had been in school almost two weeks, Joey and Sarah Frances attended a small private elementary school, and they started later, much to Cassie's chagrin. Her days were filled with entertaining three boisterous children and a baby, refereeing fights, and feeding them endlessly. At three-thirty, when Maddie returned home from school, the homework battle began. It had taken Cassie three whole days to realize that her oldest niece could be bribed with stories about her life in New York or the promise of trying on some of her clothes. Cassie looked past Ed and toward Joey and Sarah Frances, who were arguing over the use of an orange foam noodle. With a crooked smile, she shook her head. No matter the exasperation and dog-dead tiredness she felt at the end of each day, she wasn't sure she'd trade any of it. Sure, a crisis with a million-dollar client was much easier to handle than squabbling siblings, but the perks of hugs and kisses were becoming priceless to her.

Ed waded his way to the middle of the creek, then trod water to keep his head above the surface. "I had another couple express interest in your house today, but when I told them where it was located, they said no. Said they'd been talking at a party with one of your neighbors about all the vandalism problems and weren't interested in moving into a questionable neighborhood."

Cassie let her feet touch the gravelly bottom. "Questionable neighbor-hood? Was that neighbor perhaps Richard Haney?"

"I'm afraid so. And whether or not it's true isn't at issue. Either way, it's getting harder and harder to find somebody for your house."

She regarded him closely, wondering again who it was he reminded her of. "You know, Ed, I was thinking about this the other day. Instead of selling it to you, I could just rent it for a while. It would mean I could return to New York that much quicker and it wouldn't be such a pain for you trying to sell it."

He dipped his head in the water, slicking the hair back off his face. "Well, that might make things easier, that's for sure. And it would also give you time to think and reassess what you really want to do with the house." He tilted to the side and began sidestroking across the creek. "I'm assuming you heard about the town-council meeting. Sam may have won the battle for an ordinance against more teardowns, but he won't win the war. It's just a matter of time. We're having a referendum in January, and I can guarantee the people will vote down the ordinance. The majority of our citizens are pro-progress, and a few sticksin-the-mud like Sam Parker won't make a bit of difference."

He put his face under the water again, and when he came up, he spewed a mouthful of water out through his teeth. "But you just tell me what to do, darlin'. I know how anxious you are to return to your career and maybe patch things up with that fiance of yours. I am here to do your bidding."

Cassie stopped treading water and just stood still for a moment, contemplating going back to New York and confronting Andrew again. She hadn't heard from him about the VisEx account, and she assumed he'd either dropped her completely or had managed to buy her more time. Strangely, it didn't seem to matter to her; it was as if that life were one thousand light-years away from the docile creek and splashing children. She flipped over onto her back, letting the water over her ears muffle sound. Why was everybody clamoring for a piece of her flesh? Even the reporter from Preservation magazine was relentless with his weekly requests for a feature article and a photography shoot.

She did the backstroke over to the bank and crawled out of the creek, pulling herself over to the large diving rock. Grabbing her towel, she began drying herself off. "Ed, how much monthly rent do you think I should-" Her words were cut off by a scream from Sarah Frances.

Cassie jumped back into the water and swam as quickly as she could to her niece. The girl was clutching at something under the water, making it difficult to hold her head above the surface. She was screaming and choking on water when Cassie reached her and pulled her to the bank.

An ugly gash, about two inches wide, bisected the bottom of her left foot. Blood ran freely from the wound, washing pink down her drenched skin. When she saw the blood, Sarah Frances began to scream louder and continued her wail as Joey held up the rusty can lid out of the water.

On autopilot, Cassie reached for the T-shirt she had worn over her bathing suit. It was a crop top with spaghetti straps and the perfect size for wrapping around a small foot. She tightened it as much as she could, trying to calm the hysterical child at the same time.

Ed threw on his shirt. "Come on-put her in my car. I'll drive y'all to the clinic."

Cassie nodded. "I'll wrap towels around her foot so as not to get blood on the upholstery."

He nodded as Cassie carried the sobbing girl and settled her in the backseat. She quickly gathered the rest of their belongings before she and Joey piled into the car. Ed drove a little faster than she would have liked, but they got to the clinic in record time, even with dropping Joey off at home first.

To Cassie's surprise, Ed carried Sarah Frances inside the empty waiting room himself. Mary Jane stared with shock at Ed in his T-shirt and Speedo carrying the little girl but quickly adjusted her expression. Cassie, wearing just her bikini top and cut-off shorts, explained the situation. With a cool smile, Mary Jane disappeared into the back to call Sam.

Sam appeared and took Sarah Frances from Ed. Her sobbing quieted once in Sam's arms, and Cassie couldn't help but notice how he seemed to have that effect on most women, herself included.

She followed Sam and Sarah Frances into an examining room that resembled an underwater adventure. Blue walls with painted bubbles and pudgy fish swam around the perimeter, with bright rays of sun covering the ceiling. The little girl sat on top of white paper in the middle of an examining table, her skinny legs stuck out in front of her and her tear-stained face a mask of childlike suffering. Cassie put her arms around the girl's shoulders. "She stepped on a rusty can lid in the creek."

He nodded and slid on a pair of latex gloves before bending to examine the little foot. "You did a good job with this tourniquet." His eyes moved from his patient and boldly examined Cassie's chest. He turned back to unwrap the impromptu bandage. "I'm assuming this was your shirt. Then again, it could have been another one of Ed's bathing suits. It's small enough."

Cassie smoothed back the wet hair from Sarah Frances's face and kissed her cheek. "Stop it, Sam. Ed was nice enough to drive us here."

Sam sent a reassuring smile to Sarah Frances as he started his examination of her foot. Pressing a button on the wall, he addressed the little girl. "I don't think we'll need stitches. I'll send Miss Harden in to clean it and bandage it, and then you can pick something out of the goody box, okay?" The little girl nodded, her cheeks pale and stained with drying tears.

Stripping off the gloves, he turned to Cassie. "You wouldn't happen to know if her DPT is current, would you?"

"Actually, I do-and it is. I had Harriet go over all that stuff with me before she left." She shrugged, trying not to look too proud. "You know, just in case."

Sam's eyes widened in surprise. His words were cut short by Mary Jane's entrance. Sam gave her instructions, then asked Sarah Frances for permission to speak with her aunt in private. With a promise to be quick, he ushered Cassie out of the examining room to his office at the end of the hall.

He went to a small refrigerator and pulled out two Cokes, handing one to Cassie. The air-conditioning blew strong from the overhead vent, making Cassie all too aware of her barely dressed state. From the interested look on Sam's face, she could tell he was quite aware, too. She pulled the tab on the can and took a long swallow.

Sam continued to watch her closely without speaking, so she turned her back to him and examined the small but well-furnished office. "So, this is where you work."

"Yep. When I'm not lancing boils or saving houses, that is."

She sent him an arch look before returning to admire the neutral tones splashed with bright colors on throw pillows, the curtains, and a quilt hanging on the wall. Cassie walked over to the quilt and touched it, admiring the tiny handmade stitches. "Did your mother make this for you?"

He took a long swallow from his Coke. "Actually, Mary Jane did."

"Oh." Something in her gut clenched. She turned back around to face him. "So, what did you need to talk to me about?"

He leaned against the wall and took a deep breath, just like a man ready to open a box he knows contains something unpleasant. "I just got off the phone with Joe right before you got here. They're coming home tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Why didn't they call me to let me know?"