Fifteen.

Monday morning and Sophie Saunders sat alone at her kitchen table. She ate a piece of birthday cake for breakfast. Red velvet was her favorite. She liked breaking the breakfast rules. No eggs, no cereal, no fresh fruit, only dessert. Sugar was her new wake-up call.

She'd never look at cream cheese icing in quite the same way. It was pure decadence, so thick, sweet, and smooth. She'd enjoyed licking the icing off Dune's inner thigh. He'd reciprocated and tasted her twice. She now had a frosting fetish.

It had been the best weekend of her life, both fun and sexual. Dune had thrown her an amazing party. She would always be grateful. He also knew how to keep a woman up all night and make her very happy. She'd be smiling to herself all day.

He'd left her house at first light. Sophie had offered to go with him to the airport and see him off, but he'd insisted she stay in bed. Exhausted, she kissed him good-bye, then fell back asleep clutching the pillow still warm with his body heat. She'd slept another two hours.

She faced a busy day ahead. The museum was her first stop. There she'd meet with both her contractor Kai Cates and her fiscal advisor from the courthouse. She was so excited, she could barely sit still. Her vision of the museum would soon be a reality.

A flash of the hamster ball alerted her that her girls were getting their morning exercise. She'd let them out of their cage before she'd made her coffee and cut her piece of cake. Their feet now churned as they looked for new places to explore. They reminded her that life was an adventure. Already, she'd experienced many great moments.

The kitchen clock read eight-thirty. It was time to get dressed and start her day. She caught up with Glinda and Scarlett in the library and returned them to their cage. They went right for the wheel. Spinning was a big part of their lives.

Sophie headed to her bedroom. She opened an armoire and carefully chose her outfit. Today she would be cleaning the museum. She'd be scrubbing walls and floors and didn't care if her clothes got dirty. She was capable of doing laundry.

She was feeling strong and good about herself when she selected a brand-new blue T-shirt embellished with a rhinestone butterfly and a pair of skinny jeans with the price tag hanging from the belt loop. She cut off the tag.

Next, she sat on the edge of the bed and slipped on a pair of Keds. Her bed resembled a sea of tangled sheets and spent desire. Her cheeks grew warm. The comforter was disheveled and two corners of the bottom fitted sheet had come undone. Pillows lay scattered everywhere, on the bed and on the floor.

The room temperature was cooler than she was used to at night. Dune had set the thermostat at sixty-eight degrees. She'd shivered, then warmed with his touch. Sex with him had been hot and nonstop. She missed his body heat. Sighing, she raised the thermostat several degrees on her way out.

She would change the sheets later, but not the pillowcases. Dune's scent lingered on the fine-threaded cotton. She'd take his male scent to bed with her tonight.

She called her limo driver and Roger pulled into her driveway within ten minutes. After a short hop across town, she arrived at Center Street. She scheduled an eight p.m. pickup before he drove away. With Dune out of town, she needed to stay busy. She planned to put in long hours getting the museum ready to open to the public.

Once on the sidewalk, Sophie stared at the shop about to undergo a major transformation. The museum was around the corner from Molly Malone's diner, making it a location with a lot of foot traffic.

Behind her, the morning sun made its climb upward, casting deep shadows along the street and between the buildings. A glare off the storefront window made her blink.

Sophie shielded her eyes and smiled to herself. Here was where she wanted to be. She could think of no better career than that of curator of the Barefoot William Museum.

She was about to relive history.

She would make the Cateses proud.

She took the keys from her hobo bag and opened the door. Dust fluttered about her and made her sneeze. She needed to start a list of cleaning supplies. Air freshener was a must.

"Hey, Sophie," Kai Cates gave her a shout as he came in behind her. He was a tall man with dark blond hair. His body was solid and lean. He wore carpenter's pants and a T-shirt scripted with Nail It. A twined leather bracelet circled his wrist. Nicole Archer from The Jewelry Box had created the masculine piece of jewelry. Kai never took it off.

Sophie smiled at the man who would breathe life into her vision of the museum. "What do we do first?" she asked. She was open to his direction.

He looked around. "The place needs to be cleaned, but that can come later. Let's talk about the renovation. I need to know where you're headed."

She motioned him into the second room toward the back of the shop. She knew what she wanted. She had the room laid out in her mind. She shared her vision. "I want an enormous mural drawn on the west wall, one depicting the Cates family tree. William will be at the top," she said. "His family and relatives will branch out below him. Beside each name, I want to document something special about the person."

She knew William well from his journals, and she'd already researched many of the family members. She had a good grasp on everyone's background and how they had contributed to the growth of the town.

"Go on," Kai said, impressed.

"The artist will paint snowfall and sunshine by William's name, portraying both Minnesota and Florida," she said. "Perhaps a hammock and a hound dog, too. His wife Lily Doreen loved to knit. She made wool scarves for her family long after they moved to Florida. Perhaps the muralist could depict knitting needles and yarn." She glanced at Kai. "What do you think so far?"

"It sounds wonderful," Shaye Cates answered for her cousin Kai. She stood in the doorway, listening intently. Violet, Randy, and Chuck came in behind her. "I like the sense of warmth you've created and the closeness of generations. Please continue," she encouraged Sophie.

Sophie picked up where she'd left off. "One of William's brothers, Walt, owned a trawler called the Breakwater . A fishing boat fits him best. Another younger brother, Harold, ran the weekly chronicle. A newspaper would work for him. A steamy apple pie goes to William's youngest daughter, Helen." She then skipped several generations and returned to the present. "Your Grandfather Frank was the local cribbage champion for decades. His wife Emma played an upright piano."

She smiled at Shaye. "A beach chair and a computer on the shoreline by the pier describe you best."

Shaye threw back her head and laughed. "You know me so well."

"How about a tool belt for me?" asked Kai.

"Done, unless you'd rather be known as the owner of Hook It, Cook It," Sophie said. Hook It sold bait and tackle on the pier. Cook It stood next door, a small chef's kitchen where fishermen could have their daily catch cleaned and filleted for a fee, then baked or fried for dinner or lunch.

"Let's go with the hammer and nails," said Kai, pleased with his choice.

Violet raised her hand. "What about me?" she asked. "I love working at Molly Malone's, but I won't be there forever."

"No drawing on the mural will be a fixed testament of who you are," Sophie promised her. "We can modify the design at any given time."

"What about your boyfriend Dune?" came from Randy.

Her boyfriend. Sophie blushed. They were friends and lovers, but there'd been no mention of commitment. Randy assumed that because she and Dune spent time together they were a couple. She wouldn't embarrass him by correcting his misconception.

"A volleyball and board shorts for Dune," she said.

"How can I get in the mural?" Mac James asked as he strolled into the shop. He carried a big box of cleaning supplies.

"You marry a Cates," said Shaye.

That stopped him short. "No other options, huh?"

"It's the Barefoot William Museum," Sophie reminded him. "It's all about their family."

"Have you chosen anyone to paint the enormous tree?" asked Violet. "There are several professional artists in the area."

"I like to paint," Chuck spoke up. "I could do the outline."

"I'll make the branches," came from Randy.

They were so young, Sophie thought. In the back of her mind, she'd envisioned a seasoned artist for the job. However, she couldn't dash the hope in the boys' eyes.

There was something to be said for youthful exuberance. They were the next generation of the Cates family and needed to make their mark on the boardwalk.

"You two boys can work together," she suggested to Randy and Chuck. "Submit a few sketches to me and we'll go from there. I'm open to seeing your designs."

"Tonight, my house, we'll get started," Randy said to Chuck, punching him on the arm. Chuck was all grins.

Shaye stood beside Sophie and hugged her. "Thanks for taking care of our boys," she said, keeping her voice low.

Our boys. Shaye made her feel like family.

"The mural will be an awesome attraction in the back room," Shaye continued. "What do you have planned for the front?"

"Lots of photos, along with any antiques the Cateses wish to donate to the museum," Sophie said. "Anything valuable can be set behind glass. Kai can install a security system. I plan to display the journals, too."

"You've got your work cut out for you," said Violet, rolling up her sleeves. "Let's get the shop cleaned up so you can get down to business."

"I've enlisted Mr. Clean for the job," Mac said, holding up the cleaning solution and a scrub brush.

Sophie looked at everyone, surprised. "You're all here to help me?"

"I didn't show up on my own," Mac admitted. "I got a text from Dune threatening my life if I didn't lend you a hand."

"I got the same text," said Violet.

"So did we," Randy and Chuck said at the same time. "Dune knew it was our day off."

"Apparently my brother made the rounds during his layover in Atlanta," said Shaye, laughing. She looked over her shoulder and a small sigh escaped. "Oh, my, I don't believe it. Here comes Grandfather Frank."

Sophie had met Frank only once at Shaye and Trace's wedding. Shaye had introduced them after the wedding ceremony on the beach. Frank had been brusque toward her. He hadn't offered his hand or spoken a word. His nod had been brief. She found him intimidating.

He stood before her now, a man with a full head of white hair, a sharp, challenging gaze, and a stern expression. Age bent his shoulders ever-so-slightly. He wore a faded gray shirt, white shorts, and Dearfoam house slippers.

Mac eyed Frank's feet. "Dude, slippers?"

"My feet hurt," Frank said, his tone gruff. "I wore work boots in the orchard yesterday and got two blisters."

"Did you wear socks with your boots?" Again from Mac.

Frank narrowed his gaze. "I can dress myself, son," he said.

"How'd you get here, Grandpa?" Shaye asked, concerned. "Your license expired a month ago and you haven't been to the DMV to renew it. You know I'm available whenever you need a ride."

"Trace picked me up. My coming here was his idea," Frank said, stunning them with his explanation. "He drove out to the house and offered me a lift. He thought I'd be interested in the renovation. I damn sure am."

Shaye smiled. "My husband is full of surprises. Where is he now?"

Trace appeared seconds later. "I'm bringing up the rear." He walked straight over to Shaye and kissed her with a husband's pleasure in seeing his wife. He was dressed for the office in a dark business suit and polished wingtips.

Sophie was glad to see her brother. Trace was formidable, but he had a big heart. He understood his wife's closeness to her family. Shaye had been heartbroken when her grandfather disowned her following their wedding the previous summer. Resolution between them was coming slowly.

For his wife's sake, Trace had put the past behind him and was making an effort to heal old wounds. He'd taken time out of his busy day to drop off mops, brooms, sponges, and several buckets.

Trace's idea of drawing Frank into the renovation was brilliant, Sophie thought. Shaye and her granddad were once again together, working toward a common goal.

"Frank, you've met my sister Sophie," Trace said by way of introduction. "I think she'll make a great curator of the museum."

Frank pursed his lips and looked her over with an inquisitive eye. Sophie sensed his mental debate. She wasn't certain he liked her. The fact that she cared so much for Dune had her holding her breath while she waited for him to say something. She hoped Frank would accept her.

He came around, but on his own terms. "I don't cotton much to any Saunders." He was a man of strong opinions. "I find you far too young for this position. You're fortunate that I have some time on my hands, young lady. You need a consultant."

"Historical accuracy is important to me," said Sophie. "I would appreciate your assistance."

"I'll be here every day," he assured her. He seemed pleased to have a purpose for getting up in the morning. "I'll get my driver's license renewed later today."

Sophie found herself staring at Frank. At his wide brow, the awareness in his light brown eyes, the solidness of his jaw. He remained a good-looking man even in his golden years.

"Dune looks a lot like you," she said without thinking. Her cheeks warmed.

"You've got a keen eye," the older man said. "The family notices our similarity, but you're the first outsider to do so."

Outsider. That was how he saw her. His attitude might never change. She inhaled deeply, trying not to let her hurt feelings show. If she was going to make the museum a success, she had to get organized.

She looked around the room, at its cracked walls and scuffed floors. She'd never cleaned beyond wiping down her kitchen counter. How hard could it be? Still, she hesitated to get started.

"I have to get back to the office," Trace said, breaking the silence. He kissed Shaye a second time, then crossed to Sophie. He gave her a quick hug, lowering his voice near her ear. "You can do this, Sophie. I'm very proud of you."

He left the shop, his words giving her confidence. She needed it. Everyone was watching her, waiting for instructions. She said the first thing that came to mind. "Pick a spot and scrub."

That was all the direction they needed. Her helpers began to sweep, scrub walls, and do windows.

Sophie got busy, too. She discussed shelving and glass-front displays with Kai, listening to his suggestions and adding her own ideas. He took the measurements for shelving additions, while she checked to see how the clean-up work was progressing.

By noon, the morning shift had departed, all but Mac. He stuck it out. The afternoon crew, consisting of Jenna, Eden, and Nicole, showed up at one. Mac glanced at Jen and Jen returned his stare. Sophie saw the heat in Mac's eyes and the longing in Jen's own before Jen looked away. They were definitely into each other, she thought.

Molly delivered a late lunch from the diner. They ate picnic-style. Everyone sat on the floor and enjoyed grilled cheese sandwiches and double-chocolate fudge brownies.

Sophie found Frank watching her throughout the day. He caught her at the worst moments. Like when she was carrying a cleaning bucket and backed into a wall. The water spilled out and soaked her T-shirt.

Mac was Mac. He let out a low whistle, his eyes wandering to her breasts. "Wet T-shirt contest," he called, encouraging the other women to participate.

Damp sponges flew at Mac from every direction. Eden had the best aim. She caught Mac in the face. He inhaled lemon soap and blew a bubble. The man had talent.

Sophie tugged on the hem of her shirt, drawing the cotton away from her chest. She wished she'd brought a change of clothes.

Jenna saved her from further embarrassment. She went to Three Shirts and returned with a dry yellow tee. Heigh Ho, Heigh Ho, It's Off To Work I Go was scripted on the front.

Shortly after that, Sophie tripped over a broom. She couldn't help it. Her thoughts were on Dune and she ran into Eden, who was sweeping up the floor. Eden was apologetic, but it wasn't her fault. Moments later, Sophie stepped on a full dustpan and the contents spilled on the clean floor. She felt bad, making extra work for Eden.

Her friends knew she was clumsy, but Frank didn't. She'd wanted to make a good impression. She hadn't succeeded. She found that disappointing.