The sun's reflections danced from the water like golden sprites. She didn't know what she had expected. Of course Morgan had done well; she'd already guessed that. This wasn't movie star opulence, but it numbed her nonetheless. A home like this on the shore? Domestic help who obviously adored him, no matter what he said. It might not be deference, but Morgan inspired devotion.

"I'm glad you like it."

"Did you think I wouldn't?"

"It's not for everyone. Dad feels like he's falling off the country. He'd rather be comfortably centered."

Jill smiled, then sobered. "I wish you'd call and tell them what you're doing."

"If I die, you can fill them in."

She jerked her head up. "Morgan!"

"It's not a big deal on my part, Jill. Not like Kelsey's end of it."

"It's a big deal to her that you're doing it."

He narrowed his gaze over the water. "She can thank me when we meet."

Jill ducked her chin. "I know you want that, Morgan. But-"

"It is going to happen."

Jill struggled for words. "She has a long fight ahead."

"I've read all about it, been briefed by the shrinks, the MDs, and my lawyer."

Jill startled. "Your lawyer?"

"Bern plays a part in all my major decisions."

She wasn't sure where he was going with that. Why would he need a lawyer in order to help Kelsey?

"I always enter negotiations with a full deck."

Jill shook her head. "Morgan, what are you talking about?"

"The Bensons' refusal to let me see Kelsey."

Her heart sank. "It's their decision. My agreement with them was noninterference until Kelsey was legal age."

"Your agreement was made without my consent." His voice was cold steel.

Dismay coursed through her. "What do you mean?"

"I never terminated my parental rights."

Her heart went into a slow, lumbering beat. "Morgan ..." She had no idea what his rights were, but if he wanted to make things difficult, she had no doubt he could.

He turned to face her. "My bone marrow could give her a second chance at life. My money is paying for that chance."

A clumsy leap of her heart. "You're paying-"

"That's right. I've transferred enough funds to the foundation to cover the transplant and more."

"How? When?" They'd been on the road since he heard about Kelsey's foundation.

He only smiled. She should be thrilled. Hadn't she seen that as God's plan, the perfect details falling into place? But what if Morgan meant to use it as a weapon? She couldn't believe he would, but what did she know? From what she'd seen already, he moved in circles the Bensons had never imagined.

"Then you know what's involved for Kelsey. You know her battle. Please don't do anything to make it harder."

"Do you think I would?" His eyes chilled. "But up to now every decision's been made without me. I want you to know that's over."

Her hand shook on the rail. What would he do? What could he do? Jill's voice shook. "This isn't a merger or, or whatever you do. It's a little girl-"

"My little girl."

"No, Morgan. She's not yours. Or mine."

He turned his back to the rail and stared into the house.

"Roger and Cinda are her parents." She had to make it real for him. "They've raised her from the day she was born."

"I only want to see her."

"I wouldn't have seen her either if-"

"But you did."

Jill swallowed the tightening in her throat. He was right. Roger and Cinda had given her more than they were willing to offer Morgan. In their minds she had carried the child, given them their daughter, and Morgan had not been part of the decision. She hadn't given him the chance.

Jill dropped her forehead to her fingertips. "Please leave it alone. At least until she's recovered."

He didn't answer.

"Morgan?"

"I'll be a little busy the next few days anyway."

She sighed. "We all appreciate what you're doing."

"It's not about gratitude." His voice was rough.

She knew that. She reached a hand to his forearm. "Be patient and let God work."

He slid her a sideways glance. "You have to subscribe to receive benefits."

"So subscribe."

He stretched a half smile. "My membership ran out."

"There's no expiration date. It just rolls over into eternity."

He stroked her fingers on his forearm. "I believed that once about other things."

Her throat tightened. "I know. God's the only sure thing."

He cupped his palm over her hand. "Ah. Here's Consuela with heaven."

She came out with a large platter of tamales wrapped in cornhusks, what looked like charbroiled chicken fajita strips with wedges of avocado in soft homemade tortillas, chips and hand-chopped salsa. She set it on the galvanized circular table on the left side of the balcony. Morgan held Jill's chair, then took his own.

Jill closed her eyes and whispered her thanks, then dug in with gusto. It was authentic Mexican food that made Taco Bell a thin pretender. Especially the tamales. "These are wonderful."

Consuela smiled as she filled Jill's glass with water and a wedge of lemon. "It is my grandmother's recipe." She moved to Morgan's glass. "And Senor Morgan's favorite."

"I have lots of favorites, Consuela. You spoil me." He filled his mouth with tamale and dabbed a drip of the rich red sauce from his lips.

"Si, it is true."

Jill turned to him after Consuela left. "How long has she worked for you?"

"Four years. Juan only came a few months ago. I haven't arranged his green card yet. Wish I knew where he was working."

"Are they legal?"

"I made sure Consuela was. Her husband and two sons died five years ago from some wicked intestinal disease. Probably cholera or dysentery. He lost his job and they were living off the dumps south of the border."

"How did you find her?"

He leaned back in his chair. "One of the neighbors asked if I needed domestic help. They knew her situation."

"And Juan?"

"He was hit by a car trying to cross the border illegally by way of the interstate. He got word to Consuela, and she asked to bring him here." Morgan shrugged. "Unlike Consuela, he doesn't speak English and isn't awfully motivated to earn his way." His eyes narrowed. "That's what puzzles me about his being at work now."

"Can't you ask Consuela?"

He finished his bite. "I let them be as autonomous as they choose. With Consuela, it's not an issue. She's family. With Juan ..." He wiped a dab of avocado from his finger and raised his eyebrows. "We'll see."

Jill savored a bite of the chicken fajita. "This is so good. It's amazing you're not immense with this kind of food every day."

"I skip more meals than I eat. And I'm away a lot. My job is mostly travel."

"It must be hard to leave all this."

"It's just a place." Again the tone that expressed so much emptiness.

He straightened. "And speaking of work, if I don't catch Denise now, it will get ugly." He stood up. "Take your time. Make yourself at home."

"May I use your phone? I'll reimburse the-"

"Jill. Just use the phone." He walked away, obviously annoyed by any reference to her paying her part. Maybe that was his soft underbelly, or maybe just his generosity. He could afford her phone calls. Voted most likely to succeed, he'd done just that. So why did she sense a silent desperation underneath it all?

She stood to clear her plate.

Consuela was upon her instantly. "No, no. I will do it."

Jill didn't argue, just thanked her for the wonderful meal. In another situation she would insist on helping. But this was so foreign, she didn't know what was polite or appropriate. She wandered into the large room off the kitchen. Most of this level was open, one room flowing into the next. She picked up a fine German woodcarving, a Greek vase.

Two paintings were French, or at least the artist was French and the scenes. No surprise that Morgan was widely traveled. He'd just said his work kept him moving. And his tastes had always been eclectic. It did surprise her that he worked out of his home. She had imagined a large office in a posh high-rise, not a downstairs room with a single assistant.

She ran her hand over a marble statuette on a side table. Roman or Greek, no doubt. She looked over her shoulder at the vast tasteful room. Morgan's home. A less aesthetic man wouldn't bother to create such a complex environment in a home he scarcely lived in. But Morgan had always been attuned to that sort of thing.

She wandered down the hall to the guest room Consuela had prepared for her. The walls were a muted mustard that she would never in a million years have chosen from a paint chip, but were surprisingly pleasant and perfectly complemented the Thomasville bedding and window treatment. Beside the bed a profuse bouquet of fresh-cut red lilies and yellow freesia scented the room. She lowered her face and breathed the sweetness.

The bathroom was papered in dulled green with a floral border that matched the bedroom tones. It had been stocked with everything she might receive in a fancy hotel: a basket of shampoo, lotions, and mouthwash, a coarse-textured handmade soap, a beautiful glycerin shell. In a wire basket were a selection of Bath and Body Works prodaucts, body gel, bubble bath, and vanilla lotion. Had Consuela purchased all of that for her? At Morgan's request?

Jill washed her face and hands, flipped her damp fingers through her hair, and went back into the bedroom. She made a space in the collection of decorative throw pillows on the bed and took up the phone. She had promised Shelly a call.

"This has to be you, Jill, calling from Santa Barbara, California."

"How's Rascal?"

"He and Dan are pining."

Jill pouted. "Are you cuddling him?"

"Rascal, yes. Brett draws the line at Dan."

She didn't want to talk about Dan. "Am I getting you from dinner?"

"Nope. You forgot the time zones."

Jill glanced at the clock. It would be 8:50 in Iowa. "I am a little off-kilter."

"I bet." A tone rife with meaning.

"Well, we got in just after four and had an early dinner and-"

"Is he wonderful?"

She stared around the room, everything prepared for her comfort, no expense spared on any leg of the journey, no request denied. And Morgan himself ...

"I know that sigh. Start from the beginning. I want it all."

"Shelly ..."

In Shelly's best mad-hypnotist voice, "You will tell me everything, ev'rything."