"Maybe, when I think it's safe."

They said nothing more. They couldn't. Dylan was getting out to hug Presley.

"I can't believe you're with Dylan," Presley said. It was late but they were both awake, lying in Cheyenne's bed with Lucky, Cheyenne's new puppy. It had taken them two days to get back from Phoenix, so this was Presley's first night at home without her mother. It felt strange, especially with the dark memories of Anita's final night, when she'd demanded that Presley finish her off.

"I'm in love with him," Cheyenne said simply.

Presley experienced a twinge of jealousy. She so desperately wanted that same relationship with Aaron. But she'd given him up, traded him for his baby. In her mind, it was better to take the sure thing. For a child, her child and his child, she could get clean. "You deserve him," she said when she'd mastered her emotions enough to say the words.

Cheyenne reached for her hand. "It's okay, isn't it? You haven't lost anything, Pres. Now you'll have two people to love you instead of just one."

Dylan had treated her well when they picked her up. He'd always been nice, but there was added kindness in his words and actions tonight. There was also the tenderness he showed her sister. That gave Presley hope she might find a man like him someday, even if it wasn't his brother.

"Do you think you'll get married?" she asked, pulling Lucky closer to her body.

"Maybe." Her sister's smile was barely discernible in the dark. "I'm pretty sure I'd like that."

"Tomorrow night is New Year's Eve. Seems fitting, doesn't it?"

"What do you mean?" Her sister was getting tired, starting to drift off.

"We'll both be living new and different lives in the new year."

The weather was beautiful for Anita's funeral, which was held on January 3. So many people came out. All of Cheyenne's friends were there, including a very pregnant Gail and her movie-star husband, Simon. Most of Presley's friends came, too. The Amos boys turned out-except Aaron, of course-in suits, no less. They looked as respectable as any man there, especially Dylan, who'd cut his hair. Joe and his father attended, too, along with the Harmons, the hospice nurse, Marcy Mostats-Passuello, even Chief Stacy. As they lowered the casket into the ground not far from the place where little Mary Hatfield was buried and began shoveling dirt on top, Cheyenne couldn't help but think how grateful she was that Anita had brought her and Presley to Whiskey Creek seventeen years ago.

This was her home. These people were her family.

She could feel Dylan at her side, a constant source of strength. Presley had talked her into taking an over-the-counter pregnancy test before the funeral, and she'd been slightly disappointed to learn that she wasn't pregnant. Seeing Gail's extended stomach and knowing Presley's would soon be the same made her crave a baby, too. But there would be time for children-after she and Dylan were married.

As the mourners came by to hug her and Presley before moving off toward the B and B, where many of them had parked, she could see Clarence Holloway, the undertaker, waiting to speak with her. No doubt he was eager to discuss his bill, but she didn't want Dylan to be around when they did. She knew he'd try to pay for it, and she didn't think it was fair for him to bear that expense.

Excusing herself the moment Eve started talking to him and Presley was preoccupied, she walked over to Clarence. "Thank you for arranging such a lovely service."

He bent his head. "That's what we do at the Holloway Family Funeral Home."

She cleared her throat. "I know I owe you quite a lot of money. I'd like to assure you that I have every intention of paying. Have you decided whether or not you'd be willing to set up monthly installments?" She'd asked him twice before, once just yesterday, but he'd never given her a commitment. He kept saying he'd think about it as if he'd capitulate only if he had no other choice.

"There's no need for that," he said.

What did he mean? She shifted on her feet, feeling awkward and wanting to get this over with before Dylan could join them. "Excuse me?"

He handed her a piece of paper. "I was just waiting to give you this."

"What is it?" she asked, but he didn't answer.

She opened it, and saw the word Invoice was stamped across the top. The total for the funeral and burial, written in red, could be found at the bottom: $5,200. It was a fortune to her. But then she saw a zero below that, after the words Total Due.

"I don't understand." She frowned at him.

He nodded toward those still lingering at the grave-Gail, Simon, Sophia, Ted, Riley, Noah, Baxter, Callie, Kyle, Eve and a few others. They were planning to go over to the coffee shop together so they could spend some time with Gail and Simon while they were in town. "Your friends split the bill. They've covered everything."

Cheyenne felt her eyebrows shoot up. "But...they shouldn't have done that! You shouldn't have let them. This isn't their responsibility."

"They said you'd complain. So they told me to give you this, too."

Stunned, Cheyenne accepted the card he thrust into her hands. It was a sympathy card, one created by Callie on the computer, with pictures of them as a group in Santa Cruz, San Francisco and Tahoe. Her favorite was the photograph of them at their graduation. They looked so young in their caps and gowns....

The bottom read "That's what friends are for."

"Don't be nervous." Dylan's presence, his support, soothed Cheyenne, but there was no way she could master her nerves. She'd finally garnered the courage to call Eugene Crouch. Now she was sitting in the anteroom of his office in Danville, waiting to meet with him. She had no idea what he might reveal or what that information might mean to her life, which was why she'd delayed scheduling this meeting until Gail and Simon had gone back to L.A. and she'd booked Presley into a rehab facility in Walnut Creek not far away.

"What do you think he'll say?" she whispered.

"That he's been looking for you a long time," Dylan replied.

Cheyenne drew a deep breath. She was so happy now. Was she crazy to risk that happiness by opening a Pandora's box?

The door opened and a tall, gaunt-looking man peered out at her. Despite his height and craggy features, he had a gentle demeanor. She liked him immediately. "Well, hello, Cheyenne Christensen." He smiled. "I can't tell you how glad I am to see you."

"Thank you," she managed.

"Are you ready for this?"

"I hope so."

He came to her and gave her his hand, then turned to Dylan. "And this is..."

"My boyfriend, Dylan Amos."

They shook hands, too. "I'm glad you came along." Mr. Crouch indicated his inner office with a jerk of his head. "Let's go have a seat."

Dylan's hand felt warm against her cold fingers as they followed Eugene Crouch and took the seats he offered them.

"I was pleased to hear from you the other day," he said as he rounded his desk.

"It wasn't an easy call to make," she admitted.

"I can understand why. I'm sorry to hear about...I guess we should call her Anita. Cancer is a difficult way to go."

Cheyenne didn't know what to say to that. She wasn't sure why he was being so generous toward the woman who'd kidnapped her. She was back to feeling angry again. Somehow, she could forgive Presley. Presley was as much a victim as she was. But Anita... "Is my real family looking for me?" she asked.

"Yes. They have been for some time. They've hired a number of private investigators over the years. They were working with an associate of mine, who tracked Anita to California. Then, at his recommendation, they hired me, since he lives in Colorado."

"Where do they live?"

"They're also in Denver."

A place where it snowed... "Is that where I was born?"

"Yes, ma'am." He slid a birth certificate across his desk. "I believe this belongs to you."

Her hand shook as she reached over to take a look. She'd wanted that simple paper, a paper most people took for granted, for so long. "Jewel Montrose," she read, and glanced at him. "That's my real name?"

"It was."

Jewel Montrose... Cheyenne had no recollection of ever being called that. The sound of it was strange. "Can you tell me about the blonde woman?" she asked. "Was she my mother?"

"You remember Victoria?"

She closed her eyes, conjuring up the image that had confused her for so many years. "I remember her face. She was very pretty."

"She's still pretty," he said when she opened her eyes. "But no longer blonde. I'm afraid that, like mine, her hair's gone gray."

Her attention switched back to the birth date. "This says my birthday is July 5."

"Yes. Is that the one you've been celebrating?"

She shook her head. Anita probably hadn't known her real birthday so she'd given her one-May 15. She was nearly two months younger than she'd thought. At least Anita had gotten the correct year. "Are you sure you have the right person?" she asked, feeling more and more unsettled.

"I am. You look exactly like your mother. But it would be wise to do a DNA test, just to be sure. It wouldn't be a pleasant experience for you or her to meet and then learn..."

He let his words fall off but Cheyenne understood what he meant.

If they connected and then learned they weren't related, they'd both be disappointed. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to feel she'd found her real family at last, only to discover it was a case of mistaken identity.

"Okay," she said. "Does that mean I have to go to a lab? Or..."

"Actually, it's much simpler than that. I have the kit right here." He swiveled to get inside a drawer. "We just need to swab your cheek and send it in. I'll be in touch as soon as I have the results."

She followed the instructions he gave her. Then, when he'd placed the swab securely in its vial, she gathered up her purse and stood. "How long does it take to get the results?"

"A few weeks at most."

Telling herself she should save all other questions until this vital piece of information was in place, she started to leave, but her curiosity got the better of her, and she turned back at the door. "Do you know how it happened?"

"How-"

"I was abducted? From where?"

"A preschool located near a park. It was during a blizzard. As the parents were coming to pick up their children, there was an accident in the parking lot. The teacher walked over to make sure no one was hurt and when she turned around, there was one less child lined up against the wall."

"So how did you ever track me?"

"That teacher, a Ms. Grimwald, had met Anita a few days earlier. Anita had approached her to see if she needed any volunteers in the classroom. Because she smelled of alcohol and wasn't particularly...respectable-looking, Ms. Grimwald told her that anyone who had contact with the children had to pass a background check, and Anita immediately backed off. Ms. Grimwald thought her behavior strange enough to mention that incident to the police. Then someone else came forward to say she saw a woman matching that description in a car pulling out of the school the day you went missing. Your mother realized it was the same person she'd hired to help get the house ready for a charity event. Victoria had allowed her to bring her daughter over to play one afternoon while she worked, and in the course of their conversation she happened to mention where you went to school."

"That sounds like Anita-taking advantage of someone who was trying to be nice to her. So my abduction was reported."

"Absolutely. The police had Anita's name, her description and the make and model of her car. Thanks to the fact that she already had a record for minor infractions, they even had a photograph. But they were never able to find her. She didn't go by *Anita' back then. She kept changing her name, which complicated matters."

"But my family didn't give up."

"No, they didn't give up."

She slid her hand inside Dylan's. "Do I have a father?"

"You do. Walt is sixty this year. He and Victoria are still married and love each other very much."

Dylan's fingers tightened around hers. "Siblings?"

"A younger brother. Victoria couldn't have any more children after that. Fertility issues."

Cheyenne tried to imagine a "Walt" and a younger brother to go with her "Victoria" but couldn't. "I had a bedroom with a canopy bed."

He smiled. "Yes, you did."

The next two weeks passed with agonizing slowness. Cheyenne tried to throw herself into the remodel at the B and B, which was taking longer than expected. She also worked with Gail over the phone, trying to gain the interest of Unsolved Mysteries. She wanted to help Eve kick off the inn's upgrades and new name in grand style-with the type of PR that would really attract attention. But the whole time, her mind was on that DNA test she'd taken in Eugene Crouch's office and what might happen once the results were in.

She was at the inn when she got the call. Eve was sitting at the other desk in their small back office, paying bills, but swung around the second she heard Cheyenne say, "Oh, my God!"

"What is it?" she asked as Cheyenne hung up.

"The DNA was a match. My name is really Jewel Montrose. My birthday isn't May 15, it's July 5. And I'm from Denver, Colorado."

With a scream, Eve jumped up to hug her. "I can't believe it!"

"My parents want to meet me...er, see me."

"When?"

Her mind was racing. "As soon as I can come. They told Eugene to buy me a plane ticket."

"That's fine. Go this weekend. I can manage here. I'll even go visit Presley."

"This facility doesn't permit visitors for the first month." Cheyenne covered her mouth, then dropped her hands. "Those memories I had, they were right all along."

Eve's eyebrows came together. "Why didn't you ever tell me about the blonde woman?"

"Because I wasn't sure about her. I didn't want to claim I'd been stolen without some sort of proof."

Eve smiled. "Now that you have your birth certificate, we can go to Europe."