A Time to Forgive. Marta Perry

her mind. “I won’t need that.”

      He took her hand and put the ring in her palm, his fingers warm against hers. “Just in case.” We trust you, he seemed to be saying.

      You can’t. You can’t trust me.

      “Looks as if you’re getting all set up in here.” A tall, silver-haired man paused in the doorway, his interruption saving her from blurting something that would defeat her goals even before she started.

      Adam took his hand away from hers, unhurried. “Tory, this is my father, Jefferson Caldwell.”

      “Mr. Caldwell.” He came toward her, and she shook his hand while she tried to ignore the voice in her mind.

      Jefferson and Clayton Caldwell. Her mother’s words had been disjointed and hard to follow. They were brothers, just a year apart. Her mother’s coquettish giggle had sounded out of place in the hospital room. They were both sweet on me, you know.

      Tory could easily imagine that. She’d seen pictures of her mother at fifteen, before alcohol and sorrow had weighed her down. Emily had been a golden girl, far more beautiful than Tory could ever dream of being.

      If she mentioned Emily Brandeis’s name to Jefferson Caldwell, would he remember that long-ago summer? Her mother had certainly remembered it. Rational or not, she’d traced everything that had gone wrong in her life to the events of that summer.

      Jefferson surveyed the setup that had changed his studio into her workroom, then turned to her. “Welcome to Caldwell Island, Ms. Marlowe. I hope you’re finding everything you need for this project.”

      Jefferson’s beautifully tailored jacket and silky dress shirt gave him an urbane, sophisticated air that seemed out of tune with the down-home impression she received from his brother, Clayton, whose family ran the inn.

      “Yes, thank you. I hope it won’t inconvenience you to have my workshop here.”

      “Not at all.” He waved his hand as if to encompass the entire estate. “Twin Oaks is a big enough place to accommodate all of us.”

      “It’s a beautiful house.” She said what he no doubt expected.

      “Yes, it is that.” Jefferson smiled with satisfaction at her words.

      A cold house, she thought, but who was she to judge? No house could be more frigid than her grandmother’s mansion in Savannah.

      The hospital where she’d sat beside her mother’s bed hadn’t been far from her grandmother’s Bull Street mansion, but there’d been no contact. Neither of them had expected it. Amanda Marlowe had long since cut all ties with her embarrassing daughter-in-law. Probably losing touch with her granddaughter had seemed a small price to pay.

      Her mother had moved restlessly on the bed, shaking her head from side to side. I didn’t mean for him to take his family’s heirloom. I didn’t mean it, Tory. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. Tears had overflowed. You have to find the dolphin and put it back. Promise me. Her thin hand had gripped Tory’s painfully. Promise me. You have to promise me.

      I didn’t mean for him to take it. Her mother had felt responsible for the disappearance of the carved dolphin from the island church. For reasons Tory would never understand, that guilt had haunted her during her final illness. Someone had been hurt, but who?

      I didn’t mean for him to take it. One of the Caldwells, obviously, but which brother? Jefferson or Clayton?

      She searched for something to say to drown out her mother’s voice in her mind. “I’m staying at the Dolphin Inn, you know. So I’ve become acquainted with your brother and his family.”

      Jefferson’s face froze as a chill seemed to permeate the air. “I suppose they’re making you as comfortable as they can. When the new Dalton Hotel is finished, we’ll be able to offer visitors something better than Clayton’s little operation.”

      The spurt of malice in his words silenced her. Had he really just insulted his brother to a stranger?

      Luckily Jefferson didn’t seem to expect a response. “I’ll let you get on with your work. Please ask if there’s anything else you need.” He turned and left the room before she could find a response.

      When Jefferson’s footsteps had faded down the hallway, she gave Adam a cautious look. “Did I say something I shouldn’t?”

      He shrugged, but she could almost feel the tension in his shoulders. “Nothing you could have known about, so don’t worry. My father and his brother have been on the outs for a long time. The rest of us have learned to take it for granted.”

      The silence stretched between them, broken only by a bird’s song drifting through the open window. How long a time, she wanted to ask. Since they were teenagers? Since Emily Brandeis came to the island and the dolphin vanished from the church?

      But she couldn’t ask because she wasn’t ready for these people to know who she was yet. Until she knew how they’d respond, she couldn’t risk it.

      “I’m sorry for putting my foot in it,” she said carefully. “Family feuds can be devastating.” Nobody knew that better than she did.

      “I’m used to it.”

      Was he? Or was that merely a convenient thing to believe?

      One thing was certain. Her job on the island wasn’t just another commission or a step toward the independence she longed for or even a chance to keep her promise.

      Like it or not, her history and Adam’s history were interwoven in ways he couldn’t begin to imagine.

      What was she thinking? Adam leaned against the heavy oak table, watching Tory’s face. Light from the bank of windows made her hair glint like a raven’s wing.

      He forgot, sometimes, how odd the Caldwell family feud must seem to an outsider, especially since he had no intention of telling this particular outsider anything else. She didn’t need to know that his father’s drive for success at any cost had created a wedge between him and the rest of the family, who thought he’d left his honor behind along the way.

      She also didn’t need to learn that Adam’s peacemaker role had grown increasingly difficult over the years. He’d been peacemaker between his father and brother, between his father and the rest of the family—maybe the truth was that the buffer always ended up battered by all sides.

      “It must bother you.” Her eyes went soft as brown velvet with sympathy.

      That look of hers would be enough to melt his heart if he didn’t watch out. “I suppose it does, sometimes.” She was a stranger, he reminded himself. Furthermore, she was a stranger whose presence here threatened his secret.

      Get through it, his brother had said. Matt charged at problems headlong, shoving barriers out of his way. Adam wasn’t Matt.

      He’d come up with another way of dealing with the trouble represented by Tory Marlowe. His gaze was drawn irresistibly to her. What was she thinking?

      Apparently assuming he wasn’t going to say anything else, she bent over the window panel, her fingers tracing the pieces as lovingly as he’d touch his daughter’s hair. Her dark locks were escaping from the scarf that tied them back. They curled against her neck as if they had a mind of their own.

      Deal with her, he reminded himself. Not gawk at her as if you’ve never seen a woman before.

      He didn’t want her wandering around Caldwell Cove, digging into a past that was best forgotten. So the best solution, until and unless he could find a way to derail this memorial window altogether, was to move Tory into Twin Oaks.

      “I’ve been having second thoughts about this arrangement.”

      She looked up, startled. Apparently while he was watching the way her hair curled against her skin, she’d forgotten he was in the room. “What do you mean? I thought you wanted me to work here.”

      Would