Pillow Chase. Jeanie London

floral arrangements, sparkling glassware and a variety of goodies catered by a well-known teahouse she’d heard many of the women rave over.

      She wanted to make a good impression—the officers’ wives were a tight network on this naval base, a support system through the steady rounds of “hails and farewells,” bosses’ nights and unaccompanied tours. Through them, she could learn the social dos and don’ts to help further Troy’s career.

      For some reason, her infiltration into their ranks hadn’t been smooth, and she’d wanted this tea to bridge the distance. She remembered smiling while gazing around that beautifully decorated room.

      And she’d still been smiling when she’d donated every last finger sandwich to a local ministry because none of her guests had shown up. Not one. The women had made their point that day—they wouldn’t accept her no matter what she did to fit in.

      Opening her eyes, Miranda forced herself to meet her reflection, to acknowledge that this hadn’t been her first failure, though it definitely qualified as her most spectacular. She’d dubbed those women the witchy wives that day, and refused, absolutely refused, to let them make her life miserable. But despite that vow, she’d begun dreading the orders that took Troy away. When he left, she felt stranded across the country from friends and family.

      And from Troy.

      Even worse was that she couldn’t discuss the problem with Troy. Wouldn’t discuss it. Early in their marriage he’d made it clear he expected her to handle what came up while he was gone, trusted her to deal with their domestic life.

      Funny, but she remembered that debacle almost as clearly as hosting the officers’ wives tea.

      Things had seemed pretty simple and straightforward at the time. Her car had needed some expensive repairs, and the dealer had recommended trading it in on a newer model rather than pouring money into hers. She agreed but had wanted Troy’s input before signing off on a three-year loan.

      She’d tried to contact him for several days via their usual lines of communications, but when she didn’t hear back from him, she’d assumed he was out of touch on a mission. Since the situation hadn’t been an emergency, she’d done the next best thing and sent him a telegram.

      What she hadn’t realized was that her telegram would be handled by a lot of people on its way to Troy.

      Everyone from the telegram messenger and the chaplain to his unit commander and team members had learned the details of her transportation situation. Troy’s response had been equally simple and straightforward—deal with it.

      She’d never meant to embarrass him and had learned a valuable lesson. Her husband was in special operations and didn’t need to be distracted with minutiae. Distractions risked a lot more than a disgruntled client or a lost account. Troy’s life hung in the balance of his job performance, along with the lives of his teammates and their mission objectives.

      If Troy had any idea how badly the situation had degenerated at home, he’d be worrying about her while trying to work. She refused to let that happen. Not for a bunch of witchy women who shouldn’t be bothering her.

      But they were. For some reason their rejection had made her doubt herself. She should be above their petty rudeness, but she’d started questioning whether she was cut out for the military, if her upbringing and family name had paved her way by making life too easy.

      She’d been a big fish in the little pond of Niagara Falls. She’d never considered the obstacles she might encounter as a little fish in a big pond. But she was facing them now.

      And had vowed to overcome them.

      She would keep the home fires burning so Troy could look forward to returning home to a wife who couldn’t wait for him to get there. She would keep her worries out of their bed while on this fantasy vacation.

      She just wished the job didn’t feel quite so big.

      3

      MIRANDA WOULD SAY one thing—Laura Granger had created a fantasy with her Wedding Wing. As she and Troy headed toward the elevator to take them down to the third floor, she couldn’t help but marvel at the grandeur of this new addition.

      She would never have guessed the oddball girl who’d been a constant irritation during school would be responsible for breathing life back into this old hotel.

      As Laura had always been the one lurking in the shadows, Miranda couldn’t help but think how life had reversed their positions. Laura stood in the spotlight of her grand opening, while Miranda had come on this vacation to escape.

      Slipping her fingers through Troy’s, she took comfort in his touch and tried to shake this contemplative mood.

      She was thinking again.

      As always, Troy proved a great distraction. When the elevator deposited them on the third floor, he slipped his arm around her and pulled her close for a quick kiss before directing her to the room where the photojournalist had set up headquarters during the grand opening.

      Miranda couldn’t imagine what the man had cooked up with her sister and Laura Granger. Tyler Tripp might be acclaimed for his work, but he was also thoroughly disreputable looking, exactly the sort of more-tattoos-than-college-credits type of man her sister typically got involved with. Given their shared interest in journalism, Miranda couldn’t believe Victoria had hooked up with ultraprofessional Adam Grant instead.

      “All set?” Troy asked when they arrived at the room.

      “Showtime.”

      He knocked. Taking a deep breath, Miranda steeled herself as the door opened, but to her surprise, Tyler wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Only Victoria.

      “Thanks for coming.” Her sister resembled their mother in appearance with her bright red hair and fair skin, but the similarities ended there. Victoria’s enthusiasm was all her own.

      “Not a problem that I came, too, is it?” Troy asked.

      Wrapping her arms around Troy’s neck, Victoria gave him a hug. “Of course not. You’re my favorite bro-in-law.”

      He was Victoria’s only brother-in-law, as they all well knew, but Troy clearly appreciated the welcome. So did Miranda. She forced a smile.

      Laura Granger waited inside, and she didn’t look nearly as enthusiastic to see them. They’d grown up disliking each other. Laura was everything Miranda wasn’t—tall and slim with white-blond hair, pale blue eyes and luminous skin. Given the way their families led separate lives, comparisons were inevitable. Given their differences, disliking those comparisons was also inevitable.

      And people in their town were fascinated by a prominent family that had split down the middle. While Miranda had the benefit of hailing from the still respectable and affluent side of the family, Laura had suffered her family’s fall from grace with not much to define her but her stunning looks and ambitious academic marks. She’d been out of her league with the other students at prestigious Westfalls Academy.

      Add Victoria to the mix now, with her glorious hair and come-hither smiles, and it might explain why Miranda suddenly felt like the runt of the litter.

      “Nice to see you both.” With her smile firmly in place, Laura was in full hospitality management mode. “Thanks for meeting with us on your day off.”

      “So what’s up?” Miranda directed her question to her sister, eager to get this ball rolling. The sooner they got to the point, the sooner she could deal with the fallout and get on with her day. And there would be fallout. After a lifetime of dealing with Victoria, she knew there was always fallout.

      “I’m here to sell you on an idea, big sis.” She gestured them to the sofa while heading toward the desk and Laura. “Sit. Would you like anything to drink?”

      Shaking her head, Miranda sat beside Troy, who nudged his knee against hers as if to say, “This should be interesting.”

      No doubt. “Might