The Housekeeper's Daughter. Christine Flynn

and the empty pop cans. She picked up a couple of investment magazines from the long, red leather sofa, added them to a stack by one of the matching wing chairs and gave the dark mahogany tables a quick polishing with a dust rag. The men and the kids had obviously hung out there part of the day.

      She had just moved beneath the large painting of hunting dogs above the desk and was adding the last of the glasses to the tray to take to the kitchen when the squeak of a board outside the open French doors caused her head to jerk up.

      Gabe stood at the threshold. In each hand he held a glass of champagne.

      It wasn’t until he stepped inside that she realized the champagne was for her.