Faith, Hope and Family. GINA WILKINS

      “Yes, they do.” Keeping her voice totally disinterested, she said, “I heard that Adrienne insisted on inviting you. How come you didn’t show up?”

      “It’s not like you to ask stupid questions.”

      His curt reply made her temper flare again. “Then I’m sorry I asked.”

      He sighed. “I didn’t want any unpleasantness to cast a shadow over the wedding. I knew you wouldn’t want me there. And, despite my new friendship with Adrienne, Gideon and I still barely speak. For their sake, and for your mother’s, I didn’t want to risk any problems.”

      “I really couldn’t care less if you were there or not. And my mother would have been as gracious to you as she was to any of the other guests.”

      He obviously didn’t buy her implication that he no longer had the power to stir any emotions, even negative ones, in her, but he didn’t challenge her on that. “I always admired your mother, you know. A real class act. The way she’s being so kind to her exhusband’s orphaned little girl—well, that just confirms what I always thought about her.”

      Deborah had no intention of discussing her family scandals with him. “I’m sure my mother would be pleased that you think so highly of her.”

      He made a sound that might have been a laugh. “I’m sure your mother couldn’t care less what I think of her.”

      She tapped the steering wheel again. “Are you going to write me a ticket or not?”

      This time his laugh was a bit more natural. The one that had always warmed some cold little spot deep inside her heart—and would have done so again if she hadn’t steeled herself against it. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a speeder actually demand a citation from me before.”

      She scowled. “Well?”

      “No ticket. I’ll just advise you to slow down for the remainder of your drive.”

      “Then I’m free to go?”

      He dropped his arm to his side and stepped back from the car. His voice was suddenly weary when he replied, “I’ve never tried to stop you from leaving, Deborah.”

      Not trusting herself to speak, she put the car in gear and drove away, well aware that he remained where he was until she was out of his sight.

      Deborah was up early the next morning, having managed only a few hours of sleep after returning from her midnight drive. Following the scents of coffee and freshly baked sticky buns, she wandered into the kitchen where her mother stood at the counter slicing fruit. Impeccable as always, Lenore McCloud was already dressed in a cream blouse and a tailored camel skirt. Her once-dark hair was now liberally streaked with gray. It was sleekly styled, not a strand out of place.

      Conscious of her own tumbled, dark-blond hair, baggy T-shirt, plaid dorm pants and bare feet, Deborah cleared her throat. “I feel like I’ve walked into one of those old TV sitcoms. You’re even wearing pearls.”

      Lenore reached up automatically to touch one of her earrings and then the gleaming strand at her throat. “I have a civic committee meeting this morning at ten. And the pearls match the outfit.”

      “Of course they do. You always match.”

      Lenore glanced at Deborah’s outfit, but chose not to comment. “You were out rather late last night, weren’t you?”

      Deborah hadn’t realized her mother had heard her leave. She should have known better. Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she replied casually, “I couldn’t sleep. Decided to drive around for a while.”

      “Is there anything in particular on your mind? Something you would like to talk about?”

      Carrying the coffee to the table in the cheery, bay-shaped breakfast nook, Deborah shook her head. “I guess I was still wired from the wedding.”

      Lenore joined her at the table, which was already set for breakfast for two. She set a plate of sticky buns and a bowl of fruit in the center, then fetched a cup of coffee for herself. “I’m so glad everything went perfectly yesterday. It was a lovely wedding, wasn’t it?”

      “Lovely.” Deborah helped herself to a sticky bun, ignoring the fruit for the moment.

      “Gideon looked happier than I’ve ever seen him.”

      “He did look surprisingly content, didn’t he? Who would have believed he, of all people, would get involved in a whirlwind courtship and be married so quickly? What’s it been, two whole months since he and Adrienne met face-to-face for the first time?”

      Lenore smiled mistily. “It’s nice to see both my boys so happy with their new brides.”

      Deborah plucked a pecan from the top of her bun, then popped it into her mouth. “Nathan’s always happy.”

      “Well, not always, perhaps.”

      “C’mon, Mom, you know he’s the sunniest-natured of your offspring. You long ago labeled me the temperamental one and Gideon the moody one. Nathan has always been the happy-go-lucky, optimistic older brother whose personal mission is to make sure the rest of us are safe and content.”

      “You and Gideon did tend to be more…challenging than Nathan,” Lenore admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I’m more partial to him—or to any of you. I love my children equally.”

      “I know,” Deborah conceded. “And I’m glad you and Nathan were able to settle your differences. I know it was hurting you both when you were estranged.”

      Lenore smiled a bit wryly. “I could never stay angry with Nathan for long. No one could.”

      “Except me, of course,” Deborah murmured into her coffee cup.

      “Except you,” Lenore agreed evenly, her smile deepening a bit.

      “Still, you’re sure you haven’t gone overboard with this Isabelle thing? The way she tagged around behind you at the wedding yesterday, calling you ‘Nanna,’ treating you like her grandmother—that can’t be a comfortable situation for you.”

      Lenore pulled herself straighter in her chair, her green eyes snapping with what might have been annoyance. “That’s nonsense. I’m perfectly comfortable with the way things are. I know you’ve spent very little time around her, but Isabelle is an extraordinary four-year-old. She’s bright, funny and well-behaved. And, since Nathan and Caitlin will be raising her with their own children, should they have any, she will probably always see me as a grandmother. Why would I mind that?”

      Deborah could think of a half dozen reasons why—starting with the fact that Isabelle was the product of an extramarital affair between her father, former gubernatorial candidate Stuart McCloud, and a young campaign worker only a couple of years older than Deborah. The affair had become public only months before the election, putting an end to Stuart’s campaign—and to his thirty-year marriage to Lenore, who had been both humiliated and devastated by the scandal. Still, Lenore had held her head high with characteristic dignity and poise.

      A senior in an out-of-state college at the time, Deborah had never again spoken to her father after he left his family to marry his young mistress. Nathan-the-peacemaker had been the only one of the siblings to maintain a relationship with their father, though it had been a distant one since Stuart and Kimberly had moved to California to begin their new life together. Nathan was the only one who had visited Stuart there, where he had fallen hard for his little half sister.

      When Stuart and Kimberly had died in a tourist accident in Mexico just over a year ago, Nathan had been named executor of the orphaned toddler’s inheritance. And when arrangements for her care in California had fallen through, Nathan had brought her into his home, had himself appointed her guardian and announced his intention to raise her himself. With his new wife’s help, of course.

      Lenore hadn’t accepted that development easily. At first, she had felt hurt and betrayed by Nathan’s actions,