The House On Sugar Plum Lane. Judy Duarte

planned to trim and weed around it.”

      That wasn’t exactly what she meant. “I’m not sure how much work the Davilas want you to do, but I’d be happy to pay you extra to get those bushes healthy once more. It just seems that…” What? she asked herself. That she somehow owed it to Ellie Rucker to put things back to rights? “…well, let’s just say I’d like to see the roses bloom the way they should.”

      “You got it,” Eddie said as they returned to the front yard, where Brandon and Callie waited. “I’ll get some numbers to the Davilas, and we’ll take it from there.”

      Amy nodded as Eddie headed toward his pickup.

      When she returned her attention to Brandon, she said, “Why don’t I give you a call on your cell? I think it’s better if we talk privately about this.”

      “I don’t like not knowing what you’re up to,” Brandon said as he placed a hand on Callie’s shoulder.

      “I’m not ‘up to’ anything. There’s a perfectly good explanation.” Well, he might not consider it a good one. But Amy wasn’t moving to Fairbrook. And she wasn’t dating anyone.

      “Aren’t you going with us?” Callie asked.

      “Not today, honey. I’m afraid I can’t. But have fun.”

      “Should I bring her back here?” Brandon asked.

      “No.” Amy would have to figure out a Plan B, whatever that might be. “Tell me what time you’ll have her home, and I’ll be there.”

      “How about two?” he asked.

      She nodded, thinking she’d better get busy if she wanted to get any work—or any snooping—done.

      Brandon drove his black late-model Mercedes through the traffic on his way to Chuck E. Cheese’s, a place he’d only been to once and hadn’t appreciated as much as everyone else seemed to. He preferred to eat at restaurants that didn’t cater to kids.

      As he stopped at the intersection of Canyon and Main, he noticed a man in blue coveralls sweeping the sidewalk in front of a café. He didn’t give it much thought until he caught sight of the guy’s profile. From the side, he looked familiar.

      Brandon tried to check him out, but he pushed his broom around the corner, disappearing from view.

      His dad?

      No, it couldn’t be. His old man had probably drunk himself to death by now. Besides, what would he be doing in Fairbrook? He didn’t have any family or friends here.

      “Daddy?”

      Brandon glanced in the rearview mirror at Callie, who sat in her car seat in back. “Yes, honey?”

      “How come the light is green and you’re not going?”

      Oh, for Pete’s sake. Brandon glanced at the traffic light, saw that it wasn’t going to get any greener, and started across the street.

      “I can’t wait to go to Chuck E. Cheese’s,” Callie said. “It’s the funnest place in the world.”

      Ever since leaving Sugar Plum Lane, the little girl had been chattering up a storm. But it wasn’t the child he wanted to talk to right now; it was her mother, who was clearly up to something.

      The divorce had been an unexpected blow, but he’d gone along with it, thinking that a fight wasn’t in anyone’s best interest. Then Amy had insisted upon moving back to the townhome in Del Mar, which left him living alone in a sprawling four-bedroom executive house in La Jolla with a killer view, where he only returned at night to sleep.

      Of course, he’d been sleeping like crap ever since Amy and Callie moved out. What had gotten into the woman who’d once been so levelheaded and predictable? She’d morphed into a woman he no longer knew.

      “I’ll call and explain,” she’d told him.

      But when? Next week?

      He slipped on the Bluetooth, then called her cell instead. The phone rang several times before Amy finally answered.

      “Hello?”

      “Did you lose your phone? You were supposed to call me.”

      “No, I…”

      Brandon meant to be patient. He really did. But he couldn’t help pressing for an answer. “What’s going on, Amy?”

      She blew out a sigh, as though that simple explanation wasn’t so simple after all. “Remember how I told you that my mother had been searching for her biological family?”

      Vaguely, but he’d been pretty busy and hadn’t paid a lot of attention to things that hadn’t concerned him. He couldn’t admit that, though, so he said, “Yes, I remember.”

      “Well, I decided to pick up the search where she left off as a tribute to her.”

      Brandon furrowed his brow. “I still don’t get it, Amy. What are you doing? Looking for ghosts in a haunted house?”

      She laughed, the lilt of her voice more of a balm on his raw and ragged emotions than anything else had been since she’d moved out, which included having more than his share of stiff drinks, slamming a fist through the wall once, and burying himself in more work.

      “In a way,” she admitted, “that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

      Okay, she’d really gone off the deep end. He again glanced in the rearview mirror, making eye contact with the little girl they’d created, a beautiful child with her mommy’s blond hair and expressive blue eyes.

      A daughter that still bound them together, whether Amy liked it or not.

      So he said, “I’m still waiting for that simple explanation you promised.”

      She inhaled, then let out a slow and steady breath. “I followed the trail to a woman named Barbara Rucker, who grew up in the house where you found me today.”

      “What’d you do? Break in?”

      “No, I’m there legally.”

      That was a relief, although his wife was so honest that her mom used to say she wouldn’t take a shortcut home. But after all they’d been through the past few months? Who knew what she’d do next.

      “Who lives in the house now?” he asked.

      “Actually, the neighbors think that I do.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “I leased the place,” she explained. “It’s furnished and still holds Mrs. Rucker’s personal belongings, so it gives me an opportunity to…look around.”

      What happened to the sensible woman he’d married, the loving mother who was a gourmet cook and had an eye for décor?

      Brandon slowly shook his head. His wife—no way was he ready to throw in the towel and refer to her as his ex yet—had surely flipped. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

      “You signed a lease?” he asked. Of course she had; she’d just told him that. But for some reason, he’d thought he’d missed something. “For how long?”

      “Six months. It’s the least amount of time they’d agree to.”

      It wasn’t about the money, but it still seemed like a big waste to him. “How much did that cost?”

      “I can afford it.”

      “That’s not the point.”

      “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

      Quite frankly, once upon a time, right after a fairy-tale courtship and wedding, he’d thought Amy had been the easiest woman in the world to understand, to love and trust, to come home to. But she’d thrown him for a loop about six months ago, right about the time her mother