The Danforths: Toby, Lea and Adam. Anne Marie Winston

limousine where Heather took a deep, cleansing breath and embraced the sudden sound of silence.

      “To Crofthaven,” Toby told the driver.

      No more directions were necessary than the name of the Danforth family estate where Toby promised “kith and kin galore.” He either chose to ignore the look of panic that flitted across Heather’s face at that pronouncement or simply missed it in the middle of fretting about Dylan.

      “I was surprised he went to Genie so easily,” he admitted.

      “And that he wanted to stay with her at the airport,” Heather added. A dear friend was flying in on a commercial flight arriving any minute, and Genie offered to bring Dylan back to Crofthaven in her personal car. “Your sister seems very nice.”

      “She is,” Toby assured her with typical big brother pride. “Actually all my relatives are. The worst thing about living so far away is missing out on family functions—and,” he added with a wry grin, “maybe the best thing, too.”

      When Heather gave him an odd look, he hastened to explain. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my family. It’s just that I’m not much for black-tie functions like the big party Uncle Abe is throwing on the Fourth to launch his political campaign. I wouldn’t have agreed to come home if Dad hadn’t specifically asked me to. That man’s sense of family obligation doesn’t stop at the state line. Nor Uncle Abe’s—hence the private jet that flew us here—although I suspect his motives are less pure than my father’s.”

      Heather nodded her head in empathy. She had endured more than her share of the kind of black- tie events to which Toby referred, not to mention undue family influence about what she wanted to do with her own life.

      “How were you able to strike out on your own without severing the family ties completely?” she asked.

      Having done everything in her power to avoid being alone with Toby in his home for the three short days that she had been working for him, this was the first time they had actually been together without Dylan present. Given the state of her hormones whenever Toby was near, it was far less awkward than Heather would have imagined. Like the TV dinner they had shared in front of the television that first night of her employment, it was amazingly cozy. If she wasn’t careful, Heather knew she might start feeling like a real part of Toby’s family. She was both flattered and flummoxed that her boss treated her more like a friend than an employee.

      “My family accepts me for who and what I am. Luckily, they don’t feel the need to mold me into something that I’m not. They just reel me in once in a while and remind me that I’m one of their own.”

      “That must be nice,” Heather said. Unable to come up with a better adjective, the wistful tone of her voice gave away the pain of her own family situation.

      “It certainly makes me appreciate family all the more when I get the chance to come home. It’s good for Dylan, too. A child needs to know that he’s part of a tree with roots, not just some cottonseed blown across the continent.”

      Heather took the remark to heart. That was exactly how she felt. Like a seed tossed upon a hapless wind. She envied Toby the ability to do exactly what he wanted with his life without fear of being disowned for doing so. Dylan was a lucky little boy to be born into such a family.

      She stared out the window. This was the first time she had ever been in Savannah. As the name itself suggested with its softly drawn syllables, it was a city of gracious living. The air was scented with magnolia blossoms as big as a man’s open hand, dotting tree-lined streets that grew less and less modern the farther they traveled away from the airport.

      The lush landscape of the South was a stark contrast to the wide-open spaces of Wyoming. They followed the Savannah River as it meandered through town. It reminded Heather of a grand old lady who was in no hurry to reach her destination but rather was intent on enjoying the journey itself. As the city gave way to the country, white-columned plantations evoked images of Scarlett O’Hara and a time lost to all but the blood of a civil war that soaked into the soil and permeated the very air itself. The voices of ghosts whispered through the Spanish moss hanging like tinsel from dignified oaks.

      “What about your family?” Toby inquired, which pulled her gaze back into the vehicle and herself into the present moment.

      Heather’s voice was small.

      “Not all parents are as understanding as yours.”

      Toby looked at her quizzically. “What do you mean?”

      Naturally introverted, Heather wasn’t inclined to speak of private issues, but for some reason she felt safe sharing a little bit of herself with a man whose eyes looked upon her so kindly. Perhaps a brief explanation might help him understand any perceived aloofness on her part when it came time for her to interact with the hordes of his siblings, cousins and aunts and uncles. She hoped he would approve a moment or two of the quiet contemplation that she needed to feel centered every day.

      “As an only child, all the noise and confusion of a big family like yours is strange to me. Unlike your parents, mine pinned all their hopes on me fulfilling their dreams. I’m afraid I’ve disappointed them terribly.”

      “I can’t imagine any parents not being proud of such a lovely, talented daughter,” Toby said. “If they lost a child, they might well rethink their judgmental attitude.”

      His expression was so solemn, and his voice so earnest, that it almost caused tears to spring to Heather’s eyes. She wondered who in his family had lost a loved one tragically. All this talk of family only served to rip the stitches from fresh wounds. Just because this man had soothed her fear of flying on the plane didn’t mean he had shoulders broad enough for more problems than his own. She tried to make light of her pain.

      “It’s understandable given the amount of money they spent on my training and…”

      Heather’s attention was momentarily diverted as the driver pulled into a driveway leading to what appeared to be a museum of sorts. A wrought-iron gate with a curlicued D announcing the Danforth estate swung open splitting the letter in two. She gasped in astonishment.

      “This is where you grew up?”

      “Thankfully, no.” Toby’s voice rustled in his throat. “The poor side of the family lives down the road.”

      The lack of bitterness in his voice led Heather to believe he was exaggerating his circumstances. The grounds surrounding Crofthaven underscored her initial impression of the prominent Danforths, portrayed in the media as a formidable and impenetrable dynasty. The estate itself was so huge and the gardens so elaborate that Heather surmised it would take an entire army of gardeners working full-time to tend the place. She wondered if the grounds ran all the way to the ocean, and made a mental note to walk the perimeter of the estate the first chance she got.

      The main house, a large Georgian-style mansion, was listed as a historical landmark. Having been built over a hundred years ago, it showed no signs of neglect. Though it obviously had been modernized to include up-to-date electrical wiring and plumbing, great care had been taken to retain the original integrity of the property. Hollywood would be hard-pressed to find a better setting for an epic nineteenth-century saga.

      “It’s an amazing place,” she said.

      “It is,” Toby agreed. “But not everything is as it appears on the surface. My cousins have far fonder memories of the time they spent at my parents’ home than of their lives here. After their mother died, their childhood was marked by loneliness and some emotional neglect on the part of their father. Bricks and mortar don’t make a home any more than money can necessarily buy character.”

      Heather couldn’t argue that point. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a slight movement that sent goose bumps crawling over her flesh. Beneath a massive oak tree, she saw the figure of a woman clad in ancient garb. She was too far away to make out much more than the dark color of her hair and her turn-of-the-century clothing, but there was no mistaking that the sorrowful-looking creature was wagging a finger directly at her!