And this business about a “traumatized speech loss” was nonsense. Obviously, what she had was a temporarily loose screw. Bree was instinctively compassionate with other people’s weaknesses and problems, but she’d never had an ounce of patience for her own. There was clearly nothing physically wrong with her. She’d never once flipped out in a crisis; a ton of people counted on her being dependable…

The engine coughed. Bree opened her eyes, shoved the car in gear and backed out of the parking space. A half hour later, she parked in her apartment’s lot and noted, without surprise, that it was raining even harder than it had been when she left Dr. Willming’s office. She made a mad dash for the door.

Inside, the gloomy day spilled in through her living-room windows. Switching on a lamp, she unbuttoned her raincoat. Absently, her eyes roved over the furnishings she’d so painstakingly chosen a few years before, all creams and cocoas and browns-the neutral shades that had then been so popular.

Two weeks ago, she’d discovered that neutral, soothing colors drove her bananas.

But that’s only because you’ve turned into a moody, spoiled brat, Bree wryly informed herself, and swept past the offending decor, striding toward the bedroom for her brush. A headache nagged at her temples, the same stupid headache that had dogged her every step for the past two weeks.

She wandered to the window, staring out mindlessly. Her entire world seemed to be crashing down around her, for no good reason. Gram’s death had been the catalyst; still, it wasn’t just the trauma of loss, but also that suddenly she was seeing everything through Gram’s eyes. Her fiancé, Richard, for instance. If she’d had a few secret doubts about marrying him before this, she’d tried to ignore them. Richard was affectionate and smart and thoughtful and nice looking; what more could a woman want in a man? Gram had labeled him “Sweet, Bree,” the afternoon she’d met him, and pursed her lips as she’d made herself a cup of tea, only later adding absently, “Did you ever stop to think that even a molasses cookie can have too much molasses?”