Bree gnawed at her lip, thinking of Gram, until a thin film of tears filled her eyes. She blinked back the tears, and when her vision cleared she found herself staring at the half-open door of her closet. The edge of one suitcase peeked out at her, and she had a sudden, very inviting image of herself unpacking that suitcase in the South Carolina woods, in the loft of an extremely rustic log cabin, with Gram’s things around her and no telephone and absolutely nothing intruding on her peace…

“Bree, I simply can’t let you do this, darling.” Addie Penoyer trailed her daughter through the airport lobby, dodging suitcases and squalling children and yawning businessmen. “It just isn’t like you to behave so impetuously. Honey, you can’t possibly cope with a trip like this. Look how difficult it was for you to even buy the ticket.”

Someone in the bustling crowd jostled Addie; Bree protectively grabbed her mother’s arm with a frown and glanced up frantically as the loudspeaker announced her flight.

“I wish you would listen to me,” Addie wailed. “Richard called us last night, after he saw you. Bree, you can’t be serious about breaking off the engagement. And Marie-honey, she just can’t believe you’d leave her in the lurch like this. She said she’d just taken on two new clients that only you could handle. You know how much she thinks of you, darling. All of us understand that you’re not yourself right now, but…”

Bree had intended to navigate the airport alone, but that had turned into one of those best-laid plans of mice and men. Her mother had been convinced that Bree couldn’t handle the tickets and luggage and car rental arrangements on her own. Unfortunately, Addie had been proved right, and Bree was already frazzled. She had learned, to her sorrow, how ineffectively scratch paper and pen communicated in a world of talkers. And her mother’s continuous barrage of reproachful pressure wasn’t helping an already thundering headache.