The personal information had been scant, but she’d picked up the essentials. He was a widower and, as of the last article written about three months before, he’d never remarried. But no one had said anything about children.

Up ahead was the turnoff. Erin put on her signal and slowed the car. There wasn’t much traffic up here. When she’d checked to make sure the way was clear, she turned onto the private road and started down the long paved driveway. The car windows were already rolled down. She inhaled deeply and caught the scent of salt air.

“Can you smell the ocean?” she asked.

Christie took a breath, then giggled. “What does it smell like?”

“Salt, sunshine.”

“You can’t smell sunshine.”

“Sure you can.”

Christie looked skeptical. “It’s nice here,” she said. “At home it’s so hot.”

“You’re right. It’s probably going to be over a hundred back there.”

“Two hundred!” Christie said and bounced in her seat. She quieted quickly and smoothed the seat belt over her chest. “My daddy lives far from me.”

“Yes, he does.”

Erin wondered if Christie was going to ask how they were going to work that out, but then she figured that was a fairly complex thought for a four-year-old. Erin was twenty-seven and she didn’t know exactly how she was going to handle this difficult situation. She’d come up with a very logical plan, but life had taught her that the most logical solution wasn’t always the one chosen.

They wound along the narrow paved road. Tall trees and lush bushes grew on either side. In another couple of minutes, they broke through and could see the house.

“It’s big, Mommy,” Christie breathed, staring at the three-story mansion.

“I know. And it’s very pretty. Can you see the sunlight on the windows? It makes them look like jewels.”