She stared at the worker without giving an inch. “A meeting.”

“That’s news to me. I’m his foreman and he didn’t mention anything about it.” His scowl grew dark. Suspicious.

“Maybe he forgot,” she said, as she forced a cold smile. “But I need to talk to him or a member of the Danvers family.”

“He’ll be back in a half-hour or so,” the man said reluctantly.

“I’ll wait for him. In the ballroom.”

“Hey, I don’t think-”

Without another glance in his direction, she hurried up the remaining stairs. Her boots were muffled on the thick carpet and her breath was shallow, a sign of her case of nerves.

“Shit,” the man muttered under his breath, but stayed atop his perch and turned back to his work. “Damned women…”

Her heart was beating so fast she could hardly breathe, but at the top of the landing, she turned unerringly to the left and shouldered open the double doors. The room was dark. Her throat closed in on itself and with her fingers she fumbled for the light switch.

In a glorious blaze, the ballroom was suddenly lit by hundreds of miniature candles suspended in teardrop-shaped chandeliers. Her heart nearly stopped at the sight of the polished oak floor, the bank of tall, arched windows, the dizzying light from a million little bulbs that reflected in the cut crystal.

Her throat clogged and she blinked back tears. This was where it had all happened? Where the course of her young life had been thrown from its predestined path and into uncharted territory?

Why? She chewed on her lower lip. Oh, God, why couldn’t she remember?

October rain slid down his hair and under the collar of his jacket. Dead leaves, already sodden, clung to the sidewalk and were beaten with the thick Oregon mist that seemed to rise from the wet streets and gather at the corners of the buildings. Cars, delivery vans, and trucks roared by, their headlights feeble against the watery illumination from the street lamps.