“This isn’t elementary school.” And yet her heart pounded like that of a schoolgirl whenever she heard his name.

“I know, but, as I told you before, Mason’s one of the most eligible bachelors in these parts.”

“I’m not in the market,” Bliss said, as if to convince herself. “Why don’t you date him?”

“Naw. Known him all my life. He hung out with my older brother, Jarrod, so even though he’s sexy as all get-out, I’m immune.” She eased up on the gas as she approached town. A wooden sign welcoming visitors to Bittersweet needed a new coat of paint and the railroad tracks that had run parallel to the road curved toward the spindly-looking trestle bridge that spanned the river. Flat, single-story strip malls had sprouted on the outskirts of town, while in the older section, near the town square and Mason’s office, shops with false western-style fronts rose two or three stories.

“Do you know his wife?” Bliss asked as Katie nosed her car into a parking spot.

“Terri? Sure.” She turned off the engine and tossed the oversize key ring into her purse. With a shrug, she added, “She’s okay, I guess. After the divorce, she moved to—Colorado, I think. Either Boulder or Aspen or . . . Well, it doesn’t matter. A few years ago she moved back here with Dee Dee, her and Mason’s daughter.”

Bliss remembered the girl with the soulful eyes.

They walked across the hot sidewalk where tiny particles of glass reflected in the sunlight. Katie opened the door of a coffee shop with her hip and waved to a waitress in a checked blouse and brown pants.

She seemed to know everyone in the place, from an old man with one leg and a charming smile, to a five-year-old blond girl who burst out of the rest room and careened into Katie’s waiting arms. “Cindy Mae West, what’re you doing here?” Katie asked with a wide grin as she scooped up the urchin.

“Havin’ ice cream with my dad.”

“You’d better go eat it before it melts.” Katie hugged the child and set her on the black-and-white tiled floor. Like a shot, the kid bolted to a booth in the corner where her father was smoking a cigarette and a caramel sundae was dripping over the side of its dish.

Katie and Bliss sat in a booth near the windows, ordered soft drinks, and after they were both sipping from their sodas, Katie, green eyes sparkling, said, “Go ahead. Ask me about Mason.” As if she saw the protest forming in her half-sister’s eyes, she added, “And don’t give me any backtalk about not being interested. I’m a journalist, you know, write part-time for the Rogue River Review and you just happen to be one lousy liar, Bliss Cawthorne.”