“What should I call you? We haven’t been properly introduced.”

“Joyce will do fine.”

“Thank you. I’m Linda.”

“I know.”

“The woman who broke your daughter’s heart.”

“I know that too.”

Outside, the day looked balmy by comparison. “I know I’m on probation.”

“Good.” Joyce crossed her arms then abruptly said, “I think your mother is guilty of felony child abuse, by the way. Where did she find a plastic surgeon who would operate on a child for cosmetic purposes?”

“Swiss doctors did the ears and first nose job. After I hit puberty, New York doctors did the second nose and the eyelids. The rib guy was in Buenos Aires.”

“I’m sorry,” Joyce said. “I’m being morbid but you’re obviously a strong, resilient woman.”

“And you love your daughter, even though sometimes she is a big puzzle to you.”

“What makes you say that? Turn right here.”

“I . . .” To her embarrassment Linda felt her eyes fill with tears. “What you said about her not being a mistake.”

“Well, it’s true, though apparently I spent her entire teen years convincing her she was.”

Linda was very aware of the sharp, observant intelligence behind Joyce’s gaze. There was no doubt in her mind where Marissa got her brains. Before she could think of anything to say, Joyce cleared her throat.

“Why do you care about my daughter?”

Meetings with lawyers and publishers were starting to look like play dates. She opened her mouth, only to be interrupted again.

“Don’t tell me she makes you laugh.”

“Okay, I won’t. What about how she’s fantastic in bed?”

Joyce gaped. “Now you’re being crude.”

“You and she sound alike, did you know that?”

“Yes, but you can’t tell her that.”

“I don’t plan to. And it was a joke. Marissa makes me laugh, yes. You know how we met, right?”

“Yes, the shipwreck. You made her climb a cliff.”

“I didn’t make her. She did it herself.” Linda thought of all the things she wanted to tell Marissa and decided many of them were not going to be said to Joyce.

But there were things she was willing to tell anyone who would listen. “I feel as if I got to see a side of her she didn’t know she had. We discovered it together. She’s strong and vibrant and smart. I love making her laugh. I love watching her face light up with new thoughts. I never know, though, most of the time, what she’s going to say. I only know that very likely I’m going to find it delightful and inspiring and insightful. I learned all that about her when we were together in Tahiti. Now I see her in her world, looking so incredibly sexy and—okay, I didn’t mean to say that, but she is a wonderful armful of woman to hold. I want to talk to her, morning, noon and night. With breaks for sleeping and sex, of course.”

Joyce’s expression hadn’t eased one iota. “And why should she care a flying fig how you feel, especially since you disappeared for a year and didn’t even send a postcard?”