Gilded tightwinder stairs spiraled up toward the open balcony that ringed the room and led to the boudoir where negligees, peignoirs, and other night apparel were displayed in a gorgeous rosewood armoire. Everything was for sale, from the rococo bed to the smallest silver trinket box. And nothing was duplicated.

The shop had quite literally saved all three of them. And though she wouldn’t have thought it possible, it had brought them even closer together.

As she hovered outside the wardrobe room, she watched Margo show a customer a sapphire bracelet from the display. Kate discussed the origins of an Art Nouveau lamp with another. A new customer studied an opal snuff bottle while her companion perused the selection of evening bags.

Mozart was playing on the stereo, softly. Through the window, Laura caught glimpses of the busy traffic on Cannery Row. Cars chugged or streamed or jockeyed for position. People strolled by on the sidewalk. A man passed with a young boy giggling from his perch on Daddy’s shoulders. A couple, arm in arm, stopped to admire the display—and moments later came inside.

“Ms. Templeton?”

Pulling herself back from her reverie, Laura turned to the wardrobe room. “Yes, Mrs. Myers, did you find something you like?”

The woman smiled, held out her choice. “I never leave Pretenses disappointed.”

The glow of pride was swift and satisfying. Laura accepted the cashmere. “We’re here to see that you never do.”

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

“Pretty good digs, right, boy?” Michael groomed Max, his pride and joy while the enormous buff-colored Tennessee walker snorted in agreement.

The Templeton horse palace was a far cry from the simple working stables that Michael had built in the hills, then watched collapse under walls of mud. Not that it had looked much like a palace when he stepped inside that first afternoon, when he ran into Laura. Then it bore more than a slight resemblance to some fairy-tale cottage long under a wicked spell, deserted by all who had once inhabited it.

He had to grin at the thought, and at the fact that everything about the Templeton estate made him think of fairy tales with golden edges.

What he found in the stables was dust, disuse, and disrepair.

It had taken him the best part of a week to ready the building. No easy task for one man and a single pair of hands, but he wasn’t willing to move his horses in until their temporary home had been cleaned and organized to his specifications.

On the other hand, for that week he’d had to endure the public stables, the painfully high fee for boarding, and the fact that his own lodgings were miles away from his stock. But the results were well worth the investment of a few sixteen-hour, muscle-aching days.