“Oh, I will. I thought Rick O’Shea was the cruelest thing parents could perpetrate namewise. I was so wrong. Speaking of parents, mine want us to join them at the lakehouse next weekend.”

“Fine,” I said. I’d grown to like Mr. and Mrs. O’Shea a lot, and they seemed to be relieved I was nothing like Victoria.

Rick produced a bottle of French champagne and handed it to me. “For my favorite author. Let’s chill it and get an early start on tonight’s celebration. I love you, babe, and I am so proud of you.”

“There’s one more thing to celebrate,” I said. “Deanna and her family are moving to Anniston. In two months!”

Rick’s grin was ear to ear. “I know,” he admitted. “She made me keep it a secret.”

I parked Melvin in front of Fairfield Springs and took a deep breath. It would be my last day there for several reasons. When my book was published, Donna would not be happy with its portrayal of her, to say the least. I doubted Fairfield would keep me employed after finding out my role in Violet and Chet’s meetings. Herb would probably bring another lawsuit. I was paying a much bigger price than I’d considered by telling Violet’s secrets. The thought of giving up my patients broke my heart, but Kait and Rick both promised me I’d be able to find a job at another facility later on if I wanted, if not back at Fairfield.

I had, at least, changed all the characters’ names in the book. “Chet’s” family would be spared embarrassment, though I really hoped “Loretta” never read it. Even “Fairfield Springs” wasn’t the real name of my employer.

I wrote it for Violet. I loved her, and I’d live with the consequences. I was terrified of the book tour coming up, but Rick had promised to fly out and join me as often as he could. My notice had been given to Donna with the excuse I was going back to school for my RN degree. Maybe I’d actually do it if the writing thing didn’t work out.

My biggest concern, the one that kept me awake at night, was Deanna. I’d tried to prepare her for what she’d learn, to tell her that her mother’s life had been far more difficult and painful than anyone had known. I’d offered to tell her everything months ago, sitting on my couch, and she refused.

“Let me read the book, Ronni, and experience it like everyone else. Then we’ll talk. I think it will be easier for me that way.” She’d looked at my face and smiled. “Honey, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t know my mother at all. Nothing I find out can take that away from me.”