Branson was like no place Allison had ever known. Cradled by the Ozark Mountains, in an idyllic setting that made it a mecca for fishing and golf, the town had much to offer. But as a transplanted Californian, even after a year of living here, she still felt like an alien visitor—a visitor living in a house with another woman’s ghost.

Only her love for Burke had anchored her to this place and strengthened her resolve to make a home here. Now the world she’d built around that love was rocking on its axis. Holding it in place would be up to her.

Soon the powerful car had carried Allison beyond the bright lights. As she drove through the rainy darkness, the words of Kate’s letter echoed in her memory.

I’m a strong woman, and I’m going to fight this thing like a tigress . . .

Kate had lost her battle with cancer. She would not be here to see Brianna’s wedding, to snuggle her grandchildren, or to celebrate a golden anniversary with Burke. But what a fighter the woman must have been.

Now it was Allison’s turn to be a fighter—this time for Burke. But she’d never faced a challenge like this one. Did she have the courage to be a tigress—to pit her will against his when it was in his best interest? Did she have the wisdom and patience to get him, and their marriage, through this crisis?

What if she failed? What if she couldn’t measure up to the woman Kate had been?

The storm was clearing now. As she turned onto Peaceful Lane, she glimpsed patches of sky through the parting clouds. The house was dark, but the garage lights came on as she raised the door and drove inside. Seeing the empty spot where Burke had parked his Porsche, she felt a tightening in her chest. Resting her forehead against the steering wheel, she closed her eyes and let acceptance sink in. Nothing here, she told herself, would ever be the same again.

In the house, she turned on the kitchen light and checked the voicemail on the landline phone. There was a curt message from Brianna. She’d be arriving at the Branson Airport tomorrow at two fifteen. Allison didn’t look forward to picking up her stepdaughter. The conversation was bound to be awkward, if not downright hostile. But somebody had to be there to meet her flight and drive her to the hospital.

Brianna could be difficult. But the girl had already lost her mother, Allison reminded herself. She was bound to be upset. At the very least, she deserved kindness and understanding.

The fridge was stocked with leftovers from the ill-fated dinner party. And Brianna’s room was always kept in readiness, with clean sheets on the bed and towels in the bathroom across the hall. As for the master bedroom . . .