Burke hadn’t talked much about his road trips. But he must have stayed in the same places long enough for Kate’s letters to reach him. The envelopes were addressed to various hotels, motels, and lodges, most of them in neighboring states, where he scouted the local talent and signed up the most promising with his agency—the family acts for Branson and other conservative settings, the adult fare for places like Las Vegas and Atlantic City. In return for a percentage, he would find the talent new gigs all over the country. He was good at his job, making money for himself and his clients, some of whom were still with the agency after more than twenty years.

It took Allison about fifteen minutes to arrange the letters in order, including the one thick envelope that bore only Burke’s name and the request to open it after Kate’s death. Surprisingly, the letter with the earliest postmark was the one she’d just finished reading.

She ignored the temptation to read the next letter in the stack. She’d done enough for tonight. It was time to put the letters away and go upstairs to bed. Tomorrow was bound to be a trying day. It would be even worse if she was ragged from lack of sleep.

After replacing the letters and closing the drawer, she switched off the desk lamp and made her way back to the stairs, where the light in the hallway lit her way to the second floor. She could feel her fatigue in every step she took. Still, as she passed the door to Brianna’s room, an unexpected urge compelled her to step inside and turn on the wall switch.

The family photograph stood on Brianna’s bookshelf. Holding it by the edges of the frame, Allison studied the three faces—the proud, handsome man she loved, the young girl just emerging from childhood, and the woman whose mischievous smile hid a world of secrets.

Kate.

A woman who was no longer a stranger.

* * *

Burke woke to a raw pain that made him feel as if he were being sawed in two from behind. Straining to reach, he punched the call button on his bed. When the light came on, he fell back on the pillow to wait for the nurse.

He’d been dreaming again—another of the vivid, lifelike dreams that had come to him in the hospital, probably an effect of the pain meds. This time he’d been lying with Allison on a secluded beach, her body molding to his, her sun-bleached hair spread on the sand. Both of them were naked. He could feel the sun on his skin, hear the lapping of the surf and her whispers of love as her long, tanned legs wrapped his hips. It was heaven . . .