“I did, didn’t I? Guess I’ll have to come up with something extremely creative.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I think you’re mixing up the word ‘worst’ with the word ‘amazing.’ ‘You’re the most amazing’ is what I think you meant to say. Someday in your old age you’ll appreciate me.”

“Not tonight, Carol Anne. Not tonight.”

Carol Anne laughed, then abruptly fell asleep. Amy listened to her soft, rhythmic breathing—a lullaby for Amy as she finally fell into a blank-slate sleep without copper eyes and large hands.

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Nick stood in the back hall, the hum of the air conditioner the only noise he heard except for the vague thumping sound of the boys, obviously wrestling each other, in the upstairs hall. Only four days had passed since Nick had seen Amy, and the reality of her, of her son dating his daughter, had only begun to sink into his consciousness. He walked into the kitchen, set his briefcase on the kitchen floor and lifted the mail from the counter. He did the same thing every damn day—walked in the house, dropped his scarred leather briefcase in the same spot on the floor, sifted through the mail. Any second now, Eliza would come in and kiss him on the cheek and ask him about his day—and he would tell her it was fine, just fine. How had he settled into these routines?

Questions, way too many of them, had begun to bubble to the surface since he’d seen Amy. He wasn’t quite sure how to squelch the wondering of what had happened to her, so he allowed the thoughts to pass through. There was one thing he had decided—he was not going to the lake house and pretending for an entire weekend that he didn’t care about Amy and what had happened between them, that there weren’t decayed years of betrayal between them.

He kicked at his briefcase, pushed it away from the spot on the hardwood floor where he always laid it, as if this would change something, anything.

Eliza walked into the kitchen, as he knew she would, and kissed him on the cheek. “How was work today?”

“It totally sucked.”

She spun on her heels. “What?”

“Nothing—it was fine, honey.”

“What are you working on right now?” The all-white, all-straight smile was back on her face.

“Candler Enterprises wants to develop that tract of land over by the plantation. We own the timber. I’m evaluating the land.” This would be enough to stop the questions; anything having to do with a prestigious company or enterprise would change the subject.

“Oh, that’s great, honey. Hopefully you can still get off early on Friday to head for the lake. I’d like to get there before the Reynoldses and clean up.”