Zing.

“You’ve obviously taught her well,” Heath said smoothly. “It’s amazing what she’s been able to create in such a short time. You must be enormously proud of her.”

Kate looked hard at Heath to see if he was kidding. Candace snickered. Annabelle didn’t exactly hate her sister-in-law, but she wouldn’t be the first person standing in line if Candace turned up needing a kidney.

Kate reached across the arm of her chair to pat Annabelle’s knee. “Tactfully put, Heath. My daughter has always been a free spirit. And you look lovely tonight, sweetheart, although it’s too bad they didn’t have that dress in black.”

Annabelle sighed. Heath smiled, then turned his attention to Candace, who’d maneuvered a position on the leather sofa between him and Doug. “I understand that you and Doug have a gifted little boy.”

Gifted? The most Annabelle had said about Jamison was that he’d learned to get everybody’s attention by peeing on the living room rug. But the Granger clan ate it up.

Kate beamed. “He reminds me so much of Doug and Adam at that age.”

Tiny penises?

“We’re having him tested,” Doug said. “We don’t want him to be bored in school.”

“He loves his nature enrichment class.” A strand from Candace’s hair extensions was sticking to her lip gloss, but she didn’t seem to notice. “We’re teaching him to recycle.”

“It’s amazing how well coordinated he is for a three-year-old,” Adam said. “He’s going to be quite an athlete.”

Kate puffed up with maternal pride. “Doug and Adam were swimmers.”

Annabelle had been a swimmer, too.

“Annabelle swam, too.” Kate hooked a sickle of blond hair behind her ear. “Unfortunately, she didn’t take to it like her brothers.”

Translation: Annabelle had never won any medals. “I just had fun,” she muttered, but no one was paying attention because her father had decided to enter the conversation.

“I’m cutting down my old seven iron for Jamison. It’s never too early to get them interested in the game.”

Candace launched into a description of Jamison’s academic prowess, and Mr. Charm made all the right responses. Kate regarded her sons fondly. “Both Doug and Adam were reading by the time they were four. Not just words, but entire paragraphs. I’m afraid it took Annabelle a little longer. Not that she was slow—not at all—but she had a hard time sitting still.”

She still did.

“A little attention deficit disorder isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” Annabelle said, feeling the need to interject. “At least it gives you a broad range of interests.”

Everybody stared at her, even Heath. It figured. In less than half an hour, he’d deserted the loser’s lunch table and taken up permanent residence with the cool kids.

The agony continued as the appetizers arrived and they resettled around the table, which was set with white linen, pink roses, and silver candlesticks. “So, Spud, when are you coming to St. Louis to see the new cardiac wing?” Adam took the seat next to her, his date on his opposite side. “Funniest damn thing, Lucille. The last time Annabelle visited, somebody left a cleaning bucket in the hall. Annabelle was talking as usual, so she didn’t see it. Splat!”