As he made another call, she concentrated on the pleasure of driving a car that wasn’t Sherman. Molly hadn’t exaggerated when she’d described how beautiful it was up here. Woods stretched on each side of the road, stands of pine, oak, and maple. Last year, Annabelle had been forced to cancel her plans to attend the retreat after Kate had shown up in Chicago unannounced, but she’d heard all about it: the walks they’d taken through the campground, how they’d gone swimming in the lake and held their book discussion in the new gazebo Molly and Kevin had build near their private living area, which was attached to the B&B. It had sounded so relaxing. But she didn’t feel relaxed now. She had too much at stake, and she had to get her head together.

Heath made a second call before he put his phone away and occupied himself with criticizing her driving. “You have plenty of room to pass that truck.”

“As long as I ignore the double yellow line.”

“You’ll be fine if you step on it.”

“Right. Why worry about a silly thing like a head-on collision?”

“The speed limit’s fifty-five. You’re barely doing sixty.”

“Don’t make me stop this car, young man.”

He chuckled, and for a few moments, his tension eased. Soon, however, he was back at it: sighing, tapping his foot, fiddling with the radio. She shot him a dark look. “You’re never going to be able to manage three whole days away from work.”

“Sure I can.”

“Not without your cell.”

“Definitely not. You’ll win our bet.”

“We don’t have a bet!”

“Good. I hate losing. And it’s not really three days. I’ve already put in eight hours today, and I’m taking off for Detroit on Sunday morning. You made plans to get back to the city, right?”

She nodded. She was riding back with Janine, the group’s other unmarried member. He peered over at the speedometer. “You must have spoken to Molly since the party, and I’m guessing she grilled you about this weekend. How did you explain why I was coming with you?”

“I said that someone was at my door, and I’d get back to her. Is that a wild turkey?”

“I don’t know. Did you call her back?”

“No.”

“You should have. Now she’ll be suspicious.”

“What was I supposed to say? That you’re obsessed with sucking up to her sister?”

“No, you were supposed to say that I’ve been working too hard, and it’s made me so tense I can’t appreciate all the great women you’re introducing me to.”

“That’s for sure. You should give Zoe another chance. The harpist,” she added, in case he’d already forgotten.

“I remember.”

“Just because she thinks Adam Sandler is moronic doesn’t mean she has no sense of humor.”

“You think Adam Sandler’s funny,” he pointed out.

“Yes, but I’m immature.”

He smiled. “Admit it. You know she wasn’t right for me. I don’t even think she liked me that much. Although she did have great legs.” He leaned against the headrest, his mouth curling like a Python’s tail. “Tell Molly you can’t find me a wife when all I think about is work. Say you need to get me away from the city this weekend so you can have a serious talk with me about my screwed-up priorities.”