They lived in Tulip Grove Estates, a gated community of forty custom-built homes. Designed in the French Provincial style, their residence was a six-bedroom, five-bath, three-garage house with a brick exterior. It sat on a wooded, one-acre lot at the edge of a forest.

They had built the place seven years ago. It had cost a lot more than Monica had wanted to spend, but she was a tightwad—Lily’s influence on her—and Troy had, frankly, overruled her. The fact was that the house was close to their respective jobs (closer to his office, really), and hell, both of them were doctors. If they couldn’t splurge on a grand home, then why the heck had they gone through all those arduous years of schooling and incurred a mountain of student loan debt?

Besides, Troy had been there, done that. He’d grown up on the South Side of Chicago, in a modest home where the idea of going on a vacation meant going “down south” to visit the same old boring relatives he saw every year. He had no intention of limiting his lifestyle, in any way, as a high-earning professional. You lived only once.

The limo pulled into the wide driveway, and Troy bounced out. Grace nosed her Chevy into the space beside them. As she got out of the car and appraised their house, she whistled lowly, removed her sunglasses.

“All right, now this is a house,” she said. “But what else would you expect from a family of doctors?”

“Thanks,” Troy said. “Do you have any luggage to take inside?”

“I’ll take care of it myself, thank you.” Coolness radiated from her gaze.

Troy hadn’t honestly expected she would much have in the way of luggage since she had claimed her original intent was to leave that day, and she’d only arrived in town the night before. He didn’t understand the sudden cold shoulder that he was getting from her, either, but perhaps she was one of those militant feminists who took offense to male chivalry.

Shrugging, he went to get his kids out of the limo. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Grace open her car trunk and lift out a wheeled, black canvas suitcase. The bag had enough capacity for at least a week’s worth of clothing, and it was fit to burst. Grace lifted it easily and placed it on the driveway.

Like mother, like daughter, he thought. Occasionally, he and Monica managed to get away for weekend trips, and she always packed an excessive amount of shoes and outfits, too.

“Thanks, brother.” Troy gave the driver a generous tip and then turned to his clan. “Let’s head inside, gang.”

While Troy and his mom shepherded the children to the house, Monica and Grace trailed behind them. Mother and daughter spoke in soft, confidential tones; he heard Monica snicker. They were getting along famously, for which he was grateful.