She’d painted the farm, but like all the rest of her creations, this was a magical world of summer and winter, spring and fall. She’d opened the walls of the farmhouse to show everything going on inside. In one room, all of them sat around a Christmas tree. In another, they surrounded an old woman blowing out birthday candles. Puppies romped in the kitchen. A Super Bowl victory party took place in the backyard, and the town’s Fourth of July celebration filled the side yard. On the front porch, a tiny figure in a beaver suit, minus its head, sat on a Halloween pumpkin. A well-worn path led from the farm to the pond, where a father and daughter played their guitars next to the water and a woman with long blond hair raised her arms to the sky. Horses grazed in the pasture. Fanciful birds perched on the roof of the barn. And right above the farmhouse, a hot air balloon descended with a pair of smiling babies peering over the basket, natural born charmers each one.

Dean’s wedding ring glimmered in the flames as he pointed toward the left side of the canvas. “After the hot air balloon, that’s the part I like best.”

Blue didn’t have any trouble figuring out what he meant. “Somehow I knew you’d feel that way.”

The gypsy caravan sat beneath a canopy of trees. Thick vines held the wheels firmly in place. She and Dean stood nearby, and the people they loved danced all around them.

Author’s Note

I know writing is supposed to be a solitary profession, but so many people support and encourage me, it doesn’t feel that way. I’m grateful to the readers who send me such lovely e-mail and also keep me company on the SEP Bulletin Board at susanelizabethphillips.com. That’s where I got to know Beverly Taylor, who was kind enough to share her vast knowledge of East Tennessee with me. (“No, Susan. You can’t call it Eastern Tennessee.”) Thanks also to Adele San Miguel for her Tennessee insights and to Dr. Bob Miller for once again advising me on football player injuries. Several teachers helped me understand eleven-year-olds, including Kelly LeSage and my dear friend Susan Doenges. Also, some charming fourth and fifth graders did their best to set me straight. Thank you, all.

My emotional support begins with my husband, Bill; my sister Lydia; my wonderful sons; and the best daughters-in-law in the world, Dana Phillips and Gloria Taylor. In addition, I give thanks every day for my gifted, funny, insightful writer friends, especially Jill Barnett, Jennifer Crusie, Jennifer Greene, Kristin Hannah, Jayne Ann Krentz, Jill Marie Landis, Cathie Linz, Lindsay Longford, Suzette Van, Julie Wachowski, and Margaret Watson. Then there are all the booksellers and librarians who continually find new readers for me. I truly appreciate it.