For all these good things that were happening, there was one dark spot on Shay’s horizon. “H-have you talked to Mitch in the last few days?”

There was intuitive understanding in Todd’s voice as he replied, “He’s working like a madman, Shay. I think he’s got another project lined up for when he’s done with Rosamond’s book, and he’s anxious to get to it.”

Another project. Shay thought of Mitch’s earlier books—she’d skimmed through all four of them during the past few days—and she was alarmed. Good God, did he mean to tangle with the Mafia again? With drug dealers and Nazis and militant members of the Klan? He’d be killed!

She said goodbye in the most moderate voice she could manage, then hung up the telephone with a bang and rushed out of her office, past Ivy’s empty desk, through the deserted showroom downstairs and across the parking lot to her car.

Ten minutes later she was knocking on Mitch Prescott’s front door.

His housekeeper, Mrs. Carraway, answered. “Hello, Mrs. Kendall,” she said warmly. She probably knew a great deal about Shay’s relationship with her employer, but Shay couldn’t take the time to consider all the embarrassing ramifications of that now.

“Is Mr. Prescott at home? I really must see him as soon as possible.”

Mrs. Carraway looked surprised. “Why, no, Mrs. Kendall. He’s away on a research project or some such. I don’t expect him back for nearly a week.”

A week! Mitch was going to be gone for a whole week and he hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye. Shay was devastated and she was angry and she was afraid. So afraid. Had he gone back to the jungles of Colombia, or perhaps to Beirut or Belfast or some other dangerous place? She swallowed her pride.

“Do you know if Mr. Prescott has left the United States?”

The housekeeper’s face revealed something Shay found even harder to bear than surprise, and that was sympathy. “I really don’t know, Mrs. Kendall. I’m sorry.”

Shay muttered something polite and quite insensible and turned away. She should have known better than to get involved with a man who lived his life in the fast lane, she thought fiercely. She should have known better.

When Shay arrived home she found her grandmother packed to leave for Springfield on an early morning plane. Alice was eager to tie up the loose ends of her life in Missouri and get back to Skyler Beach.

Shay didn’t want her to go, even for such a short time. Everyone she loved, it seemed, was either away or about to leave. “If you’d stay just a few more days, you could meet Hank—”

Alice left her packing to kiss Shay’s cheek. “I’ll be back soon, don’t you worry. Besides, the boy will need his room.”

“It isn’t going to be the same without you,” Shay said as Alice went back to the two suitcases propped on the living room sofa to arrange and rearrange their contents.