‘‘I don’t want to talk about it. It’s over. I’m not going back.’’

‘‘I know.’’ Gently, Ethan put his hands on Seth’s trembling shoulders. ‘‘And I know talking about it can be almost like being there again. It took me a long time to be able to tell my mother—to tell Stella. To say it all out loud, even though she already knew most of it. It started to get better after that. And it helped her and Ray get the legal crap handled.’’

Seth thought of High Noon, of heroes. Of Ethan. ‘‘It’s the right thing to do?’’

‘‘Yeah, it’s the right thing.’’

‘‘Will you come with me?’’

‘‘Sure.’’ Ethan rose, held out a hand. ‘‘We’ll go home and talk it through.’’

FOURTEEN

‘‘ READY? MAMA? TIME to go?’’

‘‘Almost, Aubrey.’’ Grace put the finishing touches on her potato salad, sprinkling paprika on to give it zest and color.

Aubrey had been asking her the same question since seven-thirty that morning. Grace decided the only reason she hadn’t run out of patience with her daughter was because she felt just as anxious and eager as a two year old herself.

‘‘ Maaamaaa .’’

At the deep frustration in Aubrey’s voice, Grace had to swallow a chuckle. ‘‘Let me see.’’ Grace tucked the clear wrap tidily around the bowl before she turned and studied her little girl. ‘‘You look pretty.’’

‘‘I have a bow.’’ In a purely female gesture, Aubrey lifted a hand and patted the ribbon Grace had threaded through her curls.

‘‘A pink bow.’’

‘‘Pink.’’ With a smile, Aubrey beamed up at her mother. ‘‘Pretty Mama.’’

‘‘Thanks, baby.’’ She hoped Ethan thought so. How would he look at her? she wondered. How should they behave? There would be so many people there, and no one—well, besides the Quinns—no one knew they were in love.

In love, she thought with a long, dreamy sigh. It was such a marvelous place to be. She blinked when little arms wrapped around her legs and squeezed.

‘‘Mama! Ready?’’

Laughing, Grace hauled her up for a big hug and kiss. ‘‘All right. Let’s go.’’

NO GENERAL IN THE hours before a decisive battle ever ordered his troops into action with more authority and determination than Anna Spinelli Quinn.

‘‘Seth, you set those folding chairs up under the shade trees over there. Isn’t Phillip back with the extra ice yet? He’s been gone twenty minutes. Cam! You and Ethan are putting those picnic tables too close together.’’

‘‘Minute ago,’’ Cam said under his breath, ‘‘they were too far apart.’’ But he walked backward, hauling the table another foot.

‘‘That’s good. That’s fine.’’ Armed with bright red, white, and blue striped cloths, Anna hurried across the lawn. ‘‘Now you can move the umbrella tables, nearer the water, I think.’’

Cam narrowed his eyes. ‘‘You said you wanted them over by the trees.’’