Blissfully unaware of the speculation buzzing about a quiet walk around the house on a hot summer afternoon, Grace stopped to pour some iced tea. Before she’d half filled the first glass, her mother was bustling over, beaming smiles.

‘‘Oh, let me hold that precious girl. Nothing so soothing as sitting with a sleeping baby.’’ She’d slipped Aubrey out of Ethan’s arms while she talked, her voice low and quick. ‘‘It’ll give me a fine excuse to sit in the shade a while and be quiet. I swear, Nancy Claremont’s been talking both my ears off. You young people should be off enjoying yourself.’’

‘‘I was going to lay her down,’’ Grace began, but her mother just waved it away.

‘‘No need, no need. I don’t get nearly enough chances to hold her when she’s still. Go on and finish your walk. Ought to get out of the sun, though. It’s brutal.’’

‘‘It’s a good idea,’’ Ethan mused as Carol hurried off, cooing to the sleeping Aubrey. ‘‘A little shade and a little quiet wouldn’t hurt.’’

‘‘Well . . . all right, but I’ve only got another hour or so before I have to leave.’’

He’d been tugging her gently toward the trees, thinking that he could find a sheltered spot, a private spot, and kiss her again. He stopped at the verge and frowned at her. ‘‘Leave for what?’’

‘‘For work. I’m on at the pub tonight.’’

‘‘It’s your night off.’’

‘‘It was—that is, it usually is, but I’m putting on some more hours.’’

‘‘You work too many hours already.’’

She smiled, distracted—then relieved when the shade she walked into cut the intense heat in half. ‘‘It’s just a few more. Shiney was good about helping me out so I can make up what I had to pay for the car. Oh, this is nice.’’ She closed her eyes, breathed deep of the moist, cool air. ‘‘Anna said you and your brothers were going to play later. I’ll be sorry to miss that.’’

‘‘Grace, I told you if money was a problem, I’d help you out.’’

She opened her eyes again. ‘‘I don’t need you to help me out, Ethan. I know how to work.’’

‘‘Yeah, you know how. It’s damn near all you do.’’ He paced away from her, paced back as if trying to shake off what was biting at his gut. ‘‘I hate you working down there.’’

Her spine stiffened—she could feel it go hard and straight, vertebra by vertebra. ‘‘I don’t want to fight with you about that again. It’s a good job, honest work.’’

‘‘I’m not fighting with you, I’m saying it.’’ He stalked toward her, the swirling temper in his eyes surprising enough that she backed up against a tree.