‘‘I’ll take her over,’’ he interrupted. ‘‘You can go on home when you’re ready to, and your mother’ll bring her on by your place in an hour or two.’’

She’d have preferred he slap her than speak to her in that polite and distant tone. But she nodded, as Aubrey was already babbling about Grandma.

‘‘Bye! Bye, Mama. Bye, Ethan,’’ Aubrey called over Pete’s shoulder and blew noisy kisses.

‘‘I’m sorry, Grace.’’ Knowing it was inadequate, Ethan took her hand and found it stiff and cold.

‘‘It doesn’t matter. It can’t matter. And he loves Aubrey. Just dotes on her. That’s what counts.’’

‘‘It’s not fair to you. Your father’s a good man, Grace, but he hasn’t been fair to you.’’

‘‘I let him down.’’ She rose, quickly wiping her hands on the napkins she’d balled up. ‘‘And that’s that.’’

‘‘It’s nothing more than his pride butting up against yours.’’

‘‘Maybe. But my pride’s important to me.’’ She tossed the napkins into a trash container and told herself that was the end of it. ‘‘I’ve got to get back home, Ethan. There’s a million things I should be doing, and if I’ve got a couple hours free, I’d better do them.’’

He didn’t push, but was surprised how strongly he wanted to. He hated being nudged and nagged to talk about private matters himself. ‘‘I’ll drive you home.’’

‘‘No, I’d like to walk. Really like to walk. Thanks for the help.’’ She managed a smile that looked almost natural. ‘‘And the ice cream. I’ll be by the house tomorrow. Make sure you tell Seth his laundry goes in the hamper, not on the floor.’’

She walked away, her long legs eating up the ground. She made certain she was well away before she allowed her steps to slow. Before she rubbed a hand over the heart that ached no matter how firmly she ordered it not to.

There were only two men in her life she had ever really loved. It seemed neither of them could want her as she needed them to want her.

FOUR

ETHAN DIDN’T MIND MU sic when he worked. The fact was, his taste in music was both broad and eclectic—another gift of the Quinns. The house had often been filled with it. His mother had played a fine piano with as much enthusiasm for the works of Chopin as for those of Scott Joplin. His father’s musical talent had been the violin, and it was that instrument Ethan had gravitated to. He enjoyed the varying moods of it, and its portability.