‘‘That’s fine. I have my wedding veil put aside. I always imagined how pretty it would look on you on your wedding day.’’ She stopped, and could cheerfully have bitten her tongue.

‘‘It would have looked a little out of place in the county courthouse.’’

Carol sighed as she pulled into the Quinns’ driveway. ‘‘Well, you’ll wear it next time.’’

‘‘I’ll never get married again. I’m not good at it.’’ While her mother gaped at the statement, Grace climbed quickly out of the car, then leaned in the window and kissed Aubrey soundly. ‘‘You be a good girl, you hear? And don’t let Grandma feed you too much candy.’’

‘‘Gramma has chocolate.’’

‘‘Don’t I know it! Bye, baby. Bye, Mama. Thanks.’’

‘‘Grace . . .’’ What could she say? ‘‘You, ah, you just call when you’re done here and I’ll come by and pick you up.’’

‘‘We’ll see. Don’t let her run you ragged,’’ Grace added and hurried up the steps.

She knew she’d timed it well. Everyone would be at the boatyard working. She was determined not to feel awkward about what had happened the night before last. But she did—she felt miserably awkward and she wanted time to settle before she had to face Ethan again.

This was a home that always felt warm and welcoming. Caring for it soothed her. Because she knew that a large part of her motivation for working on it that afternoon was self-serving, she put more effort into the job. The results would be the same, wouldn’t they, she thought guiltily as she ran the old buffer over the hardwood floors to make the wax gleam. Anna would come home to a spotless house, with the scents of fresh flowers, polish, and potpourri perfuming the air.

A woman shouldn’t have to come home from her honeymoon to dust and clutter. And God knew the Quinn men generated plenty of both.

She was needed here, damn it. All she was doing was proving it.

She spent extra time in the master bedroom, fussing with the flowers she’d begged off Irene, then changing the position of the vase half a dozen times before she cursed herself. Anna would put them where she wanted them to be anyway, she reminded herself. And would probably change everything else while she was at it. More than likely, she would want new everything, Grace decided as she pressed the curtains she’d washed until not the tiniest wrinkle showed in the thin summer sheers.

Anna was city-bred and probably wouldn’t care for the worn furniture and country touches. Before you knew it, she’d have things decked out in leather and glass, and all Dr. Quinn’s pretty things would be packed up in some box in the attic and replaced with pieces of sculpture nobody could understand.

Her jaw tightened as she rehung the curtains, gave them a quick fluff.