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Back The Runaway Heiress
Chapters (75)
  1. Cover
  2. PRAISE FOR MEG TILLY AND HER NOVELS
  3. TITLES BY MEG TILLY
  4. Dedication
  5. PROLOGUE
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
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  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. 56
  62. 57
  63. 58
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  69. Excerpt from SOLACE ISLAND
  70. 1
  71. 2
  72. 3
  73. 4
  74. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  75. What’s next onyour reading list?

By some miracle Maggie had been able to maintain her composure while contacting the wedding guests, canceling what services she could and donating the rest. She still had to contact the store where she’d registered and arrange to return the enormous pile of gifts so credit cards could be refunded. However, first she needed to sort through the presents so she could personalize the thank-you notes that had to be written. There was too much to do. No way in hell was she going to allow herself to fall apart now and start bawling in the middle of the Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport.

“I want to kill that son of a bitch,” her dad said. Her dad had always been even-tempered and slow to anger, but he was angry now.

Maggie dragged her gaze from the departure board to where her dad stood beside her mom. Bill Harris’s large hands, hardened by years of construction work, were clenched, and worry had etched deeper grooves in the lines on his face.

“Dad,” Maggie said, reaching out and patting his arm, “really, it’s all right.” Her parents looked at least five years older than they had a week ago, and for that alone, she wanted to kill the bastard herself. “I’m just sorry you flew all this way for nothing—”

“Nonsense,” her dad said, his voice gruff.

“We’re grateful we were here,” Rosemund said, pulling Maggie in for a hug. Her mom was small, a tiny bird of a woman, but seriously strong for a woman of any age, let alone one in her sixties. All those years pitching in on sites, running wiring, lugging pipes, installing pot-lights, had kept not just her mom but the whole family fit.

Maggie felt her dad’s arms encircle the two of them. A part of her longed to give herself over to the comfort of her parents’ support, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to shatter. “Not every occasion,” her mom continued as if Maggie weren’t standing stiffly in her arms, “is going to be a happy one. But it’s the spending of time, the sharing of experiences, that is the glue that bonds a family together.”

The boarding announcement for the flight to Tampa came over the loudspeaker just in time. Maggie blinked her eyes hard and pulled away. “You gotta go,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “You don’t want to miss your flight.”

There was a final hasty hug, and then her parents left, turning to wave a few times before disappearing from sight.

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