She shouldn’t be shocked. Had she expected him to sit around waiting for her to change her mind? Anyone who understood Liam Jenner’s art knew he was fundamentally a man of action. “I see.”

Molly rose and gave her a sympathetic look. “You’ve screwed up so bad.”

“So badly,” she retorted, in one of those leftover reflexes from life with Craig.

“Not that I could survive without you, but, with Kevin gone, why are you still here?”

Lilly had made plans to meet Kevin in Chicago soon. Neither of them wanted to keep their relationship a secret, and Kevin had already flown to North Carolina to share the news with his friends, the Bonners. He’d also told Cal’s brothers, their wives, and the guy sitting next to him on the plane, according to their last phone call.

Lilly yearned to see him again, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave the campground yet. She told herself she was staying because of Molly. “I’m hanging around to help you out, you ungrateful little twit.”

Molly carried her water glass to the sink. “Other than that.”

“Because it’s peaceful here, and I hate L.A.”

“Or maybe because you can’t make yourself walk away from Liam, even though you’ve treated him like crap and you don’t deserve him.”

“If you think he’s so wonderful, take him yourself. You have no idea what it’s like being married to a controlling man.”

“Like you couldn’t have him eating out of your hand if you wanted.”

“Don’t you take that tone of voice with me, young lady.”

“You’re such a dork.” Molly smiled. “Go upstairs and see what he left you.”

Lilly tried to sweep from the kitchen in a diva’s huff, but she knew that Molly wasn’t buying it. Her son’s wife had the same kind of open, honest charm as Mallory. Why couldn’t Kevin see what he’d turned his back on?

And what about the man she’d turned her back on? She still couldn’t work on her quilt. All she could see now when she looked at it were scraps of fabric. There were no more surges of creative energy, no more glimpses of the answers to life’s mysteries.

She made her way past the second-floor landing to the narrower flight of stairs that led to the attic. Kevin had tried to get her to move into one of the larger rooms, but Lilly liked it up here.

As she slipped inside, she saw a large canvas, taller than it was wide, leaning against the end of her bed. Even though it was wrapped in brown paper, she knew exactly what it was. The Madonna she’d admired so much that afternoon in his studio. She fell to her knees on the braided rug and, holding her breath, pulled away the paper.