He had never noticed before how stubborn she was, nor how self-confident and independent. In fact, as he recalled, there had hardly ever been an occasion when she hadn’t been thoroughly accommodating to his every whim. She’d picked a hell of a time to change, he thought, thoroughly disgruntled over having been shot down.

Sometime shortly after dawn, he finally forced himself to admit that he actually found the new Melissa ever so slightly more intriguing than he had the compliant woman he’d left behind.

Kelly, Jessie and the others had always warned him about taking Melissa for granted. It appeared he should have paid more attention to their advice. Melissa had used his time away to develop a very strong sense of who she was and what her priorities were. He was beginning to wonder if there really wasn’t room for him in her life anymore.

Tired of his own company, he walked into the dining room at White Pines the minute he heard the rattle of breakfast dishes. Unfortunately, the housekeeper was very efficient. Maritza had already retreated to the kitchen, but she had left an array of cereals, a large pot of fresh coffee, a basket of warm rolls, and a bowl of berries, banana slices and melon. He noticed there were no eggs or bacon, no hash browns or grits. Obviously Harlan hadn’t won his war to get what he considered to be a decent breakfast served during the week.

Cody was just pouring himself a cup of coffee when his father came in. He surreptitiously studied his father’s face. Harlan looked tired and sad, but his complexion no longer had that unhealthy-looking pallor it had had when Cody had first arrived.

“You’re up mighty early,” Harlan observed, his expression sour as he surveyed the food the housekeeper had set out. “Dammit, I can’t seem to get a decent piece of meat in the morning anymore.” He shot a hopeful look at Cody. “Want to drive into town and get a real breakfast? Maybe a steak and some eggs?”

“And bring the wrath of Maritza down on my head? I don’t think so. The fruit looks good.”

“I don’t see you eating any of it.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Late night?”

“Something like that.”

“I thought you were past carousing.”

“Who was carousing? I had dinner with Melissa.” He paused and drew in a deep breath. It was time to test the words on his lips, time to test his father’s reaction. It would be a good barometer of what others would have to say.

“And my daughter,” he added.

Harlan merely nodded, clearly not startled by the profound announcement.

“About time,” he said succinctly.