We had a few

problems in the kitchen.

Nathaniel recognized the look of frustration on her face and fought back a grin.

Dutch giving you trouble, darling?

Well...

She didn't like to complain.

We simply have different views on how things should be done. Oh, bless you, Trent,

she said when he offered her a glass.

Oh,

dear, where is my head? I forgot the canapes.

I'll get them.

Max unfolded himself from the sofa and headed toward the family kitchen.

Thank you, dear. Now...

She took Megan's hand, squeezed.

We've hardly had a

moment to talk. What do you think of The Retreat?

It's wonderful, everything Sloan said it would be. Amanda tells me all ten suites are booked.

It's been a wonderful first season.

She beamed at Trent.

Hardly more than a year

ago, I was in despair, so afraid my girls would lose their home. Though the cards told me differently. Did I ever tell you that I foresaw Trent in the tarot? I really must do a spread for you, dear, and see what your future holds.

Well...

Perhaps I can just look at your palm.

Megan let go with a sigh of relief when Max came back with a tray and distracted Coco.

Not interested in the future?

Nathaniel murmured.

Megan glanced over, surprised that he had moved beside her without her being aware of it.

I'm more interested in the present, one step at a time.

A cynic.

He took her hand and, though it went rigid in his, turned it palm up.

I

met an old woman on the west coast of Ireland. Molly Duggin was her name. She said I had the sight.

His smoky eyes stayed level with hers for a long moment before they shifted to her open palm. Megan felt something skitter down her spine.

A stubborn hand. Self-sufficient, for all its elegance.