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Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three

Chapter One

"Where are my kids?" Mike Couric banged hard-knuckled fists on the police detective's scarred metal desk, knocking over a small plastic Christmas tree and sending its gaudy, red-glass balls crashing to the floor.

"Now, you just hold your horses there, sonny," the older man warned, retrieving the two-foot tree. "I got to ask you a couple of questions, so you might as well sit yourself down and take a load off." He painstakingly rearranged several strands of silver tinsel among the branches and righted a lopsided angel. "The sooner you cooperate with us, the sooner we can get this whole matter taken care of."

Mike fixed his vision on the dime-store angel atop the shoddy little tree and took several deep breaths. He sucked in a mouthful of air through clinched teeth and let it out slowly, willing his pulse to stop battering his temples. "Okay, I'm calm."

Detective Greene waited until Mike sat down before he continued. "Well, now, that's better." He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a stenographer's notebook, then meticulously selected a ballpoint pen from a recycled mayonnaise jar on his desk. "Now, then, if you will give me the names, ages and descriptions of your children, Mr. Couric."

Mike's fingers tensed into claws. He tapped out his impatience on the metal arms of his chair. "You have the children. You obviously must know what they look like."

"Formalities," the detective explained, drawing tiny spirals with the pen trying to coach the ink to flow. "Now, describe the children, please. And, please speak up; it's so noisy in here, I can hardly hear myself think." He tugged at a small hearing aide in his right ear.

Mike instinctively knew that arguing with the old man would only prolong the grueling ordeal. "Stacey's my oldest. She's nine. She has long brown hair and blue eyes -- "

"Hold your horses, there!" Detective Greene tossed the ballpoint pen into a trash can under his desk and reached for another.

"Now, where were we, sonny?"

Mike repeated the information he'd given about Stacey and continued, "Tanya will be seven on Friday. She has short, light-brown hair. Blue eyes. The twins, Jody and Cassie, are three. Blond hair, blue eyes."

"Very good. Now, we're getting somewhere. Now, then, what are their sizes?"

"Their sizes?" Good grief, the man must be completely senile, Mike thought. He hoped the sheriff's department didn't let him carry a gun.

"You know, height and weight," the officer explained. He tapped his pen hard onto the desktop, then touched the tip to his tongue and jabbed it across a clean sheet of notepaper. "Confound it!" He tossed the pen into the trash can and selected a stub of a pencil from a coffee cup that bore a snapshot of a family painted on one side. "That's my daughter and her family," he explained, holding the mug up for Mike to view.

"They live over in Tarpon Springs," Detective Greene continued. "Got themselves a right nice home on the water." He pulled a pocketknife from his hip pocket. "My daddy gave this knife to me way back in '52 when I was a Cub Scout. Still as good as the day he bought it. Don't make 'em like this no more." The officer carved the pencil lead to a sharp point while Mike seethed and looked around the busy precinct for someone who could intervene.

"Okay, now." Detective Greene held the pencil an inch over his notebook. "Where were we? Oh, yeah, their sizes."

"I don't know their exact heights and weights right off the top of my head," Mike said. "They're the sizes children are supposed to be."

The officer's head jerked up in response to the rude retort, and Mike heard a snap as the old man's pencil broke. Relieved it wasn't the man's neck that cracked, Mike handed his own pen to the officer in apology.

"Nice pen. Looks like it just might be one of them expensive jobbies. Our measly budget here in the station don't allow for no decent -- "

"My children?" Mike reminded.

"Oh, yeah." Detective Greene chuckled softly, apparently not appreciating the seriousness of the situation. "They sure sound like a rambunctious handful for a kidnapper."

Mike gripped the arms of his chair. His stomach tightened into painful knots. "Kidnapper? Did someone try to kidnap my kids?"

The detective laughed. "Not very likely. No one in his right mind would take on those four live wires. It's like my daddy always said about me, if a kidnapper ever grabbed me, he'd let me go after putting up with me for half an hour. Now then, let's get back to business. Are you the children's legal father? Where's their mama?"

Mike struggled to control his temper. "Of course, I'm their legal father. Their mother died two years ago."

Detective Greene leaned back in his chair, a sad expression working its way across his wrinkled brow. "Ah, that's too bad. I'm real sorry to hear that. Hate to see little kids without a mama -- especially at Christmas time. Are the children left alone a lot, Mr. Couric?"

A twinge of guilt surfaced in Mike's brain. He shouldn't be going out of town so much lately, leaving them alone with Tommy Sue. But business trips weren't illegal, for Pete's sake. "Is that some kind of accusation? Because if it is -- "

"Now, don't go getting yourself all in an uproar. I'm just trying to get all the facts straight so we can..."

Mike watched the detective make another maddeningly slow scribble in his dog-eared notebook. He fought the urge to tell him what he could do with his facts -- and his notebook. "I work at home," he said instead. "When I have to be away on business, our housekeeper looks after the children. Tommy Sue's a very trustworthy girl."

"Was your housekeeper looking after them this morning when they disappeared? That's not exactly what I'd call trustworthy." The unmistakable expression on Detective Greene's face said, gotcha.

"Look, I don't know what happened here, but my kids do not simply walk away from home without telling someone where they're going. I've made a point of teaching them the dangers they could encounter out in the world. I guarantee you, they're well-behaved children and -- "

"But they are children, Mr. Couric, and you never can tell what children are apt to do. Little angels or not, I'd bet my retirement, yours ain't no different." He grinned and turned a page in his notebook. "Now, then, we're just about finished up here. Just one more question. Do you get along okay with your children?"

Anger flooded Mike's brain. "We get along perfectly," he said through clenched teeth.

"Well, you sure could've fooled me." The detective pushed his notebook aside, settled back in his chair and chuckled. "It looks like your children don't want to live with you no more, Mr. Couric."

Mike's patience exploded. He leaned across the desk and grabbed a handful of the officer's shirt. "What are you talking about? Where are my kids?"

The detective patiently pealed Mike's fingers from his shirt one-by-one, and Mike realized his anger was not going to get his children back.

"Sorry," Mike mumbled.

Detective Greene settled back in his chair, straightened his tie and smiled. "Well, while nobody was looking this morning, seems they called themselves a taxi cab and went over to the Harbor View Children's Home Society."

"The Children's Home Society?" Mike repeated, trying to make sense of the detective's words. "I don't understand, that's a -- "

"Bingo!" the officer confirmed. "All your young'uns are over there at the Florida Adoption Agency."

* * *

"I want to see Doctor Anderson," Mike demanded twenty minutes later as he burst into the office at the Children's Home Society. In a state of near frenzy, he followed the receptionist's directions down a brightly lit corridor decorated with Christmas wreaths, red bows and large silver bells. The doctor's door was standing open.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Couric. Please come in, I'm Doctor Anderson -- Joy Anderson." The uncommonly pretty woman who smiled up from a no-nonsense oak desk, motioned Mike to sit down. "I just poured myself a cup of coffee. You look like you could use one, too." She slid a plate of Christmas cookies toward Mike. "I made them myself."

Mike remained standing. "No, thank you. I'd just like to know what in the...what's going on here? Where are my children? What are they doing here? Did the police bring them over here? What am I supposed to -- "

Doctor Anderson held a finger to her lips. "Please, one question at a time. Relax. Your children are perfectly safe with us. They're in the employees' lounge." She smiled again and attractive dimples danced in her cheeks. "Seems as if they chose the perfect day to visit us; the staff's having their Christmas party this afternoon. Please sit down."

Her cologne drifted across the desk reminding Mike of hot chocolate and marshmallows. Hot chocolate? Marshmallows? His brain gyrated in a tangle of confusion like a never-ending nightmare he couldn't shake. A familiar Christmas carol playing softly in the background brought him back to a semblance of reality. The woman was saying something and he had to concentrate hard to catch her words.

"...and I think you should know the sheriff's department has notified Children's Services in regard to your...your situation. However, I personally don't think yours is a case for Children's Services. Perhaps we can satisfy the social worker before she becomes too involved."

"Children's Services? Social Worker?" Dumbfounded, Mike slumped onto a chair and slowly shook his head.

Doctor Anderson poured steaming coffee into a plastic holiday cup. "Cream, sugar?"

"Black," Mike said, defeated.

"Please relax, your children are fine. You can take them home in a few minutes. I just need to ask you a few questions first. Did the detective explain how the children happened to be here?" She looked directly into his eyes waiting for his answer, but his gaze went to her hand as she absently pushed strands of brown hair off her face, revealing a long, smooth neck and a perfectly shaped ear. He wished she would sit still.

"I have no clue," he said.

"No wonder you're so upset. I'll try to fill you in. After the children showed up here, I called your home and talked with your housekeeper. She told me that when she'd discovered they'd disappeared from the yard and she couldn't locate you, she called the sheriff's department. The sheriff's department reached you before I could."

"I've just returned from a one-day business trip in New York. I was in Tampa having lunch with an old high school friend and I left my cell phone in my car. I haven't seen Bruce in several years. But, I definitely don't think having lunch with an old school buddy constitutes child abuse." Why was he feeling so guilty?

"Please, you don't have to explain," she said, as though reading his mind. "No one has said anything about child abuse." She did that thing with her hair again. "Now, let me tell you what I gleaned from the children, and you correct me if I'm wrong."

Mike's gaze followed a rose-tinted fingernail as she scanned a yellow legal pad.

"What did they tell you?" he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"They told me their mother died several years ago." Her distracting brown eyes made contact with his.

Mike crossed his arms across his chest. "Look, Doctor, I've already explained all of this to Detective Greene. If this is some kind of sick ploy to take my kids away from me, I can assure you that's not going to happen. They're well taken care of. They're happy kids and -- "

"Oh, I'm sorry if I insinuated that. No one's going to take your children away." Doctor Anderson leaned across the desk toward Mike and touched his hand. "It's quite obvious to me how happy your children are. They love you deeply and they definitely feel loved in return. I wish all of our adopted children could be so fortunate."

Mike withdrew his hand. This woman made him extremely uncomfortable. "The more you talk, the more confused I'm becoming."

Laughter was in her voice when she said, "I'm not surprised. This has been a very unusual day."

"Why are we talking adoption?" Mike asked. "My children aren't adopted. As far as I know, there's never been an adoption in my family."

"I realize that, but I must ask these questions for my own satisfaction. I'm required to turn in a report. You do understand, don't you?" Dr. Anderson smiled, her beautiful brown eyes, bright and expectant, and before he could tell her that at the moment he didn't understand anything, she said, "Tanya told me that you stay home all day and draw pictures."

"That's correct. I'm a cartoonist. I draw the syndicated comic strip, Siblings."

"Siblings? Oh, that's wonderful. I should thank you."

"Thank me? For what?"

"For making me smile the first thing each morning."

Mike squirmed in his chair, refusing to let his brain play with the remark. He didn't answer.

A patch of crimson bloomed across Doctor Anderson's pretty cheeks and Mike realized that her double-entendre was an innocent mistake.

"I read the comics at my breakfast table each morning and I always read Siblings first," she quickly explained. "I especially like the dog." She absently twisted the diamond ring she wore on the third finger of her left hand and Mike sensed she was as uncomfortable as he was.

"We've steered off course," he reminded her.

"The children!" Doctor Anderson quickly interjected and blushed a shade deeper. She glanced at her watch. "About now, they're probably stuffing their tummies full of Christmas goodies and spoiling their dinner. Please don't worry about them, Mr. Couric. They're fine. You're going to take them home soon. I promise."

She reached for the legal pad again, avoiding his eyes. "Let's begin with Stacey. She tells me she makes straight A's and she's going to be an opera singer and an actress when she grows up."

Mike weighed his words carefully before he spoke. "That's true. Stacey's a peacemaker -- a mother hen, so to speak. She usually keeps the others out of trouble." He chose not to reveal that Stacey oftentimes told strangers she was an eighteen-year-old midget. "Stacey sometimes has a unique sense of humor," he added for good measure -- especially since he had no idea what Stacey had done that morning.

"I guessed that, but so does Tanya. She said she's going to be a veterinarian. Was she telling me the truth about owning a three-foot boa constrictor?" Doctor Anderson shivered and wrinkled her nose.

Mike briefly entertained the thought of swimming across a deep turbulent jungle river to rescue Dr. Anderson from a man-eating Python. "I'm afraid so," he said. "Panic is a revered member of the family. Tanya's raised him from an eighteen-inch baby."

"Tanya has a certain mischievous glint in her eyes. I'll bet she's a bit of a rabble-raiser -- always stirring things up."

"You're absolutely correct," Mike assured Doctor Anderson, and for a moment he thought he caught the same familiar glint in her eyes.

He couldn't remember when he'd seen a more beautiful woman. Everything was in its right place and just the right amount of everything. Shiny, thick brown hair, brown eyes tinged with flecks of gold, perfect white teeth, full lips, flawless skin...he caught himself and quickly redirected his thought process.

"The twins are absolutely adorable," Doctor Anderson said, "They're so full of fun, although Cassie doesn't seem to talk very much."

The tone of Doctor Anderson's voice told him she expected an explanation. "Cassie doesn't have to talk, Jody does it for her."

"I've seen that happen many times with twins. There's nothing to worry about, although, if you haven't already, you might want to have her checked out if she doesn't grow out of it before too long." She set the pad aside. "Yes, you certainly have happy, well-adjusted youngsters, Mr. Couric. You've done a remarkable job with them."

"They've done a remarkable job with me," Mike corrected. "They're about the only thing that kept me sane and alive after my wife died." He shifted in his chair, sorry that he'd revealed that much of himself to the doctor. Besides, he didn't like to talk about Amy. Talk about Amy was reserved for the children, and for God on the tormenting lonely nights when he couldn't forget.

He also felt a twinge of guilt. Amy, the love of his life, his soul mate, had only been dead two short years. When they knew she was dying, he'd told her he'd never marry again, and he'd told himself he could never be attracted to another woman. And, now, here he was, struggling with his hormones like a twelve-year- old in the throes of puberty...no way! He had to stop this.

Mike stood up and paced the room. "Look, Doctor, this inquisition has gone on long enough. I've answered all your questions, and I still don't understand what my children are doing here," he said, dismissing the disturbing thoughts of Doctor Anderson from his brain.

Dr. Anderson smiled. "I think I'll let them tell you themselves." She pushed a button on the intercom. "Lil, will you send Mr. Couric's children into my office?"

"Yes, right away. By the way, you have a message from Trevor. I didn't want to interrupt you. Do you want it now?"

"Go ahead." Doctor Anderson touched another button on the intercom silencing the receptionist's voice. She scribbled a few words on a note pad.

"Use your inside voices," Doctor Anderson reminded the children as they filed into the room and scrambled onto chairs like four mischievous imps. They greeted their father with innocent smiles.

"Hi, Daddy," Jody said, then he blurted to Doctor Anderson, "Do you gots me a Christmas present? I'm a good boy." His wide grin was colored with chocolate frosting.

Jody's twin beamed at her brother with undeniable worship. She wiggled down from her chair and snuggled close to her father. "Daddy, do she gots me a present too? I'm good," she whispered.

The older girls giggled behind their hands, and Mike mumbled a split-second apology.

"Think nothing of it, I have a three-year-old neighbor. Children can be quite precocious at this age," Joy said.

"There's a fine line between precocious and obnoxious, I'm afraid Jody resides on that line." Mike pulled his son onto his lap and locked his arms firmly around the boy's waist.

"Now, children, I don't want all of you to talk at once," Dr. Anderson warned. "Stacey, why don't you begin and tell your father why you came to see us today."

"But it's supposed to be a surprise," Stacey argued.

"This is the kind of surprise that's best shared, honey. I really think you should go ahead and tell your father."

Stacey hesitated and looked at Mike. "Well..."

"It's okay, honey," Mike assured her. "You know you can tell me anything."

"Well, Daddy, 'member when we were talkin' about Christmas presents and you said we should do somethin' nice for each other instead o' just buyin' junk?"

"Yes, I remember that conversation very well."

"Well, we were all tryin' to think what to do nice and we were watchin' TV -- "

"Yes, yes," Tanya butted in, sliding to the edge of her seat. "And, we were watching the Penelope Parker show and -- "

"Do 'nelope gots me a Christmas present?"

Mike's hand clamped over Jody's mouth. "That's enough, Jody! Go on, honey," he urged Tanya.

"Well, Penelope had some mothers on TV that gave their babies away, and they had not seen their babies in many, many, many years -- "

"Yes," Stacey interrupted," and the mothers were very, very sad 'cause they didn't have any little kids." She poked out her bottom lip and added, "The mothers cried." She squeezed her eyelids for effect, and Mike was certain the tears that splashed across her cheeks would be the envy of any seasoned soap opera star.

"And," Tanya said, hugging herself tightly, "Penelope found them all some kids and surprised everybody, and everybody was so very, very happy."

Mike looked at Dr. Anderson for direction as the significance of the children's thinking began to sink in. Her thick lashes held tears.

Stacey picked up the conversation. "We looked up the number at the TV station and called up Penelope and she couldn't come to the phone 'cause she was too busy, but the lady on the phone said we should call up the 'doption agency."

"I looked up the number in the phone book all by myself," Tanya said.

"But sweethearts, what made you decide you wanted a new little brother or sister for Christmas?" Mike asked.

Tanya slipped from her chair and placed her hands on her hips. She tilted her head and looked at her father as though he were demented. "Daddy, we don't want to get a little brother or sister. We want to get a new mother."

Stacey's eyes glistened. "Oh, Daddy, on Christmas mornin', we'll all hide behind the Christmas tree, and when the new mother comes in, we'll all jump out and yell, 'Surprise! Surprise!'"

"And, we'll all cry and cry and be so very, very happy," Tanya said, tears running down her plump cheeks, and Mike knew her tears were for real. "Can we, Daddy? Can we get a new mother for Christmas?"

"Go get Mudder," Jody piped in, pulling on Mike's jacket.

"Oh, babies." The children's innocence tore at Mike's heart. He'd thought he was giving them everything they needed. But now, the four beautiful trusting faces glowed up at him, and he wondered how he could have been so blind. Two years of repressed emotion settled heavily in his throat. "I'm afraid you've asked too much of me this time," he said huskily.

Dr. Anderson sighed. "You see, children, as I explained to you before your father came, some things are truly impossible -- even for grownups."

"Not for our daddy," Tanya said confidently. She smiled up at Mike. "Our daddy can do anything."

"I'm afraid not, sweetheart, not this time," Mike said, his voice cracking. "I'm afraid this time you've requested a miracle. What you've asked for is impossible."

"Nuh-uh," Stacey interjected, "Santa Claus told us at the party that he's bringin' us a new mother."

"Stacey!" Mike warned. It wasn't like Stacey to fabricate such a story. She'd obviously become so caught up in the fantasy that she'd lost all touch with reality. He'd purposely not taught the children to believe in the myth of Santa Claus. But then, he also forbade them to watch the Penelope Parker TV show.

"Honey, your wish is simply not possible," he repeated, his heart almost breaking.

"But it's true, Daddy," Tanya argued. "Santa Claus did tell us that at the party. He said he was bringing us a new mother on Christmas morning just like we asked for."

Doctor Anderson appeared perplexed. "Santa Claus?" She pushed the button on the intercom. "Lillian, is there a Santa Claus in the building?"

"There was, but he left a little while ago. Best Santa I ever saw, too. The jolly old fellow looked enough like the real thing to almost make even me believe. Even his long white beard was real. I know, I pulled it." Lillian giggled like a schoolgirl. "He was so convincing, would you believe I even sat on his lap and asked for a husband? By the way, he asked me to be sure to tell you that he said, 'Merry Christmas.'"

Stacey smiled. "See, Daddy, I told you."

Mike groped for words. "Sometimes, Santa's helpers say things they don't really mean, and it puts parents who've let their children believe in Santa Claus in a bad light and -- "

"But Daddy," Stacey argued, "A new mother is all we want for Christmas."

Mike searched deep within to find the strength he wasn't sure he possessed. "Kids, it's after five o'clock," he finally said. "We've taken way too much of Doctor Anderson's time. Tell her you're sorry for the trouble you've caused and let her get back to her work." Then on a brighter note, he added, "Tell you what, we'll stop by Burger Ranch on the way home?"

"I'm sorry, Doctor Anderson," the children said in unison.

"You kids wait for me in the corridor, I want to talk to Doctor Anderson alone for a moment," Mike said. "And, don't you dare leave this building," he warned as they ran toward the door.

"I want to apologize for my behavior as well," he told Doctor Anderson when the children were out of the room. "I reckon that where the kids are concerned I tend to go overboard. I don't know what I'd do if anything...look, I don't know how to thank you."

Doctor Anderson walked around her desk. "I assure you it was my pleasure. I really enjoyed meeting the children," she told him, offering her hand. "If there's anything else I can do for you, please don't hesitate to call," she said softly, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze.

Mike wasn't positive how to interpret the statement -- or the gesture. Was she coming onto him? "Not unless you can find a woman willing to marry me within three weeks."

Doctor Anderson laughed. "First, you'll have to find a woman willing to even date a man with four children!" The laughter subsided, and although she pulled her hand away, she held his gaze.

"How do you know that I don't date?" Mike asked.

"The children told me you don't have a girlfriend."

"My wife's only been gone a few months."

"Twenty-four months. Perhaps under the circumstances you should consider...I mean you should find a woman who...I could help...I know several unmarried women I could introduce you to..."

Mike continued to play the game. "I don't know about that...she'd have to have impeccable character...someone who'd be a perfect role model for my children. She'd have to have a wonderful sense of humor and..."

"She'd also have to be completely out of her mind," Doctor Anderson teased.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy," Jody screamed, running back into the room with Cassie close on his heels. "Forgot the mudder! Forgot the mudder!" He grabbed Joy's skirt and pulled her toward the door. "C'mon, Mudder."

Joy knelt and gathered the twins into her arms, "Not your mother, sweethearts, but maybe a good friend." She looked up at Mike. "Perhaps we'll run into each other again some time."

Before she stood up, Mike glanced at the note pad on her desk. The scribbled message confirmed a dinner date. Eight o'clock. Yacht. City Marina.

"Daddy, can Doctor Anderson come to Burger Ranch with us?" Stacey asked, running back into the room. The other children chorused, "Please, please, Daddy?"

"Sure...if she'd like to." Mike's chest felt strangely heavy as he waited for her answer.

"I'd love to go to Burger Ranch with you," Doctor Anderson told the children, "if..." She winked at each child in turn, and Mike knew she was capturing their young hearts -- if she hadn't already.

"If what?" Mike asked, his heart skipping beats. He should have gotten out of there when the getting was still good.

"If I can have extra onions, double fries and a large chocolate shake."

The children screamed their approval.

"Inside voices," Mike warned, repeating Doctor Anderson's words, but they didn't pay any attention to him.

"I have a strange feeling that something weird is going on here," Doctor Anderson whispered to Mike as she turned out the lights to her office.

"What makes you say that?"

"We didn't hire a Santa."

Chapter Two

A million questions whirled through Joy's head as she followed Mike's Couric's red van across town toward Burger Ranch. Why on earth had she accepted the children's invitation so readily? Spontaneous behavior was definitely not part of her makeup. In addition, she'd broken her hard-and-fast rule to never socialize with a client, and she positively never ate junk food.

When the glow from a streetlight traveled across the steering wheel and flashed an unavoidable reminder on the diamond she wore on her left hand, she shuddered. Even if she weren't being married on Christmas Eve, she considered flirting reserved for teenagers and bar hoppers. Yet, that's exactly what she'd done. She'd actually flirted with Mike Couric.

A sudden downpour had obscured traffic, and even though Mike had slowed down, she had to concentrate to keep his van in sight. The thought of Mike brought with it comforting warmth. What a great dad. What a great guy. Why couldn't she have met him before...?

She quickly dismissed that possibility. What difference would it have made? Her future was set. In her desperation, God had answered her fervent prayer, and there was no turning back. She'd reserved a room at the best hospital in Florida. She'd interviewed and chosen the best doctors that money could buy. All the arrangements had been made. She needed Trevor, and if she had to sacrifice love and a family for financial security, then God would help her carry that cross.

Through misty eyes, she glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Eight o'clock was little more than two hours away. Trevor abhorred tardiness. She'd have to hurry if she were going to get to the yacht on time. His parents were interrupting a holiday in Portugal and flying to the States especially to meet her. She dreaded the evening ahead, but there was no way she could get out of it. Trevor had even brought her a dress from Paris especially for the occasion -- a little, black cocktail dress. Understated but sophisticated, perfect for her coloring and her figure, he'd assured her.

Perfect to impress his mother and father, she thought, recalling how he invariably made her feel like one of his collectibles whenever he introduced her to his friends. This is my Picasso, this is my Stradivarius, and this is my fiancée, Dr. Joyce Anderson. She wondered how impressed his parents would be if they knew what she was up to at the moment -- following a very attractive man across town like a lovesick teenager. Her troubling thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of her cell phone.

"Joyce? Trevor here. Afraid we're going to have to cancel out tonight, darling. Mumsy's absolutely exhausted from her flight. There was quite a bit of air turbulence. She has one of her dreadful headaches. She needs to rest. We'll see you at the yacht tomorrow night, dinner at eight sharp. Don't be late, and don't forget to dress."

Thank you, Lord. Joy sighed and relaxed as the click on the other end of the line told her Trevor had completed the conversation before she could respond.

"Well, goodnight to you too, Trevor." She said into the dead phone. She turned the knob on the car heater a notch warmer and settled back into the seat, unable to shake a vague stirring of uncertainty.

Be careful what you ask God for, you just might get it. She'd asked God for help, and Trevor was definitely the answer to her prayer. Why then, did she suddenly feel she'd made a pact with the devil?

Like an omen, a crash of thunder shook her little Escort, as a deluge broke loose from the heavens. "Oh, dear God, why? Why am I doubting You?"

Ten minutes later, she pulled alongside Mike's van in the parking lot of Burger Ranch still wondering what in the name of heaven she was doing there. She should never have agreed to come with them. She was definitely asking for trouble. She'd make some excuse and get out of there as quickly as she could.

Holding a purple umbrella painted with huge yellow sunflowers over his head, Mike opened her car door. He bowed and smiled warmly. "At your service, Ma'am. Welcome to our five-star, award-winning, gourmet hamburger joint."

The four children huddled under an identical umbrella at the entrance to the restaurant. "Hurry, Daddy," Stacey yelled, "We're gonna get soaked."

Joy kept the engine running. She waved to the children, and then said to Mike, "I'm terribly sorry, but I remembered on the way over here, I've made a previous engagement for eight o'clock. It completely slipped my mind. I positively have to be there, and I'm going to be late if -- "

"You can go directly to your date from here. The city marina's only a few blocks away."

City marina? How did he know about the marina? "Were you snooping at my desk?" she asked, a little perturbed.

"Yep." He made no effort to excuse his prying.

"But I still have to change and -- "

"Why would you want to change? There's no way you could look any prettier than you do right this moment."

The compliment set off a delicious little thrill that lingered around her heart. She knew she'd better get out of there -- and quick!

Mike reached across the dashboard, switched off the engine and dropped her car keys into his pocket. "You know, I have a theory, Doctor. One that always works with the kids. It's so much easier to just tell the truth from the beginning. Keeps you from having to weave all those little tangled webs. Now, that being said, what's the real reason you don't want to stay?"

Joy knew she was trapped. "All right, the truth. I simply decided this wasn't a good idea. I never see clients socially under any circumstances. And, that's the truth."

"I'll buy that. But that's a truth, not a reason."

"Suppose you tell me what you conceive to be the reason."

"Well, I'm not a psychologist, but I read a lot of popular psychology. In drawing my cartoon, I tend to use a lot of body language to show the character's emotions. You know, like if a woman wants a man to notice her, she'll twist her hair, that sort of thing."

She wasn't about to touch that line. "May I have my keys, please?"

"Look, I know I'm coming on a little strong, here. I don't mean to be rude. I reckon I spend so much time with kids, I don't know how to relate to grownup women." He took the keys from his pocket, but he held on to them. "I just think we need to talk about this, because unless that's a fake diamond you're wearing to scare off would-be suitors, you're engaged to be married. Am I correct?"

"You're correct," she said, "Now, may I have my keys?"

"You know, I have another theory," he continued, adjusting the umbrella to keep the shifting rain from hitting her. I believe that all relationships are meant to last a specific length of time. Some only a day, some maybe a year, some forever. Seems to me the one we started back in your office just needs to go a little longer and work itself out."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Joy crossed her arms, then immediately uncrossed them aware that Mike would know that crossing her arms meant she was assuming the classic defensive posture.

Mike smiled at that. "Well, I figure we'll have about thirty minutes in Burger Ranch. That should be just about enough time. Five minutes to get the order, twenty minutes to eat while we listen to the kids all talk at once with their mouth full." He pretended to count on his fingers. "Let's see. How much time does that leave for us? Five minutes? Now, what could possibly happen within a harmless five-minute relationship?"

"Cassie!" Stacey screamed as the little girl suddenly stepped out into the rain and ran toward Joy's car.

Mike quickly pulled her under the protection of the umbrella, but she pulled away. "What are you doing, sweetheart?"

Cassie smiled. She slipped her tiny warm hand into Joy's, and whispered, "C'mon, Mudder."

"A friend, honey," she corrected. Then, she said to Mike, "This is what can happen in a five-minute relationship." Joy heard a tiny, warning voice in her brain telling her to get out of there as fast as she could. She wanted to stay, but she knew she was asking for trouble.

The look Mike gave her told her he'd read her mind. He handed her car keys to her. "Please don't go yet," he said. "I'll be right back for you." He scooped Cassie into his arms and deposited her at the door with the other children.

Joy inserted the key into the ignition and glanced at the children who were motioning to her. She hesitated, but when the cell phone buzzed, she picked it up and saw Trevor's private number on caller identity. She waited until the phone stopped buzzing and dropped her keys back into her shoulder bag.

"Thirty minutes tops," she reminded, seconds later as Mike shook raindrops from both umbrellas and stood them among a dozen others -- many identical -- along the wall.

Joy couldn't read Mike's expression behind his grin, but she knew that he'd express it verbally soon enough.

"How does anyone know which umbrella is his?" Joy asked.

"Why do you think I carry these big dopey-looking ones? As far as everyone else, they usually just take one and bring it back next time it rains. Honor system. Works great. Contrary to popular belief, there are still a lot of honest people in this world." He opened the saloon-styled, swinging doors that led into Burger Ranch.

The sound of the rain was erased by the discordant noise of clanging pans, and children's boisterous voices and laughter. Joy looked around, amazed. A western flick played on a wall-sized movie screen at one end of the room. But the actors' dialogue was made inaudible by a group of youngsters who were celebrating a birthday party. They cheered for the good guys in the white hats and booed the guys in the black hats. Servers wearing cowboy and cowgirl attire scurried around the room, dodging youngsters and each other as they balanced huge trays of food above their heads. How they kept from colliding was beyond Joy's comprehensive.

"Tanya, you and Jody and Cassie show Doctor Anderson where our favorite table is and grab it if it's available. Stacey, you come help me with the order." Then, he explained to Joy, "You have to order at the counter and get your drinks, then the waiters bring the food to your table. You know, it's amazing, with all the different orders these kids have to keep in their heads at the same time, I've never seen them make a mistake in an order."

Joy watched Mike saunter away, adjusting his long stride to his daughter's, a protective arm around Stacey's shoulders. For a brief moment she thought how that comforting arm would feel around her own shoulder. She shook the image from her brain and followed Tanya and the twins through the maze of disorder, dodging a runaway tot and the woman who chased after him with an exasperated expression on her face.

Their favorite table, in a far corner of the restaurant next to a large picture window, provided a clear view of the play area. The sawdust-covered playground, straight from the Old West, was a child's wonderland of fake cacti, make-believe mountains, and colorfully painted horses in addition to the usual swings, jungle bars and slides, each designed with a western theme.

Tanya squealed as they neared the window. "The rain's letting up," she told the twins. "Maybe we can go play outside after we eat. As though it were the most natural thing in the world, she helped Cassie take off her jacket, brushed off the rain and hung it up. A sign of Mike's careful training, Joy thought. She smiled when Jody refused Tanya's help and struggled out of his jacket on his own and tossed it under the table.

Joy chose a seat next to the wall so she could watch for Mike. Cassie and Jody fought Tanya for a seat either side of Joy. The twins won.

"Doctor Anderson," Tanya ventured as soon as they were seated, "did you know that people in other countries eat baby mice and monkey brains?"

"Yum, yum, monkey brains, Yum, yum, monkey brains," Jody chanted.

"Yuck, gross!" Cassie said under her breath. She stuck her finger in her mouth and gagged.

"Yeah? Well what about that time you ate a lizard?" Tanya asked.

Cassie hung her head, obviously embarrassed that the secret had been shared with Joy.

Joy placed an arm around Cassie, then using a sinister voice, she admitted, "I remember once when I was a little girl just about your age, I ate two worms -- two fat, juicy, dirty grub worms"

Cassie looked up at Joy with admiration.

Tanya gave Joy a look of disbelief, and that ended that topic of conversation.

The children briefly fought over crayons in a box on the table, then began to create masterpieces on their place mats.

Joy smiled at a painting that hung above the dessert bar, which was reminiscent of those in the saloons in old western movies. However, in this one, the gunslingers were depicted as Dobermans and the bar maids as assorted poodles.

Tanya continued her chattering as she colored. "Doctor Anderson, do you operate on animals or just people?"

"Oh, I'm not a medical doctor; I'm a Ph.D."

"What's a Ph.D.?"

"Doctor of philosophy. I have a doctorate degree in psychology."

Tanya's face brightened. "Oh, I know what psychologists do, they mess up people's minds. Anyway, that's what Daddy says." Then, as if she'd realized her faux pas, she added, "All psychologist don't do that, just some of them." Joy wasn't certain if the smile Tanya offered was one of apology or pure mischief.

Jody suddenly let out a blood-chilling shriek as Tanya grabbed the crayon he was using, and Joy suddenly wished she'd paid more attention to her child behavioral courses. She frantically searched for an identical blue crayon in the box and handed it to Jody. She wasn't certain that's how she should have handled the situation, but it seemed to work. Theory was one thing, actually handling live children was another. Mike must have been born knowing how to do it, Joy guessed. He seemed to be able to just look at his kids and they behaved.

"I know how to deliver babies," Tanya blurted.

"Oh?" Joy desperately looked around for Mike.

Tanya completed the finishing touches on the head of the Pinto pony she was coloring before she said, "Yep, and I'm going to deliver puppies pretty soon. Mr. Barkley's going to have her puppies before Christmas."

Joy relaxed and let out a sigh. "It sounds like you're well on your way to becoming a vet."

"I know where real babies come from." Tanya pretended to concentrate on the picture in front of her, but a wicked little smile played at the corners of her mouth, and Joy knew Tanya was having fun at her expense.

Jody laid his fat blue crayon on his place mat and looked up at his sister with rapt attention. "Cassie wants to know, where?"

"Here ya go, li'l buckaroos." A tall skinny cowboy placed a tray piled high with food in the center of the table, and rang a small cowbell for effect. "Who gets the Roundup?"

Saved by the cowbell, Joy thought.

Mike and Stacey appeared seconds later with the drinks. As soon as Mike figured out who got what and went back for a small orange juice for Jody, he sank onto the chair directly across from Joy. He sighed, then reached for Tanya and Stacey's hands and held them a few inches above the table.

As the other children joined hands, Jody grabbed Joy's hand and Cassie thrust her chubby fingers toward her and waited. Joy took her tiny hand not knowing what to expect until they all bowed their heads.

"Who wants to ask the blessing?" Mike asked.

"I do, I do," Stacey insisted. "God bless this food, and God bless our family, and God bless our mommy in heaven, and God bless Doctor Anderson, and God bless Santa Claus. Amen."

A mischievous expression came across Tanya's face, and she added, "In the name of Big Daddy, Little Daddy and Spook."

"Tanya! That's blasphemous," Mike admonished, but Joy noticed he had to force away a smile.

"I'm sorry Dad, I didn't mean to be rude." Tanya said, "I thought it was supposed to be funny. What's wrong with it?"

"We'll discuss this later at home, not in public," Mike said.

Stacey rolled her eyes. "Tanya, you are so uncouth."

Joy covered her laugher by taking a bite of her steak burger. "Hmmm, it's been so long since I've had one of these, I'd almost forgotten how good they are. I'm really glad you invited me to come with you," she told the children.

"I'm glad they did, too," Mike answered, his voice, warm and husky, and Joy didn't risk a glance at him.

"Do any animals live at your house?" Tanya suddenly asked Joy between bites.

"I'm afraid not honey, but I had a miniature dachshund when I was a little girl. His name was Hotdog."

"Do you have any kids?" Stacey interjected.

"No, I don't have children."

"Do you have a husband?" Stacey asked.

"No, I've never been married." Why didn't she tell them she was going to be married in a few weeks. That should be happy news that she should want to share with everyone. She uncrossed her hands and placed her left hand in her lap when she realized she'd covered her engagement ring with her right hand. The children didn't notice, but Mike's expression told her that he had.

"Do you live in a big house," Stacey asked.

"No, I live in a townhouse."

"Who all lives in your townhouse?" Stacey continued.

"Just me," Joy said. She reversed the direction of the conversation. "Who all lives at your house?"

Mike moaned. "Is that ever a loaded question."

Tanya took a deep breath, dropped her burger onto her plate and sang out, "Daddy and me and Stacey and Jody and Cassie and Tommy Sue and Panic and Ben-her and Herr Laubinger." She stopped, placed her hands to her throat, stuck out her tongue and panted like an over-heated puppy. Then she continued, "And, Abigail and Anthony and Cleopatra and Shelby and Mr. Barkley and Peep-Peep and the baby in Tommy Sue's stomach."

Mike flashed a killer smile at Joy. "I warned you." He absently wiped Jody's mouth with a paper napkin.

Stacey piled French fries on her plate. She dragged one through a little lake of ketchup, then before she popped it into her mouth, she asked Joy, "Were you ever Miss America or anythin' like that?"

Joy laughed. "No, the closest I got to anything like that was homecoming queen in high school, and that was only because the real homecoming queen broke her leg an hour before the big game. Why? Are you thinking about entering a beauty contest?"

"Maybe. But I'd have to wear red lipstick and blue eye shadow." She gave her father a sideways glance that told Joy she'd already had that conversation with Mike. Stacey piled her long hair on top of her head. "Do you think I'd look older with my hair in a French twist?" she asked thoughtfully,

"I think you look beautiful just the way you are." Joy reached over and smoothed Stacey's bangs out of her eyes. She was aware of Mike's attention to the feminine interplay.

"All through," Jody announced proudly, pushing aside his clean plate.

Cassie pushed her plate away too, although she hadn't finished. "Through," she mouthed.

"Can Jody and Cassie go play on the playground for a little while?" Tanya asked. "It's stopped raining. I'll go watch them. I'm actually too old to play on the equipment," she told Joy, "but it's okay if I'm with the little kids."

"Put your jackets on," Mike said, "It's not raining, but it's still wet out there." He helped Cassie into her jacket.

"I'd better go watch them, too," Stacey said. She grabbed her jacket and followed the other children toward the playground, lagging behind. But Joy noticed Stacey was the first to mount one of the wooden glider horses.

"Stacey is at that in-between age when she wants to be so grown up, yet she finds it hard to give up being a little girl," Mike mused."

Joy nodded. "I know exactly how she feels. I remember thinking when I was ten if I could only be a teenager, I'd never want anything else in the whole world. Then when I was a teenager, I thought if only I could be twenty-one, then I could make my own decisions and stay out as late as I wanted. I guess we always want something we can't have."

"What do you want now that you can't have?" Mike asked.

Joy didn't answer.

"Want more French fries?" When Joy shook her head, Mike dropped the carton of fries along with two half-eaten burgers onto a tray. "The kids can get a little rowdy. I hope they weren't too much for you."

"Not at all. They're fun. But I think I understand where you get all the material for your comic strip." She helped Mike clean the table, then suddenly looked at her watch. "Oops, I have to be going."

"Nun-uh." He wagged his finger. "Five minutes. Remember? Wait a moment, I want to make the best of my five minutes." He moved to a more comfortable chair closer to Joy and stretched his long legs before he sat down. "I don't often get the chance to have a meaningful conversation with a grown-up, except at church. I even speak with my publisher via e-mail. After five years, I'm not absolutely positive if B.J. Evans is male or female."

Joy smiled. She sat back down and looked at her watch again. "Okay, you've got five minutes tops, and I'd rather you call me Joy. Now, what constitutes a meaningful conversation to you? Art, music, politics?" She purposely left out religion.

"Okay, Joy, why don't you tell me about this guy you're marrying?"

"I'm afraid that subject's off limits. Why don't you do the talking? Tell me more about all those people who live in your house."

"That might take longer than five minutes."

"I'll take my chances."

"Okay, you know me and the kids, and Tanya told you about Panic."

"The snake."

"Right."

"Well, then, there's Anthony and Cleopatra, the gold fish. Abigail is an obnoxious Siamese cat who loves everybody in the house except me. Actually, I've never seen her, but I know she's there, ready to pounce on me at any moment. Shelby is a turtle." He scratched his head and asked, "Did Tanya say Peep-peep?"

"I think so."

"I've never heard of Peep-peep. Peep-peep's obviously a new acquisition."

"Who's the German gentlemen?"

"Herr Laubinger? He's a teddy bear hamster. Oh, I can't forget Mr. Barkley. She's an Old English Sheepdog. But we consider her a member of the family, not one of the animals."

"I've met Mr. Barkley through your comic strip, but I had no idea he was real."

"She. Mr. Barkley is a female with a pedigree a mile long. We had her bred for the first time a few weeks ago. We'll sell the pups and put the money in the kid's education fund. You've probably met us all through the strip, except for Tommy Sue."

"Let me guess, she's a cute little pot-bellied pig."

Mike roared. "Don't ever let her hear you say that. Tommy Sue's our housekeeper, and she's eight and a half months pregnant."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I don't think she gave me her name when I talked to her. Has she been with you long?"

"A few months. She's from a small hole-in-the-wall town somewhere in the middle of Alabama. She fell for a truck driver when he stopped at her uncle's gas station. He stayed just long enough to sweep Tommy Sue off her feet and fall in love with her in the process. He took off in his eighteen-wheeler shortly after they got married, and she hasn't heard from him since. He doesn't even know she's pregnant."

"That's sad. How did Tommy Sue end up working for you here in Florida?"

"The boy told her he was from somewhere down around Tampa, so she hopped on a Greyhound bus and came to Florida looking for him. She ran out of money and showed up at our church about the same time my former live-in housekeeper quit. Tommy Sue and I both needed help, so I hired her. Now, I'm certain God sent her directly to us. The kids adore her. She's been a real blessing to us."

Mike's out-in-the-open Christianity seemed so natural for him -- as easy as breathing. Joy was tempted to ask him about it, but she didn't, afraid she might be starting something she'd have to explain. "She lives with you?"

He nodded. We have a small apartment in the house. It's on the same floor as the children's bedrooms, so it's very convenient."

"When is her baby due?"

"Would you believe Christmas Eve?"

"What will you do then?"

"The kids and I will pitch in until she can work again. That way, she can keep the baby with her."

"That's very generous of you."

"Well, I can't just throw her out on the streets. She only has a ninth-grade education, but she's smart as a whip. She's been going to school studying to get her GED. She's interested in everything. She's taking a liking to classical music. She can identify half of our CDs just by hearing them and that's more than I can do. She's even teaching herself to play the piano. I plan to send her to the community college after the baby's born. She wants to be a chef. What Tommy Sue lacks in social graces, she makes up for in common sense. She's great with the kids -- instinctively knows what they're up to."

Maybe Tanya was right about psychologists, Joy thought. She sure didn't instinctively know what to do with children.

"Besides, she's an excellent housekeeper and a great cook." Mike laughed. "Of course, the first week or so, all we had was hog jowls, corn bread and black- eyed peas. But then, one day she discovered the gourmet cookbooks in the kitchen pantry, and now I have to watch her or she'll serve some wild, exotic concoction every night of the week. We've already had Pastel de Choclo, a Chilean dish, twice this week."

"Can't you help her find her husband? He should be financially responsible for the child."

"We haven't really tried all that hard. When she called back home to give them this address, they told her he'd called a few weeks before, but she'd already left and her family didn't know how to get in touch with her. She knows he's looking for her and she's positive he'll find her before Christmas and before the baby arrives. I'll have to admit she has more faith in her young man than I do. Tommy Sue's a perfect example of unconditional faith in God."

"That's very admirable."

Mike studied her face as though he wanted to ask about her faith in God, but he didn't. "Now, it's your turn," he said, Why don't you have anyone living with you? You're a very beautiful..." He hesitated, as if he knew that was the wrong thing to say. "Like I said, I don't often talk to..."

Joy glanced at her watch. "Sorry, your five minutes are up."

He didn't argue. "I'll let the children say goodbye." He motioned to Stacey.

"G'bye, Mudder," Jody yelled running into the restaurant, his clothes full of damp sawdust.

"Goodbye, Jody. Goodbye, Cassie." Joy turned to Tanya. "Goodbye, Tanya. I had so much fun with you."

"Daddy, can Doctor Anderson go home with us?" Stacey asked.

"I'm afraid not, honey," Mike said. "Doctor Anderson is late for another appointment -- that is unless she can cancel it."

"I can't do that." She pulled the strap of her shoulder bag over her arm. "I really do have to go."

Cassie smiled, and edging toward Joy she tugged at her skirt. She crossed her legs and whispered. "I have to go, too."

Chapter Three

The straight from Paris, Arnaud-original, perfect for meeting one's future in- laws, little black cocktail dress no longer fit.

"Pot-bellied pig," Joy accused her reflection in the floor-length mirror in her bedroom. It's physically impossible for the human body to increase two inches in the hips in twenty-four hours because of one little Burger Ranch meal, she thought.

She burped, and then remembered that when she was a teenager, she'd been allergic to something fast-food restaurants sometimes put in their hamburgers. Since that frightening trip to the hospital, she'd carefully avoided fast food. How could she have forgotten something so important to her health? Her experience with Mike Couric and his children had obviously cast some abnormal ominous spell upon her from which she might never recover. Her usual practicality had been thrown for a complete loop. She'd even fallen asleep and awakened with thoughts of Mike and his family crowding her brain.

But, how could she possibly get Mike off her mind when her upset stomach had reminded her of him all day? She'd dropped her report into the mailbox before noon and told herself that was the end of the case and her relationship with Mike. Relationship. Some relationships are meant to last for a day, some for a year, some for...

The antacids she'd swallowed were not working. Maybe the culprit had been the spicy, onion concoction instead of the beef. Whatever it was, it had stayed with her all night and all day and had blown up inside her like a hot air balloon.

With one last tug on the ankle-length gown, she worked it down over her hips. She turned sideways and risked a peek. Oh, great, I'm due at the yacht in fifteen minutes to meet Trevor's mother and father for the first time, and I look like a pregnant licorice stick.

Joy forced the dress up over her head and carefully hung it back on its special hanger. Maybe she could send it back to Paris. She frantically searched her closet for her forest-green slacks -- the ones with the wide elastic waistband that allowed for an abundance of sins -- praying they wouldn't need ironing. She briefly inspected them and pretended they didn't. The skimpy, informal matching top would never do. Her gold long-sleeved silk turtleneck could work. She topped that with a knee-length green tunic that was the same color of the slacks -- well almost.

Trevor would despise this outfit, but it would have to do. Trevor always insisted on absolute sophistication, and he abhorred anything that suggested commonplace. Fortunately, she had the kind of thick, wavy hair that could be piled onto the top of her head and with a few pulled-out spirals, take on a semblance of sophistication. She added faux emerald earrings and gold high-heeled sandals. Casual chic, she convinced herself. When she realized the gold evening bag looked as though she'd selected it from a drug store sales counter, she decided against a handbag and dropped her wallet and her car keys into her deep pants pocket.

Traffic was horrendous as she made her way across town toward the marina. Thankfully, for the holidays, Trevor's captain had moved the boat from the yacht club to the city marina, which was ten miles further down the coast. Trevor had explained the Parfait would host the mayor, the governor and numerous dignitaries for the Christmas parade on the seventeenth.

Joy pulled into the marina parking lot at eight fifteen. The Parfait, tied up on the end of C-dock, was easy to spot. The eighty-foot custom-built yacht, with its nine-foot carved teak tiger dominating the salon and visible through the windows on both sides of the yacht, was among Trevor's most prized possessions.

As Joy hurried down the dock, she noticed Trevor pacing the aft deck. When he spied her, he turned away and abruptly went back into the boat, leaving her to board by herself. She sensed his anger as she stepped into the cockpit. Her stomach churned because she knew she'd have to face his disappointment in her and also because she'd have to make a favorable impression on his parents, but mostly because she could still taste the grease from last night's French fries. She rang the small ship's bell, which hung from a macramé cord, with her right hand and held her stomach with her left.

Trevor and his father stood on either side of the tiger, a gift from a sultan with whom Trevor had recently closed an exceptionally lucrative deal. As Joy entered the salon, Trevor rushed to her side.

"Hello, darling," he said, "you're late. Was there an accident?" He bussed her cheek and whispered against her ear, "You know I can not tolerate tardiness, Joyce. And, I'm certain I told you to wear your black dress -- the one I bought for you in France." He bristled, and pushed her away. "What is that odor? Joyce, have you been eating raw garlic?"

In reply, Joy burped.

Trevor pulled away from her and quickly composing himself, he said, "Joyce, this is my father, Ellsworth Havorford."

The older man wobbled slightly as he spoke. "Well, well, well, will you just look at her, Mother?" he said to a woman who sat on a couch taking tiny stitches in a needlepoint pillow cover. "Isn't she a beauty? I always did say Trevor had excellent taste in women. Takes after his old man when it comes to good-looking women." He elbowed Trevor and guffawed.

"Don't be crude," his wife said, visibly annoyed.

"So this is the one who finally won his heart," Ellsworth said, ignoring his wife and keeping his gaze fixed on Joy. "Pretty little thing, aren't you?" He stumbled toward her, and he would have kissed her full on the lips had she not turned her head. "I'm Trevor's father, Ellsworth. You can call me, Father. Welcome to the family, little beauty," he said, obviously too full of martinis to detect the onions.

Joy fought to keep from wiping the kiss from her cheek. She detested drunkenness. But, while she avoided alcohol herself, she'd accepted the fact that she'd be around social drinking in her new lifestyle. Trevor considered himself a connoisseur of fine wines, however he made a point of staying sober. She'd never seen him drink more than one glass of wine at any one time and always with food. With the split second business deals he made, he couldn't take a chance of not being in complete control of his faculties, he'd once told her.

"And, this is Mumsy," Trevor said, pride dripping from every word. He pressed a breath mint into Joy's hand as he spoke.

Mumsy? Joy thought that term was reserved for matriarchs in old English mystery novels. "How do you do, Mrs. Havorford," she said to the woman who acknowledged Joy's presence, but remained engrossed in her needlework. When Joy offered her hand, the woman's handshake consisted of limp bright red beautifully manicured fingertips held in midair. Her gaze traveled across Joy, and Joy felt like an expectant pound puppy, hoping to be adopted. "What an exquisite piece of work," Joy said, referring to the needlework, and she meant it.

Mrs. Havorford was exactly as Joy had envisioned her. She was overweight -- the corpulence that often occurred from having too much money. But somehow it looked good on her. She was perfectly groomed, but with a permanent expression of displeasure etched around her thin lips. She wore her aloofness like a frock. She also wore an uncanny copy of the black dress Joy had left on the hanger in her bedroom. A variation on a theme, Joy thought.

After several uncomfortable moments, Mrs. Havorford put her needlework aside and patted the absurdly expensive leather cushion beside her that Trevor had ordered custom-made from fourteen different hides. Joy figured the woman must have had several dozen practiced smiles available -- one for every occasion. The one she exhibited now was one of polite tolerance.

"Come sit by me dear, so I can get to know you," she said to Joy. "We have so much to talk about. Trevor has told us so little about you. Your engagement took us all quite by surprise." Her eyes expressed the part she didn't verbalize: Your engagement also dreadfully disappointed us. She looked directly at the slight bulge in Joy's midsection, and Joy instantly knew what she was thinking.

"It took me by surprise as well," Joy assured the woman, then she smiled and added, "The engagement."

"Lovely ensemble," Mrs. Havorford said, as though reading Joy's mind. She gathered the fabric of Joy's tunic and rubbed it between two crimson-tipped fingers. "I can't wait to introduce you to my designer, dear. Aubin is an absolute genius with complete makeovers." She didn't give Joy time to retort before she asked, "Now, just which of the Andersons are you descended from, dear?"

"My family originally came from southern Georgia, but my parents died several years ago. I was an only child. I have no family.

"An orphan. Oh, you poor dear, family is everything." Mrs. Havorford patted Joy's hand and it was all Joy could do to keep from pulling away from her patronizing touch. "But you and Trevor will have children of course." Her gaze moved to Joy's stomach again. "And, if I may say so, I hope you don't wait too long. As you know, Trevor is our only son, and my husband had no brothers. It's our fondest dream that we have a grandson to carry on the family name."

Joy was taken aback. Trevor had not told them she could not have children! That was one reason she'd agreed to marry him. He'd told her he absolutely wanted no children. He'd made it clear that he loathed children. How could he have...?

"...and I've arranged for the jet to bring you to Paris next week for a fitting," Mrs. Havorford was saying.

"A fitting?" Joy's brain was beginning to spin.

"Of course, I've already selected your wedding dress, but Aubin will have to fit you before he can add the finishing touches. You must realize we have so very little time, dear."

So little time, Joy repeated mentally. Her stomach turned over and for a moment she thought she was going to throw up. But the nausea passed just as quickly and she said, "I wish you had checked with me before you made plans, Mrs. Havorford. I have to work next week." She was desperately trying to assimilate the woman's rudeness and arrogance.

Mrs. Havorford laughed. "Oh, dear, haven't you given up that job yet? You must realize that Havorford women do not work. They organize, they revise, they even volunteer, but they do not work. And, please, dear, do not call me Mrs. Havorford.

Mumsy? No way, Joy thought, there's no way in heaven I will call you Mumsy.

"You may call me Olivia." She reached over and pushed Joy's hair off her forehead, as though deciding how Joy would wear her hair as a Havorford woman.

"I'm very sorry, Mrs....Olivia, but -- "

"I forgot to tell you," Trevor interrupted, I have an absolutely wonderful surprise. Mumsy has completely revised our honeymoon plans." He absolutely beamed as he placed a hand on his mother's shoulder. "She is full of wonderful little surprises. We're going to honeymoon in Spain with her and Father and a few of their closest friends. Isn't this exciting news? Mumsy will explain everything during dinner."

Before Joy could protest, the chef announced dinner.

"Thank you, Graham," Trevor said to the chef. He took his mother's hand to help her from the couch. Joy was surprised at the grace with which the woman rose in spite of her weight. Joy followed them into the dining roomm Trevor's father struggling to catch up with her.

When they were seated, Ellsworth proposed a slurred, nonsensical toast, welcoming Joy into the family. Trevor and his mother waited until he managed to maneuver caviar onto a triangle of toast and guide the first bite to his mouth, then they picked up their own forks. They began the first course in silence.

"Joyce, is something wrong with your food? You're not eating," Trevor admonished, "This is Beluga caviar. Mother had it flown in from Russia especially for tonight -- especially for you. Of course, if you don't care for it, I'll have Graham prepare something different for you. What would you prefer?" His tone was one of controlled irritation.

Mustn't disappoint Mumsy, Joy thought. "Oh, I'm sure it's delicious. I'm just not very hungry." As soon as the words were out of her mouth she realized she was being rude. She loved caviar and normally would have been thrilled to enjoy such a delicacy. What's wrong with me?

"Very well, then." Almost ceremoniously, Trevor wiped caviar across a piece of toast and savored it. He pressed a napkin to his lips, then nodded enthusiastic approval toward his mother. "Perfection. Absolute perfection."

Joy watched, in a daze, as napkins folded, candles burned, and wine sparkled in crystal glasses. Slowly reality faded as an image of Mike and his happy, laughing, rambunctious children with mustard on their chins and ketchup on their noses replaced her surroundings.

"Joyce? Joyce! What on earth is wrong with you tonight?" The accusing voice came from Trevor.

She knew he was thinking, you're not living up to my expectations. You're not pleasing my mother. She also knew that within the next few seconds she was either going to pass out or throw up. She chose the latter.

"Excuse me, I really don't feel..." Joy pushed away from the table and ran toward the bathroom. Wet washcloths on her face eased the nausea and she instantly felt better. Ten minutes later, she made her way back to the salon and apologized to Trevor's parents. "I'm so sorry I've spoiled your evening. Everything was lovely, and I enjoyed meeting you. But I think I'd better go home and rest," she told them, "I'll look forward to seeing you again soon."

"What's wrong with that girl? Is she drunk?" she heard Ellsworth ask his wife as Joy headed toward the door.

"Oh, Ellsworth, go somewhere and lie down," Mrs. Havorford said. She didn't bother to hide the anger in her voice.

Trevor followed Joy onto the dock. "What in the name of heaven is wrong with you tonight, Joyce? You haven't been yourself all evening. First, you were inexcusably late, then you were incredibly rude to my mother."

"I'm sorry. I really am. I feel terrible. I'm probably just coming down with a bug or something. There's a new virus making the rounds. I'm sure I'll be okay after a good night's sleep. Please try to understand. We'll try this again."

Trevor's tone softened. "Very well, darling. I'll get someone to drive you home. I don't want to leave Mumsy. She gets upset so easily."

"No, that won't be necessary. I'm perfectly capable of driving myself home."

"Very well, then." Trevor blew a kiss to her, explaining, "One can't be too careful with germs."

"Trevor, can I ask you something before I go?"

"Of course, darling, you know you can always ask me anything you wish. We have no secrets with one another."

Oh, Trevor, how I wish that were true. I wish I could tell you...I wish I could share the truth with you.

"What's wrong with the way I look tonight? she asked instead."

Trevor appeared temporarily stunned. "Well, nothing's actually wrong. You're an extremely attractive woman, Joyce, a woman any man would be proud to have as his wife. It's just that you could look extraordinarily beautiful with more stylish clothes and..." Trevor suddenly seemed uncomfortable with the conversation. "You know what I always say, one can always improve upon perfection and -- "

They were interrupted by a sudden commotion on the dock.

"Mudder! Mudder!"

Joy whirled toward the familiar voice as Mike's children ran toward her, screaming and laughing. Jody wrapped his arms around her legs and squeezed tightly. Cassie pushed her little body close to Joy and smiled up at her, her eyes sparkling in the glow from the dock lights.

"Hi, kids, what are you doing here at the marina?" Her question was directed to Tanya.

"Stacey has practice at the church for the Christmas pageant, so Daddy bought us to come look at the boats while we're waiting for her," Tanya told her. "They sure do look pretty." She glanced up at the yacht, her eyes wide, then she looked back at Joy. "Wow! Is this your boat?"

"No, I -- "

"It will be her boat on Christmas Eve when we're married," Trevor interrupted. Then he said to Joy, "Who are these children? What did that little boy call you?" He pulled the PLEASE DO NOT BOARD sign to the front of the boarding ladder blocking entrance to the yacht.

"They belong to a client from the adoption agency," Joy said, tousling Jody's hair and tickling Cassie's nose.

The client ambled down the dock, dripping masculinity with every step. He wore a bright red Christmas sweatshirt with a picture of a trio of reindeer tangled in a palm tree and jeans that he'd obviously had trouble pulling over his hips as well. His smile was as wide as his shoulders. "We meet again, Doctor Anderson -- twice in as many days. This is a pleasant surprise."

Trevor immediately went into fight mode, like a vulture protecting his freshly caught prey. "Where did you meet earlier?" he asked Mike. He couldn't hide his jealous suspicion.

"Yesterday, in her office," Mike explained. "Strictly business." He grinned.

Tanya volunteered to add to Mike's account of the encounter. "And, then we all had dinner together last night at Burger Ranch."

Joy knew if she as much as attempted an explanation, the children would have the story woven into such a web, she'd never be able to untangle it. Better to leave well enough alone. She turned to her fiancé. "Trevor Havorford, meet Mike Couric." She left out the fiancé part.

"Daddy, this is going to be Doctor Anderson's boat after she marries this man on Christmas Eve," Tanya said. When Mike didn't say anything, she added, "This man said so."

"Congratulations -- to both of you," Mike said. He scanned Trevor like a father sizing up a daughter's first date.

As the two men continued to evaluate one another and play a silent game of marking territory, Joy could visualize Trevor pulling out a white glove and slapping Mike across the cheek, challenging him to choose his weapon.

Tanya broke the tension when she ran toward the stern of the yacht. "I can't see the name on the back of your boat. What's it's called, Mister?"

"Parfait. That's French for perfection."

"Can I go in your boat?" Tanya asked.

Trevor ignored her question and stared at Joy who had picked Cassie up and was listening intently to something the child was whispering in her ear.

"Wow, Daddy, come look in the window at the tiger," Tanya called. "It's beautiful. It's parfait."

"It's impolite to look into people's boats," her father told her, but he went to look anyway.

"Joy, how long have you known this man...Mitch?" Trevor demanded.

"Mike," Joy corrected. "I've known him one day," she answered as casually as she could manage. "I told you he's a client."

Trevor wouldn't leave it alone. Out of Mike's earshot, he asked, "Is it customary for you to be this friendly with your clients? So friendly in fact that you have dinner with them?"

"No, it isn't," she admitted, but she didn't feel she had to explain further.

Holding a half-eaten red and green candy cane in his hand, Jody tugged on Trevor's cloud white, perfectly creased trousers. "Can I go up there?" He pointed a sticky finger toward the bow.

Trevor quickly moved away ignoring Jody's question and brushing away the bits of red and green sugar which had adhered to his slacks.

"We have a pontoon boat on the lake behind our house. It's called The River Rat," Tanya told Trevor. "We named it after one of my rats who refused to be ate by Panic."

"Panic? Who's Panic?" Trevor asked.

"My boa constrictor."

"You have a boa constrictor that eats rats?"

Tanya had Trevor hooked, and Joy noticed Mike let it continue.

"Of course. I raise Japanese hooded rats just for him to eat. He eats them alive." Tanya was on a roll. "He likes the babies best."

"You feed helpless little baby mice to a snake?"

Tanya put her hands on her hips and moved closer to Trevor. "Mister, do you eat meat?"

"Of course I do, but -- "

"Well, you could live on fruits and vegetables and grain, but God made snakes so they have to eat meat. If Panic could eat green beans, I promise you I'd feed him green beans. Besides, he only eats one live rat once a month. He doesn't really eat the babies. I was just joking about that part."

Trevor stared at Tanya, his eyes full of disgust, and Joy guessed this man, who could easily tackle the heads of state, had just met his match.

"Tanya! Mike spoke her name in a tone that said, "You've gone too far."

"But Daddy,"

"That's enough," Mike said with a look that warned Tanya he wouldn't tolerate any more of her rudeness. "I want you to apologize to this man."

"I'm sorry. I apologize. But I really do have a boa constrictor named Panic and he really does eat rats," Tanya said.

"Tanya said people eat baby mice and monkey brains,"

Jody interjected. "Yum, yum, monkey -- "

Trevor was speechless, and from his expression, Joy figured he was probably sicker at his stomach just about now than she'd been. Actually, she was feeling much better. Cassie's warm little arms were wound tight around her neck and her head lay in the crook of her neck. The child's hair smelled like freshly dried sheets taken from a clothesline on a breezy summer day.

"Cassie's almost asleep, I'll take her," Mike said, reaching for the little girl, his hands unavoidably brushing Joy's arms. "Come on, kids, it's past your bedtime. You have to get up early in the morning, and we still have to go pick up Stacey. I'm sorry if the children bothered you...uh...Trevor, was it?" He shook Trevor's hand. "Sure nice meeting you."

Mike's gaze locked with Joy's for a brief uncomfortable moment. "I have to be leaving too," Joy said, praying neither Mike nor Trevor could sense the excitement she'd felt from Mike's touch. "Good night, Trevor." She blew him a kiss, explaining, "Germs."

"We'll see that she gets to her car safely," Mike promised.

Trevor fidgeted. He stood on the dock and watched until the children piled in the station wagon and Joy was in her own car before he went back into the yacht.

"Charming man," Mike ventured as he opened Joy's car door.

Go ahead, Mike. Say obnoxious, that's what you're thinking. "Yes, Trevor's very charming. He's well respected among his peers."

"Where did you meet him?'

"At a party."

"How long have you two been engaged?"

"Two months."

"Why are you marrying him?"

That question caught her off-guard. "Why do people usually get married?"

"Because they fall in love and can't live without one another. Now, I repeat, why are you marrying Prince Charming?"

"Why are you giving me the third degree?"

"Because you're a nice person and something here doesn't compute. I somehow can't see your marriage to Trevor as a match made in heaven." He raked his fingers through his hair. "Joy, why does it always seem like I'm the only one answering questions whenever I'm around you?"

Joy closed the car door, started the engine and fastened her seat belt, but she rolled down the window. "Look, you accused me of not being honest with my feelings. I'm going to be as honest with you as I can. People get married for various reasons. I know a lot of marriages that have started out with fireworks and rose-covered cottages and ended six months later in the divorce courts. I also know many that started out as friendships and have lasted for more than fifty years."

"And, you're settling for friendship instead of fireworks? Still doesn't compute. You're much too vivacious, too much woman to -- "

"My reason for marrying Trevor is a valid one, but it's also a personal one. To be perfectly frank, it's none of your business."

"Touché."

"It was nice knowing you, Mike, but I believe the relationship between us that you talked about has finally played itself out. Have a good life." She rolled up the window halfway and put the car in gear.

"Before you go, I have two things to say," he said.

"I'm listening."

"I want to apologize again for Tanya's rudeness. I try to teach the kids to stand up for themselves, but sometimes it's difficult for them to know when they're standing up for themselves and when they're being obnoxious."

She nodded. "What's the second thing?"

As she pulled away, he called, "You look absolutely beautiful in that green thing you're wearing."

Joy drove slowly past Mike's van and looked at the three faces pressed against the car windows. She smiled and waved at the children knowing it would be the last time she'd see them. She wondered how long it would take to forget them. How will I know when Stacey wins her first beauty contest? Who will help her with her makeup? How will I know if Tanya becomes a veterinarian? How long will it take Cassie to break loose from Jody and become her own person? Will they eventually find a new mother?

Joy looked back at the multimillion-dollar yacht that in two short weeks would be hers -- along with a man she didn't love. Then, she took one last look at Mike through her rear view mirror. Would he find a woman and fall in love again?

Lucky woman.

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