This story brings me full circle
in the Home to Harbor Town series,
so Iâd like to thank all the readers who have
supported the books thus far, in addition to everyone who
contributed to its evolution: my agent, Laura Bradford,
my editor, Susan Litman, beta readers Lea,
Mary and Sandy and, of course, my husband,
who is forever patient with my never-ending questions
about business transactions or the specifics
of how this or that piece of machinery actually works.
My deepest appreciation to you all.
Chapter One
Clutching one of the delicate centerpieces from her brotherâs wedding reception, Deidre Kavanaugh walked out of the near-empty ballroom alone. She was beyond grateful to have witnessed Liamâs happiness at marrying the love of his lifeâNatalie Reyesâtonight. Now that family and friends were gone, however, and the romance and gaiety of the wedding was over, she couldnât help but feel a little disappointed to be flying solo.
Again.
She didnât have to be alone, of course. Staying at Cedar Cottage instead of at her sister Colleenâs had been Deidreâs choice. She was used to her solitary ways at this point in her life, and old habits died hard.
Of course, her mother, Brigit, had invited Deidre to stay at the family home on Sycamore Avenue. Deidre had politely refused and then tried to harden her heart when she saw her motherâs hurt, sad expression. Her refusal couldnât have been too surprising, considering that Deidre held such anger toward her mother for keeping the identity of her biological father a secret for so many years. Deidre had only learned Lincoln DuBois was her natural father late last summer. If it hadnât been for Liam and his Natalieâs investigation into their past, Brigit would have taken the secret to the grave with her.
A million stars sparkled against the backdrop of an ebony night sky when she walked out of the Starling Hotel. Liam and Natalie had chosen a windless, frigid night to celebrate their marriage. She took a deep breath when she walked out onto the steps, but it didnât help much to revive her. The last three months of her life had been stressful...life-altering. Sheâd learned the identity of her biological father and then lost him to cancer within months of gaining that knowledge.
Deidre was exhausted, body and soul.
She paused on the steps, inspecting the little town by starlight. It seemed surreal to be back in Harbor Town. The quaint little community had once been the site of so much childhood innocence and bliss. Itâd also been the place where sheâd made the horrific discovery she wasnât really Derry Kavanaughâs daughter. Derry had had that truth confirmed on the same night. His consequent ragged emotional state was what had led to a traumatic car crash in which Derry had been killed along with three others. Deidre had left Harbor Town the summer before college and never returnedâuntil last night.
She was in the process of searching for her rental car keys in her evening bag, clutching at the floral centerpiece the whole time, when a man called out to her. She came to an abrupt halt in the parking lot, her breath sticking in her lungs. She recognized that clipped, authoritative voice.
Nick Malone. Hearing it so unexpectedly here in Harbor Town set her immediately on edge. For some reason, one of the first things Nick had ever said to her when she told him about her discovery that she was Lincoln DuBoisâs biological daughter popped into her brain at that moment.
You must have thought you woke up one day and won the lottery.
She spun around. His shadow looked large and imposing against the backdrop of the night sky.
âWhat are you doing here?â she asked Nick breathlessly.
âWe have important things to discuss. I would think thatâs obvious, following Lincolnâs death.â
His face was difficult to make out in the dim light, but what Deidre couldnât see, she filled in from memoryâthe rugged, bold features, the cool, suspicious gaze that always seemed to be detailing her flaws.
âI canât believe you came here.â
âI canât believe you thought for a second I wouldnât find you, wherever you went,â he replied dryly. âYou knew the reading of Lincolnâs will took place yesterday at The Pines,â he continued, referring to Lincolnâs palatial lodge on the edge of Lake Tahoe.