Sloan had invested all her savings and all her spare time in her own house and had turned it into a picturesque stucco cottage with white window boxes and sparkling white trim that flattered the slate gray color of the stucco. When she first bought her house, the stretch of beach across from it had belonged almost exclusively to the residents of Sloan's quiet neighborhood. Back then, the street had been quiet, the residents lulled by an undulating silence that deepened and withdrew as each new breaker flung itself onto the beach and receded into the sea.
Bell Harbor's population explosion had put an end to all that as families with young children looked for a beach without the noise and antics of the college crowd, and they discovered Sloan's beach. Now, when Sloan turned onto her narrow street at four P.M. on Sunday, it was lined with vehicles parked bumper-to-bumper, some of them directly in front of No Parking signs and others partially blocking residents' driveways. And although she knew the surf was still rising and falling, she couldn't hear it above the delighted squeals of the children and the music from their parents' portable radios.
Sara grabbed the only parking space in sight, and Sloan bit back a smile as she watched Sara force a dark blue Ford sedan to back up so that she could claim the space for herself. The driver let her bluff him out.
"You really have to do something about all those cars," Sara decreed as she hurried over to Sloan, brushing a smudge off her pants leg. "They're packed in so tight that I had to squeeze between my car and the one in front of it, and I got dirt on my leg."
"I count myself lucky when they're not blocking my driveway," Sloan joked, unlocking her front door. Inside, the house was cheerful and bright, furnished in casual rattan furniture with pillows covered in a print of palm leaves and yellow hibiscus on a white background.
"I'd count myself lucky if you'd tell me about Carter Reynolds. How did he know where to phone you today?"
"He said he called my mother."
"So the two of them have stayed in touch over the years?"
"Nope."
"Wow," Sara breathed. "I wonder what she thought of his sudden interest in you."
Sloan could have bet serious money on her mother's probable reaction, but instead of replying, she tipped her head toward the answering machine, where the red message light was flashing frantically and the call counter indicated that three new messages were waiting. Suppressing a weary smile, she walked over and pressed the message playback button. Her mother's voice burst out with exactly the tone of youthful delight Sloan had expected to hear. "Sloan, honey, it's Mom. You're going to get a wonderful surprise today, but I don't want to spoil it because I want you to be as surprised as I was. But here's a hint: Sometime today, you're going to get a phone call from a man who's very important to you. Call me at home this afternoon before you go on duty tonight."
The second message was recorded two minutes after the first one, and it was also from Kimberly Reynolds. "Honey, I was so excited when I left you the last message that I wasn't thinking straight. I won't be home until nine tonight, because we're having a sale on Escada and we're very busy at the shop, so I told Lydia I'd stay and help until we close. And you can't call me here at the shop, because it upsets Lydia so much when employees use the shop's phone, and you know how bad her ulcers are. I don't want to give her another attack. I can't stand the suspense, so please leave me a message on my answering machine. Don't forget…"
Sara looked understandably stunned. "She's completely thrilled about his phone call."
"Of course," Sloan said, shaking her head in amused disbelief at her mother's typically naive optimism. According to Sloan's birth certificate, Kimberly Janssen Reynolds was her mother, but the reality was that Sloan had raised Kimberly and not the reverse. "Why are you surprised?"
"I don't know. I guess I thought Kim would be carrying some sort of grudge."
Sloan rolled her eyes at that. "Are we talking about my mom—the same sweet woman who can't refuse anyone anything because she's worried she'll seem rude or hurt their feelings? The same woman who just let Lydia bully her into working an extra six hours, but who dares not use Lydia's telephone because she's worried that the overbearing witch will have an ulcer attack if she does? The same underpaid, overworked woman who has run Lydia's shop for her for fifteen years and who brings in more customers than all the rest of Lydia's clerks combined?"
Sara, who loved Kimberly almost as much as Sloan did, started to laugh as Sloan finished her comic diatribe. "I can't believe you actually thought the same woman who practically raised you could carry a grudge against Carter Reynolds, merely because he walked out of her life thirty years ago, broke her heart, and never looked back or contacted her again."
Grinning, Sara held up her hand. "You're absolutely right. I must have had a moment of temporary insanity to even suggest such a thing."
Satisfied with that, Sloan pressed the playback button again. Message number three was also from Kimberly and had been recorded only fifteen minutes before Sloan and Sara walked into the house. "Honey, it's Mom. I'm at a pay phone in the drugstore on my break. I called the police station, and Jess told me you'd already gotten a long distance phone call from your father, so I'm not ruining your surprise by leaving this message. I've been thinking about what you should take with you to Palm Beach. I know you've been spending every cent you can spare on your house, but we'll have to start shopping for a complete new wardrobe for you. Don't worry honey, by the time you leave for Palm Beach, you'll have loads of beautiful clothes."
Sara suppressed a chuckle while Sloan erased the messages and reset the answering machine.
Sloan picked up the phone, dialed her mother's number, and left a message on her answering machine as Kim had asked her to do. "Hi, Mom, it's Sloan. I spoke to Carter Reynolds, but I am not going to Palm Beach. I have no desire to get to know that side of the family, and I told him that. Love you. Bye." With that, she hung up the phone and turned to Sara. "I'm starved," she announced as if the subject of Carter Reynolds were already buried and forgotten. "I think I'll fix a tuna sandwich. Would you like one?"
Silently, Sara turned and watched Sloan walk into the kitchen and begin opening cupboards. Now that the shock of the discovery was wearing off, Sara was as hurt as she was baffled by the realization that Sloan and Kim had kept this enormous secret from her. They were her family, closer to her than any family that she'd ever known.