A Husband of Her Own

“Josh, good to see you,”
Rebecca said, forcing a smile

He gave her that crooked grin of his, the one that showed his dimples, and immediately called her on the lie. “Are you sure?”

Hell, no. “I’m trying to be positive,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her because she suddenly didn’t know where to put them. Katie and Mona—and everyone else—were watching avidly.

He settled his black felt cowboy hat farther back on his head. “So this truce thing is for real.”

“I guess,” she said with a shrug.

“Because I gotta tell ya, that fiasco at your sister’s wedding was…” He shook his head and let his breath go all at once.

“I can’t believe you’d even bring that up,” Rebecca responded, bridling. “You made me take out the punch fountain.”

He cocked his head. “You’re the one who tripped me in the first place.”

“I didn’t even touch you!”

“Wait a second,” Katie broke in. “That wedding was the most exciting thing this town has seen in the past three years. If you two call a truce, life’s going to be pretty boring around here. Who will Rebecca have to fight with?”

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Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Dundee, Idaho, where in A Baby of Her Own (September 2002) Delaney and Conner finally worked out their differences. Now that the scandal involving “good girl” Delaney has died down, it’s time to mix things up again. And Delaney’s best friend, Rebecca, is the perfect woman to do that. She’s high-strung and unpredictable; in fact, you could say Rebecca’s middle name is “Trouble.” It’s going to take a strong hero to tame her. But I think she’s met her match in Josh. I hope so, at least. I fell in love with him myself!

I always enjoy hearing from readers. Please feel free to contact me at P.O. Box 3781, Citrus Heights, CA 95611. Or simply log on to my Web site at www.novak.com to leave me an e-mail, check out future book signings, learn about my upcoming releases and win some fabulous prizes.

Brenda Novak

Brenda Novak
A Husband of Her Own

DEDICATION

To my first son, Trey, who, at eight years old,

already exhibits the dignity of a confident man. He is my

anchor in the storm of life, holding fast, always at peace—

an echo of my father. If you forget everything else I’ve ever

taught you, Trey, remember this: my love is everlasting.

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

Thanks to Michael Star,

www.AstrologyZine.com/attract-women-Scorpio.shtml

for his astrology information and horoscopes.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER ONE

“YOU WANT TOWHAT?” Rebecca Wells pulled away from where she’d been leaning on her kitchen counter and clutched the telephone tightly, hoping she’d heard wrong the first time. She was supposed to be at work by nine, in twenty minutes, but this call took precedence over everything else.

“I think we should wait until the end of January,” her fiancé, Buddy, responded. He sounded tentative, as though he feared she might not accept this news well. Probably because she’d lost her temper last time. He’d postponed the wedding twice already.

“The end of January is almost four months away, Buddy,” she said, and was immediately proud of how calmly she’d spoken. Too bad Delaney had gotten married and wasn’t living with her anymore. Rebecca felt certain her best friend would have applauded her efforts.

“That’s not so long, babe. What’re another few months? It won’t change anything in the long run, right?”

Change anything! It would change everything. Rebecca had been counting the days until she could leave her small hometown behind. She wanted to move to Nebraska with Buddy so Mrs. Whipple couldn’t pass her on the street, shake her head and mumble, “Poor Mayor Wells. Who would’ve thought he’d get stuck with such a daughter?” So Mrs. Reese couldn’t frown disapprovingly as she sat in the beauty shop across from where Rebecca was working, recounting the occasion when Rebecca had purposely dyed her hair blue. So Delaney’s Aunt Millie couldn’t constantly remind her of the day she ran away with Johnny Red, the leader of a biker gang that had once passed through town.

On second thought, being reminded of Johnny probably wouldn’t have bothered Rebecca. He’d been dangerous and reckless and incredibly sexy. Except he’d sent her packing in only three days—that was the humiliating part. Everyone in town had assumed even a man like Johnny Red couldn’t tame Rebecca Wells. They didn’t realize that next to Johnny, she looked like a saint.

Stretching her neck to relieve some of the tension, she took a deep breath. She needed to loosen up or she was going to blow this conversation. The last time she’d let Buddy feel the full force of her disappointment, he hadn’t called for almost a week.

“Now I’m going to have to explain to the whole town that I’m not getting married for my birthday, and I’m going to have to say it’s because your great-aunt can’t make it until after Christmas?” she said.

A sense of accomplishment swept through Rebecca despite her dismay. She’d just managed another reasonable statement. She was doing amazingly well, considering her track record, but the strain was taking its toll. Just last week, she’d promised Delaney that she’d given up smoking for good. But a cigarette seemed almost imperative to her success here. If only she hadn’t destroyed every pack in the house in the fervor of her good intentions.

“Are you saying that my great-aunt isn’t enough of a reason to hold off?” he asked. “She’s very important to me, Rebecca.”

Rebecca had a few things to say about the relative importance of a great-aunt, but she bit them back. Opening the kitchen drawer that housed the Ziploc Baggies, aluminum foil and plastic wrap, she retrieved her nicotine patches and smoothed one on her arm. “They’ll think you’re getting cold feet,” she pointed out.

“I’m not getting cold feet. We met only nine months ago. And we’ve seen each other in person…what? A handful of times? I think most people understand that a long-distance relationship sometimes develops a little more slowly.”

Except their relationship hadn’t developed slowly. From almost the first moment they’d met on the Internet last January, they’d been talking about getting married. They’d grown close very quickly.

Unfortunately, Rebecca was afraid their relationship might be fading just as fast. And she couldn’t figure out why. She knew she was a little temperamental, but it wasn’t as though Buddy was likely to do any better. Only five feet six, he was at least fifty pounds overweight. He had blond hair and kind blue eyes—Rebecca loved both his hair and his eyes—but his face showed traces of years-old acne, and he had a big nose. He certainly wasn’t someone who would normally have turned her head. Especially because she was five feet ten, one hundred thirty pounds, and nearly five years older.

It was the differences in their basic natures that she thought of as the truly positive factor in their relationship. Nothing riled Buddy. On a scale of one to ten, the intensity of his emotions fell somewhere below a one. He immediately and completely withdrew from any and all confrontation. Rebecca, on the other hand, had never backed away from a fight in her life. Until today. “Stay calm,” was quickly becoming her silent mantra.

“I don’t understand why you keep doing this,” she said, still admirably rational. “Are you having second thoughts about us?”

“No…not really.”

Not really? She considered asking Buddy if she could call him back after she made a cigarette run. Only she was already too engrossed in the conversation to walk away from it now.

“I just…I don’t see any need to rush into anything,” he was saying.

“We wouldn’t be rushing,” she responded. “We’d simply be going ahead with our plans. Why can’t we show your aunt the video when she comes to town? I mean, weddings aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. It’ll be more fun to get to know her in a relaxed atmosphere.”

“It’s not just my aunt.”

“You said you weren’t having second thoughts about us. At least, I think that’s what you said. You said ‘not really.’ I don’t know what I’m supposed to make of that. I guess it means you could be having second thoughts, or you could be having some second thoughts or—”

“You’re putting words in my mouth,” he said. “I’m thinking about the advantages, that’s all. We’d have more money if we waited, and I’ll have saved up a few more days’ vacation time.”

“What about me?” Rebecca slapped a nicotine patch on her other arm. “I’ve already given my notice at Hair And Now, and Erma has a new girl I’m supposed to train starting in a few weeks. There won’t be enough business for her if I keep my current clients. Besides, the lease is up on my house and—”

“Has anyone else come forward to rent it? Maybe you could talk your landlord into letting you stay another few months.”

Wasn’t he listening? She didn’t want to stay any longer. She didn’t want to see the doubt in her father’s eyes when she told him the wedding had been postponed a third time. And she sure as heck didn’t want to share such news with her three perfect sisters, all of whom had husbands and families of their own. They’d paved the road before her with such high expectations she’d never measure up. And everyone down at the Honky Tonk, the redneck bar that served as the center of Dundee’s weekend entertainment, was already placing bets on whether there’d really be a wedding. She couldn’t have the whole town laughing at her. Not again.

“The invitations are at the printers,” she said. She could feel the reassuring adhesive of both nicotine patches clinging to her skin but somehow it wasn’t the same as a smoke.

“You could probably catch them if you called right away,” he replied.

“Maybe, maybe not. Maybe we should just forget about the wedding and elope.”

“Elope?”

His voice had definitely gone a bit high, but Rebecca barreled on. “Yeah. Let’s fly to Vegas and do it. Forget the cake and the flowers and the food. Forget the guests!”

“My mother would kill me.”

“Why? My parents are the ones who’ve already spent a lot of money.” Her parents had been so excited that she was finally getting married, they’d promised to give her the same kind of wedding they’d provided for her sisters, even though she was thirty-one. The vein in her father’s forehead had momentarily appeared when she mentioned the cost of her dress, but her mother had quickly quelled whatever he was about to say with one of her magical warning glances. He’d nodded vacantly and walked away, and they hadn’t discussed the expense of the wedding since.

“See?” Buddy said. “We can’t elope. Your parents would be furious.”

“Some things, like the food and hall and the photographer, we can still cancel. The rest I’ll pay for myself, a little at a time.”

“And the memory of having your father give you away and all that?”

“I don’t think my folks care whether or not I have a wedding. They just want me to be happy.”

“That might be true. But I’m an only child and my father died when I was eight. It’s perfectly understandable that my mother would want me to do things the traditional way.”

Rebecca was beginning to feel a little desperate. He had an answer for everything, but they weren’t answers she could understand. Two people who were madly in love wanted to be together as soon as possible. They didn’t put off their wedding for a great-aunt. It was the one time in life a couple was allowed to be selfish.

Or maybe she was getting carried away by the emotion of the moment. Maybe she wasn’t thinking like other people. It had happened before.

“Okay,” she said, shifting to damage control. “What if I move out there and we live together until the wedding? That should make everyone happy.”

“Um…I don’t think so. My family wouldn’t like it.”

“Your family wouldn’t like it? What about you, Buddy?”

He immediately picked up on the edge in her voice. “There’s no need to get upset, Beck. Would you please calm down?”

Calm down? How could she respond any more calmly and still have a pulse? “What do you want me to say?” she asked. “I can’t help that I’m not happy about this.” As a matter of fact, the bubble of her anger was rising inexorably toward the surface, and she feared she’d no longer be able to hold it back. Worse, she could barely remember why it was important to do so. If Buddy didn’t love her, all the soft-spoken words in the world wouldn’t change a thing. And he couldn’t love her if he was putting everyone else’s feelings before hers.

“Just try to understand,” he said.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I want to know what’s really going on.”

“There’s nothing going on. I want my aunt to come to the wedding. Reading anything more into this would be blowing it out of proportion.”

“What about my family? They’ve been making hundreds of scrolls with that silly romantic poem we chose.”

“Which we’ll use…eventually.”

“Eventually.” Rebecca felt as if her hold on the rope that was supposed to rescue her from Dundee had just grown a little more tenuous.

“I’ve got to go,” Buddy said.

“Wait! I want to talk about this. I admit I’m upset, but I think I have good reason to be.”

Silence.

“Buddy? Answer me, dammit. Not every conversation we have has to be pleasant. That isn’t even realistic.”

Nothing.

“What if one of my aunts can’t make it in January? Do we put if off again? We can’t possibly accommodate everyone.”

“Let’s talk about it later, okay?”

“Why?”

“Because maybe by then you’ll have cooled off.”

“And maybe not. Can’t you work with me here? I’m disappointed and frustrated and—”

“And I’d talk to you now if I thought it would help, but arguing won’t solve anything,” he said. “Come on, Beck. I’m just asking for a few more months. What’s the rush?”

He didn’t get it, and Rebecca knew she couldn’t explain it to him without dredging up her past. Which she definitely didn’t want to do. She was moving to Nebraska to start over. “I thought we were in love,” she said.

“We are in love. And we’re going to be just as in love in January, right?”

How could she answer that without conceding it would be okay to wait? “I guess.”

“At least, I’m still going to be in love with you,” he added, and Rebecca felt herself soften. She didn’t want to wait any longer to be married, but if it would make Buddy happy, how could she refuse? “Okay,” she said at last.

“Great.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “I knew you’d understand. You’re the best, babe, you know that? Listen, I’ve got someone at the door, so I’ll have to call you later.”

Rebecca slouched into a chair at the kitchen table and started peeling off the nicotine patches she’d plastered on herself. “Fine.”

The phone clicked and a dial tone filled her ear. Hanging up, she sat in a stupor for several seconds, waiting for her emotions to reach some kind of equilibrium. She’d behaved admirably. She’d succeeded in remaining calm and should be proud of herself for that. But it was hard to celebrate when Buddy was still postponing their wedding. She’d have to tell her family and friends. She’d have to make new arrangements at work and with her landlord. She’d have to withstand all the snide remarks she was bound to receive at the Honky Tonk.

Propping her chin on her palm, she gazed dejectedly out the window at the front drive. Everything will be okay, she told herself. This wouldn’t be the first time the whole town had snickered behind her back. Folks still told and retold the crazy things she’d done over the years, even though some stories went all the way back to her childhood. But she always managed to smile through the telling. And she’d keep on smiling. The trick, of course, was never to let anyone know how much it hurt.

CHAPTER TWO

“MARTHA CALLED EARLIER, said you wanted me to come over for dinner so you could talk to me about something,” Rebecca said. Dropping her car keys on the counter, she plopped onto a stool in the middle of her parents’ large white kitchen.

Her mother, wearing a cherry-print apron over her June Cleaver dress, was busy chopping onions at the center island. A puzzled expression knotted her brows as she glanced up. “Who’s Martha?” She grimaced as understanding dawned. “Oh, you mean Greta.”

“There’s a little Martha Stewart in all of us. Some of my sisters just have more than their share.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a good homemaker,” her mother replied.

“I would’ve agreed with you—” Rebecca toyed with the fresh fruit that graced the bowl at her elbow “—but Greta lost me when she tried to make roses out of the ends of her toilet paper. Presentation isn’t everything. Some things are meant to be functional. Next thing we know, she’ll be trying to camouflage the commode.” She took a bite out of an apple and was mildly surprised when her mother didn’t insist she wait until after dinner. “So what did you want to say to me?”

Her mother scooped the onions she’d been chopping onto a plate. “I just wanted to tell you that I found some pretty candles I think will work well for the wedding. They’re vanilla-scented.”

The way her mother’s eyes settled on her, then shifted quickly to her task again, suggested she had more to say. But mention of the wedding was enough to make Rebecca uncomfortable. She’d called the printer in Boise this morning and managed to talk them into holding her order, but she hadn’t mentioned the latest wrinkle in her love life to anyone closer to home. When her sister called earlier to set up dinner, she’d thought tonight might be a good time to talk to her parents. But her mother was preparing a lot of onions. Probably she wasn’t the only one coming to dinner.

“Can I help?” she asked.

“Sure. Grab a bowl and start cutting up vegetables for a salad. Everything’s in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator.”

“I may be less like Martha Stewart than your other daughters, but even I know where to find the veggies,” Rebecca grumbled, crossing to the fridge and pulling out the romaine lettuce. “Who’s coming tonight?”

“Greta and the kids.”

“She told me she had a headache.”

“She called just before you came. She’s feeling better.”

“And Randy?”

“He has to work.” With a population barely reaching 1,500, Dundee had only two full-time firemen. Randy, husband of the sister closest to Rebecca in age, was one of them.

“I’ll miss him,” Rebecca said, making little effort to mask her sarcasm.

Her mother arched a reprimanding eyebrow at her. “That’s not a very nice tone to use regarding Randy. He’s your brother-in-law.”

He’d also been sidekick to Josh Hill all through high school. But then, her parents didn’t understand her feelings toward Josh, either. They’d worshipped him ever since his family moved in across the street twenty-four years ago. Especially her father. From the beginning, if Josh got into a brawl at school or skipped class to catch frogs in the nearby creek, her father would say, “He’s all boy, isn’t he?” And there was no mistaking the pride in his voice. In high school, if Josh was caught with his hand up Lula Jane’s blouse or sticking his tongue down Betty Carlisle’s throat behind the bleachers, her father wouldn’t go on about the evils of promiscuity. He and Josh’s father would dismiss it with a wink and a nudge, then slap Josh on the butt and tell him he played one helluva football game.

Maybe the double standard wouldn’t have bothered Rebecca so much if her father hadn’t wanted a son so desperately. But she knew, as the youngest, she’d been Doyle Wells’s last hope for a boy, and he wasn’t happy she’d failed him. The suspicion that he’d rather have the boy across the street than his youngest daughter had soon made Josh the bane of Rebecca’s existence. She’d immediately set out to conquer and defeat—or at least to prove that anything he could do, she could do better. If Josh climbed a tree, she climbed higher. Once she fell and broke her arm and he had to run for help, but that didn’t put an end to the rivalry that raged between them. Her humiliation only escalated it. If Josh hopped a fence, or waded through the creek on his way to school, ruining his clothes, she proved she wasn’t afraid to do the same.

Though her father generally reacted with something far less than pride, she did have a few moments of glory. On Josh’s ninth birthday, when he received his first two-wheeled bicycle, she challenged him to a race around the block and somehow managed to beat him. Her father was absolutely beaming when she crossed the finish line; his father was not.

So much for glory days, Rebecca thought as she immersed the lettuce in cold water and started ripping it into pieces. Sheer determination couldn’t make up for Josh’s advantage in size and strength forever, so Rebecca had been forced to find other areas in which to assert herself. If Josh ran for student body president, she ran against him—and lost. If Josh took debate, she challenged him on the other side of the argument—and thanks to her sharp tongue, usually won. If Josh made honor roll, she tried for Principal’s List—and most semesters fell laughably short.

Fortunately life with Josh as part of the community eventually achieved a sort of precarious equilibrium. Once they graduated from high school, he went off to college in Utah and she went to massage school in Iowa before changing her mind and going to beauty school, instead. When they both returned to Dundee, they pretty much left each other alone. Until that hot August night a year ago last summer. What happened then, Rebecca couldn’t explain. She didn’t even want to think about it. She could only concede that Josh had come a long way since the age of eight. He was now six-four and two hundred pounds of lean hard muscle—which she knew because she’d had the pleasure of exploring nearly every inch of him.

“Are you going to answer me?” her mother prodded.

Rebecca’s throat had gone dry at the memory of Josh’s bare chest. “What was the question?” she asked, shoving his image from her mind.

“I want to know why you don’t like your brother-in-law.”

She shrugged. “I don’t have to like him. I’m not the one who married him.” Shaking water off the leaves, she tossed them into the bowl she’d removed from one of the glass-fronted cupboards. Like everything else—the sink, the counters, the appliances and the tile floor—the cupboards were so white the reflection of the setting sun, streaming unchecked through large square windows running along the entire back of the house, nearly blinded her. The windows and the shiny new kitchen were the results of a recent renovation. The old kitchen had been avocado-green and brown—a color scheme Rebecca hoped would never gain popularity again.

Her mother scraped the onions into a frying pan and added a pat of butter. “But he’s a great guy. What’s not to like?”

“Nothing. Forget it,” Rebecca said.

“Now that you’ve brought up it up, I’d finally like to know.”

“The memories we have of each other from high school aren’t the most pleasant, that’s all.”

“What memories?”

Most of them had far more to do with Josh Hill than Randy, but Randy had been constantly at Josh’s elbow, which meant he was included. “We had a few run-ins,” she said vaguely.

“Because he was a friend of Josh Hill’s?”

Unfortunately the conversation was drifting toward Josh and she wasn’t sure she could stop it. “Maybe.”

“So we’re not really talking about Randy. We’re talking about Joshua.”

“No, I’m not talking about Josh. I never talk about Josh,” Rebecca responded.

Her mother found a spatula in the drawer and began stirring the sizzling onions. “Well, perhaps it’s time you did,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to get to the bottom of this feud between you two. We love Josh and his older brother. His parents are good friends of ours.”

Rebecca sighed. “I know. But it’s too late to improve relations between Josh and me, so don’t get it in your head to try. The bad blood between us is old, old news.”

“That might be the case, but I want you to bury whatever grudge you’re holding against him.”

“Are you kidding?” Rebecca paused in her knife attack on the radishes. The sudden absence of her rapid thump, thump, thump made the silence seem loud. “What’s the point? We run into each other a lot, but it’s only in passing. We could go on like this indefinitely. There’s no reason to change anything.”

“Now there is. You’ll soon be seeing each other more than in passing.”

“That sounds pretty specific. When?” And Rebecca had thought Buddy’s news was the worst she could receive.

“Your sisters are planning an anniversary celebration for your father and me. It’s in two weeks.”

The scent of her mother’s grilled onions became almost overpowering. “Somehow I knew you didn’t invite me over to talk about candles.”

“I did find some good candles,” her mother said.

Rebecca retrieved two stalks of celery from the fridge, washed them and started chopping them on the cutting board. She realized she could probably avoid the subject of Josh by using the candles to segue into Buddy’s postponement of the wedding. But the words stuck in her throat when she envisioned what her experience at the anniversary party would be like if she mentioned her latest setback too soon. “Heard you and Buddy are waiting a few weeks longer…You think that boy really knows what he wants?…Musta figured out what he was getting himself into, huh?” (said with a hearty chuckle).

Deciding that it would be much better to wait until after her parents’ anniversary, she plunged back into the subject of Josh Hill. “What does this party have to do with me and Josh? We can attend the same function without causing a scene.”

Her mother looked less than optimistic. “Like you did at Delia’s wedding?”

Rebecca threw the core of the lettuce in the trash compactor. “Is that what this is all about? You blame me for what happened at Delia’s wedding? I’ve told you, it wasn’t my fault.”

“Then whose fault was it?” her mother wanted to know. “You can’t blame Josh, not when you were the one who tripped him.”

“He only thought I was going to trip him. He overreacted.” She’d said so before, but no one seemed to care.

“Regardless, he fell into the cake and took the whole food table down with him.” Her mother winced at the painful memory.

“I told you, it was his mistake.”

“Maybe. But you’re the one who darted away from him at the last second and ran smack into the punch fountain, dousing your poor sister. She was so sticky, she had to miss the end of her own reception to change and shower. By the time she and Brad left on their honeymoon, her eyes were swollen, her nose was red from crying, and her hair and dress were ruined.”

“Okay, the punch part might’ve been my fault,” Rebecca conceded. “Josh grabbed at me when he fell and I was trying to get away so he couldn’t pull me down with him.”

“Better you fall in an undignified heap than the bride gets sprayed with punch. It wasn’t a pleasant thing for Delia to—”

The door banged open as her father strode in from the garage, briefcase in hand, and whatever her mother was about to say was immediately lost in the human power surge. Loud, authoritative and supremely confident, her father commanded respect simply by being. The fact that he’d been the mayor of Dundee since Rebecca was in high school, was well over six feet and resembled Billy Graham certainly didn’t hurt. “Did you tell her?” he demanded the moment he spotted Rebecca.

Her mother gave him one of her famous warning looks and cleared her throat. “Actually, Doyle, we were just getting around to—”

“Tell me what?” Rebecca interrupted, meeting her father’s direct gaze. He might not approve of her, but she wasn’t going to flinch in his presence like everyone else. And she sure as heck wasn’t going to use her mother as a go-between.

“That you’re not invited to the anniversary celebration unless you can behave yourself,” he said point-blank. “I’ve had it with this thing between you and Josh Hill. I won’t have you embarrassing me again.” With that, he stalked from the kitchen, presumably to change out of his suit.

Rebecca put down the knife she’d been rinsing and let her wet hands dangle in the sink. “Not everyone sees Josh Hill through the same rose-colored glasses you do, Dad,” she called after him.

“That would only be you,” he hollered back. “Everyone else in this town knows Josh for what he is—an ambitious young man with a shrewd business mind. That boy’s going to make something of himself someday. You wait and see.”

“And I’m not? Is that what you’re implying?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Though Rebecca loved her profession, she knew that in her parents’ opinion, a hairstylist—even an accomplished hairstylist—could never compare to a successful horse breeder like Josh. Josh Hill had somehow been able to win the love and approval she’d always craved, especially from her father. But what bothered her most was that he’d done it so effortlessly and so long ago. How could she compete with someone so well entrenched in her father’s affections?