PROLOGUE

GRIEF CAME IN WAVES, HARD AND CHOPPY, BUFFETING AND BREAKING the heart. Other days the waves were slow and swamping, threatening to drown the soul.

People—good, caring people—claimed time would heal. Parker hoped they were right, but as she stood on her bedroom terrace in the late-summer sun, months after the sudden, shocking deaths of her parents, those capricious waves continued to roll.

She had so much, she reminded herself. Her brother—and she didn’t know if she’d have survived this grieving time without Del—had been a rock to cling to in that wide, wide ocean of shock and sorrow. Her friends Mac, Emma, Laurel, a part of her life, a part of her, since childhood. They’d been the glue mending and holding all the shattered pieces of her world. She had the constant, unshakable support of their longtime housekeeper, Mrs. Grady, her island of comfort.

She had her home. The beauty and elegance of the Brown Estate seemed deeper, sharper to her somehow, knowing she wouldn’t see her parents strolling through the gardens. She’d never again run downstairs and find her mother laughing in the kitchen with Mrs. G, or hear her father wheeling a deal in his home office.

Instead of learning to ride those waves, she’d felt herself being swept deeper and deeper down into the dark.

Time, she’d determined, needed to be used and pushed and moved.

She thought—hoped—she’d found a way, not only to use that time, but to celebrate what her parents had given her, to unite those gifts with family and friendships.

To be productive, she mused as the first spicy scents of coming autumn stirred the air.The Browns worked.They built and they produced and they never, never sat back to laze on accomplishments.

Her parents would have expected her to do no less than those who’d come before her.

Her friends might think she’d lost her mind, but she’d researched, calculated, and outlined a solid business plan, a sturdy model. And with Del’s help, a fair and reasonable legal contract.

Time to swim, she told herself.

She simply wouldn’t sink.

She walked back into the bedroom, picked up the four thick packets she’d set on her dresser. One for each of them for the meeting—though she hadn’t told her friends they were coming to a meeting.

She paused, took a moment to tie back her glossy brown hair in a tail, then simply stared into her own eyes, willing a spark to light in the deep blue.

She could make this work. No, no, they could make this work.

She just had to convince them first.

Downstairs, she found Mrs. Grady putting the finishing touches on the meal.

The sturdy woman turned from the stove, gave her a wink. “Ready?”

“Prepared anyway. I’m nervous. Is it silly to be nervous? They’re my closest friends in the world.”

“It’s a big step you’re looking to take, a big one you’ll ask them to take.You’d be foolish if you weren’t a bit nervous.” She stepped over, took Parker’s face in her hands. “My money’s on you. Go on out. I’ve gone a little fancy, so you’ll have hors d’oeuvres and wine on the terrace. My girls are all grown up.”

She wanted to be, but God, there was a child inside her who wanted her mom and dad, the comfort, the love, the security.

Outside, she set the packets on a table, then crossed over to take the wine out of its cooler, pour herself a glass.

Then simply stood, holding the glass, looking out in the softening light over the gardens to the pretty little pond and the reflection of the willows mirrored on its surface.

“God! Do I want some of that.”

Laurel bolted out, her sunny blond hair brutally short—a new look her friend already regretted. She hadn’t changed out of her uniform from her position as dessert chef at an upscale local restaurant.

Her eyes, bright and blue, rolled as she poured her wine.“Who knew when I changed my schedule to make our Girl Night we’d get a last-minute lunch reservation for twenty? The kitchen was a mad-house all afternoon. Mrs. G’s kitchen now . . .” She let out a huge groan as she dropped down to sit after hours on her feet.“It’s an oasis of calm that smells like heaven.What’s for dinner?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Laurel waved it away.“But if Emma and Mac are late, I’m starting without them.” She spotted the stack of packets. “What’s all that?”

“Something that can’t start without them. Laurel, do you want to go back to New York?”

Laurel eyed her over the rim of her glass. “Are you kicking me out?”

“I guess I want to know what you want. If you’re satisfied with how things are.You moved back for me, after the accident, and—”

“I’m taking it a day at a time, and figure I’ll figure it out. Right now, not having a plan’s working for me. Okay?”

“Well . . .”

She broke off as Mac and Emma came out together, laughing.

Emma, she thought, so beautiful with her mass of hair curling madly, her dark, exotic eyes bright with fun. Mac, her bold red hair choppy in tufts, green eyes wickedly amused, lean and long in her jeans and black shirt.

“What’s the joke?” Laurel demanded.

“Men.” Mac set down the plates of brie en croute and spinach tartlets Mrs. Grady had shoved into her hands on the way through the kitchen. “The two of them who thought they could arm wrestle for Emma.”

“It was kind of sweet,” Emma insisted. “They were brothers and came into the shop for flowers for their mother’s birthday. One thing led to the other.”

“Guys come into the studio all the time.” Mac popped a sugared red grape into her mouth from the bowl already on the table.“None of them ever arm wrestle each other for a date with me.”

“Some things never change,” Laurel said, raising her glass to Emma.

“Some things do,” Parker spoke out. She had to start, had to move. “That’s why I asked you all to come tonight.”

Emma paused as she reached for the brie. “Is something wrong?”

“No. But I wanted to talk to you all, at once.” Determined, Parker poured wine for Mac and Emma. “Let’s sit down.”

“Uh-oh,” Mac warned.

“No uh-ohs,” Parker insisted.“I want to say first, I love you all so much, and have forever.And will forever.We’ve shared so much, good and bad. And when things were at their worst, I knew you’d be there.”