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have to give it up for today and begin again tomorrow when she could help.
    He dismissed the secretary for the rest of the afternoon, put the convertible top down and climbed into his Jag. Intending to go straight back to the B&B to dress for dinner, he was surprised to find himself on the canal road and heading toward the shack where he had spent his youth.
    Chase knew the house had stood empty for five yearsnow, ever since he’d spirited his father away in the middle of the night and delivered the old man to a rehab clinic in Houston to dry out.
    But something inside him must’ve wanted to see the old place. He needed to refresh his harsh memories, and what better place than the run-down house he had always hated.
    That shack had forever been the bane of his existence. The kids at school teased him unmercifully about his dirt-poor circumstances and about his father the drunk. The other kids’ parents didn’t want them to hang out with such trash. Everything that had ever gone wrong in town had been somehow connected to Chase or his father, “that drunk Severin.”
    Not that Chase had ever been in any real trouble. Just a few fights and a day or two suspension from school for those times when he’d not shown so he could sober up his father. But the word about him being bad to the bone got around anyway.
    He had no family to fight for him. No brothers, cousins or uncles to cover his back like every other boy hereabouts in St. Mary Parish. So he learned early how to take care of himself—and how not to trust anyone.
    Too bad his lessons hadn’t extended to Kate. Despite the fact that her father was the most powerful man in town and always had it in for him and his father, Chase had let her get under his defenses. The pain of her betrayal still stung after all these years.
    Driving along in the sun, he noticed that nothing much seemed to have improved in the town of his childhood. If anything, the whole place seemed a little shabbier than in his memories. The businesses in town gaveway to two-story clapboard houses and finally to what could easily be called shanties as he drove down the gravel and mud road that ran alongside the no-name canal.
    He slowed as he passed by the last decent house on the road and saw his former neighbor Irene Fortier sitting on her front porch. She waved at him and stood, so he brought the car to a stop beside the yard in order to speak to her.
    If it hadn’t been for Irene five years ago, Chase wouldn’t have known that his father had been lying comatose in his bed for twenty-four hours. She’d found his dad and had called to ask for help.
    Chase had come at once. Nothing, neither bad memories nor business commitments, would’ve stopped him from helping his father. But he didn’t let anyone else in town know he was there, and he certainly hadn’t stayed long.
    â€œHello, cher, ” Irene said as he stepped out of the car. “I heard the rumors that you were back in town.”
    He nodded but eased away when she went to kiss his cheek. Her flower print dress and the homey smells of cooking lingered in his brain and reminded him of how much he’d always liked being around Irene as a kid.
    â€œYou’ve come home to move back in?”
    â€œNo, Irene. I’m not sure why I’m down on Canal Road this afternoon. Guess I just wanted to see how much damage the elements have done to Dad’s shack.”
    â€œIt’s about the same as always. I’ve been seeing to keeping the critters and the bums out.”
    â€œThanks.” He wasn’t sure he really thanked her for her efforts. Maybe he would’ve been happier to knowthe place had burned down and taken all the old hurts along with it.
    â€œYou plan on staying in Bayou City?” Irene asked.
    â€œOnly long enough to exorcise old ghosts.”
    Irene studied him from behind the plastic-rimmed eyeglasses she wore. “You own the mill now, I’ve