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far away in Indiana.”
    “Kevin, for some inexplicable reason, adored you. We had to welcome him into the family. You were such a pain as an unmarried princess.”
    “Ha-ha. What’s with the Skylar problem? She and Tuyen are both orphans, in need of a home, which in a sense is exactly what Mom and Dad say they want to provide.”
    “Tuyen’s country disowned her, and she’s a Beaumont. We really don’t know Skylar’s background. She waltzes in with her long hair and sixteen holes pierced in each ear and hippie clothes—”
    “Ohmygosh! You just described your old friends, Faith Simmons and Gunther Walker, from college.”
    “Yeah, yeah.”
    “Yeah, yeah, yeah . You think Skylar is just like them.”
    “I don’t think so. I know she is.”
    “She told you she’s an anti-everything weirdo?”
    “She doesn’t have to. Her attitude screams it loud and clear.”
    “And you think I’m judgmental, you snob. Whatever happened to Faith and Gunther?”
    “No clue.”
    “You three were best friends from, like, kindergarten until college, right? I always imagined you and Faith would end up together. Didn’t she change her name? What was it? Something cheery.”
    “Farah Sunshine.”
    “Yes. Well, anyway, Mom and Nana think Skylar is wonderful, so maybe you want to stop comparing her to Farah Sunshine and give her a break.”
    He didn’t reply for a long moment. “Maybe you can walk from here.”
    Jenna looked at him. “And maybe Boy Scouts sometimes make mistakes.”
    “Nah. Princesses do, but not Boy Scouts.”
    “Oh, stuff it.”
    Honestly! He truly drove her up the wall.
    She settled back in the seat, crushed by an onslaught of loneliness. It snuffed out her earlier glow. The frustration she felt with Danny was a joy compared to going home to an empty apartment.

Nine
    S kylar expected Max would deliver part two of his third degree. She had only hoped he’d at least wait until after her first cup of coffee. But he didn’t. Midmorning the day after the big hoo-ha dinner, he launched into it.
    “Skylar,” he said, “we need to talk about your salary and job description. Do you have time now?”
    She waited a beat, her eyes on the gurgling coffeemaker. She felt like a carafe full of hot emotions. Max had just added more water inside of her and turned up the heat. Things were starting to spit and hiss.
    Pulling herself together, she turned to Claire, who sat working at the kitchen’s built-in desk. “Do you need me?”
    “Not for a while.” She flashed her movie-star smile. “Coffee’s done.”
    Skylar poured herself a mug, thinking how she, too, might be done.
    She followed Max outside into the sunny courtyard. Still foggy from a dead sleep on clean sheets and under a roof, she savored whiffs of caffeine and wondered what to do. Maybe her best defense was a gracious offense.
    “Max, my room is too comfortable. I better get an alarm clock for tomorrow morning or the guests will be fixing their own breakfast.”
    “There’s no clock in there?”
    “Not that I can find.”
    They followed a stone path around flower beds overrun with rosemary and other herbs she planned to use. At the sunlit center of the courtyard they sat in Adirondack chairs. Like the pinewood benches on the porch, the seats were simply constructed, their natural color unstained.
    Skylar nearly inhaled her first taste of coffee and closed her eyes. The Beaumonts understood the essence of coffee. Fresh espresso beans, grinder, and top-of-the-line maker settled the issue of finding a truly good cup there in the backwoods.
    She looked at her interrogator. His brows went up and down. His mouth twisted side to side. He cricked his neck.
    He reminded her of the Wizard of Oz yanking his curtain shut, trying to hide his true self. Well, she had seen behind the curtain: Max Beaumont’s fierce business persona was all for show.
    He shook his head and the phony uptight guy fled the scene. “Details! We don’t have enough clocks. We