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pushed it away with a practiced motion of one arm. "We're here to break ground for an animal shelter," he said, and only the set of his jaw gave away the annoyance he felt. He beckoned to Olivia, then to Tanner, after glancing around to locate him.
    Then, with consummate showmanship, Brad drove the shovel hard into the partially frozen ground. Tossed the dirt dangerously close to one reporter's shoes.
    Olivia thought of the finished structure, and what it would mean to so many stray and unwanted dogs, cats and other critters, and her heart soared. That was the moment the project truly became real to her.
    It was really going to happen.
    There were more pictures taken after that, and Brad gave several very brief interviews, carefully steering each one away from himself and stressing the plight of animals. When one reporter asked if it wouldn't be better to build shelters for homeless people, rather thandogs and cats, Brad responded that compassion ought to begin at the simplest level, with the helpless, voiceless ones, and grow from there.
    Olivia would have hugged her big brother in that moment if she'd been able to get close enough.
    "Hot cider and cookies at my place," Ashley told her and Melissa. She was already heading for her funny-looking hybrid car, gleaming bright yellow in the wintry sunshine. "We need to plan what we're taking to Brad and Meg's for Thanksgiving dinner."
    "I have to get back to work," Melissa said crisply. "Cook something and I'll pay you back." With that, she made for her spiffy red sports car without so much as a backward glance.
    Olivia had rounds to make herself, though none of them were emergencies, and she had some appointments at the clinic scheduled for that afternoon, but when she saw the expression of disappointment on Ashley's face, she stayed behind. "I'll change clothes at your house," she said, and got into the Suburban to follow her sister back through town. Ginger had elected to stay home that day, claiming her arthritis was bothering her, and it felt odd to be alone in the rig.
    Ashley's home was a large white Victorian house on the opposite side of Stone Creek, near the little stream with the same name. There was a white picket fence and plenty of gingerbread woodwork on the facade, and an ornate but tasteful sign stood in the snowy yard, bearing the words "Mountain View Bed-and-Breakfast" in elegant golden script. "Ashley O'Ballivan, Proprietor."
    In summer, the yard burgeoned with colorful flowers.
    But winter had officially come to the high country, and the blooming lilacs, peonies and English roses were just a memory. The day after Thanksgiving, the Christmas lights would go up outside, as though by the waving of an unseen wand, and a huge wreath would grace the leaded-glass door, making the house look like a giant greeting card.
    Olivia felt a little sad, looking at that grand house. It was the off-season, and guests would be few and far between. Ashley would rattle around in there alone like a bean in the bottom of a bucket.
    She needed a husband and children.
    Or at least a cat.
    "Brad was spectacular, wasn't he?" Ashley asked, bustling around her big, fragrant kitchen to heat up the spiced cider and set out a plate of exquisitely decorated cookies.
    Olivia, just coming out of the powder room, where she'd changed into her regulation jeans, flannel shirt and boots, helped herself to a paper bag from the decoupaged wooden paper-bag dispenser beside the back door and stuffed the pantsuit into it. "Brad was--Brad," she said. "He loves being in the limelight."
    Ashley went still and frowned, oddly defensive. "His heart's in the right place," she replied.
    Olivia went to Ashley and touched her arm. She'd removed the patchwork jacket, hanging it neatly on a gleaming brass peg by the front door as they came in, and her loose-fitting beige cashmere turtleneck made Olivia feel like a thrift-store refugee by comparison.
    "I wasn't criticizing Brad, Ash," she said quietly. "It's beyond