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minute.”
    It was Emily. She sounded safe and healthy, anyway. That was a good sign. Wyatt breathed a sigh of relief.
    â€œTake your time. I’m in no hurry,” he called and wandered to an empty booth in the front of the restaurant near a bank of windows that overlooked the quaint main street.
    Keyhole was a Mecca for tourists on their way to or from Yellowstone National Park. Nestled in a lush valley, surrounded by spectacular, majestic mountains, the little town ingeniously mixed the new and the old to create a trendy,upbeat feel. Keyhole was known to antique hunters all over the country for its delightful painted lady Victorians, western facade buildings and the historic treasures they held within.
    Skiers—both water and snow—hikers, climbers, wind-surfers, hunters and fishermen enjoyed the sports offered by the great outdoors. All around the perimeter of town, hotels were popping up as Keyhole became a mini-Aspen. It wasn’t unusual to see celebrities shopping or skiing in Keyhole anymore. Luckily, growth was relatively slow and Keyhole had managed to maintain its small-town flavor.
    Wyatt could see why Annie loved this town. Like Prosperino, it was a bit of heaven on earth.
    He plucked a menu from between the sugar container and the salt-and-pepper shakers and studied the special that was clipped to the cover.
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    At the other side of the café, Annie shushed her rowdy boys and, cocking her head, listened for the mellow baritone again, to no avail.
    â€œNo,” she whispered. “Couldn’t be.” Craning her head, she searched the aisle and tried to peer over the high-backed booths and the partitions that blocked her view of the front of the room.
    That voice.
    Just the sound of it unleashed a plethora of emotion within her, both good and bad. Annie shrugged off the crazy notion as her boys distracted her, wrestling over crayons. Must be someone who sounded incredibly like him, she thought and rubbed the gooseflesh that had risen on her arms.
    â€œAlex, eat the bun too.”
    â€œBut I’m saving it for Chopper.”
    Annie threw her hands up. Where Chopper was concerned it was impossible to reason with her boys. “Fine. But don’t put it in your shirt pocket. You’re getting mustard everywhere.”
    â€œOkay.” Alex removed the mustard-slathered bread and slapped it into her hand. “Here. Could you put this in your purse?”
    Annie exhaled mightily and searched the ceiling for patience. Her crisp white blouse now sported yellow polka-dots in various shapes and sizes. Dabbing at them with a napkin only made them worse.
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    From inside the kitchen, Emily recognized the familiar voice and openmouthed, flew to the pickup window and craned her neck to catch a glimpse. Wyatt! After seven solid months on the lam, to finally see a member of her family was overwhelming. She blinked back the tears of joy. Help had arrived at last and now, perhaps, someone might just take her seriously.
    Reaching behind her, she untied her apron and waved at Roy who was busy over the sizzling grill. Helen was making coffee and Geraldine was out on the floor. They’d be fine without her for a few minutes. “I’m taking a break,” she called and they nodded.
    Emily rushed through the restaurant as old fashioned as its name implied. The walls were a rough plank and overhead, shelves were loaded with historic knickknacks and plants. In the background, some easy listening was piped in through speakers in the ceiling. The murmur of voices ebbed and flowed, and underscoring it all, silverware clanked and the grill sizzled.
    Wyatt glanced up at the sound of her approach. “Emily!” He held out his hand and pulled her into the booth beside him and gave her temple a sound kissing. Eyes thirsty, he drank in the sight of her, checking her over untilhe was satisfied that she was all right. He reached up, touching her shock of chestnut-red hair and was