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of fortune came a good deal of unwanted attention. She very much doubted Cormac O’Neill would have anything to do with her grandfather if not for the stories Tess had uncovered in her research. And then there was the lawsuit...brought by Archangel’s most wily lawyer, a woman named Lourdes Maldonado. She was a neighbor and friend— former friend—who was suddenly looking for some kind of settlement.
    “You’ve had such an amazing career,” she said, pushing aside the troubling thought. “Do you miss it?”
    “Every once in a while, yeah. I did have a good job in the city. It was great for a long time. But I found something better here.” Tess’s face softened, as it always did when she thought of her fiancé. “I know, I’m ridiculous. Honestly, Iz, I never knew love could feel this way. You’ll see, one of these days. When the right guy comes along.”
    “Not holding my breath,” Isabel said.
    “Not even for this guy?” Tess handed her the Iron Curtain book.
    Isabel took it from her and turned it over in her hands. She studied the author photo on the back. It was an extremely cleaned up version of the grubby, swearing traveler covered in beestings. “Oh, my.”
    “You’re welcome,” said Tess, her eyes gleaming. “I mean, obviously we didn’t pick him for his looks but it can’t hurt, right? If we’re going to have someone running around researching the family history, it’s nice that he’s eye candy. He’s single.”
    “That means there’s something wrong with him. Or he’s a commitment-phobe.”
    “Neither,” said Tess, her smile disappearing. “He’s a widower.”

Chapter Four
    “I’ll show you to your room,” Isabel said, approaching Cormac, who was taking his luggage from his Jeep.
    He turned and shot her a grin. “I bet you’ve always wanted to say that, right? ‘I’ll show you to your room.’” He spoke with crisp formality.
    “Right,” she said. “I mean, right this way.” She mimicked his formal tone.
    “Thanks. And thanks for helping me this morning. I’m guessing a trip to the urgent care place wasn’t on your agenda today.”
    “It never is. How are you feeling?”
    “Fine. Nothing like a shot of artificial Adrenalin to get the day started. I took a hike around the place and made a few calls. Your grandfather around?”
    “Always. He likes tinkering in the machine shop, or being out in the orchard with the workers. I’m sure he’s eager to meet you.” She led the way to the entry. It was looking grand these days, a lovely archway framing a view of the big sunny central patio. The wings of the hacienda curved generously around the brow of the hill upon which the house sat, the whitewashed walls expansive and cleanly cut against the blue sky. In the center of the broad, open space, a fountain burbled, the water flashing in the sunlight. Flowers bloomed in pots and espaliers along the walls. Two cats—Lilac and Chips—prowled around, Lilac shadowing the dark gray tabby as if to keep him away from the fountain. The workers were finishing up the pergola, creating a shaded area for café tables.
    “This is fantastic,” said Cormac. He glanced down as Chips, the older cat, rubbed up against his ankle. “Hey, buddy.”
    “That’s Chips. The white Siamese is Lilac, our latest rescue. We call him Lilac because it was springtime, and the lilacs were in bloom, and he has that unusual color. He takes a bit longer to warm up to people.”
    Cormac leaned down to stroke Chips, who turned his head this way and that, his eyes shut in pure indulgence. Then, with slow dignity, he padded away. “Is that guy okay? He seems a bit unsteady.”
    “Chips has a kind of feline Parkinson’s, so he has trouble getting around,” said Isabel.
    “The white one seems to look after him,” said Cormac, watching Lilac swirl carefully around the older cat.
    “He does,” said Isabel. “Chips rescued Lilac, and now Lilac takes care of Chips.”
    “He rescued him?” Leaning on