"No, Mrs. Trout, I checked the drawer myself and I went through the closet and the bathroom too. Are you sure you brought them with you to the hospital?" Justine tucked the phone beneath her chin as she typed the complaint into the computerized form. "Did you look in your car? Sometimes people get here and decide to leave things…Yes, I'll wait."

In eight more minutes, all incoming calls would be met by a recording advising the caller to try again during office hours. It had been a crazy weekend at Grace Hospital and the complaints department—which consisted only of Justine Hall—was catching most of the fallout on Monday. A full moon had kept the emergency room hopping with all kinds of foolishness, and four babies were born on Saturday, a single-day record for Leland, Kentucky. But the biggest commotion had occurred Sunday morning when Reverend Russell suffered a heart attack in the pulpit. Practically the whole Presbyterian congregation came in behind the ambulance, filling up the parking lots and the lobbies, blocking the halls, and badgering the nursing staff every ten minutes for updates. The good news was that it was only a mild attack. The bad news was that two of the deacons had gotten into fisticuffs over who was going to get to preach next Sunday, and that led to a bloody nose and a broken hand.

"You found 'em? That's great! I was hoping... No, it's okay, Mrs. Trout. People have their minds on other things when they're coming to the hospital. These things just happen." In the right-hand column of her spreadsheet, Justine entered the resolution: Teeth found in car.

It was now four minutes before five o'clock. Justine wasn't usually a clock watcher, but she had something big on tap for later tonight and she needed to get her workout out of the way first. She hoped she would make it to five without—Rrrrrrnnnngggg!

"Dang it!" she muttered under her breath. "Grace Hospital, Patient Services. This is Justine Hall. How can I help you?" She brought up a new form on the computer, but stopped short. "No, Trey. If your father says no, then the answer is no. You can ask him to call me and we'll talk about it, but I'm not gonna give you permission after he's already said you can't go." Justine rolled her eyes as she listened to her teenager's argument. "Trey, your father and I both went to college. That means we are not the two stupidest people in the world.... I told you to have him call me. We'll talk about it. That's the best I can do, honey.... I love you.... I said I love you." Seventeen had somehow gotten to be too old to tell your mother you love her. "Bye-bye."

Justine sighed in resignation as the red light blinked to announce a message. Technically, it had come before five o'clock, so she needed to answer it before heading out.

"Hi...uh, I was calling about my mom's bill that she got today. She was in the hospital last month for a...what was it? A cardiac catheter thingy. But her bill says she had a...a heart transplant. She, uh...doesn't remember that, and we can't find any really big scars. But if it turns out that's what they did, we can't afford it so they'll have to swap it back. Tell you what, I'll just call back tomorrow. I hope you enjoyed this little entertainment break."

Justine laughed, genuinely amused. It never ceased to amaze her how often the incorrect procedure codes were entered into the system. Whoever was doing that probably had no idea of the confusion such small errors caused. At least this woman who called tonight had a sense of humor about it, and that always helped. Sometimes, people just flew off the handle and ranted until their veins were ready to pop.

With the flip of a switch, Justine turned on the after-hours message on the answering machine. Ten minutes later, decked out in spandex tights and a tank top, she was at the hospital's Wellness Center claiming a free treadmill. Her plan was to run four miles and then do two circuits on the weights, her usual Monday-Wednesday-Friday routine. Easing into a steady pace, her mind wandered back to that last phone call and she chuckled again.

"What's so funny?" A thin man climbed onto the treadmill to her right. Like Justine, Dr. Brian Coulter was a fixture at the Wellness Center, serious about setting a good example for his patients by getting regular exercise.

"Oh, hi, Dr. Coulter. Nothing really. I was just thinking about a phone message I got this afternoon."

"How many times do I have to tell you? Call me Brian. We're all friends here."

"I know. It's just that I think it gives patients more confidence to hear everyone address the doctors with respect."

"But we all have to let our hair down sometimes, don't you think?"

Justine hoped that wasn't the case with Dr. Coulter—he sported a world class comb-over that flopped to the wrong side whenever he ran. Still, he was a nice man and a well-respected obstetrician. Sometimes, though, he needed a little—

"Say, why don't we go for a drink when we're done here? You can tell me all about what's got your funny bone tickled."

"Dr. Coulter, I'm afraid I already have plans for this evening." Plans that did not include going out with a married man.

"Sure. Some other time then?"

"I'm afraid I have plans for those evenings also."

"All of them?"

Justine smiled gently and nodded. "And I think it would be best if we didn't keep having this conversation. People might overhear and get the wrong idea. And you know how they like to gossip." If anyone in town knew that for a fact, it was Justine. "Besides, Dr. Henderson would probably frown on that kind of socializing among the staff."

Besides being their boss, Joe Henderson had been a longtime friend of Justine's late father, and their loyalty to one another was clear to everyone on the staff. Coulter was bright enough to take a hint this time, as he didn't need a dressing down from the hospital administrator.

"What did they say?" Nadine Griffin stretched across the kitchen sink to open the window a crack. With bread in the oven and stew on the stove, it was stuffy in the small house.

"I got an answering machine. If you want me to, I'll take the paperwork up there in the morning and see if I can get it straightened out." Carly reached for a cookie from a bag on the counter, only to have her hand slapped away by her mother.

"You'll spoil your supper. Look at you! You're not eating right. I bet you eat cookies for dinner."

With cognac, Carly thought. And sometimes she topped it off with a cigar.

"Are you sure you don't mind taking care of that bill? I can go up there or I can have your dad deal with it. I don't want you to have to worry about that stuff while you're home." Her daughter hadn't been back to Leland for a long visit in almost four years.

"It's no big deal. Daddy has enough to do, what with Perry gone to Ohio all week. In fact, I was thinking I might ride with him tomorrow afternoon if he has some deliveries."

"Now that's exactly what I'm talking about. You shouldn't feel like you have to work so hard when you're here. Goodness knows, you work hard enough as it is. Just take it easy and relax for a change."

"I am relaxing. I happen to like going along in the truck. Besides, Daddy has no business trying to haul furniture by himself. He's sixty-eight years old, for gosh sakes. And so are you. If I want to come home and do a few things to help out, you should let me. It'll make me feel better about having to be gone so much, and maybe we can all think of it as a vacation."

Nadine had to smile at that. It really was good to have her daughter home, especially for so long this time—eight whole weeks. And she looked healthier than when they had gone to visit her in Israel. She was tanned and her short hair seemed to be a lighter brown now that it was streaked with a few strands of gray. But she had lost a few pounds since the last time she had been home, enough to make Nadine think she wasn't getting enough to eat.

"Why don't you call your father and tell him supper's almost ready?"

Carly reached for the phone again, dialing by rote the number at Griffin Home Furnishings. She delivered her mom's message in a commanding tone and hurriedly set the table. The drive from the store would take her father less than three minutes.

"Mama, before Daddy gets home... Is your heart really okay? You aren't keeping anything from us again, are you?"

"I'm fine, Carly. I swear you're just like your father. You'd think I'd been caught lying all my life."

"Well, you didn't tell either of us about that biopsy until it came back negative." That was almost ten years ago, when Nadine's doctor had found a suspicious lump in her breast.

"My heart is okay, for the most part. I have a small place that's...well, it's not blocked, but it's kinda squeezed. Dr. Sanders thinks that's what's making me so dizzy when I hurry around too much. He's put me on some medication, and I haven't had any problems since then...if you don't count the headaches. But they're not as bad as they used to be, now that I'm used to the medicine. And I don't have to go back for a checkup until March, so he must not be too worried."

Carly was skeptical, but what choice did she have if her mom wanted to keep things from her? Still, that glitch in the paperwork was a good excuse to go by the hospital, and if she could stop in to see Dr. Sanders herself, it would set her mind at ease.

Nadine was filling the soup bowls just as the pickup pulled into the drive. In a few minutes, they would sit down to a Norman Rockwell moment that was almost perfect. Nadine thought the only thing needed was one more person at the table—somebody for Carly.

"Hey, Daddy."

"Hi, sweetie. It sure is a good feeling to come home and see your car in the driveway every day." Lloyd Griffin tossed his cap onto the counter and headed to the sink to wash up.

"Hey, won't you get in trouble with half the town for wearing a Barber cap?"

"No, I've got my Diggers on. You have to cover all your bases." Barber Boots and DB Boots were the town's two competing boot factories, founded by brothers whose bitter feud was one of the best things ever to happen to Leland, Kentucky. Daryl Barber split from brother Wayne to form his own company, hiring away the workers with better wages, only to have Wayne lure them back with better benefits. Nearly every family in Leland had someone who made hiking boots at one of the plants, and virtually everyone in town wore Barber Bucks or DB Diggers.

"That's so silly. I can't believe you go to all that trouble."

"Easy for you to say. Everywhere you go around here, people look at your feet first to see if you're a Buck or a Digger." Like most other merchants in town, Lloyd avoided a display of favoritism between the two factories. Some days he wore the flip set, Bucks with a DB cap.

"I should get some new boots while I'm here. Mine got stolen from the hotel room." On her last job, Carly had lived in downtown Jerusalem, wary of moving into one of the neighborhoods for fear of where the next bomb would go off. There was one close call with an explosion at an open-air market, and that was more than enough to convince her to stay close to the hotel when not on the job site.

Carly headed one of the Labor Orientation Teams for Worldwide Workforce, a consulting company that specialized in helping industries expand abroad by recruiting and training local employees. Her next assignment was in Madrid. After twenty years with the company, she was growing weary of the rotation from one country to another, with only a month or two stateside in between. Her applications for a management job at corporate in Louisville had been ignored for more than ten years. It didn't really pay to be successful in the field abroad because all that got you was another rotation. It was the guys who couldn't hack it overseas that kept getting kicked upstairs.

"I don't want to get in your business, honey, but your mother and I are both glad to have you out of the Middle East, and if you want us to live to be old people, you won't take another job in that part of the world."

"Amen to that!" Nadine echoed.

"I told you both not to worry about me. I was always safe while I was there." Except for that one time, and she wasn't going to tell them about that. "You saw how far away our hotel was from the war zone."

When her parents had visited last spring, explosions in the distance had set them on edge. "And these days, it isn't even safe in Madrid," her father added.

"This stew is really good, Mama." It wasn't exactly the most subtle way to change the subject, but it was timely. Carly was starting to think no place was safe from unrest, but she had to admit, she would sleep better on her next job in the Spanish capital than she did in Jerusalem. Still, she wasn't looking forward to another year and a half abroad.

Justine stepped from the shower and pulled the plastic cap from her head, fluffing her thick auburn hair around her neck. There hadn't been any point in washing it after her workout—it was just going to get messed up later when Jon ran his hands through it. She smiled in anticipation of the special evening she had planned. The phone interrupted her dreamy thoughts as she slipped into her plush terry robe.

"Hello... Oh, hi JT." Her ex, Jason Thomas Sharpe, Jr. "No, I did not tell him he could go. You know better than that. I told him to have you call me and we'd talk about it...but I have plans tonight, so make it quick." Taunting her ex-husband with these little hints was one of her favorite recreational activities.

Justine had been divorced for six years, and both of their teenage children lived with JT. Over the last three years, she had lost a good deal of weight and gotten in shape, and JT's interest in her reignited—in the form of compliments on her figure or hairstyle, casual flirting, and even a blatant invitation to "ride Woody" for old times' sake. Justine answered his offer with a promise to tell his wife if he didn't knock it off. She hadn't meant it—she would never insert herself in the middle of their marriage—but JT didn't need to know that. As near as she could tell, she was JT's only extra-marital interest these days, and she seriously doubted he would rise to the occasion if she ever called his bluff. It was possible, she thought, the forty-nine-year-old man was finally growing up.

"JT, stop talking and listen for a change. I don't think Trey is old enough to go away for a weekend without adults. Is that what you want to hear?" She waited while the man on the other end of the phone calmed down. "Then hallelujah! It took twenty years, but we finally agreed on something... Listen, I've got to go. I need to get ready for Jon." That would get his Jockeys in a knot, she thought.

Checking the clock on the mantle, Justine finished her preparations. Hurrying from room to room, she closed the drapes, turned out the lights, and set the stereo on soft jazz, adjusting the volume so it was barely heard. In the den, she pulled the coffee table from the center of the rug to create an open space directly in front of an already soothing fire. One by one, she lit strategically placed candles so they flickered all around the room.

"That was delicious, Mama. If there's one thing I miss more than anything else about Leland, it's your cooking."

Nadine just glowed in her daughter's praise. She had been setting the table for forty-six years, and Lloyd no longer seemed to notice what was on it.

"Now if you don't mind, I think I'm going to take a little walk through the neighborhood while my dinner settles."

"You're not fooling me! You're going out to smoke one of those fancy cigarettes."

Carly grinned at the face her mother made. "That's right. But at least I don't smoke them in the house." She retrieved her coat from the hall closet and pulled it on, checking the pocket to make sure she had her Dunhill Lights and lighter. She would have a cognac by the fire in the living room before turning in. Over the years, that routine had helped her take the edge off the day and fall asleep without too much tossing and turning.

"The path through the park goes over Stony Ridge to Sandstone now."

"Oh yeah? Maybe I'll check it out." Carly delivered a kiss to her mother's wrinkled cheek. "I won't be long."

Stepping out onto the front porch, she filled her lungs with the crisp November air, a welcome change from the dusty haze of Jerusalem. Yessiree, this time she was really glad to be home. She walked to the end of the short driveway and turned toward the park.

Stony Ridge was a steep hill that divided the homes on Carly's street from the city limits. In the old days, it was symbolic of the chasm between the haves and have-nots. The Griffins were far from poor, but the low margins on furniture didn't afford the family many luxuries. Nonetheless, they had been happy for many years in the two-bedroom house on Stony Ridge Road.

The old park held mixed memories for Carly. She had started coming here almost twenty years ago on her first trip home after going to work for Worldwide on a job in Bolivia. Back then, she had told her mom she just needed some fresh air to clear her head. In fact, she had hidden in the woods like a teenager to sneak a smoke.

That's when she first discovered the houses on Sandstone. From the top of the wooded hill, she had seen the construction underway. Obviously, these would be some of the nicest homes in Leland when they were finished, and they were just inside the city limits.

When she returned a few years later, she was amazed at how settled the new neighborhood already seemed. Small children raced on scooters and tricycles along the sidewalk while young mothers congregated with their strollers at the ends of driveways. It was then Carly first recognized from her position in the woods a woman she had gone to high school with—a woman who probably had no idea she had played such a pivotal role in Carly's life.

Justine Hall—now Justine Sharpe, according to the newspaper announcement Carly's mom had sent her in Bolivia—was one of the women gathered in the driveway that day. Justine was quite a bit heavier than she had been in high school, and she was obviously pregnant, due pretty soon. Justine left the group, gripping her lower back in apparent discomfort as she pushed a baby in a stroller up the street toward the large house on the corner.

The moment had been bittersweet for Carly. She hoped Justine was really happy and that she had married a man who would love her and appreciate the wonderful person she was. And she was thrilled at the joy Justine must have felt at having children. But a part of Carly's heart had broken that day—the part Justine Hall never knew she held.

Shaking those memories from her head, Carly veered onto the new path that led to her old hiding place on the hill. As her mom had said, it wound down the other side now. A small wooden footbridge spanned the creek at the bottom, directly across the street from Justine's two-story home. Unable to resist the urge to get closer, she lit another cigarette and started down the hill, stopping when she reached the bridge, her eyes peeled for any sign of activity in the house.

Carly had no idea how long she stood on the bridge, leaning casually against the rail as she smoked one Dunhill after another. Her mind wandered back twenty-five years to her time at Leland High School, and emotions long-buried stirred to the surface. Justine wasn't really responsible for this nostalgic longing. She was merely symbolic of all the times Carly's heart had been awakened, only to be abandoned when she gave in to the pull. That sort of thing had happened three times in her life—first with Justine, then with Isabel, and finally, Alison. And she vowed not to let it happen again as long as she was pulling up roots every two years to move with her job to a new country. That was just asking for trouble.

A pair of headlights startled her, and she realized she probably looked pretty suspicious out there staring at the house in the dark. The smart thing to do was to head back up the hill and go home, but Carly's feet wouldn't move once she realized the SUV was turning into Justine's drive. Mesmerized, she watched as a young man hopped out and pulled something bulky from the back, carting it to the front door where he rang the bell and waited. Moments later, a slender woman appeared at the door, plainly visible in her bathrobe from the light on the porch.

It was Justine—no doubt about it. And she was more beautiful than Carly had ever seen her.

"Where do want me to set up this time?" The muscular young man indicated his padded folding table. When he had come last August, they had set the massage table outside in a private area of the wooden deck.

"I made a space in front of the fire, but if you think you'll be too warm there, we can put it across the room."

"What's important is that you're comfortable, Justine. I'll set up wherever you like."

"Okay, then follow me. Do you want a bottle of water or something?"

"Sure. Tell you what. I'll get things ready first and you can wrap up in a towel and get situated on the table while I go into the kitchen and get something to drink."

The young man quickly went about his work, locking the table legs, folding the towels, and placing the oil bottle on the hearth to warm. When he disappeared into the kitchen, Justine slipped discreetly from her robe onto the table face down, awkwardly positioning the oversized towel so it draped the length of her nude body.

Jon announced his return and began to further warm the oil in his hands. Starting with her right foot, he squeezed and pulled each digit until it relaxed fully. From there, he dug his thumbs into the long muscles of her calf, separating the tightened fibers as she moaned softly in near ecstasy. Bit by bit, he worked his way up the hardened hamstrings, tucking the towel so one cheek of her buttocks was exposed. Runners like Justine were a challenge sometimes, but as he pressed the trigger points deep in her gluteus, the knotted muscles released.

"Do you stretch these out when you finish running?"

"I didn't today. I tried to squeeze in an extra circuit and lost track of time."

"Cooling down is a very important part of conditioning."

"I know." She felt guilty confessing the lapse to her massage therapist. But then, Justine felt guilty about almost everything. It was her nature.

Jon finished with the first leg and moved to the other side, repeating the process one muscle at a time, culminating again in the release of the trigger points in her buttocks. Finished for now with her lower body, he pulled the towel down to her waist and gently began to spread the warm oil across her back.

Justine worked hard to quiet her busy mind. The hectic day, the flirtatious encounter with Dr. Coulter, the call from JT... Thoughts of all these events bombarded her head, but she pushed them away, trying to concentrate on the feel of Jon's hands on her body. This was a physical closeness she craved—the simple touch of another human being, an affirmation that her senses would respond. With his strong hands, the therapist was moving her body and spirit in a manner that was sensual but not sexual.

"Okay, let's have you turn over now," Jon whispered softly.

Justine had almost dozed off while he kneaded the muscles in her back. She got her bearings and turned, careful to keep herself covered as Jon held the towel in place. She had been reluctant at first to trust a total stranger with such intimate contact, but Jon had always been professional. They didn't talk much during these sessions. Instead, he encouraged her to go to a peaceful place in her mind as he practiced his craft.

"You're getting nice muscle tone through here," he remarked as he pushed his fingers from her sternum to her shoulder.

"I've been working on that. I'm glad it shows."

"It's very nice...not too pronounced, but definitely firm. Are you working with a trainer?"

"No. I just go to the classes once a week at the Wellness Center. They help us do our workout charts and diets for the week."

"That's a good thing you're doing. This is the only body you're going to get, and it's nice that you take care of it. And when you look good and feel healthy, everything in your life is better."

Justine wanted to believe that, but the facts got in the way. True, she felt better about herself after dropping sixty pounds, and it was satisfying to be able to tell JT to shove it now that he deemed her desirable again. But the rest of her life hadn't exactly followed suit. Her job was a dead end. She could count her real friends on—heck, it was just her therapist in Lexington. And her love life was completely rudderless. She had no idea what she wanted in that department, or even if she wanted anything at all.

But the worst part of her life—the piece that haunted her every day—was that she had screwed up the mother thing big time. Trey and Emmy were happy living with JT. He was a good father despite being such a snake. And they still loved her, she knew. But losing them—and losing her grip on her emotions and sense of self-worth—had sent her into a depressive spiral, and ultimately, into therapy. That and the medication were all that had kept her from killing herself that first year after things fell apart. With Valerie's help in her therapy sessions, she had fought back to wrest more control of her life. Enrolling in the Wellness Center had been the first step.

"Relax, Justine." Jon flattened the creases on her forehead with his thumbs and pushed them outward. "Let it go." From there, his hands wound through her hair, massaging her scalp with decreasing pressure until he finally pulled his fingertips away.

At that instant, a small tear leaked from the corner of her eye and trickled into her ear.

"Hey." Carly found her mother in the living room hard at work on a crossword puzzle. The din of the television could be heard from the family room the Griffins had added on twelve years ago so both Lloyd and Nadine could have their own space.

"Have a nice walk? Or a nice smoke, I should ask." The admonishing tone was the same she always used when referring to her daughter's nicotine habit.

"I had both, thank you."  Carly took a seat on the couch.

"Your father's watching TV in the back room."

"If that was meant to be a hint, it wasn't very subtle."

Nadine chuckled. She had always gone off by herself after dinner to unwind from the day. After working at the store with her husband all day, she needed time alone in the evening, a habit that had served their marriage well. "Well, honey, you're more than welcome to keep me company. But this isn't your usual routine."

"I know. I just wanted to ask if you knew anything about...Justine."

The older woman peered over her glasses to gauge her daughter's look. She knew Justine Hall had been special to Carly back in high school, at least for a little while. That's why she had sent the wedding clippings. But when she got no response, she assumed her daughter was no longer interested in keeping up with people from Leland.

"She's divorced now."

Several emotions swarmed over Carly as she digested the words. She was at first saddened that a divorce had likely meant a difficult period for Justine. At the same time, she was oddly satisfied that the marriage hadn't been right for the woman after all. But mostly, she was irrationally heartsick that she didn't know Justine at all anymore, and she hadn't been there to help her through what surely was a painful time.

"Do you have any idea what happened? They've got a couple of kids, right?"

"There were rumors, but I don't pay much attention to that sort of thing."

"What kind of rumors?"

Nadine had heard several rumors, none of them very flattering for either Justine or JT. "I think there were other people involved...for both of them."

Other people?"So you're saying that they were...having affairs?"

"That's what folks were saying, but like I said, I didn't pay much attention."

"So what happened when they got divorced? I mean, did they get married again?"

"JT got married pretty soon after, I think."

"But Justine didn't?" Details, Mama. I want details. "Is she still seeing the other guy?"

Nadine pulled off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "Honey, I really don't put much stock in gossip, so I don't know if there's any truth to what I heard or not."

"What did you hear?"

"The rumors around town were that Justine had gotten involved with another woman, a doctor's wife."

"Do...? Is there...?" What exactly was the question? "Did...?"

"I don't know any more than that, honey. Why don't you ask her how she's doing when you see her tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?"

"At the hospital. She's the one who handles patient complaints at Grace."

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