“Zane, you need to set out those new trash cans.” Busy filling colorful tubs with silly little prizes, Britt called out to him before he could sneak away. “With the liners! Brody, have you finished the signs?”

“Almost!” Brody, the only one of them possessing any semblance of artistic talent, sat working on a sign to indicate cans and bottles, others for the age-grouping of the prizes.

Zane set out the new trash cans, stowed extra bags in the bottom as Emily had taught him, opened two to line the cans.

Determined to get that beer and shower before somebody found something else for him to do, he headed for the kitchen doors.

Darby walked out.

She wore one of those sundresses that made men grateful for hot, sunny days. He wasn’t sure he’d known she owned a dress, much less a bold yellow one with skinny straps that showed off strong shoulders, a swirly skirt that floated around long, bare legs.

She wore the pendant he’d given her, little dangles in her ears.

And she’d fussed with her face—especially her eyes so they looked long and sexy and read violet.

“Well, look at you.”

“You’d better, as I spent some time getting on my summer picnic.”

“We should have one every week.”

Then she capped it by handing him a cold beer. “You’re dismissed to get yourself ready.”

“Praise Jesus.” But he cupped the back of her neck first, drew her in for a kiss. “However long it took, so worth it. I need to take you to a fancy dinner in Asheville.”

“How about we take each other out?”

“Works for me.”

Since he had to get by Emily and Britt—both putting food together and talking cheerfully about just that—he moved fast and quiet.

It didn’t take him long, a quick shower, a fresh shirt and jeans, a pair of black Chucks. When he opened his terrace doors, he heard a guitar, heard his family, so stepped out for a minute.

His younger cousin played—courtesy of one of the band. And Brody looked wildly happy as others took up instruments, picked up the tune.

All three dogs, worn out from the afternoon, slept in the shade. Audra in her red-and-white-striped romper and blue hair ribbon clapped at the music.

Despite all his misgivings at the size and scope, he realized it all looked just fine. Just absolutely fine, with the red, white, and blue covered tables, the white awnings casting shade, the stacks of matching plates and napkins and cups.

Too early for the lights, he thought, but that was going to look just fine, too.

Darby’s clever beanbag boards stood colorfully on the lawn, as did a bigger one for softball pitching designed for older kids.

Music rang out, the sun shined, and his lady wore a yellow dress.

Yeah, he decided, it all looked just fine.

* * *

It felt fine, smelled fine, sounded fine when he manned the smoking grill and dozens of people swarmed his yard and house.

Dogs, revived, wandered the crowd hoping for a handout. Beanbags slapped against painted plywood. He got hugs, backslaps, cheek kisses as he flipped burgers and dogs onto platters. He smelled fried chicken and hoped he wouldn’t be too late to get himself some.

“Good party.” Silas strolled over to him. “Dave’s gonna take over for you for a minute.”

He caught the look in his brother-in-law’s eyes, turned. “I hereby pass the ceremonial flipper and tongs.”

“Got it covered,” Dave told him, handed him a beer.

“How ’bout we take a little walk.” With a glass of cold sweet tea, as he considered himself still on duty, Silas led the way around the far side of the house.

“What’s up?”

“Just heard from Lee. The Drapers got back—without Clint. They’re claiming he went off with some friends on a fishing trip yesterday. The usual bullshit about how Traci’s a liar, probably banged herself up to make Clint look bad.”

“What friends?”

“That’s the next thing. How the hell are they supposed to know? He’s a grown man, can come and go as he pleases. We’re figuring he got wind, tapped one of his drinking buddies to meet him, and he’s hiding out.”

Silas glanced back, making sure they were out of earshot. “Lee said they had long guns, no fishing gear. Claim they stowed the gear back by the stream, which is bullshit, and had the shotguns for protection.

“They gave Lee plenty of grief, plenty of sass, but you know the chief, he handles it. We’ll rotate out again, keep a lookout, but Clint’s likely to stay low for a day or two.”

“He can’t hide forever, and Traci’s safe.” That, Zane thought, had to be good enough for now. “I’ll draft up divorce papers tomorrow, go in to see her, let her look them over, explain what she needs to do now that she’s had some time.”

“Hope to hell she doesn’t back off again. Well. You oughta get yourself some food, son. Enjoy your own party.”

“I’ll do that. You keep me updated. The sooner Draper’s locked up, the better.”

She’d be afraid, Zane thought as they rounded the house again. Traci would stay afraid until he was. And fear, he knew, either made you fight back or give up.

Still, he had to put it away for now. He had more than a hundred people eating, talking, playing. He managed to snag a drumstick before he grazed the food tables, piling his plate.

“Try that tortellini salad.” Ashley sidled up beside him. “Nathan made it, and you won’t be sorry.”

“Didn’t know you were here.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“Haven’t been here long. And the minute we showed up, my parents confiscated my kids. This is an amazing house, Zane, and the grounds—wow! I need to make friends with Darby.”

“She makes them pretty easy, which is why I haven’t seen her for a while.”

“Over there, helping run the kids’ games.”

He glanced around as he scooped up some of the tortellini, watched Darby cheer on a little girl at the softball throw.

Ashley tipped her head toward his shoulder. “Not a woman in the world who doesn’t want someone to look at her like you’re looking at Darby. Does she know you’re in love with her?”

“Yeah. Shows, huh?”

“Big-time. I’m so happy for you, Zane. And now I’m going to find Nate and see if I can make him look at me just like that.”

He squeezed himself into a place at a table beside Micah and Cassie, let the music and party noise wash over him while he ate.

“You actually know all these people?” Micah asked him.

As Zane looked around, he shrugged, shoveled in more tortellini—Ashley hadn’t steered him wrong. “It’s more like Emily knows all these people. They keep coming, don’t they?”

“Music’s tight, food’s good. Who wouldn’t?” Cassie wagged her fork at him. “If you do this again, you’re going to have more. Word spreads, you know? People’ll suck up to you just to get the invite.”

Then she leaned over, dropped her voice. “I don’t want to bring things down, but do you know if Traci’s okay? Her mom and my mom are friends, longtime.”

“She’s with her mother, and in a safe place.”