“You’re his grandfather. You have to like him.”

“You’re his daughter.”

“I guess.” She turned her spoon over in the bowl. “I don’t really know him.”

“You’ll get there. And he’ll get to know you.”

His words were meant to reassure, but they made Kelly feel all cold inside. Staring at a few floating bits of cereal, she cleared her throat. “What about after?” she asked, her voice quiet. “When he sends me away. Do you think it will be to a boarding school or something?”

It was the thought of the “something” that terrified her the most.

“What the hell are you talking about? Sam’s not sending you anywhere.”

Kelly looked at her great-grandfather. “My mom said he’d probably keep me around for a couple of years and then he’d send me away when I got to be too much trouble. Maybe one of those boarding school places or even to a dance school. I guess that would be okay.”

The last bit was more to convince herself than because she believed it. She didn’t want to go anywhere. She wanted to be a part of a family. She wanted to feel safe.

“Do you want to go away?” Gabriel asked.

Kelly opened her mouth, then stunned both of them by bursting into tears.

“Silly girl,” he muttered as he shifted his chair close to hers and drew her against him. “This is where you live now. I know it’s hard to adjust, especially with your mother dumping you like this. But we’re your family now. You’re stuck with us.”

Kelly wanted to believe him. Really. “Sam gets mad at me.”

“Of course he does. I used to get so angry with him that I wanted to lock him in his room forever. But I got over it. Then he screwed up again. It’s what kids do. Think of it as your job.”

He smelled of peppermint and sports cream. His arms were thinner than Sam’s, but being in them made her feel just as safe. She raised her head and looked at him. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely.” He brushed her hair off her forehead. “My late wife was one of the most beautiful women I ever had the pleasure of knowing. Whenever we’d walk down the street, the other men would watch her and wonder how somebody like me got so lucky. Want to know a secret?”

Kelly swiped away her tears. “What?”

“You look just like her. She had red curls and green eyes, too.”

Wonder filled her. Wonder and something light and warm that made it feel as if her heart was floating. “Even freckles?”

“Especially freckles. Freckles just like yours.”

Francesca parked in front of the hacienda. Kelly raced toward the backdoor and burst inside, but Francesca was slower to follow. If she hadn’t had Kelly for the day, she might not have had the courage to show up at all. Except with Sam due for dinner, she hadn’t had a choice. There was no way she could let him face her family without her first knowing what they knew and what they planned to say.

Oh, but she didn’t want to go inside. Not now. If Grandpa Lorenzo had told anyone… She leaned her forehead against the steering wheel. If? Was there any alternative universe in which he wouldn’t spread the news? She wouldn’t be surprised to find her father standing just inside the door, a shotgun in one hand and a list of available priests in the other.

The only bright spot was that she knew no one would say anything to Kelly. Her family would never hurt or upset the girl. If only they felt that way about their adult daughters, she thought wryly.

Unable to avoid the inevitable, she climbed out of the truck and made her way to the house.

The kitchen was the usual chaos. Even though it was only early afternoon, the Grands were in the midst of preparing dinner. Pots bubbled, vegetables lay on the countertops, and something delicious baked in the oven. Her mother stood with Kelly, next to Katie, who was sitting at the table and working on a list. As she entered, they all turned to look at her. There was a second of silence, and in that second she knew that they knew. Francesca braced herself against the need to bolt.

“Hi,” Francesca said weakly.

Her grandmothers rushed forward to embrace her. When she’d been squeezed, hugged, and cheek-pinched, Grammy M offered tea and Grandma Tessa told her to sit “and take a load off your feet.”

As the baby wasn’t even as big as a pencil eraser, worrying about her carrying around extra weight seemed excessive, but Francesca knew they all meant well. She tried to look on the bright side, but all she could think about was what was going to happen when Sam arrived.

Katie gave her a sympathetic look, then rose. “Kelly, I’m going to start beading the train. Want to help?”

Kelly grinned. “Sure. You mean you’d really let me sew on your dress?”

“Absolutely. There’s a special pattern for around the hem. I thought you’d like to work on that.”

“Wow. Okay. Great!”

Katie led the girl from the kitchen. Francesca watched her go with a sense of impending doom. Her mother crossed the kitchen, stopped in front of her, and reached for her hands.

“How far along are you?”

She’d been a fool ever to hope Grandpa Lorenzo had kept her secret for a second. “Did he run right back to the house to tell you or did he announce it at dinner?” she asked.

Grandma Tessa frowned. “Lorenzo is very worried about you. We all are.”

“Francesca, darlin’,” Grammy M murmured. “Are you feelin’ all right? Are you happy about the wee one?”

“I’m dealing with it.” She couldn’t commit to happy. Not when she was still floundering in confused.

“Does Sam know?” her mother asked.

“No. And I don’t want any of you to tell him.”

Her mother looked disapproving. “Francesca, if he’s the father—”

“Of course he’s the father. I don’t go around sleeping with more than one guy at a time. And for the record, there haven’t been any other guys in a long time, okay?”

Grandma Tessa pulled out her rosary and started murmuring. Francesca crossed to the table and sank into a chair. This was not going well.

“I know I have to tell Sam and I will. I just need a little more time to sort some things through.”

“Don’t be takin’ too long,” Grammy M said. “The weddin’—”

Francesca stared at her. “There isn’t going to be a wedding. Let’s make that clear. No marriage. No Mr. and Mrs. I’ll be having the child on my own.”

The three women looked as if they’d just witnessed a murder. They were stunned, shocked, and more than a little disapproving.

“If you’re concerned about Sam, your father will be happy to have a talk with him,” her mother said.

“No!” Francesca rose. “No talking. No anything. This is my life and you’re not to interfere. Do you understand?”

“Francesca—” her mother began.

“No. I’m going to make my own decision. I don’t want you to get involved. I mean it.”

The three women looked at one another, then back at her and nodded. Francesca knew it was the best she could hope for. They had agreed not to interfere, but that didn’t mean she believed them.

Sam exited the freeway for the two-lane highway that would take him to the hacienda. The late July afternoon was warm and clear—perfect California weather. While he should be back in his office, dealing with any number of crises that were bound to crop up in his absence, here he was playing hooky instead. The thing was, there wasn’t anything he would rather be doing.

He was even willing to admit the reason for his good mood—he couldn’t wait to see Francesca. Since the party on the Fourth, nearly three weeks ago, they’d barely spent any time together. Between his work, getting to know Kelly, Francesca’s need to work on her dissertation, and a five-day crisis involving the kidnapped son of a French banker, they hadn’t had much time alone.

Funny how in the past couple of weeks he’d found himself missing her. He missed talking to her, listening to her. He missed the sound of her laughter and looking at her across the dinner table. He missed her in his bed.

At first he’d been able to ignore the ache inside, but it hadn’t gone away. If anything it had gotten worse. Deeper, darker, more uncomfortable. He wanted to see her smile. He wanted to touch her face, kiss her, tease her, see her blush, watch her taking care of his daughter.

Basically, he had it bad.

Telling himself all the reasons he shouldn’t get involved didn’t seem to be helping. He didn’t want to believe he was thinking with the wrong head, but there didn’t seem to be another explanation.

So here he was, driving to the hacienda, grateful her family had insisted. They’d wanted to thank him for looking for their son. He glanced at the file folder on the passenger seat. To make the visit more official, he’d brought along what he’d been able to find out about the Marcelli’s firstborn.

He turned from the highway onto the long private road that led to the house. The grapes had grown since his last visit. Heavy clusters swelled in the afternoon light. He rolled down the window and inhaled the scent of earth and fruit. There was a heady sweetness in the air. The promise of harvest only a few weeks away. At least, that’s what it smelled like to him, he thought with a grin. Like he knew anything about making wine.

He was still chuckling as he parked the car in the driveway behind the hacienda. He cut the engine and stepped out in the shade. The afternoon was still and quiet. Santa Barbara wasn’t a huge city, but it was a major metropolis when compared with the solitary splendor of the hacienda.

“Sam?”

He turned and saw Brenna walking toward him. She wore shorts and a T-shirt, with a large hat covering her head. The wide brim protected her face.

He studied her as she approached, looking for similarities between her and her twin. Their eyes were the same shape, but different colors. Francesca’s features were more of a blend of the two families, while Brenna had inherited Italian features from the Marcelli side. She was full-breasted and full-hipped to Francesca’s slender lines. Her beauty was less obvious than her sister’s but just as powerful.

“I know you’re not here to help with Katie’s dress,” she said when she stopped in front of him.

“Is that what they’re doing? Working on the dress?”

Brenna grinned. “It’s a real estrogen fest in there. Want to take a walk until they’re ready to break? I suspect if you go in too soon, they’ll put you to work.”

He shuddered. “I’m not into beads.”

“As your daughter would say, well, duh. Come on. I’ll let you admire my grapes.”

He followed her back the way he’d come. She headed into the rows of vines closest to the house, pausing every now and then to bend down and study the growing clusters.

“We’re having a good year,” she said. “So far.”

“Could that change?”

“Sure. In a heartbeat. Too much sun, not enough sun, rain at the wrong time, no rain, too much rain. If it gets too cold, too hot, too foggy.”

“Sounds like you’re lucky to get any harvest at all.”

“Some years we are.” She stepped back and pointed to the grapes. “Chardonnay.”

“How do you know when they’re ready?”

“Experience. This is my first harvest in a long time, so I’m a little nervous.”

Sam frowned. “I thought you were the sister who was completely into the vineyard. Francesca told me you love it here.”

Brenna shrugged. “That’s true, but what she apparently forgot to mention is that I’m also an idiot.”

She started walking and he followed along. Several questions came to mind, but he didn’t want to go anywhere dangerous. Just when he was about to change the subject, she started talking again.