the child 's dress depicted tiny pale blue and white flowers with green leaves, as the doll's did, but it seemed unlikely. Marisa's skin tone was certainly darker than the doll's creamy complexion, and the exact shade of blue of her dress also seemed darker in the picture. But both the child 's dress and the doll's dress were long-sleeved and full beneath the smocking, were of approximately the same length, and had white-lace Peter Pan collars edged in a tiny ruffle.
Lisa realized her heart was thumping.
Get a grip, she told herself. There is no way that this is anything but a coincidence.
Obviously, the doll had been dressed like a real little girl. Blue velvet smocked dresses must have been popular among the preschool set back about the time she 'd acquired Katrina. Which, since she didn't remember getting her, must have been when she herself was of preschool age. The doll was supposed to mimic a real child. Therefore, it made sense that she would be dressed like one. There were probably thousands of dolls that were dressed just like this, that looked just like this, scattered all across the country.
As logical as that argument was, Lisa still picked up Katrina and was turning her over to check for a label on the dress or some identifying mark on the doll itself when her cell phone rang. The unexpected burst of Beethoven's Fifth made her jump.
Her phone was in her purse, which was in the bedroom. Putting Katrina down, Lisa got to her feet and hurried to answer it.
"I'm going to have to cancel our lunch on Friday."
The voice was her father's. C. Bartlett Grant was an esteemed federal judge who now lived some seventy miles away in the exclusive Glenview section of Kentucky's largest city, Louisville. Tall, fit, and still strikingly handsome at sixty-eight, he was a former congressman who had once had far loftier political aspirations. But a losing Senate bid had soured him on personally pursuing public office, and he'd embraced the role of party elder instead. Still a local mover and shaker and, thanks to his two wives, both of whom were or (in her mother's case) had been heiresses, a wealthy man, he was highly thought of by almost everyone, his daughter and former wife excepted. Though Lisa was his only natural child--he had acquired three stepsons upon his second marriage--their relationship had been rocky since the extremely contentious divorce from her mother, which had taken place when Lisa was six. In fact, they'd had practically no relationship until Lisa had returned home to Grayson Springs the previous autumn. Since then, always at Barty's (he hated it when she called him that, so Lisa invariably did) instigation, they'd met occasionally for a meal. She figured that since she was now a lawyer like himself, he was afraid that their circles might start to overlap and wanted to do what he could to head off anything unflattering she might say about him.
Barty had always hated being made to look like the bad guy. And of course he didn't know her well enough to know that she had enough family loyalty to keep her unflattering opinion of him to herself.
"Family obligations?" Lisa asked sweetly, knowing that he put on a great show of being a devoted husband and father.
"As a matter of fact, the trial I'm presiding over looks like it's going to run long. I won't be able to get away."
"I saw in the paper that Todd"--his youngest stepson, who was a seventeen-year-old senior in high school--"was competing in a track meet on Friday." Her tone was carefully neutral.
He let out a sigh.
"Okay, you got me. Yes, I'm going to watch Todd run. Jill"--his wife--"doesn't want to go alone."
"You don't have to make excuses, you know. I'm perfectly fine with you canceling our lunch to go watch Todd's meet. I only wish you'd been that good a father to me."
"Lisa . . ."
"I know, Barty, I know. Age brings perspective." During one of their earlier lunches, her father had made sure to tell her that he regretted not having been around
Lisa realized her heart was thumping.
Get a grip, she told herself. There is no way that this is anything but a coincidence.
Obviously, the doll had been dressed like a real little girl. Blue velvet smocked dresses must have been popular among the preschool set back about the time she 'd acquired Katrina. Which, since she didn't remember getting her, must have been when she herself was of preschool age. The doll was supposed to mimic a real child. Therefore, it made sense that she would be dressed like one. There were probably thousands of dolls that were dressed just like this, that looked just like this, scattered all across the country.
As logical as that argument was, Lisa still picked up Katrina and was turning her over to check for a label on the dress or some identifying mark on the doll itself when her cell phone rang. The unexpected burst of Beethoven's Fifth made her jump.
Her phone was in her purse, which was in the bedroom. Putting Katrina down, Lisa got to her feet and hurried to answer it.
"I'm going to have to cancel our lunch on Friday."
The voice was her father's. C. Bartlett Grant was an esteemed federal judge who now lived some seventy miles away in the exclusive Glenview section of Kentucky's largest city, Louisville. Tall, fit, and still strikingly handsome at sixty-eight, he was a former congressman who had once had far loftier political aspirations. But a losing Senate bid had soured him on personally pursuing public office, and he'd embraced the role of party elder instead. Still a local mover and shaker and, thanks to his two wives, both of whom were or (in her mother's case) had been heiresses, a wealthy man, he was highly thought of by almost everyone, his daughter and former wife excepted. Though Lisa was his only natural child--he had acquired three stepsons upon his second marriage--their relationship had been rocky since the extremely contentious divorce from her mother, which had taken place when Lisa was six. In fact, they'd had practically no relationship until Lisa had returned home to Grayson Springs the previous autumn. Since then, always at Barty's (he hated it when she called him that, so Lisa invariably did) instigation, they'd met occasionally for a meal. She figured that since she was now a lawyer like himself, he was afraid that their circles might start to overlap and wanted to do what he could to head off anything unflattering she might say about him.
Barty had always hated being made to look like the bad guy. And of course he didn't know her well enough to know that she had enough family loyalty to keep her unflattering opinion of him to herself.
"Family obligations?" Lisa asked sweetly, knowing that he put on a great show of being a devoted husband and father.
"As a matter of fact, the trial I'm presiding over looks like it's going to run long. I won't be able to get away."
"I saw in the paper that Todd"--his youngest stepson, who was a seventeen-year-old senior in high school--"was competing in a track meet on Friday." Her tone was carefully neutral.
He let out a sigh.
"Okay, you got me. Yes, I'm going to watch Todd run. Jill"--his wife--"doesn't want to go alone."
"You don't have to make excuses, you know. I'm perfectly fine with you canceling our lunch to go watch Todd's meet. I only wish you'd been that good a father to me."
"Lisa . . ."
"I know, Barty, I know. Age brings perspective." During one of their earlier lunches, her father had made sure to tell her that he regretted not having been around
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