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met, if you'll recall. I was juggling a couple of companies that were valued in the millions. Things are different now. I'm making some changes in my life."
    "Such as?"
    "I've cut way back on the juggling, for one thing." He flashed her a quick grin.
    Margaret was not amused. "I find that hard to believe."
    "Hey, I'm down here in Arizona with you, aren't I?" He smiled again. "Two full weeks, maybe three if I get lucky. You have my full attention, Maggie, love."
    "Not quite. You're in the middle of negotiating a deal with my father, remember?"
    Connor chuckled. "She's got you there, Rafe. We are supposed to be talking business off and on, aren't we?"
    "Speaking of this little matter of selling the company you built with the sweat of your brow, Dad, just what is going on?" Margaret pinned her father with a quelling glare.
    "What can I tell you?" Connor shrugged massively. "It's the truth. If I can get a decent offer out of Cassidy, here, Lark Engineering is his."
    "But, Dad, you never told me you were thinking of selling."
    "The time has come to enjoy some of the money I made with all that brow sweat. Bev and I plan to do a lot of traveling and a fair amount of just plain fooling around. I'm even looking at a nifty little yacht. Can't you just see me in that fancy yachting getup?"
    "But the company has always been so important to you, Dad."
    "It's still important. Maggie, girl, I'll be perfectly truthful with you. If you'd stayed in the business world, shown a real interest in it, I'd probably have turned it over to you one of these days. But let's face it, girl, you aren't cut out for that world. And now you've got yourself a fine new career, one you've taken to like a duck to water. I'm glad for you, but it leaves me with a problem. I've got to do something with the firm."
    "So you're just going to hand it over to Rafe?"
    "He's not exactly handing it over," Rafe muttered. "Your father is holding me at gunpoint. You ought to hear what he's asking for Lark."
    "I see." Margaret felt some of the righteous determination seep out of her. Everything was already beyond her control. Rafe was in command, as usual. Things would go his way. A curious sense of inevitability began to come over her. Determinedly she fought back. "Where's the ubiquitous Hatcher?" Margaret asked, glancing meaningfully around the pool. "Surely you haven't dismissed your faithful, loyal, ever-present assistant for two solid weeks?"
    Rafe took a swallow of tea. "Hatcher is going to drop by occasionally to brief me on how things are going at the main office. But that's all. I've delegated almost everything else. I'm only available for world-class emergencies. Satisfied?"
    "You don't have to worry about my feelings on the subject," Margaret said. "Not anymore. You're free to run your life any way you choose."
    "Ouch." Connor winced.
    "I know what you mean," Rafe remarked. "She's been sniping at me like that every chance she gets. But I've promised myself I'll be tolerant, patient and understanding. She can't keep it up forever."
    "Don't bet on it." Margaret got to her feet. "I believe I will have that swim now. If you'll excuse me, Bev?"
    "Of course, dear. The water is lovely."
    Bev looked relieved to see her go. But there was an unexpected trace of unhappiness in her gaze, too, Margaret noticed. She wondered about that as she turned to walk back into the house. Surely after the things Bev Cassidy had said to her last year, she couldn't be hoping for a reconciliation between her son and his errant mistress.
    Mistress. The old-fashioned word still burned in Margaret's ears whenever she remembered Bev's last words to her.
You'd make him a better mistress than you would a wife
.
    "Cocktails at six out here by the pool, dear," Bev called after her. "We'll be eating around seven-thirty. Connor and Rafe have promised to grill us some steaks."
    "Right," Connor said cheerfully. "Got us some of the biggest, juiciest, thickest steaks on the face of the planet."
    Margaret