Chapter Three
“I’ m on to you guys,” Cindy told the girls with mock seriousness as she wiped one face, only to see another triplet smear granola cereal across her cheek.
They only giggled more.
Each of the girls was secured in a booster seat, bowls and spoons in the same vicinity, as they sat around the breakfast table with Cindy.
“Here you are,” Flynn greeted them. Awakening only moments earlier, he’d been startled to find all three girls gone from their beds. Passing Cindy’s room, which was next to the girls’, he could see it was empty, as well.
Cindy and his daughters glanced up at him in unison. The girls garbled out greetings mixed with cereal and juice, slurry versions of “Daddy.”
“Morning,” Cindy greeted him.
Flynn was unable to shake the frown from his face. “You didn’t have to do this.”
She shrugged easily. “No big deal. I was up, they got up. So we’re eating.”
“But they’re a lot of trouble to feed and—”
“Not really. Besides, it’s more fun than eating by myself with only the newspaper for company.”
“Oh.” Deflated, he wasn’t certain what to say. For the past year, despite a housekeeper, nannies and sitters, much of his daughters’ care had fallen on him. It was disconcerting to see how easily Cindy took over the chore. “They weren’t up this early the last few days.”
“Takes a while to get settled into a new place. And it’s possible I woke them when I got up.”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“You’re two rooms over. Besides, like I said, it’s no big deal. Actually, it’s kind of fun.” Mandy decorated her golden, honey-blond hair that moment with a glob of cereal. Cindy laughed aloud as she reached for a damp towel. “For the most part, anyway.”
“I’m up. I can take over.”
“Why don’t you grab some coffee?” Cindy smoothed the towel gently over Mandy’s hair, removing most of the cereal. “No sense jumping in till you’re awake.” She stood just then, moving over to the refrigerator, drawing out a container of organic apple juice.
His mouth opened as he intended to tell her to back off, that these were his children, that he would feed them breakfast. She spun around, however, at that moment her face pulling into a tentative look of speculation. “You know, I may have to take you up on that offer. I got so caught up in the girls I forgot today is Tuesday, my Rainbow class day.”
Pottery, he guessed, or some similar sort of thing. She’d always been involved in one crazy project after another. Julia had reported on her sister’s escapades often enough. But that had only reinforced his opinion. Cindy was fun, reckless and totally without responsibility. He’d finally stopped listening to Julia’s tales, having learned enough about Cindy. He had grown up in a home where fun had been valued over stability and it had ruined all their lives. It was the reason he’d always remained detached from Cindy. Now she was offering him back the responsibility for the girls so she could run off to some mindless class. “Fine.”
She smiled. “I have a few minutes, though, if you’d like that coffee.”
His voice sounded stiff even to his own ears. “It’s not necessary. I have managed to feed them and drink my coffee for the past year.”
Her brows drew together. “Of course, but—”
The phone rang, cutting off her reply.
Flynn could only hear one end of the conversation, but he didn’t need to listen long to learn that it sounded as though she planned to meet half a dozen friends for the day’s outing.
“Fine, I’ll pick up Lisa and Heather on the way, too,” Cindy continued on the phone. She glanced at her watch. “But I’d better run.” She turned back to Flynn after clicking off the phone. “You sure you’re okay on your own? I could make some arrangements if—”
“No. I told you I didn’t want our staying here to interfere with your life.”
“It’s not. It’s just that today—”
“Go,” he replied shortly, sliding into the chair nestled between the girls.
Looking as though she wanted to continue what she was saying, instead Cindy nodded. “I’ll see you later, then.”
That was more like it, he thought to himself after she left the kitchen. He hadn’t asked for or wanted Cindy’s help. Turning back to the girls, he saw that they weren’t happy with her disappearance, though.
“Cinny,” they wailed in unison.
“Daddy’s here.” He comforted them.
“Cinny!” they continued demanding.
“Cereal?” he questioned, pushing a measure of enthusiasm into his voice, staring down at the unfamiliar granola, thinking it didn’t look very appetizing.
But when he glanced up, three minor storms had descended over their faces.
“It wasn’t my idea for her to leave,” he attempted.
Beth, always the loudest of the triplets, banged her spoon on the edge of the table. “Cinny!”
“Okay, time to settle down and eat your breakfast.”
Although they weren’t happy with the request, they eventually complied. Three sticky faces later, he was near the end of his patience. It was going to take forever to get the girls cleaned up, not to mention the damage they’d done to Cindy’s formerly spotless kitchen floor. It wasn’t how he’d anticipated the day, but there was no getting around the fact. He was going to be scraping up granola for at least part of the morning.
Cindy was tired. Her usually endless supply of energy was running low. It had started draining that morning when Flynn pulled his stiff, get-out-of-my-face act. She’d tried to repump, knowing the Rainbow children needed all she had to give. But his mood had intruded on hers the entire day—even though today had also been filled with rewards.
None of them was the large variety that impressed most people. Rather the small ones, like when Heather offered to share a toy. Not remarkable for most children. But then Heather wasn’t the average child. She’d lost her parents and younger brother in a car accident. Now, living with an aunt and uncle who didn’t really want her, she’d become hostile, desocialized. A few months earlier Cindy had convinced the child’s guardians to allow Heather to attend the Rainbow class.
The class had begun three years earlier with one lonesome little girl, Lana, the child of a single father who was desperate to round out his daughter’s life with the happiness she’d lost along with her mother. Cindy, full of love she’d yet to give anyone, lavished it on Lana, finally coaxing smiles, then laughter from her sad little face. Then another emotionally scarred child had come along. And another.
Katherine had encouraged Cindy when she’d suggested forming a group. And the Rainbow class was born. Children continued to join, all with a variety of needs, no two the same. Yet they came together in the Rainbow class, a healing, nurturing place.
Normally days spent with her “Rainbow” kids were ones of great satisfaction. But the nagging feelings she’d carried with her from the house had stolen some of that pleasure.
As she pulled into her driveway, Cindy couldn’t halt a jolt of apprehension. It wasn’t a simple emotion, but one tied in to her feelings for Flynn, his obvious dissatisfaction and the grand mess she’d made by inviting him to stay in her house.
For the first time since purchasing the winsome Victorian, she was reluctant to enter. Her throat caught—this, her place of refuge, was no longer a sanctuary. Forcing the dregs of her energy to respond, she pushed open the front door.
And entered chaos.
The triplets, who appeared to have dragged every toy in the house to the front hall and parlor, were running through both rooms as though flung like buckshot.
Paralyzed for a moment, she watched in stupefied fascination as Flynn entered the hall and tried to harness the girls.
He glanced up just then, all his earlier stiff resentment gone, replaced by a sheepish embarrassment. “It’s really not as bad as it looks.”
She placed her purse on the hall table. “That’s a relief.”
“Nothing’s broken—I put all the fragile stuff up high.” Cindy glanced at her assortment of antique scarves and shawls that normally hung from a brass rack near the door. Apparently the triplets had tugged them free. Now they were strung haphazardly over and across the rich marquetry floors. Sunlight from the second-story rotunda usually shone on the intricate pattern of oak, bird’s-eye maple and rare East Texas long leaf pine. Now, however, it was hardly visible under the mess.
“Things got a little out of control,” Flynn admitted.
“So I see.”
Flynn followed her gaze, releasing a low groan. “I didn’t realize they’d gotten into your scarves, as well. To be honest, I thought once I’d put the breakables out of reach, they’d be safe while I mopped the kitchen floor.”
Amazed, she stared at him. “Why did you feel you had to mop the floor? I just did it—”
“Breakfast,” he explained, the one word conveying paragraphs.
“Oh.”
He met her gaze. “I know I said I didn’t need any help, rather emphatically if I remember correctly. Truth is, back home we had a housekeeper. While she wasn’t their nanny, she kept all the messes and spills cleaned up. I never realized how difficult it would be to watch the girls and clean up their fallout.”
She felt a chuckle unexpectedly germinating and tried to suppress it. “Sometimes things aren’t as easy as they appear.”
He glanced around the nearly destroyed area. “I’d say that was an understatement. Unless you have a strong objection, I’d like to find a housekeeper as soon as possible.”
Cindy allowed a fraction of her smile to escape. “I don’t think that’s really necessary.”
“You want to live like this?”
“That’s not necessary, either.” She kept her tone mild, guessing the end of his rope was nearly frayed. “I often have four or five children here at one time. But it does take a little organization, some planning.”
He stared at her in disbelief.
“I do have a grasp on those concepts,” she told him wryly.
“Still—”
She held up one hand. “I’m really not accustomed to depending on others, especially in my own home. To be honest, it would seem like an intrusion. How about if we try it my way for, say, a week? If it doesn’t work, we’ll look into finding a housekeeper.”
“A week?”
She chuckled. “You sound about the girls’ age. It’s a week, not a year.”
“Maybe so. But the week I’m anticipating will seem like a year.”
Cindy bent down, retrieving a hand-beaded silk shawl that was the prize of her collection. “Look at it this way. Your stuff’s in storage so I’ve got the most to lose.”
“Point taken. I just hope you don’t regret your offer.”
Regret. It was her constant companion, a reminder she couldn’t shake with hurricane force winds. But having become an expert at disguising her feelings, she only smiled, edging toward the kitchen. “I’d better check things out, start on dinner.”
“The floor’s clean,” he responded.
She glanced at the wreckage in the parlor and hall and nodded. “Well, that’s one positive.”
“Don’t worry, Cindy. I’ll put things back to rights.”
She disappeared into the kitchen. It wasn’t possible, she knew. Even if the house was fashioned into Architectural Digest perfection, things could never be made right. Not while he held her heart in his hands, and didn’t even realize he controlled its very rhythm.
Dinner was spectacularly uneventful. Only a few spoonfuls of mashed peas landed on the floor, soon wiped clean. Flynn wasn’t certain just how Cindy had accomplished it, but control prevailed throughout the meal. But it wasn’t a disciplinary nightmare. To the contrary, the girls were happy, easy to handle.
Perhaps it was a woman thing, he mused. Julia had always had just the right touch with the girls, as well. But that wasn’t something he expected Cindy to share with her sister.
Bathtime was also competently and quickly accomplished. Soon, the girls were snuggled in their sleepers, tucked into their matching beds.
More than a bit amazed, Flynn studied Cindy as they reached the bottom of the stairwell. He wondered if she was part magician, making the care of the triplets seem effortless.
Having reassembled much of the parlor, he began gathering some of the scarves still strewn across the floor.
Cindy stooped down, as well, carefully picking up each ancient slip of fabric.
“These are really…different,” Flynn finally decided aloud.
“That doesn’t exactly sound like a compliment.”
He held up one sheer red scarf, threaded with gold, edged with long strands of dark fringe. “They suit you.”
Her smile was wry. “Again, I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”
Flynn paused, the scarf awkwardly filling his hands. “Look, I know we don’t see many things the same way.” He held up the exotic red silk. “But I don’t have any frame of reference for stuff like this.”
“Granted,” she replied, a touch of a sigh flavoring the solitary word. “Julia was always practical, unlike me. Cotton versus silk, that was us.”
He studied the weariness she couldn’t quite disguise. “We haven’t gotten off to the best start, have we?”
She shrugged. “It’s a big adjustment. You’re used to running things your way.”
“And you’re used to being on your own.”
Cindy lifted her face, new shadows deepening her obvious fatigue. “Yes. That I am.”
Flynn sighed. “I knew this was a bad idea. We’re messing up your life, your home.”
“I’m not a neat freak,” she replied after the barest pause. Then her eyes shifted away. “We knew going in this wasn’t an ideal situation, but if it helps the girls, I can manage. How about you?”
He fingered the soft, exotic scarf. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make the girls happy.”
“Then there’s no more to say,” she responded.
Flynn wanted to search her eyes, to see how Cindy really felt, but she stood, turning to the brass rack. He owed her an apology, but it was difficult to spit out. He’d spent the better part of his adult life making certain he had nothing else to be sorry for. And he doubted even his unsettling sister-in-law could change that.
Cindy chose to be especially quiet the following morning as she worked in the downstairs conservatory. Not wanting a repeat of Flynn’s displeasure, she’d tiptoed around her bedroom as she’d dressed, then slipped silently down the stairs, knowing how to avoid the creaks in the ancient steps.
Her night had been restless, filled with dreams caused by thoughts she couldn’t chase away. So she’d risen early to escape them, needing to lose herself in activity.
Picking up a box filled with old photos, she started to put it aside. Then she glanced at the picture on top. Settling the box on top of the table, she withdrew the photo. It had been taken years ago. Her parents, Julia and herself. They were on vacation at Disneyland. Julia and their mother both looked pretty, smiling gracefully. But Cindy and her father were wearing goofy hats and glasses, wide, silly grins covering their faces. She eased a thumb over the slick surface, remembering the good times, the pain of loss that had faded, but never disappeared.
Flynn coughed from the doorway.
Startled, Cindy dropped the photograph.
He entered, reaching down to pick it up before she could. “Nice picture.”
She nodded, not willing to delve into her unreconciled loss. “Kind of early in the morning for reminiscing, isn’t it?”
“I wasn’t actually. Just saw that picture and it brought back a lot of memories.”
He looked at it again. “You and Julia were on different wavelengths.”
Cindy swallowed the pain of that comment. “She was always more like Mother, refined, graceful, elegant.”
“And you were like your father?”
“I guess so. He was the adventurer—the one who wildcatted after the days of oil wildcatting were past. He liked to pursue the impossible.”
Flynn’s gaze shifted between Cindy and the picture. “I’m not like my mother, either.”
Never having heard much about his family, she wondered about them. “What was she like?”
His face closed. Tossing down the picture, he shrugged. “Just a mother.” Then he glanced at the newly cleared desk. “What are you doing in here?”
“Making a temporary office for you.”
His eyes swept over the newly arranged room. “You didn’t have to do this—”
“You’re beginning to sound like a broken record,” she interrupted. “You need a place to work in until you get the office space you want.”
“I’m hoping to get that set up soon.”
“Fine. I’ll need the room back after a while anyway. It’s one I use sometimes for one of my volunteer functions. And in the future it may be the permanent spot for the class.”
He frowned. “Then why go to so much trouble?”
This time she didn’t shift her gaze, instead meeting his. “It’s who I am.”
He studied her, clearly baffled.
But then that was the point. She’d always baffled and alienated him. And moving to Rosewood wasn’t going to change his impression. Only reinforce it.
Chapter Four
T wo days later, Flynn pushed aside the sage-green sheers that covered the tall conservatory windows. Tapestry drapes that puddled beyond the woodwork onto the floor were tied back with thick, silky tassels. It seemed Cindy left no detail unattended. Two pairs of aged leather wing chairs were grouped beside a small fireplace. And a Georgian library table served as a desk, covered by neat stacks of his work papers.
Like the rest of the house, this room was cozy. He was no decorator, but the furnishings she chose reminded him of older homes he’d visited in England and France. Even the landscapes and botanical prints looked as though they could be European in origin.
It was restful, snug and casual, yet he itched with discomfort. He glanced down at the candy bowl filled with sunflower and pumpkin seeds. The house and the temporary office suited him no better than the birdseed she called food.
From the window he could see the swish of a weeping willow in the gentle breeze. And across the street, an elderly gentleman handled his roses with the care usually reserved for rare orchids.
A knock, so quiet it barely penetrated the thick mahogany door, reached him. He turned. “Come in.”
Cindy, looking somewhat like a wary redheaded comet, poked her head in. “Do you need anything?”
Flynn shook his head. “I don’t know what it would be.”
“Enough paper? A snack? Maybe some coffee?”
Although he appreciated her concern, he’d never been comfortable accepting help. “Cindy, I’m not accustomed to having someone make all my decisions for me.”
She blanched for a moment. “I didn’t realize an offer of coffee constituted interfering.”
Flynn drew one hand back across his hair. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
Her green eyes still looked stormy. “Then what?”
He gestured around the room, overwhelmed and embarrassed by her generosity. “This. Everything. I didn’t ask for an office, but you produced one anyway. Even after I told you I didn’t want it.”
Cindy’s fingers curled around the edge of the door. “You don’t have to use it,” she replied evenly. “After all, you’ve rented another office. If you don’t mind moving in there while they’re renovating, I certainly don’t.”
The pull and tug vibrated between them.
Suddenly half a dozen small footsteps thudded across the floor. “Cinny! Daddy!”
As the triplets approached, Cindy turned, ending the immediate need for resolution. She knelt as the girls reached her. “Why don’t we go swing in the backyard? Let Daddy work.”
“You’ve been taking care of the girls all day. Why don’t I take them outside?”
“I want Cinny!” Beth retorted.
Cindy glanced between Flynn and his daughters. “If your daddy helps you swing, I could set the table in the backyard and we could have supper there.”
“Supper?” Mandy asked.
“Veggie burgers,” Cindy replied. “They’re yummy.”
Flynn didn’t agree, but also didn’t want to snap her olive branch in half.
“Yummy,” Alice repeated.
He glanced at his daughters, more content in the last week than the last year. For that he could eat veggie burgers and granola. He could also somehow find a compromise with Cindy.
“And I’m about done with work for today,” he added, finding a second note of accord.
“Wanna make yummies,” Alice was requesting.
Cindy ran gentle fingers through her blond curls. “I can always use a good helper.”
“Good helper me,” Alice agreed.
“So you are.”
“Wanna swing with Daddy,” Beth stated more assertively.
“Me, too,” Mandy spoke up.
Flynn walked toward them, stretching his hands out toward the girls.
Beth and Mandy readily placed their small hands within his. Seeing the unsettled look that remained on Cindy’s face, Flynn relented. “Veggie burgers, huh? I don’t suppose we could have French fries with those?”
Unexpectedly her lips twitched. “To cancel out the healthy effect of the meal’s veggie portion?”
“Something like that,” he agreed. “I’m more a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy.”
Her smile widened. “Is that why you pick all the sprouts out of the salad?”
He winced. “I thought I was a touch more subtle.”
“Not especially.”
Surprise melted away the last of his reserve. “No kind demur?”
“No. That would have been someone else. Not me.”
Julia, he knew. Cindy wouldn’t say it in front of the girls, but it was true. Julia had always smoothed over any potential bump that could have put a ripple in any conversation. It had been the tone of their entire relationship.
Flynn walked outside with his daughters, losing himself for the moment beneath the cover of towering oaks and ivy-covered lattice work. The yard smelled of honeysuckle vines that poked fragrant blooms through the cracks of the weathered fence.
The swing set that sat on the longish grass was old, not new and shiny. But it was so sturdy, it could hold eight children; now it only needed to support his two small daughters.
Glancing back toward the house, Flynn wondered what it was about his sister-in-law that commanded such affection from his children. Alice had always clung the closest to him, never wanting to be separated. Beth might toddle off on her own, Mandy sometimes only a few feet behind. But not Alice. She was Daddy’s girl.
Only, now she seemed to be Cindy’s girl.
Inside, Cindy allowed Alice to pat and roll the burgers into shape. They were beginning to resemble small boulders.
“A Flintstones supper, Alice? Good job.” After washing the child’s hands, Cindy led her to the ancient French doors that opened to the backyard. “Why don’t you go swing for a while with Beth and Mandy?”
Happy to be with both Cindy and her father, Alice scampered contentedly away. Watching her, Cindy couldn’t help but wonder if all memories of Julia were fading from their young minds. For a moment she felt a stab of longing for her deceased sister, one more poignant than she’d felt since her untimely death. Even now, Cindy railed against the unfairness.
Colon cancer had struck silently, without warning. And Julia, in typical fashion, had persisted in acting as though nothing could go wrong with her perfect life, her perfect family. Ignoring the final, irreversible symptoms, she had died within six weeks of the diagnosis.
Julia’s little family was adrift. In Cindy’s backyard. Peering out the large windows, she saw how gentle Flynn was with his daughters. It was a side he showed only with them. Cindy couldn’t even remember seeing him treat Julia with the same tenderness. His manner toward Julia had always been filled with deep respect and devotion, but not tenderness. It was as though he’d placed Julia on a pedestal—one her sister had relished. Suddenly she wondered why.
The girls’ giggles floated through the open French doors. The low murmur of Flynn’s voice accompanied the happy sound. Even though she couldn’t understand the walls he constructed or the reasons for them, Cindy could see the joy he brought out in the girls. Although reluctant to cease her uncensored view, she gathered the charcoal lighter and matches.
Once outside, Flynn spotted her as she approached the grill. “I’ll start the fire,” he offered.
“Great. My least favorite part of eating outside.” She handed him the supplies, checking quickly to see that the girls were still safe.
Within a few minutes Flynn had a good fire going. Cindy rounded up condiments and place settings. However, when she brought out the plate containing the misshapen burgers, he raised his brows.
“Pretend we’re in Bedrock,” she told him breezily.
“I’m still getting fries, right?”
She nodded.
“Fine. We can be in Oz then for all I care.”
It was so out of character for Flynn that she paused. Musing, she returned to the kitchen to prepare his French fries.
By the time she brought them to the table, Flynn had finished grilling the burgers. The girls ran from the swings, their short legs pumping with the effort.
Once they were seated, and their burgers assembled, Flynn and Cindy concentrated on their own plates.
He stared at his burger with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm. “Do you have something against regular food?”
“Regular food?” she repeated. “As in cholesterol-clogging, energy-draining junk food?”
He took a hefty portion of French fries. “Absolutely.” Tasting one, his expression changed. “Are these made some…uh…special way?”
“They’re made from potatoes and they’re fried,” she replied enigmatically.
“In what?”
“Olive and canola oil,” she admitted.
He sighed. “Does everything you cook have to be so…healthy?”
She took a moment’s pity on him. “We do have a fast-food joint in town. You can always get a fix there.”
He picked up another fry, his words hesitant. “You’ve been doing all the cooking and I don’t sound very grateful.”
Cindy felt the saddening, one that came from a place she could never quite conquer. “It’s not what you’re used to.” Smiling to hide the pain, she glanced down at the simple dinner. “None of it. Me, this house, the food you think suits birds and squirrels better than people. You probably feel as though you’ve landed on another planet.”
He glanced at the girls, but they were more interested in spearing pickles than the adult conversation. “It is different,” he finally admitted. “But I needed a change. And the girls wanted Aunt Cinny.”
Caution slid past logic. “They’d have forgotten me in time.”
He glanced up, catching her eyes.
“Yes,” she replied to the unspoken question there. “Like they’re forgetting much of the past year.”
In the quiet, the chirp of early-evening crickets mingled with the girls’ random giggles and murmurs.
“Are you already tired of us?” he questioned in a low tone that didn’t carry down the table.
She could say so much, so very much. Her gaze flew to the girls, cheerfully smearing Cindy’s homemade mayonnaise on the table. Correction, she couldn’t say anything at all. “No. It’s great having the girls here.” She paused. “And you, of course. The house is full of noise and smiles and laughter. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.” She wouldn’t, Cindy realized, despite the heartache. It wasn’t simply an empty assurance for Flynn.
“Veggie burgers are probably good for us,” he offered finally.
Cindy’s laugh spilled between them. “Then you’ll love the carob-chip cookies.”
“I don’t suppose you have any genuine chocolate in the house.”
She tried to resist the pull of his eyes. “Well, I’m not a fanatic!”
“So you can be tempted?”
Oh, so tempted. She scrambled for a reasonable reply. “I eat the way I do because I like it, not to prove a point.”
“Do you ever eat out?”
“Of course. I’m willing to try most anything.”
His expression was reflective.
When he didn’t reply, she prodded him. “What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing really. Just that Julia never wanted to try anything new.”
Of course not. Steady, dependable Julia never made Flynn grimace in displeased surprise. “That must have been a comfort.”
“Yes,” he agreed.
His reply took away her words, her desire to keep the conversation flowing. She was so everything Julia wasn’t. So everything Flynn despised.
The following day Flynn examined the progress on the office space he had rented. The renovations weren’t coming along as quickly as he’d hoped. Although they were only weeks from completion, he wished it were mere days. He needed to get his office out of Cindy’s house.
Never having had to wrestle with a woman over the issue of control, he found himself uncertain how to deal with Cindy.
Julia had never questioned his opinions, in fact preferring to let him assume all the responsibility and worry of their decisions. It had become their custom for him to decide and for her to comply. It irritated him that Cindy had him wondering if that had always been for the best.
A knock sounded on the outer door. “Hello, anyone here?” a man called out.
“In here,” Flynn responded, rounding the corner.
A tall, dark-haired man approached, extending his hand. “I’m Michael Carlson.”
“Flynn Mallory,” he responded automatically.
“Katherine’s Carlson’s husband,” the man continued.
Flynn searched his memory.
But Michael began to grin. “I see that my wife and her friend didn’t tell you about this visit.”
Flynn shook his head.
“Katherine and Cindy are friends.”
“Oh, the pastor,” Flynn remembered.
Michael’s grin spread. “Yeah, that’s what I thought at first, too.”
“Sorry, I—”
“It’s okay. Most people aren’t used to women ministers. Actually, Cindy asked me if I could stop by, take a look at your renovations. She said your contractor’s behind on the job.”
“Oh.” Flynn issued the solitary word.
“I see she didn’t tell you. Listen, if you’d rather call someone else, fine by me.”
“I need to get this place operational as soon as possible. But you’ve probably got a lot of important jobs to be overseeing rather than looking at this dinky office.”
Michael shook his head. “I work on all kinds of jobs. I do a lot of remodeling as well as building stores, offices, the new headquarters for Adair Petroleum. And like I said, Cindy asked.”
“And that’s all it took?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
Flynn couldn’t hide his surprise. “Guess things work differently in a small town than a place like Houston.”
“I imagine so. All I’ve known are small towns. I didn’t grow up in Rosewood, but a place pretty close in size.” Michael looked around at the partially demolished space. “So, what’s this going to be?”
Flynn smiled. “Software Development.”
Michael nodded. “And you can run that kind of business from anywhere. Rosewood’s as perfect as Silicon Valley.”
Flynn studied the other man with new respect. “My thoughts exactly.”
“You’ve picked a good town, lots of good people here.”
“That’s what Cindy’s been telling me.”
Michael studied him. “But you’re not sure yet. That’s okay. I don’t judge an orange by its peel, either. Get to know us first.”
Flynn wasn’t accustomed to this much directness, but it struck a chord. “Good advice.”
Michael’s gaze roamed around the building. “Now, let’s see if you like the rest of it.”
Hours later, Flynn headed back to Cindy’s house. Michael Carlson had carefully examined the office structure. Then he’d offered to have a word with the contractor Flynn had hired. But Flynn wasn’t comfortable accepting help from strangers. Or friends for that matter.
Even though he hadn’t appreciated Cindy’s interference, Flynn liked Michael. Instinctively Flynn believed he was honest, capable.
Still, that brought him round to why Cindy had asked Michael to stop by. Why she felt a need for control, one he hated to admit equalled his own.
Entering the house, he didn’t hear anyone; in fact it seemed deadly still. The panic that had struck him once as a child and never fully disappeared now crawled into his throat.
His walk a near run, he traveled through the front rooms, finally jogging into the kitchen. He was ready to turn back and tear up the stairs, when he heard the hum of voices from the backyard. The French doors were closed. Only one kitchen window was slightly ajar, dimming the sounds.
Pulling open the doors, he searched for and saw his daughters. Relieved, he watched for a moment as they played with three children he hadn’t seen before.
And in the background Cindy’s distinctive, upbeat voice blended with that of another woman’s. Flynn took a few steps forward.
It was bright in the yard, the warming spring sunshine pushing past overhanging branches, muted only by the slats of the faded white lattice arbors. And Cindy sat in the sunshine and shadow.
There was something different about her, he realized, walking farther into the yard. Fully animated, unreserved, she was as brilliant as the deep fuchsia azaleas blooming around her.
Glancing up, she spotted him, and some of her vivacity faded. Still, she smiled in welcome.
“Hello, ladies,” he greeted them.
Her friend tossed back long dark hair and extended her hand. “I’m Katherine Carlson. I’ve heard so much about you and your daughters. It’s a real pleasure to meet you.”
He hesitated for a moment, amazed that this attractive woman was the “female preacher.”
She noticed and her grin widened. “Yep. It’s true. I’m the woman minister.”
He collected his manners, shaking her proffered hand. “No wonder your husband looks like such a happy man.”
Confident, unflappable Katherine blushed.
Cindy, to his surprise, winked at him with an equally wide grin. “Then I guess that means Michael found you this morning.”
Katherine recovered a trace of her composure. “I hope he was able to help. Michael subcontracts out a lot of the smaller jobs. If your contractor’s one of those, he would probably listen to Michael.”
Flynn met Cindy’s eyes. “I do want to get things going quickly. I’m not comfortable working from Cindy’s house.”
Katherine shrugged. “Beats me why anyone would rather work in an office building than this charming place, but I’m sure Michael could help if you ask him.”
“That’s great,” Cindy concurred, not relinquishing Flynn’s gaze. “I’ll be needing the conservatory for one of my groups soon anyway.”
Katherine glanced between them, but didn’t comment on the visible tension. “Looks like the kids are getting along well.”
Belatedly Flynn and Cindy pulled their gazes from each other.
“So it does,” Flynn agreed, wishing Cindy wouldn’t look at him that way. There was no reason to feel guilty about telling the truth. Then he really looked at the kids. “How old are your children?”
Katherine’s face softened. “David’s the oldest. He’s eight. Annie’s six. And baby Danny’s fourteen months.”
Flynn watched them for a few more minutes. “The older ones are good with your youngest and my girls, as well.”
“They’ve always treated Danny as though they found him under the tree on Christmas morning,” Katherine replied with a winsome laugh. “But then, since he was a gift from God, that’s not so bad.”
Flynn swallowed the comment that sprang to mind. He didn’t have to agree with people to remain polite. “Still, you should be proud of them. Older children aren’t always so gentle with toddlers.”
Surprisingly Katherine’s eyes brightened with an unexpected sheen of tears. “I’m so proud of them I could burst. Annie, David, Danny and their father are the best things that ever happened to me.”
Cindy’s gaze suddenly held red-hot warning. So he chose his words carefully. “My girls mean the world to me, too.”
Katherine recovered her composure. “I know. Cindy’s told me about your late wife, and all the sacrifices you made to move to Rosewood.”
Startled, Flynn stared at Cindy.
However, her expression didn’t lighten. In fact, if he could identify the emotion lurking there, it would be suspicion. And for the life of him, he didn’t know what caused that.
“Mommy!” Annie hollered, running up to them, all dark hair and huge blue eyes. Seeing Flynn, she turned suddenly shy.
“Hi,” he said first. “I’m Flynn. You must be Annie.”
She bobbed her head up and down. “Uh-huh. Can the girls swing with me?”
Katherine stood. “How about if I supervise?” she asked Flynn.
He agreed and in moments he was alone with Cindy. “Is something wrong?”
She studied him. How could she tell him she still had doubts about his uncharacteristic move to Rosewood? She felt a desperate need to safeguard the life she’d built, afraid that her heart would outweigh her caution. Knowing none of it could be said, instead she shook her head. “No. I just didn’t expect you home so soon. I thought you wanted to work in your new office space.”
“About that…Why did you ask Michael Carlson to come by, without telling me?”
Exasperated, she all but snorted. “Are we back to that again? Are you a total control freak?”
“Not any more than you apparently.”
She counted inwardly to ten. “I know I’m not like Julia. I’m sure she deferred to your every comment and dictate. But I don’t operate that way. I do have opinions. And while I don’t always insist they’re right, I intend to express them.” Cindy paused. “Well, unless they hurt someone’s feelings, of course. But I’m not retiring and complacent. I have ideas. I make my own decisions.” She met his gaze, feeling her chest tighten. “And I’m not going to try to be someone I’m not.”
“I don’t recall asking you to,” he replied mildly. “But I would appreciate a heads-up when you send someone like Michael over.”
She frowned. “Didn’t you like him?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Everybody likes Michael,” she responded in instant defense, never forgetting how happy he had made her once-lonely best friend.
“Are you being deliberately obtuse?” Flynn asked. “I’m only asking that you not blindside me.”
“Then you did like Michael?” she asked hopefully. She knew Flynn needed to broaden his circle of acquaintances. And Michael was one of the nicest people she knew.
“He was all right,” Flynn replied.
Cindy took a deep breath, remembering that men didn’t verbalize their feelings, that Flynn had probably revealed all that was masculinely possible. “He and Katherine have been my anchors since I came to Rosewood. They’re good friends to have.”
“Hmmm.”
She sighed inwardly. “I mean they could be good friends for you, too, Flynn.”
“I’m not especially looking for a wild social whirl.”
For a moment the past hung between them, the gregarious, fun-loving social circle they’d once traveled in, the one that had brought the Thompson sisters together with Flynn. Cindy fiddled with a bluebonnet she’d plucked from the grass. “No, but everyone needs friends.”
“I don’t need to borrow yours.”
She wondered if it was Julia’s death alone that had created such intense barriers. “They’re not trinkets to be lent. One of the best things about a small town is getting to truly know people.”
“But it seems most of the ones you know are connected with the church.”
She frowned. “And that’s so bad?”
“It’s not for me.”
“Have you considered getting to know them before judging their value as friends?”
The negative motion of his head was reluctant. “Cindy, I appreciate all you’ve done for the girls…for me. But like the office, or sending Michael Carlson, it’s not necessary. You’re doing too much already. I’m used to calling my own shots.”
Unwanted compassion shadowed her thoughts and her voice. “But isn’t that a lonely way to live?”
He raised his brows. “Seems I could ask you the same thing. After all, you moved to a town where you knew only one person, and you live alone in a house big enough for a huge family. Doesn’t that seem a bit lonely to you?”
Pain, both past and present, assaulted her. He would never know just how lonely she’d been. How difficult her life had been since he’d pilfered her heart. And meeting his eyes, she wondered how she could continue hiding that from him.
Chapter Five
B y Sunday morning, however, Cindy was ready to put that aside. She’d invited Flynn to attend services with her, but he had curtly refused. She had nearly expected the same response when she told him she wanted to take the girls. He’d hesitated, but finally agreed, telling her the social part of Sunday school probably wouldn’t hurt as long as she didn’t fill the girls’ heads with unrealistic ideas. In her opinion, nothing taught at her church was unrealistic, so she took him at his word.
And she chose to ignore the look on Flynn’s face when they left. One that said this, too, was simply a fad Cindy would outgrow.
The girls loved Cindy’s classic bright red convertible Mustang. Since she had left their curls loose and free, she didn’t care that the breeze mussed their soft hair.
“What’s at church?” Beth asked.
“That’s where we go to learn about God and Jesus.”
“Daddy says there’s no God,” Beth replied innocently.
Still the pain shot straight to Cindy’s heart. There was no easy answer, none she could offer that wouldn’t confuse Beth. “Not everyone believes the same way, sweetie. As you get older, you’ll learn about lots of new things.”
“Is God new?” Beth asked.
Cindy smiled despite the pain still squeezing her heart. “No. He’s older than the sky and the grass and the flowers and the trees.”
“Is He older than Daddy?”
Another trickle of amusement sprouted at the child’s guileless words. “Sure is.”
“Real old, huh?”
“Yes, sweetie. Real old.”
When they arrived at church, Cindy felt the welcoming fellowship like a balm to the wound that was Flynn.
Once the girls were happily ensconced in their class, Cindy was awfully glad she’d insisted on bringing them, despite Flynn’s reservations. Again she remembered the look on his face any time she mentioned church. The man knew so little about her, it was pitiable.
It came as no surprise to Cindy that the triplets charmed everyone with their identical heart-shaped faces. It was difficult to withstand twins, impossible to resist triplets. Luckily, they were too young to let all the fawning go their heads.
Katherine popped into the classroom, her eyes lighting up when she saw Cindy and the girls. Crossing to Cindy’s side, she lowered her voice. “So you were able to make off with them?”
Cindy nodded, her brows raised in a matching mock conspiratorial motion. “It wasn’t exactly the great heist, but I’m happy they’re here.”
“Any chance Daddy will be joining them?”
Cindy shook her head.
“Has he just fallen out of the habit?”
“I’m afraid it’s much more than a broken habit.”
“It isn’t an unbreachable problem,” Katherine reminded her, alluding to her husband’s once-lost faith.
“I’m glad it worked out for you and Michael, but I don’t know about Flynn….”
“I wasn’t certain at first about Michael, either.”
Cindy’s smile was bleak. “It’s not as though this is a break in our relationship. We don’t have a relationship to crater.”
“I’m afraid you’re focusing only on the big picture.”
“In what way?”
“I think you need to take it one day at a time. See what unfolds. Learn if Flynn realizes you’re no longer a frivolous twenty-one-year-old. You told me that you’ve scarcely seen Flynn since he married your sister. To be fair, he hasn’t had a chance to learn about the real you. Instead, you’re an inaccurate memory. Don’t you think it’s time he got to know the real Cindy? While you’re at it, subtly find out if he’s in a crisis of faith, which calls for prayer, rather than worry.”
Cindy looked at her friend whom she knew to be both caring and wise. “I haven’t really thought about it that way. Maybe he’s not as sure as he thinks he is.”
“Sometimes we’re so overwhelmed, we can’t see the pieces as they separate and change.”
“You know what, Katie-cakes?”
Katherine’s grin erupted. “What?”
“I think you’re in the right job.”
Eyes rolling, Katherine hugged her lightly. “And you, my friend, are on the right track.”
Maybe not yet, Cindy realized. But tomorrow was another chance, one she could use to apply Katherine’s advice. And she was nothing if not tenacious.
The drive to Houston the following day seemed longer than Flynn remembered. But perhaps that was because Cindy was at his side. He took another glance at her bright red dress, saucy hat and delicate high-heeled sandals. Hardly the outfit he’d expected her to choose for a board meeting. But then, when had Cindy ever done the expected? “You sure that Katherine will be all right taking care of the girls today?”
Cindy didn’t disguise her sigh. “She knows it’s for a good reason. Her calendar is clear, and to quote her, ‘How can I possibly repay you for baby-sitting my children dozens and dozens of times?’ It’s not as though we have a meeting every day, or even every week. It’s only once a month.”
Flynn thought about the shares he’d inherited from Julia—half the stock in their family oil business. Ironically, it made he and Cindy unlikely partners, even though he’d ignored his inheritance until now. There had been no time—and it had been too painful a reminder. But Cindy had been insistent about attending the meeting. “Do we have to do much today?”
She shook her head. “Nope. The management staff has been in place for years, they know exactly what they’re doing and we’re just there to listen and vote if necessary.”
He looked at her curiously. “I would think you’d care more about your family’s business.”
“Did you ever feel that way about Julia’s participation?”
Nonplussed, he hesitated. “Well, no. But she—I mean you—”
“What you mean is that Julia had a purpose in her life that you don’t see in mine, therefore she was excused. It happens that I chose to focus my life in a different direction.”
One of fun and frolic. Just as she had when he’d met her. All motion and energy, but no substance. A flibbertigibbet, his late grandmother would have called her. “It’s not up to me to judge your decisions.”
Her eyes clouded. “No. But that doesn’t stop you, does it?”
He held up one hand. “How about a truce for today? We can enjoy the big city—have lunch at a five-star restaurant without worrying that we’ll be wearing half of it courtesy of the triplets.”
She relented. “I suppose you’re right. I usually do a little shopping while I’m in the city, too.”
Flynn grimaced.
Cindy’s laughter filled the closed space of the car. “Typical male reaction. I thought we could at least pick up something for the girls.”
It was his turn to relent. “I suppose so.”
Reaching downtown Houston, Flynn concentrated on the traffic-filled streets. “Gets worse every day.”
“I don’t know. I find all the people invigorating.”
Despite the distraction of tall buildings and hordes of pedestrians, he turned to stare at her. “Yet you moved to Rosewood?”
“Mmm,” she murmured.
And she didn’t reveal much more as they parked, then attended the meeting. It was only afterward that she brightened again, suggesting they go to the Galleria for their shopping excursion.
FAO Schwarz was a child’s fantasy. And Cindy seemed much like a child herself as she oohed and ahhed over the treasures the store contained. She agonized over the selection of three unique stuffed toys.
“Don’t you want them to match?” Flynn asked.
She shook her head. “I’ve never taken to the notion that twins and triplets should be treated as a unit. It’s fun to dress them identically at times, but they have to know they’re individuals, with different tastes, dreams.” Cindy reached for a stuffed bunny, still unable to decide.
“Aren’t you going to get one for yourself?” he couldn’t resist asking, seeing how absorbed she was in the task.
An unexpected tinge of color warmed her cheeks. “I do have a weakness for them, but I’ll resist this once.”
Funny, he thought she would indulge her least whim. Maybe she was having an off day.
But the thought had barely faded when she started looking at more toys.
“Actually, I don’t want to spoil the girls,” he told her. “It’s great that you want to be generous, but I think we’ve gotten enough things for them.”
She picked up the stuffed bunny she’d discarded a few moments earlier. “These aren’t for the girls.”
Once a playgirl, always a playgirl. Flynn was amazed that a woman of Cindy’s age would want the bunny. But then her indulgences weren’t his concern. Still, he felt a flash of remembered disappointment. One that was reminiscent of their first meeting. He’d seen the promise in her eyes, and had felt the disappointment of learning she was as scattered as Julia was collected.
With their purchases tucked safely in the trunk, Cindy talked him into an exotic restaurant that boasted only the unusual. She had promised to forgo granola and vegetarian fare, but he wasn’t sure this was much better.
“So, what do you think?” she asked, excitement deepening the green of her eyes.
“Let me put it this way. I don’t recall ever finding myself torn between ostrich and buffalo as my only possible entrée choices.”
Her face, bright and mischievous, only sparkled more. “Great, isn’t it? I mean any place can offer steak or fish.”
Flynn had a sudden longing for just that banality. “So they could.” He turned the menu over, glancing at the back. “I don’t suppose they have pasta.”
She rolled her eyes. “We had pasta for dinner last night.”
“True. And what are the chances of finding spinach-and-wheat pasta twice in a row?”
Some of the pleasure in her expression dimmed. “Oh.”
He swallowed a sigh. “Most pasta doesn’t have that much flavor.”
But her former sparkle had disappeared. “That’s diplomatic.”
“It really was good,” he insisted. “I’m not used to a pine nut sauce, but the noodle part was good.”
Unexpectedly she laughed. “We really should have gone to a steak place, shouldn’t we? It’s not too late. We haven’t ordered yet.”
“No. This is fine. How many chances will I have to try exotic meats?”
“If you stay at my house long enough, you might be surprised.”
His actual surprise was the grin he found pushing his lips upward. “So, what do you recommend? Which delicacy won’t we be trying?”
She took pity on him. “Both the buffalo and ostrich taste like beef, just a touch milder. And they’re lower in fat, cholesterol and calories.”
“It must work,” he admitted.
Puzzled, she tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
“You’re still turning heads, and none of the calories are sticking.”
When she didn’t immediately reply, he glanced up from the menu. But instead of a warm blush or sly demur, she had paled. “Something wrong?”
Cindy shook her head a bit too quickly and forcefully. “No. Just hungry. I didn’t have any breakfast.”
Flynn wasn’t sure why, but he was certain that wasn’t the truth. Still, he didn’t argue the point; instead he listened as Cindy asked the waiter for a bowl of soup. He played along deliberately, sensing whatever was bothering her would only be exacerbated by anything else he could say.
It was unusual for Cindy. She normally steamed ahead with unrestricted fervor, energy and an undue need for control. But she never seemed weak.
And it affected him with unexpected emotion. Cindy had never struck him as needing protection.
As he watched, she pushed at the roll on her plate, but never picked it up. So it wasn’t hunger. He wondered what it could be, what had so thoroughly shaken her. But throughout the meal she didn’t meet his eyes.
And that made him want to know all the more.
A few days later Cindy tucked the new toys into place in the Rainbow classroom. She had chosen each one with a particular child in mind, and she could just picture their faces when they came to the next session.
“Hey, you,” Katherine greeted her, strolling into the room. “I thought I saw the light on in here.”
“Just getting things ready for tomorrow.”
Katherine glanced around the empty room. “And where are your three new appendages?”
Cindy smiled, but her heart wasn’t in the effort. “Flynn has them. I think he believes I’d like to take them over.”
Katherine’s smile was wise, knowing. “Wouldn’t you?”
“Absolutely. But not away from him. And Flynn has this all-or-nothing mentality.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve considered the possibility that he thinks you might need a break from their constant care?”
Cindy furrowed her brow as she sank into one of the kid-size chairs. “No.”
“It’s not a competition,” Katherine reminded her gently.
“I don’t look at it that way!”
“Not even a little bit?”
Deflated, Cindy stared at her friend, the only one who knew her secrets and still didn’t judge her. “I suppose I do feel I have a lot to prove.”
“Do you remember when I was agonizing about Michael? Trying to change myself into the woman I thought he wanted?”
Cindy nodded.
“And do you remember what you told me? That if he didn’t love me for myself, he wasn’t the right one for me?”
“All too well,” Cindy admitted. “I guess that’s the crux of it. I don’t really want to change for him, yet I suppose I hoped he’d see me in a new light, realize my value.”
“If he doesn’t, then he’s blind.”
Cindy’s smile struggled to form, but failed. “Don’t you see? He always has been as far as I’ve been concerned. After he took one look at Julia, I was as appealing as an Easter egg you find in the middle of the summer.”
Katherine couldn’t stifle a smile. “Oh, Cindy. How can he not see how special you are? How much joy and adventure you bring to everything?”
Cindy shrugged. “He doesn’t care for adventure—that’s why he chose Julia.”
Wincing for her friend, Katherine met Cindy’s gaze, her voice gentle. “You also told me that I couldn’t be a substitute.”
“Believe it or not, that’s been the foremost thing on my mind these days. Even if I never find another man to love the way I do Flynn, I won’t settle for being Julia’s substitute.”
“I suspected as much.” Katherine hesitated. “Do you suppose now that Flynn is here, some of the illusion of denied love will lose its appeal?”
Cindy couldn’t control the tears that spurted, or the trembling of her lips. “That’s just it. Now that he’s here, it’s just worse. I don’t know why. I can’t explain it. There is something about Flynn and only Flynn that’s in my heart and won’t go away. I’ve tried, Kath, I really have.” The tears gave way to gulping sobs. “I’ve tried not to love him, but it’s still there, every moment of every day.”
Katherine reached out, enveloping her in a hug, one that vibrated with great shaking wails of pain. And one that Cindy was helpless to stop.
That same evening Flynn tried to keep the lid on the rice cooker, while making sure the girls didn’t tug on any of the pot handles on the stove. But that was harder than he’d expected. Fearing they’d pull a pot off and burn themselves, he put them in the next room with a children’s video.
He’d chopped and diced for what seemed like hours. He’d found a fairly palatable-sounding recipe in one of Cindy’s cookbooks. It was a tofu stir-fry seasoned with oyster sauce. The instructions promised that the tofu would then taste like oysters. He had his doubts, but the dinner he was preparing wasn’t for him. It was for Cindy.
Belatedly it had occurred to him that perhaps she was worn-out. She still kept up her hectic social schedule with her Rainbow thing as well as other functions, and she’d also assumed the majority of the triplets’ care. Cooking dinner wouldn’t make a big dent in that pressure, but maybe it would create a small vent. The girls had loved going shopping for the ingredients. But some of their suggestions had the stir-fry looking a little questionable.
“What’s going on?” Cindy asked from the doorway.
Flynn spun around, seeing her gaze take in the messy kitchen. “You’re early. I’d planned to have everything cleaned up before you got here.”
“Oh,” she answered in a small voice.
“But I did get the table set in the dining room.”
“The dining room?” she echoed.
“Yeah. The stir-fry should be done soon.”
“You’re making stir-fry?”
He held up the cookbook. “I found the recipe in here. Between the grocery and health food stores we found everything we needed.”
“That’s what you were doing today?”
He smiled. “As you pointed out, there’s not a lot of action in Rosewood. And the girls enjoyed it.”
“Well…”
“I’d planned to have it all arranged in the dining room, but…surprise!”
“Surprise?” she echoed, looking stunned.
“Yeah. To say thanks for all you do for me, for the girls.” He walked toward the small sitting room just off the kitchen. “Girls, Cindy’s home.” As they scampered toward him, he stopped Alice, whispering to her, “Get your surprise.”
In a few moments Alice returned and came toward Cindy with a bouquet of daisies.
Cindy’s eyes misted as she accepted the flowers, then gave Alice a fierce hug.
“They seemed to suit you,” Flynn explained. “The daisies, I mean.”
Cindy’s throat worked. But Beth and Mandy were rushing at her, as well. Scooping them up in a hug, she hid her face behind their compact bodies. And Flynn couldn’t help wondering what was going on in that fiery head of hers.
Finally her face emerged as she settled the girls back on to the floor. “This is really nice. The dinner—” she held up the bouquet “—the flowers. Thanks.”
“I don’t say it often enough, but you’ve changed our lives and we appreciate it.”
Remarkably he thought her eyes brightened with the suspicion of tears. But that couldn’t be. Not freewheeling Cindy. She was all laughter, not tears.
She lowered her face, presumably to sniff the daisies. Her voice was soft, nearly muffled. “And you have changed mine.”
The girls pulled at her hands, tugging her toward the dining room to show off the table setting. But Flynn didn’t follow, instead remembering the remarkable look on her face, the remembered feelings it evoked. Feelings he thought he’d put to rest the day he proposed to Julia.
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