Montana was pretty and dark-haired with a sensual smile and a curvy body that made Liz feel just a little inadequate. She didn’t look anything like the stereotype of a quiet librarian.

“It’s a temp job,” Montana admitted, at Liz’s questioning look. “While I figure out what to do with my life. I actually have a degree in Broadcast Journalism. I went to L.A. to be in the news, but I couldn’t find a job beyond making coffee. Plus, it’s just too big-city there for me. I also work part-time at the paper. I do some reporting and…”

Montana reached for Pia and clutched her arm. “Oh, God! The book festival. Liz can be our headliner.” She turned her wide, dark eyes on Liz. “You have to say yes. I swear if I have to put out another display of easy crafts with twigs and branches, I’ll die. Or at the very least lose my sense of humor. You would be a huge draw. Everyone knows you locally, and we could get some real press. Don’t you think Liz would be great?”

“Sure,” Pia responded, studying Liz. “Assuming Liz wants to participate.”

“Of course she does.” Montana glanced at her. “Don’t you?”

“Liz is a big-time author,” Pia acknowledged, her expression unreadable. “New York Times bestsellers in hardcover. A little out of our league.”

Liz couldn’t tell if Pia was helping her or not.

Montana glanced at her watch and groaned. “Well, you can convince her because I have to be at the library in five minutes.” She grinned at Liz. “Welcome back. I love your books. We should get together and talk.”

And then Montana was hurrying away, leaving Liz alone with Pia.

Pia smiled. “Montana is the most enthusiastic person I know, and that’s saying something. While we’d love to have you sign at the festival, you were looking a little trapped. How about if I schedule time to give you my best pitch but I promise not to be offended if you refuse? Not that I won’t call your publicist and beg.”

Liz didn’t understand. Pia was being…nice. Pia was never nice. “I don’t know if I’ll still be in town,” Liz said slowly. “I’m not sure how long I’m staying.”

“You could come back for the signing. Make a weekend of it.” She laughed. “No pressure, I swear. So how are you? I haven’t seen you in forever. It’s been what? Eleven or twelve years since you were last here?”

“Something like that. You’re still in the neighborhood?” Liz did her best to make sure the question sounded as if she were interested rather than judging.

“They can’t get rid of me, although they keep trying.” Pia grinned. “Actually, except for college, I never left. Like Montana, I’m a small-town girl. Unlike her, I’ve found what I want to do.”

“I heard you plan all the festivals.”

“I’m Fool’s Gold’s party girl, and I mean that in the nicest way possible.”

It wasn’t anything Liz could have imagined the other woman doing. Pia had seemed more like someone who would marry well and join the ladies-who-lunch crowd.

“You look great,” Pia told her. “I’ve seen your pictures on the books, but they’re different. More, what? Formal?”

“Stern,” Liz admitted. “What I write requires me to look serious in my pictures.”

“You probably wouldn’t sell as many books if you appeared in taffeta and a pink boa.”

“Exactly.” Liz found herself relaxing a little. A lot of time had passed. Maybe they’d both changed and grown up. “Are you married?”

“No. I’ve never been very good at taking care of things. Although I’m looking after a cat for a friend and that seems to be going well.” Pia frowned. “At least I think it is. He hasn’t tried to kill me in my sleep and just last week he let me pet him. Well, it was more an accidental brush of my hand against his back, but we’re making progress. You?”

“I don’t have a cat.” Liz smiled. “Never married, either.”

“Really? But you’ve always been so beautiful. Back in high school, the guys practically killed themselves trying to get you to notice them. You left the rest of us semi-normal girls feeling like trolls. It was very depressing.”

Liz felt her smile fade as she stared at the other woman. “Is that what you thought? The guys wanted my attention?”

“Sure.”

Liz thought about the horrible comments, the gross come-ons, the snickers. How someone had spray-painted whore on her locker and one of the football players had claimed to have na**d pictures of her that were for sale. The drunk carload of guys who had pulled up next to her while she’d been walking home from work late one Saturday night and had said between them they had twenty bucks. That should be enough for all of them to do her.

Pia laughed again. “You probably have to have extra security at your book signings to keep the love-crazed fans away. I think I would have liked being famous. Oh, well. In my next life.”

It was as if they were having completely different conversations, Liz thought, confused by Pia’s friendliness and seeming inability to remember the past with accuracy.

“There’s a group of us girls who get together,” Pia continued. “Sort of a girls’ night out. Or in, because we meet at someone’s house and drink a lot. It’s fun. I think you’d know a few people who come. We’d love to have you.” She pulled a business card out of her purse and turned it over, then grabbed a pen. “Give me your cell.”

Liz recited the numbers, still feeling as if she were having an out-of-body experience.

“It’s great you’re back,” Pia told her. “Let’s go to lunch or something and catch up. And think about that signing.”

The two women parted. Liz continued to walk toward the park by the lake. She was sure she looked completely normal on the outside, while on the inside, she was more than a little confused.

Pia O’Brian friendly? How was that possible? Liz did believe in a person’s ability to change, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to accept a full-blown miracle.

“I’VE NEVER HEARD OF THE Fool’s Gold Mountaineers,” Tyler told Ethan as they found their seats.

They were both carrying hotdogs and drinks. Ethan kept his eye on the boy to make sure Tyler didn’t trip, but the eleven-year-old didn’t seem to have any trouble navigating through the sparse crowd. They settled three rows up from the field, about a third of the way from home plate to first base.

“They’re a short season A league team,” Ethan said, then tugged on the brim of Tyler’s new scarlet baseball cap. “You know what that means?”

“They don’t play a long season?” Tyler asked with a grin.

“Very good. You’ve heard of Triple A and Double A minor league baseball, right?”

The boy took a bite out of his hotdog and nodded.

“This is another kind of minor league team. Their season runs from early June to early September. The opener was last week.”

“You go to a lot of games?”

“I get here when I can.”

“Mom and me went to see the Giants play a few times. That was real fun. There were a lot more people than here.”

“Fool’s Gold is a lot smaller than San Francisco.”

Tyler picked up his drink. “Mom takes me to lots of stuff. Museums, which sound really bad, but sometimes are fun. We go to the children’s theater and we saw the Lion King musical twice.” He swallowed some of his soda. “I’m kinda old for Disney, but it was still pretty sweet.”

Ethan stared at his son and tried not to let himself think about all the years that had been lost. There was no win in that. He told himself to focus on this moment, and let the rest take care of itself.

At least Tyler seemed ready to accept him. Liz hadn’t turned her son against him—which he probably should appreciate. Of course if she hadn’t kept Tyler from him, it wouldn’t be an issue.

“Do you like school?” he asked.

“Uh-huh. I really like math. I’m good at it. Mom says I get that from you.” The boy frowned. “That’s so weird. I never knew who she meant when she said that. But now, I’ll know she means you.”

Tyler grinned, then took another bite of his hotdog.

“I’m good at sports, too,” he added, when he’d chewed and swallowed. “Mom says she’s a klutz.” He hesitated. “That means she’s not really coordinated.”

“Thanks.”

Tyler beamed. “I didn’t know about you riding bikes and stuff. Now I’m going to ride my bike more.”

“Maybe we can ride together sometime.”

Tyler’s eyes widened. “Could we? Sweet! But you’ll go really fast and beat me. That’s okay. I’ll get better as I grow. That’s what Mom always tells me. That I’m good now and I’m going to get better.”

That was the pattern, Ethan thought grimly. Whatever they were talking about, Tyler had a story about his mother. A positive, supportive example of what a great mother she’d been. Their closeness was a good thing, or so he tried to convince himself.

“Mom says you build windmills. The kind they use for electricity. Can I come see?”

“Sure. We have a wind farm outside of town. We can go there, and you can see where I build them.”

“They’re really big, right?”

“Bigger than you can imagine.”

The game started, distracting Tyler. After they’d stood for the national anthem, they settled back in their seats. Tyler asked about Ethan’s family and the construction business. Ethan told a couple stories from when he’d been younger. The afternoon sped by and when the game ended Ethan had the sense that he knew his son better, along with a certainty that knowing Tyler was going to change his life forever.

They walked back to Liz’s old house.

“If the Mountaineers win this season, they don’t get to go to the World Series,” Tyler said.

“No, but the good players will be moved up in the league and maybe get to play in the majors.”

“I can hit pretty far,” his son told him. “I don’t catch so good.”

“We could practice,” Ethan suggested.

“Yeah?” Tyler grinned. “Mom tries, but she throws like a girl.” His eyes twinkled. “Although I’m not ’posed to say that. She gets mad. One time she told me this whole long story about girls having different h*ps and how they walk differently and it makes it harder for them to throw like a guy. I sort of understood what she was saying, but then I asked what her h*ps had to do with her throwing and she got mad.”

Ethan chuckled. “I’m sure she did.”

“Sometimes moms are complicated.”

“It’s not just moms. It’s all women. Just when you think you’ve got them figured out, they surprise you.”

Tyler continued to look up at him. The smile faded. “Do you have other kids?”

Ethan felt a tightness in his chest. Without thinking, he put his hand on Tyler’s shoulder. “No. I don’t.”

“So it’s just me?”

Ethan nodded.

“I wouldn’t mind a brother, but I sure don’t want a sister.”

Liz was sitting on the front porch when they got back to her place. Tyler raced toward her and threw himself in her arms.

“We had the best time,” he said. “The Mountaineers won and the manager got mad at the umpire and got thrown out of the game.”

“That can’t be good,” she replied, releasing her son. She looked over his head toward Ethan. “Sounds like everything went well.”

He nodded, determined not to react to her in a T-shirt and shorts. Nothing about the clothes was special—it was the woman inside the clothes that made him take notice.

Her legs were long and toned, the skin smooth. Her bare feet made her look vulnerable. His instinctive reaction was to protect. Then he had to remind himself that Liz was the bad guy here, which made him uncomfortable.

“I’m gonna tell Melissa and Abby about the game,” Tyler announced and ran inside. The screen door slammed behind him.

“I’m glad you had a good time,” she said.

Ethan let his anger take over. “There shouldn’t be anything to be glad about. I shouldn’t have to get to know my son. I should be a part of his life. You didn’t have the right, Liz. You didn’t just screw with my life, you screwed with Tyler’s.”

She didn’t say anything for a long moment, then she reached behind her and picked up a letter. The envelope was smudged and had the look of paper that had been handled a thousand times. She held it out to him.

He didn’t want to take it. Because in that second, looking into her eyes, he knew she’d been telling the truth. That five years ago she had tried to tell him about Tyler.

His fingers closed over the envelope. The date on the postmark confirmed her story, as did the handwritten address. The writing wasn’t his—he could see that immediately. But it was close enough that someone else could be fooled. After all, it wouldn’t have occurred to Liz that someone was trying to mislead her.

He pulled out the single sheet of paper. The message was brutally clear. “I know about the kid you claim is mine. What we had ended years ago. I have my own family now. My own responsibilities. I don’t want anything to do with him or you. Stay away from me and from Fool’s Gold.”

The letter didn’t excuse her running away and not telling him about her pregnancy, but it explained a lot. Suddenly his anger wasn’t as hot or bright as it had been. He was the one left feeling played by a woman who had claimed to love him.