“Of course I’m not all right.” He managed to smile at her. “I’m better for seeing you, though.”

She shifted in one of the deck chairs her aunt had reupholstered recently in white cotton with strawberries printed all over it. The print was cheerful, even if the atmosphere was anything but.

Uncle Cecil didn’t waste time getting to the point. “Well? What’s O’Shea up to?”

Briana felt tugged by loyalty to two men she cared for deeply. If they pulled much harder, she was going to split in two. “You know what he’s up to as well as I do, Uncle Cecil. He’s determined to access that money, and more than ninety percent of the city’s voters agree with him.”

Uncle Cecil’s cheeks deepened to an alarming hue. He was redder than the berries on the fabric. He put down his drink with a thunk and rose to glare out at his backyard. “He tried to destroy me, and that didn’t work. Now he’s trying to make a public fool out of me. But he’s not going to get away with it.”

“Uncle Cecil,” she said, in as calm and reasonable a manner as she could manage, “if the people of Courage Bay want to increase funding to the services, would it be so wrong for you to let them do it?”

He turned to her, dumbfounded.

She tried a smile. “I know you understand about money and wise investments, and you wouldn’t let anyone be foolish with taxpayers’ dollars. I’ve checked the original documents that were filed when the fund was created. You could stipulate that your yes vote is dependent upon only a certain amount being accessed, and you could demand that council appoint outside trustees to ensure the money is spent wisely.”

“I cannot believe my own niece is…is consorting with the enemy.”

Briana felt her own cheeks redden at the implied insult. “I’m not against you, Uncle Cecil. I’m on your side, but I’m also seeing how a lot of citizens feel. I think if you continue to stonewall the mayor on this, you’ll end up losing.”

“Losing again, you mean.”

“I appreciate how angry you are at the way your reputation was smeared, but the two things aren’t necessarily related,” she said. She rose and placed a hand on her uncle’s arm.

“This man all but ruined my life and, even worse, the peace and comfort of my wife, your aunt.” He emphasized the last two words, and Briana shifted uncomfortably. “He’s not a man anyone can trust. Now, you can’t tell me that a beautiful woman like you has been working with him day after day, just the two of you alone in that office, and nothing’s happened?”

Knowing that her expression would only too clearly reveal her feelings for Patrick, Briana turned away from her uncle and walked to the other side of the porch.

“He’s done nothing improper,” she said, reminding herself that she was the one who’d begged Patrick to take her in the elevator, the one who’d talked him into firing her. Now, instead of trying to get her into bed, he’d given her a month to make up her mind about finding another job before he’d continue their private relationship. In her books, that was pretty honorable behavior.

“Maybe you’re not trying hard enough,” her uncle said from behind her.

She did turn now, knowing her eyes flashed with anger. “I promised you that I would help put things right, and I’m trying to do that and still keep my integrity.”

Her uncle shifted uncomfortably, then stooped to one of the white planters to snap a dead geranium bloom off its bright green stem. “Of course not,” he muttered. “You misunderstood me. I’m only trying to right a wrong. If we can turn the city against Mayor O’Shea, then his little publicity stunt to get the money for his old buddies at the firehouse isn’t going to work.”

“But, Uncle Cecil, this is not a personal whim on the mayor’s part. The people of Courage Bay want improved emergency response times. Lives are at stake. People are overwhelmingly in favor of accessing the municipal bond.”

“Don’t be naive, Briana. You’ve been involved in politics long enough to know people can change their minds awfully damn fast. If O’Shea were out and I was mayor, I’d run this city more efficiently, and his old buddies Egan and Zirinsky wouldn’t get their overpadded budgets past me. I’m an old hand at this and I’ve been a banker all my life. I think I know a little more about public finance than a man who’s spent most of his career sliding down a fire pole!”

“But what if he’s right, Uncle Cecil? What if more people die in this town because we don’t have the resources to prevent it. How would you feel?”

He looked at her, his blue eyes sharp with suspicion. “I’m beginning to think it’s not my feelings that are the problem, but yours.”

This time Briana was powerless to stop the heat that flooded her cheeks.

“O’Shea’s a handsome young fellow, I’ll give you that. Quite a lady’s man. All the O’Shea men are. But don’t let that Irish charm fool you. He’s a coldhearted son of a bitch, out for what he can get, and he’ll destroy anyone who gets in his way. I asked for your help because I thought I could trust you. Now I’m beginning to feel the same about you.”

“That’s funny,” she said. “I’m beginning to feel the same way about you.”

AFTER SATURDAY’S awkward lunch, where she and her uncle tried to be pleasant to each other for her aunt’s sake, Briana was looking forward to a long Sunday drive on her own.

She’d promised she’d help her uncle restore his good reputation. He wanted to do that by bringing down his rival. She much preferred finding out who’d maligned her uncle in that vicious newspaper report. Today, she hoped to get a step closer.

As she drove up the highway, she tossed around ideas on how to approach the retired officer. In the end, she decided to tell as much of the truth as she could. She’d be up front about the fact that she worked for the mayor and would explain that she was researching the old charges in hopes of exonerating the long serving councilor. With time running out before a showdown between Patrick and Cecil Thomson, Briana was determined to get to the truth.

When she reached the tidy community of small bungalows, she found the Carlton home with no trouble. As she pulled to the curb, she noted that all the drapes were drawn and the newspaper sitting on the front step.

Maybe they were out for the afternoon?

She got out of her car and headed up the path, but as she rang the front doorbell and listened to it echo, a voice said behind her, “They’re not home.”

Briana turned to find an older woman in a sun visor, plaid shorts and a short-sleeved T-shirt regarding her with mild suspicion.

“Oh. I drove up from Courage Bay to see Mr. Carlton on business. Will he be home this afternoon, do you think?”

“Nope. Not till the middle of the week. They’re on a cruise for their fiftieth wedding anniversary. You want to leave a note?”

Briana smiled and shook her head. “I was hoping to talk to him in person. But it can wait. Thank you for your trouble.”

“It’s no trouble. We look out for each other in this neighborhood.”

MONDAY MORNING, Patrick handed Briana a small envelope.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“It’s from Dylan.”

She wasn’t surprised. Dylan now contacted her every day, either by phone or by sending her a new piece of art for her bulletin board. She was falling for him almost as badly as she had fallen for his dad.

Inside the envelope was a single card with space aliens on it and several lines printed in Dylan’s own hand. It took her a moment to realize what it was. “Oh, a birthday party invitation.”

“That’s right. Dylan wanted to invite you to his party.”

She glanced up at Patrick. They’d been so careful this past week to keep their distance, and though she couldn’t bring herself to discourage Dylan’s calls, she hadn’t made another trip to the O’Shea house. She hadn’t intended to until she knew the truth about the false charges against her uncle. She’d been fairly certain Patrick would give her the month he’d promised, but she hadn’t counted on his son being the one to invite her back to their home.