“No. One of us will run Tidewater. But that’s not the point, Willa,” Sam explained. “The point is, it’s not door-die for any of us.”

Ronald chose that moment to come inside, bearing the tattered remains of her luggage with all the dignity of a man carrying a priceless vase. Willa turned a dull pink and quietly walked up the stairs.

“What in hell is that?” Jesse barked, looking at the suitcase as if it were going to explode.

“Willa’s luggage,” Sam told him dryly.

“What happened to it?”

“Tidewater’s elevator ate it.”

“Which room would you like this in, Mr. Sinclair?” Ronald asked.

“Whichever room the lady ends up in,” Sam told him, watching Willa climb the stairs. She turned right at the top, her stride stiff as Ronald followed with her luggage.

“She certainly looks different today,” Ben said as the three men walked into the parlor, all heading for the bar.

“Yes, she does,” Sam agreed.

“What did you say to her in the car?” Ben asked. “She was bolting like a rabbit before the hounds.”

“I think it was more the look I gave her.”

“And what look would that be?” Jesse asked.

“She knew I was going to kiss her again.”

“Again.” It wasn’t a question from Ben.

“When was the first time you kissed her?” Jesse asked.

“Last night, when I walked her to her room.”

“Now, that’s low, even for you. She’d just been in an accident. She was vulnerable,” Ben said.

“I was defending our honor,” Sam explained, taking his drink and sitting in one of the chairs by the hearth. He looked around the room. “We should put Bram up in here. What do you think?”

“I think we were talking about Willamina,” Jesse growled. “What in hell do you mean, defending our honor?”

“She said she wouldn’t marry any of us if we crawled toMaine on our knees. I was getting her back for that.”

“And today, when you were going to kiss her again? Was that also for us?” Jesse asked, taking a seat across from him.

“No, that was for myself. And just so you know, Willa’s off limits.” Sam gave them a feral grin. “Go hunt your own partridge.”

“Are you nuts?” Ben said, standing by the hearth. “You want her?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Jesse asked, looking utterly bewildered.

“I like Willa. It’s that simple.”

“That woman is not simple.”

“No, she’s not. She’s quite intelligent, and she’s got a smart mouth. She also has the heart of an angel. And she’s cute.”

“She’s a disaster waiting to happen,” Ben muttered, daring Sam to dispute him.

“I can handle Willa’s disasters,” Sam said absently. “So, how about this room? Bram liked it enough to have Grammy’s wake in here. I think we should do the same for him.”

“We’d better get started, then. The obituary will be in tomorrow’s papers all over the world. People, flowers, and condolences are going to descend like vultures.”

“We’ll have the staff move out most of the furniture.” Sam smiled at his brothers. “Spencer said Bram wrote his own eulogy. I can’t wait to hear it.”

“Christ, I miss the old bastard.” Jesse sighed. “I thought he’d live to be a hundred.”

“Despite the three of us living here, this house has felt empty these last six weeks,” Ben lamented.

“Willa will probably take care of that problem,” Jesse drawled, standing up and going to call the staff.

“Rosebriar’s liable to need extensive repairs by the time she leaves.”

“I’m eager to see Bram’s casket, if you want to know the truth,” Ben told Sam. “I know it sounds morbid, but I’m curious as hell. Bram wasn’t exactly known for his patience. How could he have done something as painstaking as woodwork?”

“Good God, I hope it doesn’t fall apart.”

“Maybe Willa can add a few nails or something, just to be certain,” Ben suggested.

“Surely, she wouldn’t let a casket leave her factory without an inspection?”

“Hell of a business to be in,” Ben muttered. “Why do you suppose she’s in it?”

“Who knows?”

“I’ll have to ask her.”

“Are there any clothing stores nearby? I need something to wear for the wake,” Willa asked at lunch.

“There’s a shopping center not far from here. Ronald can take you,” Jesse told her.

“I don’t want to put anyone out.”

“Maybe someone had better go with you,” Ben said. “Just to make sure you…um, find what you need.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“But Ben loves shopping,” Jesse drawled. “Take him, Willa. Please?”

Willa looked down at her salad. So far, she’d only managed to push it around on her plate. “I suppose. If you’re sure you want to,” she said, looking at Ben.

“Like my brother said, I enjoy shopping,” he said, his smile tight. Willa saw him dart a killer glare at Jesse, though. Which meant that neither of them thought she was capable of buying a dress by herself. Sam didn’t even look up from his lunch to offer an opinion.

“Unless, of course, you’d like to go, Sam,” Ben said.

“I’ve got phone calls to make,” Sam said, finally looking up. “No, you go with Willa. Have a good time.”

All three men were putting up a valiant front, but Willa guessed none of them would relax until their grandfather was home, until they actually saw him again, even though he’d be lying in a casket.

“It’s really weird, not having to cook for myself,” she said conversationally, taking a bite of her salad.

“You get used to it,” Jesse offered with a smile.

Willa smiled back. “You’ve all grown up rather spoiled, haven’t you?” she said, hoping to get a reaction. She got three dangerous glowers.

“Spoiled! Because we have a cook?” Ben asked.

Willa waved her fork in the air. “A cook, a mansion, money coming out of your ears. Women hanging on your arms, a chauffeur to drive you places, a helicopter, probably a jet, a Sengatti sloop, a grandfather who loved you to distraction. Shall I go on?”

“Please do, Ms.Kent ,” Sam said. “And while you’re at it, tell us how deprived your life has been.”

“My life has been just great, Mr. Sinclair,” she shot back. “I’m not complaining. I’m just making an observation.”

“We have no say in how we enter this world,” Sam countered. “Your words, if I remember correctly. Bram certainly didn’t have any say about the poverty he was born into. His choice was how he lived each day.” Sam pointed his fork at her, his eyes narrowed. “And our grandparents made sure we weren’t spoiled. We work just as hard as the next man. And we take nothing for granted.”

“Whew! I can see you got the sense of humor in the family.” Willa put some salad in her mouth, chewing it quietly while she watched Sam Sinclair redden with either anger or chagrin, she didn’t know which.

“Tell us why you own a casket-manufacturing business,” Ben interjected. “How did you get started?”

“I used to work at Grand Point Bluff, a retirement community in Keelstone Cove, where I live. I was the director of entertainment. It was my job to plan all the social activities.”

“And you started making coffins during craft hour?” Jesse asked dryly.

“No. This wasn’t a nursing home; most of the tenants were still quite active. I set up a woodworking shop in one of the outbuildings.” Willa smiled in memory. “Tools began appearing. The men dug them out of the boxes they’d brought from their old homes. They hadn’t been able to part with them.”

“And…” Ben put his fork down to lean his elbows on the table.

“And one man, Levi, began to build a coffin for his wife. She had cancer and only had a couple of months to live. It was therapy for Levi. He was a master carpenter, and he built a beautiful casket—gorgeously detailed, finer than any furniture I’ve seen. His wife, Muriel, took a quilt she’d made and fashioned it into a lining for the casket.”

Willa stared at her plate. “I was appalled, at first—until I realized that it was comforting for both of them. Muriel knew she’d be resting eternally in a gift her husband had built with loving hands. And Levi felt more at peace because he was seeing to his wife’s final comfort, just as he’d done for her all his life.”