“No? Then why has she been lying to us for over a year? And why hasn’t she been home since the summer solstice? Why won’t she meet Luke in person? And why is she hiding from us, and from him, and from the work she loves?”

Grey leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “I don’t know. I thought there wasn’t any problem our daughters couldn’t come to us with.”

Grace wrapped her arms around his waist. “This isn’t something you can fix, Grey. Camry has to fix herself.” She smiled up at him. “And I honestly believe that Lucian Pascal Renoir is just the catalyst to get her roaring back into life again.”

“Ye believe sending one liar after another will get us our little girl back?”

“No, I believe that two people, each of whom appears to be in desperate need of a miracle, can get themselves back. And I also believe that the next time we see our ‘little girl,’ she’ll be a fully realized, self-empowered woman, and Luke Pascal will have that same dazed look on his face that all you men get when you suddenly realize you’ve met your match.”

“And Camry is Pascal’s match?”

“Aye, MacKeage,” Grace said, mimicking his burr as she slid her hands up over his ribs. “I think those two lying young fools absolutely deserve each other. I need you tonight, husband,” she whispered.

His arms around her tightened, and Grace felt the evidence of his own need pushing into her belly. He suddenly reached behind her and shut off the water, swept her up in his strong arms, and carried her into the bedroom.

“Do ye honestly believe that in all our years together, I haven’t known what you’re up to when you get all soft and pliable in my arms during one of our little discussions?” he asked, setting her down on the bed, then quickly covering her damp body with his.

She trailed a finger over his smile. “I prefer to believe that I merely point out a reasonable course of action and, being the wise man that you are, you simply see things my way.”

“And you’ve taught this trick to our daughters?”

“All seven of them,” she said with a delighted laugh.

“May God have mercy on your soul, woman,” he muttered, covering her mouth with his.

Grace looked up from the beautiful Christmas card she was holding and smiled at Grey sitting across the breakfast table. “You can tell Jack to stop searching for Camry,” she said, pushing an envelope toward him. “Because we just found her.”

Grey picked up the envelope, saw there wasn’t a return address, and frowned.

“Read the postmark,” she instructed.

“Go Back Cove, Maine?” He held out his hand to her. “Camry sent us a Christmas card?”

Grace handed him the card, which had an enchanting angel on the front, floating in a small forest clearing surrounded by fir trees dusted with snow. “Before you read the inside, take a moment to study the picture,” she told him. “Besides the angel, what do you see?”

“I see a crow hiding in the trees,” he said, his frown deepening.

Grace arched a brow. “Do we know any crows?”

His frown turned to an outright scowl, and he flipped open the card. “Your unborn greatgrandson did not send us a Christmas card. See,” he said, tapping the bottom of the card, “it’s not signed Tom, it’s signed only with an F.”

His frown returned. “What does this F person mean by thanking us for raising such a wonderful daughter?” He turned the card to see if there was anything written on the back, just as Grace had done earlier. Finding nothing, he reread the short note. “That’s it? Just ‘thank ye for raising such a wonderful daughter’? He or she doesn’t even say which daughter.” He tossed the card on the table between them. “It could be any one of our wonderful girls.”

“F is referring to Camry,” Grace insisted, picking up the card and smiling at the beautiful angel. She stood up and walked to the map of Maine hanging beside the back door over the row of coat pegs. “I’ve never heard of Go Back Cove, have you?”

Grey came over and also studied the map. “No. But cove implies water, so it must be on the coast.”

“Or on any one of Maine’s six thousand lakes and ponds.” She went over to the computer on the counter next to the fridge, opened Google Earth, and typed in “Go Back Cove, Maine.” “You’re right, it is on the coast,” she said, pointing at the map on the screen. “It’s about thirty miles north of Portland.”

Luke Pascal walked into the kitchen but stopped in the doorway when Grey turned and frowned at him. “Luke,” Grace said, going over and holding out the card. “We found Camry. She’s living in Go Back Cove, Maine.” As soon as he took the card, she led him over to the computer. “It’s a small town on the coast, north of Portland.”

Luke moved his gaze from the computer screen to the open card in his hand, then turned it to see if there was anything written on the back. “Who is F?” he asked.

Grace waved his question away, rushing to the table to get the envelope. “We don’t know, other than that it’s obviously someone who knows Camry.”

“But he or she doesn’t even mention her by name,” Luke said, taking the envelope and reading the postmark. He glanced uncertainly at Grey, then at Grace. “So how do you know it’s Camry this F person is talking about?”

“Of course it is. All of our daughters are wonderful, but Camry’s the only one who’s missing right now.”

“This handwriting looks feminine,” he said, closing the card to study the angel on the front. He turned sympathetic eyes on Grace. “I realize it’s distressing not knowing where Camry is, Dr. Sutt—I mean Grace,” he quickly corrected, darting a frantic look at Grey.

Grace had finally had to explain to Luke that her husband preferred MacKeage to Sutter, before the younger scientist had finally started calling her by her first name.

“But what I don’t understand,” he continued, “is how you can conclude that a half-signed Christmas card, that doesn’t even mention her name, tells you Camry is living in Go Back Cove.”

“Do you believe in magic, Luke?” she asked, ignoring her husband’s not-so-subtle growl.

“Magic?” Luke repeated with a frown.

“How about serendipitous coincidence, then?”

“Excuse me?”

Grace sighed and took the card and envelope from him. “Okay then, let’s just call it mother’s intuition, shall we?” She waved the card between Luke and Grey. “You will both simply have to trust me when I say that Camry is living in Go Back Cove.” She looked at her watch, then at Luke. “It’s only nine. If you leave right after lunch, you should be there in plenty of time to settle into your hotel.”

“Excuse me?” he repeated, looking even more confused.

Grey sighed, only much more heavily than Grace had. “You’re going to Go Back Cove, Pascal, to talk our daughter into coming home.”

Luke’s eyes widened and he took a step back. “I am?”

“But you only have two weeks to make it happen,” Grace interjected. “We want her home by the winter solstice.”

Luke took another step back, his alarm evident. “Considering Camry’s last e-mail to me, I am probably the last person she wants to see. And this really is a family matter, don’t you think? Shouldn’t the two of you go after her?”

“We can’t,” Grace told him.

“But why?” he asked, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt.

“Because she can’t know that we know she was fired from NASA, much less that we know she’s been lying to us,” Grace explained. “She has to want to come home, and she needs to tell us in person what she’s been doing for the last year.”

“Then how am I supposed to persuade her to come home if I can’t reveal how worried you are about her?”

“That should be easy for you, Renoir,” Grey said. “Ye just elaborate on the lies you’ve been telling us.”

Luke dropped his gaze to Grace’s feet, but then he suddenly stiffened, as if fighting some urge, and looked at Grey. “My full name is Lucian Pascal Renoir, but I go by Luke Pascal . . . sometimes.” He tugged on his sleeve again, as if the borrowed shirt irritated him. “And because Camry knew me as Lucian Renoir from my e-mails, and I thought she might be here when Jack Stone found me, I told him my name was Pascal so I wouldn’t get thrown back out in the snow on my as—on my ear.”