“I don’t think your computer survived, Libby. Aunt Grace says never get electronics wet.”

“Aunt Grace?”

Robbie walked back to the table and looked at the soggy computer. “She’s my mama’s sister,” he told her, finally looking at Libby. “They grew up together in this house.”

Libby stilled in the act of reaching for her computer. “And how does your aunt feel about my living in her family’s home?”

Robbie gave her a huge grin. “It was her idea. That I rent it,” he clarified. “It was my idea that I rent it to you.”

“And I thank you for that,” Libby said with a grin of her own. She looked around the huge old kitchen. “I’ve already fallen in love with this place. It feels… ” She looked back at Robbie. “It feels homey. I’m going to enjoy living here. And thank you for having the firewood stacked in the garage. I can’t wait to use that beautiful hearth.”

Robbie suddenly turned serious. “I found ya some kittens, but Uncle Ian said they won’t be ready to leave their mama for a few more days yet. I can bring them here after school one day next week, if that’s okay with you.”

“Oh, that will be wonderful. Is Uncle Ian your mama’s brother?”

“No. He’s not really my uncle, he just likes that I call him that. He’s really Uncle Grey’s cousin.”

“Uncle Grey?”

“Aunt Grace’s husband,” Robbie said with an exasperated sigh. “There are four MacKeage men. Grey, Ian, Callum, and Morgan. They own TarStone Mountain Resort, on the other side of that ridge over there,” he explained, pointing at the kitchen window.

“Grey is married to Aunt Grace, Morgan is married to Sadie, and Callum is married to Charlotte,” he continued, apparently feeling the need to list his extended family.

“Ian’s not married to no one, ’cause he says he’s too cantankerous to be married to a woman,” he finished.

Since Robbie was being so informative, Libby decided to pry a bit more. She wanted to know about her new neighbors.

“Does your father have any brothers or sisters?”

“Nope. It’s just him and me. And John. But I already told you about Grampy.”

“And do you have any cousins on the MacKeage side?”

Robbie grinned again, then suddenly scrunched up his face. “Aunt Grace got all girls.

Six. And she’s pregnant again and says this one’s going to be a girl, too.” He brightened back up. “Aunt Sadie and Uncle Morgan got three boys and a girl, but they need to grow up some more before I can really play with them. And they don’t trust me alone with Jennifer anymore. Not after I nearly killed her. But Aunt Charlotte and Uncle Callum’s got a boy, and I play with him a lot.”

Libby looked up in surprise. “You nearly killed a girl?”

Robbie nodded, then quickly shook his head in denial. “Naw. Papa told me they just said that ’cause they were scared. They didn’t understand that I was holding on real tight to Jennifer. She wouldn’t have fallen.”

“Fallen from where?” Libby asked softly.

“Off my pony. Jennifer wanted a ride for her birthday.”

“And how old is Jennifer?”

“Two. Or she was. She’s two and a half now.”

Being very careful not to let her horror show on her face, Libby sat down, only to wince when she sat in a puddle of water.

“Oh, about your wanting to have a horse,” Robbie said, completely unaware of her distress.

“What about a horse?” Libby asked, shaking away the picture of Robbie riding his pony with a child on his lap.

“I’ve been thinking that you don’t gotta buy your own horse, Libby. I was planning for you to ride Papa’s. But he told me that after seeing you, you better ride my pony and for me to ride Stomper.”

Determined to ignore Michael’s insult to her size again, Libby asked, “And just how big is Stomper that your papa thinks you would be better off riding him?”

“Oh, Stomper’s a warhorse. But he’s used to me and behaves most of the time. It’s only when Papa rides him that he gets a little wild.”

“A warhorse?” Libby whispered. She didn’t know what breed a warhorse was, but it sounded large. And mean.

“Stomper’s really old.” He tried to console Libby, patting her knee. “And he’s not a warhorse anymore. But Papa won’t let him pull the Christmas sled, ’cause he says it’s beneath Stomper’s dignity.”

The boy was a fountain of information—some of which sent shivers down Libby’s spine.

There was a knock on the porch door, and Libby stood up, but she stopped to pull her wet pants away from her bum, which is why Robbie beat her to the door.

A beautiful and very pregnant woman walked in carrying a sack of groceries. “There’s more in the truck, Robbie,” she said, setting the bag down on the counter. She turned and held out her hand. “Hi. I’m Grace MacKeage, Robbie’s aunt.”

Libby took the offered hand and shook it. “It’s good to meet you, Grace. I’m Libby, and I

’ve been hearing all about you from Robbie.”

Grace snorted. “I just bet you have.” The fortyish woman put her hands on her back to support her swollen stomach as she looked around the kitchen. “So. What do you think of the old homestead? Meet your standards?”

Libby nodded and rushed to pull out a chair from the table. She checked to make sure it was dry, then waved her new neighbor over. “It’s beautiful. Please, sit down. I don’t have any tea to offer you yet, but we can at least visit.”

With a nod of thanks, Grace waddled over to the chair and sat down with a sigh of relief.

“Thanks,” she said, patting her belly with both hands. “I swear she’s playing soccer in there.”

Libby nodded at Grace’s stomach. “Your seventh, Robbie said?”

“Yup. Another healthy and happy girl, having a grand old time at my expense.”

“When are you due?”

Grace cocked her head to the side and grinned at Libby.

“December twentieth, this year.”

“This year?”

Grace held up four fingers. “Four pregnancies, not counting this one, and six daughters.

All born either on December twentieth or twenty-first, depending on when Winter Solstice was that year.” She waved at the air. “I don’t keep track of the date, just the day.”

“All your daughters were born on Winter Solstice?” Libby asked. She pointed at Grace’s belly. “And you’re expecting this one the same day?”

Grace gave a small laugh. “Why not? It’s convenient, having all the birthday parties at once.”

“But you can’t expect all your children to be born on the same day,” Libby impolitely repeated. “It’s improbable.”

“Said the doctor to the mathematician,” Grace quietly agreed with a slow nod, leveling her gaze at Libby.

Libby gasped. She felt the bottom drop out of her new life. “But… how… how did you know?”

“That you’re Elizabeth Hart, renowned trauma surgeon from Cedars-Sinai?” Grace asked, lifting one brow. “Did you expect me to let my nephew rent his house to a complete stranger off the Internet?”

Libby returned her visitor’s level stare. “Who else knows besides you? Michael?

Robbie?”

Grace shook her head. “No. Just my husband.” She shot Libby a conspirator’s smile.

“Since you didn’t mention that fact in your e-mails, I assumed you didn’t want it advertised.” She shrugged. “I don’t know why you’ve come here, but I don’t really care, Libby. As long as you continue to be the level-headed, intelligent woman my sources say you are, I don’t have a problem with your wanting to hide here. Pine Creek is a haven to more than one lost soul.”

“I’m not hiding,” Libby softly defended. “Except maybe from myself,” she admitted. She smiled at her new friend, immediately deciding she could trust Grace. “I thought I might be one of those lost souls you mentioned, but if I had doubts about what I’m doing, I don’t anymore. The closer I got to Pine Creek today, the louder the voice in my head told me I was finally where I belonged.”

Grace set one hand on her knee and the other on the back of the chair and awkwardly pushed herself to her feet. She walked over to Libby and engulfed her in a warm, sisterly hug. “That’s good,” she whispered. “’Cause this town can use a woman of your talent.”