An

Accidental

Family

Donna Fasano

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Copyright © 2011 Donna Fasano. All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced in any form, in whole or in part (beyond that copying permitted by U.S. Copyright Law, Section 107, " fair use" in teaching or research, Section 108, certain library copying, or in published media by reviewers in limited excerpt), without written permission from the author.

Cover design, Rayna Januska

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Acknowledgements

No author can do it alone.

I consider myself lucky to have found

Lala Price, Al Kunz,

Allirea Brumley, and Vickie Boehnlein,

dedicated book-lovers who were zealous

in the proofreading of this novel.

Your eagle-eyes and willingness to be candid

about my work have made this a better story.

Mere words cannot express the magnitude of my appreciation.

And to my readers, thank you for coming back for more.

Dedication

This book is lovingly dedicated to Doodlette,

who is still just a cute little peanut.

What reviewers are saying about Donna Fasano's novels:

"…complex, funny, and realistic…" ~Wilmington News Journal (Where's Stanley?)

"You'll vicariously experience a wide range of emotions from the sorrow of dealing with family tragedies to the joy of new love…" BigAl, Books & Pals, http://BooksAndPals.com (Mountain Laurel)

"Award-winning author Donna Fasano skillfully weaves a story consisting of funny, imperfect characters, love lost and found, sexual attraction, and an old merry-go-round. Told with humor and honesty, this novel is an entertaining and satisfying read. I highly recommend it!" ~Karen McQuestion, best-selling author of A Scattered Life (The Merry-Go-Round)

"I found Taking Love in Stride to be a fun filled read and I'd recommend it to anyone interested in a taking a few hours out of their schedule. Settling down with a romance is a nice way to spend some time, especially one like this." Kelly Irish, Vine Voice Reviewer (Taking Love in Stride)

"This delightful and warmhearted tale...is everything romance is about." ~Judith Rippelmeyer, Romantic Times Magazine (The Sheriff's Six-Year-Old Secret)

"Donna Fasano (award-winning author Donna Clayton) takes us on a journey of intense passion, exploring the boundaries of love and repercussions. Her writing style is such that I was hooked right away, and completely invested in the love affair between Savanna and Danny. I look forward to reading many more books by this amazing author." Imogen Rose, Vine Voice Reviewer and best-selling author of the Portal Chronicles (Return of the Runaway Bride)

Prologue

"My brother did what?" Robin Hampstead clutched the telephone receiver in her fist until her knuckles turned into little white knobs. Her insides trembled as she stared out the sliding glass door of her hotel room. The tropical storm that had stalled over the island thrashed the lush Hawaiian vegetation. Violent wind tore at the palapalai ferns and the blooming plumeria while rain battered the thick glass.

"Robin, listen to me." The elderly female voice on the other end of the phone line held a calming intonation "I want you to stop and take a deep breath. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours since you found out about Jeff and Sara's... accident."

Swallowing around the painful lump of emotion in her throat, Robin closed her eyes and took a shaky inhalation. Her brother and his wife were dead. The realization, the loss, the devastation were still sinking in.

"I haven't been able to reach anyone, Lynn. I still don't know what happened. I've got no cell reception to speak of and the land lines are iffy at best. I'm surprised we haven't been cut off yet."

As if on cue, static skittered across the connection.

"You'll find out soon, I'm sure," Lynn said. "In the mean time, we should talk fast."

Robin's voice rasped as she said, "Jeff and Sara are gone."

Just when she thought she had a handle on the tragic idea, a fresh surge of grief would gush forth and fill her to overflowing. Her teeth clenched tight against the agonizing ache in her chest.

The person on the other end of the telephone was a friend, she reminded herself. It was okay to express to Lynn all the overwhelming sorrow she was experiencing over the sudden death of Jeff and Sara. But, once again, Robin found herself unable to confide her innermost feelings.

"Sit down," Lynn softly commanded.

Robin's knees bent of their own volition and she sank onto the upholstered chair positioned beside the desk. Her mind raced with a thousand questions… questions that weren't able to form completely before being overrun by another, then another. It was impossible to think coherently in the midst of this jumbled chaos.

"I knew I shouldn't have opened your letter."

Lynn seemed to be talking to herself, and although the woman's voice barely penetrated her wretched stupor, Robin felt the instinctive urge to comfort her.

"But I asked you to." The words sounded rusty and grating to Robin's ears. "There wasn't time to forward it. And there won't be time for me to stop in New York." It seemed as though someone else was speaking instead of herself, so distant and hushed was her voice. "I'll be flying straight to Baltimore and then renting a car..."

"Has the storm cleared enough for the airport to open?" Lynn asked.

"Not yet. It doesn't seem to be moving. All the airlines are still on standby."

Lynn sighed. "It won't be long. You'll be on your way soon."

She swallowed with difficulty. "I'm packed and ready. I have all my notes together about the restaurants I visited. And what recipes I could gather. Some chefs are so protective, and it makes no sense, really. Some of the ingredients would just be too difficult to find. Or too expensive. But I'm sure I have enough information to finish the article."

If she could locate some internal switch for babbling, she'd have shut it off. Her nerves were frayed and her thinking hazy to the point that she was talking nonsense. Who cared if she wrote the article or not? The editors at Fancy Food would understand, wouldn't they? Of course, they would. She'd just been notified of two deaths in her immediate family.

Immediate family. To most people, those two words meant warm, close ties. But to Robin... Suddenly the cold, empty loneliness that engulfed her was not only staggering, it was also frightening.

"Oh, Lynn." Suppressed emotion strained the words. "I hope I arrive in time for the memorial service."

She heard her friend heave a commiserating sigh.

"It seems all the arrangements were stipulated in your brother's will," Lynn reminded her, seemingly more for something to say than anything else. "The woman who called didn't leave her name. She just said there would be no funeral. Only a memorial service for family and friends to be held within forty-eight hours after..." Here she let the sentence fade with yet another sigh. "Then the letter arrived."

The original purpose of Lynn's call had been the letter. Robin swiped her hand across her forehead as if she could physically clear some of the fog that had enveloped her brain. She tipped up her chin. Her voice seemed to gain strength as she said, "Read the letter again, Lynn. The important part, anyway."

Lynn cleared her throat with a gravelly sound. "You have been named by Jeffrey Aaron Hampstead and Sara Marie Hampstead as co-guardian of Anthony Aaron Hampstead."

"Little Tony," Robin whispered.

She fought back the panic that swirled in the pit of her belly, but like unrelenting waves crashing against the sandy beach, her anxiety built higher and higher.

"I don't know anything about babies, Lynn," she said. "I've only been out of college three years. Traveling all over the place." She sucked in air through her mouth to fight the queasiness in her stomach. "I don't have a home. I rent a room, for goodness' sake. Where am I going to keep a baby?"

An unbidden memory swamped her, and suddenly she was back at little Tony's christening feeling awkward and clumsy and extremely inadequate as she held her brother's child in her arms. She remembered how hurt she felt as Jeff, Sara and Jonas Winslow, Sara's brother, had laughed at her lack of maternal instincts. She'd been embarrassed by their good-natured jeering, but Robin had to admit that their opinions had been correct; she didn't have an ounce of knowledge where children were concerned.

"That poor little boy would be at a terrible disadvantage having me as his…" She stopped abruptly. "How am I ever going to…" Again she stopped. "I couldn't possibly continue to travel…" Her breath seemed to catch in her throat and she gasped, failing to keep her hysteria at bay. "What's going to happen when…"

"Robin, stop this." Lynn's chide was sharp. "Everything's going to be okay. The letter said co-guardian." She emphasized the prefix.

"Yes, yes," Robin whispered, latching on to this small ray of hope with both hands.

"Do you have any idea who… might be named?"

Thunder rumbled across the sky and lightning flashed at the same instant that static crackled right through the middle of Lynn's question. Robin nodded vigorously even though her friend was thousands of miles away and unable to see. "Sara's parents," she said emphatically. "In fact, Mrs. Winslow was probably who called you about the memorial arrangements. I've tried but haven't been able to reach her or her husband. They live in the same small town. I'm sure that's who Sara would want helping me."

It's not like Sara and Jeff ever expected anything like this to happen.

"The baby's grandparents," Lynn said. "See there, you have nothing to worry about. Grandparents love their grandchildren."

Again, Robin found herself nodding. "Mr. and Mrs. Winslow do love Tony." Relief flooded her until she feared she'd cry, but she succeeded in fending off the tears. "And they're very nice people. I met them at Jeff and Sara's wedding and then again at Tony's christening."

"You have nothing to worry about then, do you? The little fella's grandparents have experience with children. They raised Sara, didn't they? And Tony knows them. Surely he's comfortable with them." Her words lightened considerably. "There should be no reason you can't continue traveling for the magazine."

Robin thought a moment. "It would probably make things easier for Mr. and Mrs. Winslow if I were to sign over all rights to them. I mean, I trust them implicitly to take good care of the baby. And Jeff loved Sara's mom and dad."

"When you stay calm," Lynn commented, "all kinds of options come to mind."

Now it was Robin's turn to sigh. "Lynn, thanks for talking this through with me. I feel so much better about this whole thing."

A blaze of light flashed, thunder boomed, and the line went dead.

~  ~  ~

Jonas Winslow reread the letter he'd received from his sister's lawyer via overnight courier, and then let it fall atop the scatter of penciled drawings on his desk. His heart ached for Sara. He had so many wonderful memories of growing up with her. Being a 'big brother' was a job he'd taken seriously from the very first day his mother had brought home the red-faced and wrinkled baby swathed in a soft pink blanket. He might not have understood what all the hoopla had been about back then, but he had realized that his life would never be the same. They'd been close, he and Sara. And he'd always been extremely protective of her. Yet, when Jeff Hampstead had come along, he'd stepped aside and let the love of his sister's life take over. He'd liked Jeff. Had even come to think of him as the brother he'd never had. And now they both were gone.

Sadness prickled behind his eyelids, threatening to take the shape of tears. He sniffed and rubbed firm fingers across his jaw. He didn't have time to grieve. There were too many arrangements for the memorial service to attend to, too many phone calls that had to be made.

The sound of his mother's sobs came back to haunt him. With the condition his father was in, Jonas knew there was no way his mother could leave him to fly up for Sara's memorial service. She'd tearfully suggested a home nurse, and then immediately rejected the idea, knowing how her husband became so easily disoriented and frightened these days. Besides, neither of them had been in the retirement village long enough to even settle in yet. Jonas had tried to console his mother and had finally convinced her that staying in Florida with his dad was the best thing for both of them.

When his mother had asked after the baby, Jonas had explained how Sara's best friend, Amy, had called and offered to take care of Tony until he could make arrangements for the memorial service. He needed to call his mother again sometime today to let her know of the plans he'd arranged so far.

He gazed down at the document that sat on top of the disorganized pile of articles in various stages of editing and he thought of his fourteen-month-old nephew. The memory of the child's wide-eyed, frightened gaze continued to prey on Jonas's mind. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't exorcise the image of those huge, teary brown eyes as Tony had called out longingly for his mother.

The lump that rose in Jonas's throat nearly choked him. He coughed, pushed himself to his feet and paced the room.

He wanted to abide by the wishes of his sister and her husband. Hell, that's why he'd worked so hard to quickly pull together a decent memorial service. Why the two of them had stipulated that the ceremony be held within such a short time period was beyond him, but he'd done all he could to abide by their wishes.

Yes, he wanted to do the right thing by Sara and Jeff. And little Tony. But Jonas had to admit, if to no one but himself, that there couldn't be a worse time for him to take on the responsibilities of a child.

He gazed over at the file cabinet and thought of the brand-new, multi-book contract he'd signed… a contract that called for all new, never-before-published material. The next year was going to be very busy if he was going to create new material for a book and keep up with his daily syndication demands. How was he ever going to work and take care of Tony at the same time?

As he searched through his brain for possible solutions, he dragged his fingers through his hair and realized just how badly he needed it cut. He looked around his office at the messy piles of computer paper, research books, newspapers, and empty coffee mugs. A blunt-tipped pencil sat forgotten on the floor in the corner of the room. A thick layer of dust covered the file cabinet and the unused corners of his desk. He wondered how long it had been since he'd cleaned the place. And then his stomach rumbled softly, alerting him that he hadn't eaten since late yesterday.

"How can I possibly take care of a baby when I can't even remember to take care of myself?" The words were harsh and grated with self-disgust. He went to his desk and picked up a small, framed photograph of his nephew.

"Tony," he whispered to the picture, "you deserve better than what your Uncle Jonas has to offer."

As he stared down at the boy's image, he wondered how life could be so cruel to one so young. Tony's little bow-shaped mouth curled into a tiny smile so like his mother's. The child had gotten his carrot-red hair and big brown eyes from his father. Sadness and grief welled inside Jonas, making his chest tight, his breathing ragged. His vision became blurred with the moisture that gathered in his eyes. He blinked several times, hard, then pressed his thumb and index finger against his closed lids.

He set the picture down and inhaled deeply. There had to be an answer to his time dilemma. How could he keep up with his column and write his book while taking on all the responsibility that came with accepting custody of his nephew?

Jonas had to confess that he'd been surprised when he'd received the letter informing him that he'd been named as Tony's guardian. He guessed Sara just wanted him to know that she loved him and was thinking of him. As a bachelor, Jonas spent very little time around children. In fact, his nephew had been the one and only child he'd ever been exposed to. But he loved the boy. Loved to drop by unexpectedly to see what havoc the little fellow was wreaking on his sister and brother-in-law's household. So, realizing his lack of experience with children, he had been taken off guard to learn that Sara wanted him to help raise her son.

But it was the co-guardianship that intrigued him. And he also realized that it was the co-guardianship that would be his saving grace. He wasn't going to be in this alone. And the fact that there was someone else who would be responsible for the baby along with himself might be the answer to his problem.

Although he hadn't had a chance to talk to her, Jonas knew that the other person named by his sister would be Amy. Sara's best friend would be the perfect person to raise Tony. The woman was part of a strong and happy marriage, which was really an amazing feat in these days and times. And Amy was a wonderful mother with two adorable children of her own. He'd seen Amy and her husband in parental action at Tony's first birthday party two months ago and they'd been wonderful with their kids.

Hell, for all Jonas knew, Amy and her husband could both be named as co-guardians along with him. Co didn't have to stop at two. It simply meant more than one.

He could explain his problem about his new book contract to Amy and her husband. They'd understand. And they would work with him, he was certain.

But then again, he could be entirely wrong. He leaned his elbow on top of the dusty file cabinet, a deep frown planting itself in his brow. It could be that Sara and Jeff didn't have Amy in mind as the guardian of their son. Jeff did have a sister.

Before the idea could even take shape in his mind, Jonas dismissed it. He thought back to Tony's christening day. Robin Hampstead had looked so ill at ease as she'd held the baby. Even now, Jonas found himself chuckling aloud at the memory despite his melancholy mood.

He easily recalled Robin's image: her flame-red hair had been short and curly, her cute little nose upturned, and those large brown eyes so quick to flash with insult. She was young, in her mid-twenties, he guessed. But her serious nature made her seem years older. She was a career woman through and through. The very kind he loved to poke fun at in his work. A smile tugged at his mouth as he thought of how easy it had been to rile her. She hadn't liked him. She'd made that plain enough. And she'd told him his opinion pieces were a waste of good paper. Yes, he thought, chuckling again, he'd had some good fun the day he'd spent with Robin Hampstead.

But his sister, Sara, had told him that Robin didn't have a single maternal bone in her body. Sara would never consider her sister-in-law good mother material for Tony. And Robin's total lack of any sense of humor actually made him shudder.

No, Jonas was certain that Sara would choose Amy over Robin any day of the week. Amy was the sensible choice. Hell, she was the only choice as far as he could see. He was sure that Sara and Jeff must have felt the same. Besides that, Amy was certain to be understanding where his work schedule was concerned. Things would work out just fine.

He heaved a great sigh. He was beginning to feel better about this whole situation.

Chapter One

Robin rushed up the steps of the small church, finger-combing her wayward curls as she went. Pausing at the entrance, she took a moment to steel herself and shake the droplets of spring rain from the shoulders of her coat before she eased open the heavy door and slipped inside. The tiny, windowless vestibule was cool and dark, and she found herself squinting and blinking until her eyes became adjusted to the light change. Her gaze was drawn to a small lamp that sat on a flat-topped podium, its low-wattage bulb throwing a ray of dim light on an elegant white register. She neatly signed her name and replaced the pen into its holder.

The sound of perfectly harmonized voices suddenly filled the air. Robin followed the beautiful singing into the interior of the church. She halted just inside the doorway, biting her lip against the emotion that swelled in her chest at the sight of the crowded room. These people were friends to Jeff and Sara. All these people loved and cared about her brother and his wife. All of them had come to remember.

Feeling trembly all of a sudden, Robin slid into an empty spot in the very back of the church. She scrambled around in her purse for a tissue, and when she couldn't find one, the woman next to her offered one along with a compassionate smile. Robin nodded her thanks.

She relaxed against the back of the pew, closed her eyes and let the music of the choir flow all around her and through her chaotic mind. She'd made it. She'd actually arrived in Brenville in time for the memorial service. And it was a small miracle that she had. Of course, now there was a seventy-two-dollar speeding ticket that had to be paid. But, despite that, she said a quick prayer of thanks that she hadn't missed the service.

~  ~  ~

Jonas watched Jeff's sister from his seat at the front of the church. The minister had suggested he sit in the very front pew, the usual place for family members, but Jonas couldn't abide the idea of spending the entire hour and half sitting there all alone and opted to position himself opposite the choir. He'd used the excuse that he needed to be within easy reach of the dais when it was his turn to speak. From this vantage point in front of the church he could witness the sadness and distress, the fidgeting and eye-dabbing, the general comings and goings of the attendees.

Robin's fiery red hair had caught his attention as soon as she'd stepped over the threshold of the sanctuary. She hadn't come up front to the family pew, but had instead slipped into an empty seat at the back.

The minister of the church stood to speak again, but Jonas only half heard the biblical reading. Robin looked tired, he observed. The dark circles under her deep-set eyes gave her a haunting expression. He'd only met the woman twice, and he'd never forget either encounter. But seeing her again brought to his mind the same observation that there was something lonely, something isolated about her solemn nature. He remembered how both times he'd met her there had been something about her that had kept her in his thoughts for days and weeks after the experience. He'd found himself puzzling over what it was that so intrigued him about her, until finally he'd become annoyed with himself for wasting time on the woman and put her out of his mind. Hell, he ultimately concluded, why throw away perfectly good brainpower on someone who didn't even like him?

Her eyelids slowly rose and her gaze held a mixture of something tragic and ethereal at the same time. He found the combination lovely, almost… seductive.

What is wrong with you, Winslow? The castigating question ricocheted in his head like a bullet. The woman is grieving! He knew he should look away, give her some privacy, but he continued to study her as she gazed up at the large stained-glass image above the altar.

He'd been told that she was on assignment in Hawaii and assured that she'd been contacted about the accident, but Jonas couldn't help worrying during the past forty-eight hours about whether or not she'd be able to fly across an ocean and then the country to arrive in time. Well, he was glad to see that attending her brother's memorial service meant a little more to her than her precious career.

Now, that's not fair, a quiet inner voice scolded. And he knew it was true. Robin Hampstead might be a career woman, but that didn't mean she wasn't a decent human being. She must have loved her brother just as much as he had loved his sister, Sara. His nerves were frayed, his emotions in turmoil over this loss, and that was the only excuse he had to explain his mean and petty assessment of Robin's late arrival.

When Jonas noticed that Reverend Walsh had gone silent, he turned away from his study of Robin and saw the minister motion him forward. Jonas felt his face flame with embarrassment. If he'd been paying attention instead of focusing his thoughts on Robin Hampstead, he'd have been prepared to speak rather than being taken off guard. He stood, checked the fastened button of his jacket and made his way to the podium.

~  ~  ~

The stained-glass window above the altar seemed to pulse with vibrant color. Robin had once written an article after visiting a centuries-old church in England that had been converted into a restaurant. In her research, she'd learned that stained-glass had a history of over a thousand years, and that metallic salts added during the manufacturing were what lent color to the glass. Gold, cobalt, viridian, scarlet. Losing herself in the beauty of it allowed her to forget the fiery grief burning in her chest, if only for a moment. Although this particular rendition was clearly abstract, various religious symbols popped out at the focused observer: a bare cross, a lamb, a pair of praying hands, a dove, an ichthus, a chalice…

Seeing Jonas Winslow cross the altar area, Robin almost groaned aloud. If he made some kind of wisecrack about Jeff and Sara, she'd just scream. Both times Robin had met Sara's brother, the man had infuriated her with his constant jeering and critical remarks. Nothing was safe from his black humor.

Robin remembered that Jonas had made asinine comments about Sara and Jeff's relationship at the wedding. Her job had been fodder for his jokes that same day. He'd even used Tony's christening, an event that should have been serious and sacred, and he'd turned the day into material for his dark satire. That was also the day that Jonas had embarrassed her beyond rational thought.

"Today is a day of celebration..."

His voice broke into her dark musings, and she was so startled by his choice of words that her chin tipped upward and her eyes became glued to his face. She made a conscious effort to keep her mouth from dropping open. If this was his idea of a joke... She didn't finish the thought when she realized that she wasn't the only one surprised by his statement, for the room grew utterly quiet and still as everyone waited for him to continue.

"Sara and Jeff didn't want us to mourn their passing," he said. "They didn't want us, their family and friends, to gather together for a sad and somber affair. They didn't want a funeral."

Robin watched Jonas inhale deeply, and she could tell that it took a great deal of control and effort for him to pull the corners of his mouth into a tiny smile.

"My precious sister and her husband," he continued, "didn't want us to feel miserable or brokenhearted by their passing. Of course... we will." His voice quavered slightly as he added the aside. "But they wanted us…" He faltered, paused long enough to clear his throat, and when he began again, his words were stronger, as vibrant as the stained-glass above the altar behind him. "It was their wish that we celebrate today by recounting our memories of them."

Robin closed her eyes. His suggestion was a beautiful one, she had to admit. The idea of celebrating her brother and sister-in-law through memories was sweet. Excruciatingly so.

"Sara and Jeff loved each and every one of us," Jonas continued. "They knew we would all have a need to grieve for them. But it was important to them that we do it as joyously and... cheerfully as possible."

Sitting there in the back of the church, Robin let herself become wrapped in the warm, comforting cocoon of Jonas's tone. She'd forgotten how deep, how rich... how memorable his voice was. The acoustics in the high-ceilinged building amplified the melodic pitch and slight draw of his Southern accent. His words were inflected with an intense resonance that seemed to smooth across her mind, across her skin as if it were warm, liquid velvet.

"We've enjoyed some beautiful music sung by the choir," he said. "These songs were some of Jeff and Sara's very favorites." This time his smile was fond and didn't have to be forced. "I know that from now until the end of my life I will remember them both whenever I hear these melodies." He looked toward the front pews. "Several of Sara's friends have asked me if they can speak. They have some readings and poetry they would like to share. And some of Jeff's friends and co-workers would like to relate some of their thoughts, as well."

As soon as the first person stepped up to the dais to speak, the weird feeling began. Robin listened to the lyrical psalms, the beautiful poetry, but the thoughts and feelings these people expressed forced her to notice a strange emptiness inside her. She was surprised by the number of people who rose from the pews and went to the stand behind the microphone, and soon Robin realized that this wasn't part of the planned service. These men and women didn't want to wait until after the memorial service to express the love they felt for Jeff and Sara. These people wanted to be included in this most intimate memorial tribute.

One by one, friends of Sara and Jeff verbalized their fondest memories of the deceased couple. Some of these recollections were sad, many of them had everyone chuckling, some were ironic, but all of the stories were poignant. And with each remembrance, Robin found herself learning something new about her brother and his wife. With each small tale, Robin discovered how little she knew about Jeff and Sara.

Her chin trembled as the huge, desolate void inside her yawned wide. The church didn't seem big enough to hold her and the vast hollowness that quickly swallowed her up. Suddenly the room seemed as though it were closing in on her. She felt the need to flee. But at the same time, she was desperate to stay. As the affectionate, soul-stirring reminiscences flowed, Robin wanted so badly to pluck them from the air and clutch them to her, have them as her very own. But that was impossible.

She pressed her fingers against her lips, trying to hold back the lonely sobs that threatened to choke her. No, she couldn't have these memories. They belonged to other people…people who knew Jeff and Sara. Her mind whirled with sadness and confusion as yet another story about her brother was recounted, and the ever-widening chasm rived and splintered until she thought she'd fall into its black, bottomless depths.

Instinct screamed at her; if she couldn't snatch up some of these wonderful memories to fill this emptiness expanding inside her, then she needed to somehow avoid them. Hide from them. Run from them.

Her gaze darted around the room, and as she saw that there was actually a line of people now forming at the front of the church, she fought the urge to press her hands over her ears. Again, instinct urged her to flee. Gathering her purse, Robin surrendered to impulse and made her escape.

~  ~  ~

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