Since their arrival on Friday, he had left beautifully wrapped packages in various spots around the house for her to discover. He’d spoiled her rotten, of course, gifting her with clothing, lingerie, a pair of shoes, a new purse, jewelry. With each extravagant present, she had made him promise that this would be the last one, protesting that he’d gone overboard as usual.

He kissed her hand before rubbing his cheek against her palm. “There is just one more, love. And I saved the best for last.”

Tessa gave him a stern look. “You had better not have bought me that car you were talking about. I think driving your Mercedes around town will be just fine for me.”

Truth be told, she wasn’t very confident as yet about driving in San Francisco. The hills, narrow streets, and often nonexistent parking in the city made getting around much more difficult than it had back in Tucson. But since she couldn’t rely on Simon or take taxis to get her everywhere she needed to go, and since Ian wasn’t thrilled with the idea of her taking a bus, she had gradually started to drive again. He had given her the keys to his three year old Mercedes sedan, a car he claimed to rarely use since he preferred driving either the Range Rover or the Jaguar.

She’d been terrified of wrecking the expensive vehicle, a far more luxurious ride than the old compact Toyota she’d last driven in Tucson. But Ian had brushed aside her concerns carelessly, insisting she was doing him a favor by making sure the Mercedes got some use instead of sitting idle inside the garage.

“Ah, but as good as you look behind the wheel of the Benz, I think you’d be sexy as hell driving, let’s say, a fire engine red Ferrari,” he teased.

Tessa gasped. “Oh, my, God, you are so not buying me a Ferrari! Or any car. Or one more thing, Ian. I mean it. Not a blouse or a pair of earrings or even a bra. Nothing. Do you understand?”

Ian grinned. “Yes, my feisty little birthday girl. But there is still one more present left. Relax. This one didn’t cost very much at all. And I think you’ll like it a lot.”

Her curiosity was piqued as he led her back inside the house. They had breakfast first, a simple meal of granola, fruit, and tea. Ian cleaned up the few dishes, still refusing to let her do any work this weekend, and then brought out a modestly sized box. This one was as beautifully wrapped as all the others had been, and she eyed the box suspiciously.

“If it’s more clothes, I’ll tell you right now they’re going back.”

He smiled at her indulgently. “It’s not. And you won’t want to return this. Open it, darling.”

She unwrapped the box slowly, lifting the lid, and then stared down at the contents in stunned disbelief. She would never in a million years have ever thought she’d receive a gift quite like this one, and her hand was shaking as she slowly withdrew one of the three items.

“My mother’s books.” Her voice was unsteady as she held one of the volumes with reverence, as though she were afraid it would disappear. “My God, Ian, where in the world did you find these?”

“I know several rare book dealers, both here in the States and in other parts of the world,” he replied quietly. “I’ve had every one of them on the lookout for these for some time now. They were able to locate three of the four books your mother had published, and one of the dealers may have a lead on the fourth. Do you like them, Tessa?”

She hadn’t known she was crying until she raised her gaze to his and he wiped away a tear. “This - this is the most wonderful thing you’ve ever done for me,” she told him brokenly. “I had nothing – nothing - of my mother’s. We moved around so much that we always had to leave things behind. And the few remaining items I had of hers burned in the fire. The first fire. All I really had left was one very old photo of her in my wallet. And, well, the second fire took that away. So, yes - I adore them. And I adore you for giving me this.”

“Darling.” He pulled her close against him, holding her as she wept, stroking her hair and murmuring soothing words.

When she felt in control again, she lifted her head from his chest and gave him a sweet, tender kiss. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I can’t even tell you what this means to me. Or how much I love you for finding these. It’s just too much for me to express right now.”

He nodded in understanding. “I get it. And I’m so pleased you like your gift. Look, there’s even a photograph of your mother on the back cover of this book.”

Ian took out one of the other books from the box, this one a hardcover with a glossy jacket that was in excellent condition. The other two books were paperbacks and a bit on the well-used side. Tessa gasped as he flipped open the back cover, and she ran her fingers over the smiling image of her mother in stunned disbelief.

“It’s really her,” she murmured, staring at the image of the happy, glowing young woman who looked so much like her own self. “And this - this is how I prefer to remember her, Ian. Young and healthy and full of life. Not the sad, sick woman she became as I got older. This is my real mother right here.”

Ian pressed a kiss to her temple. “She was beautiful, Tessa. You could be her twin, the resemblance is remarkable. And I was thinking. There’s a photography studio I know of in San Francisco that specializes in restoring old photos. I’m willing to bet if we brought them this book jacket that they would be able to find a way to reproduce the image into a proper photograph. Obviously the quality wouldn’t be the best, but -”

“I don’t care.” She flung her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. “I’ll take anything, the quality doesn’t matter. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She pressed fervent kisses all along his cheeks, jaw, neck.

“You’re more than welcome, my love,” he whispered. “Now, come. It’s your twenty-fifth birthday, and no more tears, hmm? Let’s vow to make this the happiest birthday of your life so far, all right?”

And it was without question the most wonderful birthday that Tessa could ever remember having. Not that she had very many happy memories of past birthdays. The last two years prior to this one had been spent alone, since Peter had been on a trip somewhere far away on both occasions. And she couldn’t honestly remember ever having something as traditional as a birthday party as a child, since that certainly hadn’t been her mother’s style.