Like Charles, she was angry, angrier than she’d ever been in her life. In one rational corner of her mind, she knew—had known all along—that it was a mistake to goad him with all those ridiculous lies.

But the shocking thing, the sad thing, was that he’d believed them. To his way of thinking, apparently, it all fit. And as far as Steffie was concerned, there was nothing more to say.

In time, she’d regret her outburst, but she didn’t then. At that moment, she was far too infuriated to care. In time, she’d regret the lies, the squandered hopes—but it wouldn’t be soon.

“Well?” her father asked, his expression pleased and expectant as she let herself into the house an hour later. “Are you two going to look for an engagement ring in the next few days?”

“Not exactly,” Steffie said, moving into his den. As he’d promised earlier, her father was waiting up for her, reading in his favorite chair.

His face fell with disappointment. “But you did talk about getting married, didn’t you?”

“Not really. We, uh, got sidetracked.”

“You didn’t argue, did you?”

“Not really.” Steffie was unsure how much to tell him. She worried that if he knew the extent of the rift between her and Charles, he’d feel obliged to do something to patch things up.

David set aside his reading glasses and gazed up at her. “You’ll be seeing him again soon, won’t you?”

Living in Orchard Valley made that very likely. It was the reason she’d chosen to study in Europe three years earlier. “Naturally I’ll be seeing him.”

David nodded, appeased. “Good.”

“I think I’ll go up to my room and read. Good night, Dad.”

“Night, Princess.”

On her way up, Steffie met Norah at the top of the stairs. Her younger sister glanced in her direction and did an automatic double take. “What’s wrong?”

“What makes you think anything’s wrong?”

“You mean other than the fact that you look like you’re waiting to get to your room before you cry?”

Her sister knew her too well. Steffie felt terrible—discouraged, disheartened, depressed. But in her present mood, she didn’t have the patience to explain what had happened between her and Charles.

“What could possibly be wrong?” Steffie asked instead, feigning a lightness she didn’t feel.

“Funny you should say that,” Norah said, tucking her arm through Steffie’s and leading the way to her bedroom. “Valerie asked me nearly the same thing not long ago. What could possibly be wrong? Well, I’d have to say it’s probably trouble with a man.”

“Very astute of you.”

“Obviously it’s Charles.” Norah didn’t react to Steffie’s mild sarcasm.

“Obviously.” She was tired, weary right down to her bones and desperately craving a long, hot soak in the tub. Some of her best thinking was accomplished while lazing in a bathtub filled with scented water. She’d avoided bubble baths since the time she’d spent hours in one waiting for Charles.

“Did you two have a spat?”

“Listen, Norah, I appreciate your concern—really, I do… I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I’m tired and I want to go to bed.”

“Bed? Good grief, it’s only seven.”

“It’s been a long day.”

Norah eyed her suspiciously. “It must have been.”

“Besides, I have a lot to do on Monday.”

Norah’s interest was piqued. “What’s happening then?”

“I’m going to Portland to see about my application at the university and to find an apartment.”

For a moment Norah said nothing. Her mouth fell open and she wore a stunned look. “But I thought you told Dad you were going to wait on that.”

“I was…”

“But now you aren’t? Even after you promised Dad?”

Steffie glanced away, not wanting her sister to see how deeply hurt she was. How betrayed she felt that Charles would believe she was deceitful enough to trick him into marriage. It seemed that whenever Charles Tomaselli was involved, she invariably ended up in pain.

“I feel better than I have in years.” David greeted Steffie cheerfully early the next morning. He was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee and studying the Portland Sunday paper. He welcomed her with a warm smile, apparently not noticing his daughter’s lackluster mood. “Beautiful morning,” David added.

“Beautiful,” Steffie mumbled as she poured herself a cup of coffee and staggered to the table. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep, and she felt as though she was walking around in a nightmare.

She’d spent the entire night arguing with herself about the lies she’d told Charles. In the end, she’d managed to convince herself that she’d done the right thing. Charles wanted to believe every word. He’d seized every one of her sarcastic remarks, all too ready to consider them truth.

“What time will Charles be by?” her father asked conversationally.

“Charles?” She repeated his name as though she’d never heard it before.

“I thought the two of you were going horseback riding this afternoon.”

“Uh…I’m not sure Charles will be able to come, after all.” The date had probably slipped his mind, the way it had hers. Even if he did remember, Steffie sincerely doubted he’d show up. As far as she was concerned, whatever had been between them was now over. In fact, the more she reviewed their last discussion, the angrier she became. If he honestly believed the things she’d suggested—and he certainly seemed to—then there was no hope for them. None.

“I’ll get dressed for church,” Steffie said bleakly.

“You’ve got plenty of time yet.”

“Norah has to get there early.” Her sister sang in the choir. Generally Norah left the house before the others, but Steffie thought she’d ride with Norah this morning, if for no other reason than to escape her father’s questions. From the looks David was giving her, he was about to subject her to a full-scale inquisition.

Attending church was an uplifting experience for Steffie. During that hour, she was able to forget her troubles and absorb the atmosphere of peace and serenity. Whatever solace she found, however, vanished the minute she and Norah drove into the yard shortly after noon.

Charles’s car was parked out front.

Steffie tensed and released a long, slow sigh.

“Problems?” Norah asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to talk to him?”

“No, I don’t.” But at the same time, she wasn’t about to back down, either. She wouldn’t allow Charles to chase her from her own home. He was on her turf now, and she didn’t run easily.

Steffie parked behind Charles’s sports car and willed herself to remain calm and collected. Her father must have heard them because he stepped outside the house, his welcoming smile in place. He still moved slowly but with increasing confidence. It was sometimes hard to remember that he was recovering from major surgery.

“Steffie, Charles is here.”

“So I see,” she said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

“He’s in the stable, waiting for you.”

She nodded and, with her heart racing, walked up the steps and past her father.

“Aren’t you going to talk to him?”

“I need to change my clothes first.”

“To talk? But…” He hesitated, then reluctantly nodded.

By the time Steffie was in her bedroom, she was trembling. Her emotions were so confused that she wasn’t sure if she was shaking with anger or with nervousness. But she did know she wasn’t ready to face him, wasn’t ready to deal with his accusations or his reproach. For several minutes she sat on her bed, trying to decide what to do.

“Steffie.” Norah stood in the doorway, watching her. “Are you okay?”

“Of course, I—no, I’m not,” she said. “I’m not ready to talk to Charles yet.”

“Nothing says you have to talk to him if you don’t want to. I’ll make up some excuse and send him packing.”

“No.” For pride’s sake, she didn’t want him to know how badly she’d been hurt by their latest confrontation.

“You look like you’re about to burst into tears.”

Steffie squared her shoulders and met her sister’s worried eyes. “I’m not going to give him the satisfaction.”

“Attagirl,” Norah said approvingly.

Changing into jeans and a sweatshirt, Steffie went down the back stairs into the kitchen. She didn’t expect to find Charles sitting at the table chatting with her father. What unsettled her most was that he gave no outward sign of their quarrel. Steffie slowed her pace as she entered the room.

Charles stopped talking and his eyes narrowed briefly. “Hello, Stephanie.”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” her father said before Steffie could answer Charles’s greeting. He rose, a bit stiffly, and made his way to the door. “I guess you’ve got plenty to discuss.”

Steffie wanted to argue, but knew there wasn’t any point. She merely shrugged and remained where she was, standing a few steps from the back stairs. She didn’t look at Charles. The silence between them lengthened, until she couldn’t endure it any longer.

“I didn’t expect you to come,” she said in a harsh voice. “It certainly wasn’t necessary.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“I’m not in the mood to go riding and I don’t imagine you are, either.” In other words, she wasn’t in the mood to go riding with him.

“I’m not here to ride.”

“Then why are you here?”

Apparently Charles didn’t have the answer because he got to his feet and walked over to the window. Whatever he saw must have fascinated him because he stood there for several minutes without speaking.

“Why are you here?” she asked a second time, on the verge of requesting him to leave.

He finally turned around to face her. “I don’t know about you, but I couldn’t sleep last night.”

Steffie refused to admit that she’d fared no better, so she made no response.

“I kept going over the things your father said and the things you told me,” Charles went on.

“Did you come to any conclusions?” Pride demanded that she not look at him, or reveal how much his answer meant to her.

“One.”

Steffie tensed. “What’s that?” She had to look at him now.

His eyes finally met hers. Although nearly the entire kitchen separated them, Steffie felt as though he was close enough to touch.

“It seems to me,” he began, “that since your father’s so anxious to marry you off, and you seem to be just as eager, then fine.”

“Fine?” she repeated, wondering if this was some joke and she’d missed the punch line.

“In other words,” Charles returned shortly, “I’m willing to take you off his hands.”