Although she was intent on focusing on the here and now, Ali still looked forward to seeing Hank the next day. She hung out by the lake with her feet dangling in the water, waiting for him to park his pickup by the barn and imagining herself running up to greet him, but that moment never came. When her shoulders began reddening from the sun even after the fourth layer of sunscreen, she gave up her vigil.

"He called in sick," Paulette said when Ali ran into the Aussie ranch hand and asked about Hank.

She went to double-check with Liz and got a similar response.

"He asked me to let you know he wasn't feeling well. Sorry I couldn't get to you earlier. I got totally sidetracked," Liz said, gesturing at the packing boxes, sporting equipment, and furniture crammed into the lodge's garage. Although much of the clutter had already been moved outside, there still wasn't even enough space for one vehicle, let alone the four it had been built for. "We have our annual fire inspection in two weeks, and I'm pretty sure we can't pass with all this junk in here."

"Is he okay?" Ali absent-mindedly lifted the flap of a nearby box as she tried to get a little bit more information out of Liz. While he had appeared fine the previous day, spending all night in the storm could have easily led to a delayed cold. Then again, she was also dismissive of him when she was rushing to Pete's side. The male ego was a fragile thing, and he could have just been using the old illness ruse to show her that two could play that game.

"Oh, yeah. Don't worry," Liz said, wrapping the cord around the cracked base of a side lamp. "He just needs a few days to get it out of his system."

Well, that didn't clear anything up. She needed to take a different approach.

"You know, I'm really sorry. We tried to be discreet." Ali wrung her hands. "I hope you don't have any problems because of me."

Putting down the lamp, Liz looked at her with a puzzled expression. "What are you talking about?"

"When we saw the police car here last night, we rushed in without thinking and it was probably obvious to everyone that we'd been together." Ali looked at her sneakers, kicking a pebble aside.

"Well, of course I don't want all of my guests hooking up with the staff, but I wouldn't have set you up with my brother if I wasn't okay with it," Liz said.

Ali looked up. "Excuse me?"

Liz laughed. "I thought you'd realize by now, but I purposefully pulled out of going to the fair so I could have Hank go in my place," she said.

"Why?" Ali asked, taken aback by the unexpected admission.

Hank's sister looked unfazed. "He needed the nudge," she said matter-of-factly.

Ali paused, considering the alternative. "So he really is sick?"

Liz appeared almost offended. "You thought he was just blowing you off?"

"A little bit," she said with a sheepish shrug.

"Listen," Liz said as she put an arm around Ali's shoulder. "My brother isn't very complicated when it comes to people. He'll either like you or he won't. And you can be pretty sure he likes you."

The words were reassuring and Ali smiled. "Thank you. Oh, and by the way—how formal is your father's retirement party going to be?" She hadn't even let Hank finish the invitation, but she had to admit the idea of meeting the rest of his family was increasingly appealing.

Liz drew her arm away. "He's bringing you to that?" She sounded pleased. "Then there's no doubt about how he feels about you. Oh, and it's black tie. Dad was a big deal in the force, so they're going all out on his send-off."

Ali stuck her hands in her pockets. "Your father is a police officer?" she asked.

"No. Air Force. He's been teaching for a while, just like—" She broke off, looked away, and brushed a lock of hair from her forehead before continuing. "Just like a lot of other senior officers who are nearing retirement age. That's why the event is going to be at the Academy. Dinner, speeches, music—that sort of thing. My husband, Jason, is flying down from Alaska for it, too."

For some reason, adding Hank's brother-in-law to the mix made Ali less apprehensive about the night. "You must be excited to see him. When was the last time he was home?"

Liz paused. "Colin's tenth birthday, I guess. So almost three months. Sometimes I think Hank misses him the most, though," she said with a laugh.

"Are they close?" Ali was surprised; Hank didn't mention Liz's husband often.

Liz stepped away and picked up a smaller box. "Um, as close as you'd expect two guys who both like baseball and beer to be, I suppose." She moved the load on top of another pile without even looking at its contents. "Do you know what you're going to wear yet?"

The transition was smooth, yet it didn't escape Ali's attention how quickly Liz had changed the subject. Now she wanted to go to the party even more, just to meet Jason McGhee and find out what Hank's sister had glossed over.

"I have this really cute pastel A-line. It's sleeveless and hits right above the knee," she said, answering the question with the first thing that came to mind. And that pretty much ended the conversation.

Later, when she returned to her room, Ali fished the dress out from the closet and hung it on the door. The more she admired it, the more excited she got at the prospect of going to the party on Hank's arm. Seeing it also gave her something to look forward to; hopefully it would make the time until then pass a little faster.

A new set of dining companions—including a former reality TV singer with scars on her arm and an East Coast governor's grandson there by a court-ordered mandate—as well as an overnight camping trip helped keep Ali's mind off Hank's continued absence. But when he still hadn't returned to work on Wednesday, she sought out Liz again in the cluttered garage.

"He's almost good as new," Liz told her, then leaned closer as if she was about to reveal a big secret. "And he may stop by tomorrow night if his flight isn't delayed, but you didn't hear it from me."

"Flight?" Ali nearly knocked over a stack of chairs as she stepped backward in surprise. No one had mentioned Hank had left town. "He really must be feeling better."

"I told you not to worry, and don't go reading too much into it. I probably shouldn't have said anything at all—it's just I know how we can make things worse in our heads when we don't have all the facts." She smiled before scrunching her nose. "But then again, I probably just muddled it all up even more. Forget I said anything." She waved her hand to dismiss the revelation. "Hank can tell you everything himself, but it's all innocent. I promise."

The curiosity was killing Ali, but she wasn't going to pry. Especially when a grand idea had popped into her head. "I think I have a way to get some of this stuff off your hands."

An hour later, they had two strong cowboys helping move things out of the garage.

Wiping her palms on her jeans, Liz shook her head. "I've wanted to do this for months, but he always came up with an excuse to stall."

Ali carefully set down a large mirror. "Then why are you letting me take the furniture?"

"Because if I didn't, you'd go out and buy it yourself." Liz wiped a layer of dust off the frame's top with her finger. "And that would just be a waste of money. Plus, it's the thought that counts, and even though Hank probably won't like it, I think he'll still appreciate the gesture."

Ali couldn't help herself and gave Liz a hug. "Well, thank you for that," she said.

"Thank me if you're still standing after he sees what you've done to his place." Liz chuckled. "Now, what else do you need?"

"A couch, for sure. No, not that one." She waved at one of the guys eyeing a plaid monstrosity. "The brown leather—that's it."

The moving truck full of items was due to be delivered to Hank's apartment the next day. Ali was already mentally finishing off the redecorating with a bowl of fresh fruit in the kitchen and a vase of sunflowers on the new dining room table, but while she would have loved to find more artwork for the walls, that would have to wait.

Of course, any further effort would depend on Hank's reaction to the whole thing. He could easily hate it all and—by extension—her for orchestrating the change. And the more she thought about it, the more she regretted rushing into it. The nagging doubts made her toss and turn for half the night, before the buzzing of her cell phone cut her rest short after she'd only been asleep for a few hours.

Picking up the device, she saw a text message from her mother.

Check your email.

"You know I can't do that, Mom," Ali muttered before her face slumped back onto her pillow, but the three words kept her from falling back asleep.

Check your email.

She didn't even think Grace knew how to send an email, so what would she be sending her daughter? But with no Internet access at Pebble Creek, she wouldn't find out anytime soon.

Or could she?

Ali got up and began dressing. She was going into town anyway with the movers to set up Hank's furniture, and there were plenty of coffee shops with open Wi-Fi on the way. Her replacement phone wasn't enabled, but she still had her laptop. Guests were locked out of the Pebble Creek network, so there was no reason to have given that up. The solution was simple, so why didn't she think of it sooner?

A few hours later, she was sitting at a corner table with a foamy latte and an untouched scone, typing her password into her personal email account. Apart from credit card payment reminders and discount deals from her favorite online shops, there was nothing of interest.

She opened up a new tab and tried the Foxhall corporate portal.

Unknown login/password combination.

Nope, they still had her blocked.

What was she supposed to be looking for, anyway? Clicking back to the other tab, she scanned the inbox again. Still no messages from Grace or anyone else who wasn't trying to either sell her stuff or get her to pay for stuff she'd already bought on credit.

Ali rested her head in her hands and sighed. Picking up her phone, she was about to call her mother to ask about the cryptic message when the name of a sender about halfway down her inbox caught her eye.

Yale University Alumni Association.

Yale. That reminded her . . . she did still have an active student email account from her college days. Her mother could have just used the first address that her messaging app populated without even realizing it. Could that be it? It was worth a shot.

Ali had to try the password four times before she got the right combination, but as soon as the account opened, there it was. But it wasn't Grace who had written. Instead, the email at the top of the page was from her assistant, Nora. Based on the subject line, it was a direct forward from someone else. Knowing she was locked out of her work email and not having Ali's personal address, Nora must have called Grace as a last-ditch effort to contact her.

Going to such lengths meant it must have been important. Briefly wondering why in that case Nora didn't just leave a message at Pebble Creek, Ali clicked the message and scanned the contents. A knot formed in her stomach as she began to read the short note from her divisional senior vice president at Foxhall Investments, Aaron Lassiter.

Dear Ms. Barros,

I hope you are spending your sabbatical well.

She had to stop at the wording and scoff. Sabbatical. Right.

If you feel inclined to return to work earlier than discussed, we are prepared to renegotiate the terms of your leave.

What the hell? Ali moved her chair back haphazardly and her knee rattled the table. Clearing her throat, she gave an apologetic shrug to a woman reading at a nearby table before turning her attention back to her laptop.

As you know, we have been exploring options to further expand our company's reach within the Asian markets. After the recent meeting of our board of directors, we have decided to prioritize this plan, and your success in closing several strategic deals in the region put your name at the top of the list of candidates to head our proposed Pacific Northwest office.

"Holy crap," Ali muttered under her breath. Her hands began to shake. So that's why this couldn't have been done through a phone message. He was offering her a promotion.

If this is something that would interest you, please get back to me at your earliest convenience. While our timeline is somewhat flexible, there is a Korean retail and manufacturers' conference in Seattle next week that would be an ideal opportunity to get your feet wet.