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CHAPTER1
Flora Hays pushed her empty plate away and groaned. “You’ve got to stop cooking enough for an army, Grandma. My sisters are never home at night anymore. Dinner is almost always you and me.”
“A grandmother can always hope.” Iris smiled then stood up and started to clear the table. Iris was dressed in black slacks and her habitual burgundy cardigan, her salt-and-pepper hair short and curly. Her brown eyes were still bright and full of life. Her body, however, was slowing down. Arthritis had begun to fuse her joints, making her hands and feet painful to use. Flora did everything she could to lessen her grandmother’s responsibilities, but Iris was stubborn and proud. They were characteristics shared by most of the members of the Hays family. “I miss sitting down with all three of you.” Iris glanced at Flora as she added, “I miss your mother. Yesterday was her birthday and it hit me especially hard this year.”
“Oh, Grandma, I’m sorry. I was so busy I didn’t realize.” Flora skirted the table and wrapped her arms around Iris. It had been five and a half years since Autumn Hays had died, but the pain still lingered. “We all miss her, probably always will.”
Flora was closer to her grandmother than she had been to her mother. She always had been. Autumn had been devastated by the loss of her husband when she’d packed up her three daughters and moved back in with Iris. Autumn had withdrawn emotionally from everyone, so Iris had offered the traumatized preschoolers love and support. She did what she could for Autumn as well, but Autumn was a ghost of the woman she had been in her youth. The girls had been too young to fully understand what was happening. All they knew was that Daddy was gone and Mommy was sad all the time.
Images in a photo album were all that Flora had of her father. He had been a soldier who’d died in a war her mother didn’t believe in. Flora would love to know more, but Iris had barely known the man and Autumn had insisted that talking about him was too painful. Flora’s birth certificate said she’d been born in Michigan, but she didn’t have clear memories of anywhere but this modest three-bedroom house in Juneau, Alaska.
Following her grandmother’s example, she carried the nearly full stew pot to the nearest counter then opened a nearby cupboard and took out a large storage container.
“Raina had to work tonight, but where is Aspen?” With a grandmother named Iris and a mother named Autumn, Flora wasn’t surprised that she and her sisters all had names derived from nature. She’d seen people roll their eyes in response to the collection of names, but she thought the tradition was charming.
“Aspen is out with whatshisname again.” Iris frowned and handed Flora a zipper bag for the leftover biscuits. “That boy has no ambition and even less common sense. She needs to take this more seriously.”
Whatshisname’s name was Bill, and Flora agreed with her grandmother. Aspen could do better. Of course, dating prospects were limited in Juneau. The city was large by Alaska’s standards, but a large portion of the population was tourists, many of whom got off cruise ships in the morning and sailed away at sunset.
Juneau residents loved to complain about the tourists, but the city’s economy was heavily dependent on them. All three Hays daughters would not have jobs if it weren’t for tourism. Aspen worked for a ‘whale watching’ tour company. Raina was a waitress in a restaurant walking distance from the ships. And Flora worked at a novelty shop selling T-shirts and souvenirs.
“Aspen is just passing time,” Flora assured her grandmother as she rinsed out the bowls and placed them in the dishwasher. “They both know it’s not serious.”
“And what about you, young lady? When are you going to find a nice young man and settle down?”
Flora winced. The problem was she wasn’t attracted to ‘nice’ young men. She knew steady and dependable equaled a happy marriage much more often than dark and dangerous. Unfortunately, the only men who had ever gotten her heart racing were consummate bad boys. The sort of men who featured prominently in the dreams she’d been having for the past few weeks.
The first dream had been surreal, a non-distinctive blending of impression and sensation. She’d felt restless when she woke up, but she hadn’t remembered anything specific about the dream. The second dream was more focused. She hadn’t been able to see her lovers, but she knew there had been more than one. The dreams had grown longer and more detailed every night since. She could never see her lovers’ faces, but she knew their scents, the texture of their skin, and the fullness of their long, hard cocks thrusting into her trembling body at the same time. Just thinking about it made her shiver and ache. She had never even flirted with the idea of going to bed with two men, but her subconscious was having a field day with the idea.
“I know that look,” Iris scolded. “Your mother was a wild child too. Nothing good ever comes from running after trouble.”
“I’m not running after anything,” Flora argued. “I’ve just had some unusual dreams lately.”
The color drained from her grandmother’s face and she turned off the water. “What sort of dreams?”
“The sort you don’t talk about with your grandmother.”
Iris started to say something then shook her head. “If the dreams persist, I want you to tell me. Have you had any other symptoms?”
“Symptoms? Since when are sexy dreams a symptom of anything other than sexual deprivation? It’s been almost a year since I broke up with Jeff. I think it’s time for me to dust off my dating profile.”
“No, it’s time for you to find a husband,” Iris stressed as she turned back to the sink. “You just turned twenty-five. I’d already had my first child by that age.”
Thank God social standards had changed. Being in a stable relationship would be wonderful, but she was not ready for kids. “I have a few years left before my dotage, Grandma.” Flora took the wet stew pot from Iris and dried it off.
“Why did you end it with Jeff?” Iris persisted. “I liked him, which is more than I can say for most of the boys your sisters bring home.”
Flora set down the pot and leaned back against the counter, studying her grandmother. Iris had been acting strangely for the past few weeks and Flora wasn’t sure why. “All right, Grandma, spit it out. Why are you suddenly so focused on our social lives? You always took a hands-off approach before.”
Iris looked at her then glanced away, fidgeting like a guilty child. “There is safety and security in a permanent relationship.”
She understood security, but why safety? “Are you ready for an empty nest? Is that what this is about? You gave up your independence when you invited Mom to move back in. And your responsibilities tripled when she died, leaving you three teenage girls to raise. We would all understand if you’d had enough.”
“That is not what this is about,” Iris assured her. “This is your home. I would be devastated if all three of you move out. I simply want—”
Thunder reverberated all around them, the sound so loud that it shook the house.
“Holy crap.” Flora ran to the window and pulled back the bright yellow curtains. “Did a tree just fall on a house or something?”
