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evidence of their romp on the desk was gone. The pen holder was upright and full. Swallowing her disappointment, Sloane grabbed her things and headed home.

The drive was a haze. All she could do was relive their kiss over and over. It was as if Arwyn cracked open the locked door of her cage, releasing her from some prison. Sloane touched her lips. They still tingled, sending a jolt straight to her chest.

As she approached her house, Sloane furrowed her brow.

A large box-truck was parked across the three-car garage blocking her entry. Cautiously, Sloane stepped toward the double glass doors hanging open and followed the path of thick tarp taped to the floor to protect the marble.

“What’s this?” she asked one of two men in blue uniforms standing at the foot of the stairs with a mess of metal pieces and parts.

The one not squatting over the disassembled mess turned toward her. “Hi. We’re installing the chair lift.”

Sloane’s eyes widened. “Chair lift?”

“Yeah, it’s a device that allows a person in a wheelchair to go up and down the stairs—”

“I know what it is. I’m sorry. What I meant was, what’s it doing here? Who ordered it?”

The guy scratched his patchy beard before reaching for a bag of tools near the other man. After a little digging, he pulled out a tablet. “The order was placed by Fabiola Medina yesterday. Paid up front for the rush install too.”

Mom?

Sloane’s heart soared, but she maintained her composure.

“Do you need anything from me?”

“This will take a few hours because of the curve in the stairwell and electrical work, but when we’re done, we just need someone to sign o after we show them how it works.

The nurse said she wasn’t authorized.”

Sloane nodded, still shocked that her mother called them.

“I’ll be in the guest house out back. Just come grab me when you’re done.”

The guy smiled. “Great. Oh, and we took measurements for the ramp for the side door. No need to alter the front entrance.”

“Fantastic,” she replied, stunned by the sudden changes as she went to the kitchen to grab the techs something to drink.

When she was finished, she started toward the back, eager to shower and change. She didn’t make it beyond the slidin

g glass door before her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Despite herself, she hoped it was Arwyn. If odds could be trusted, it was probably her mother. It was always her mother. She was proud of her first steps, but she wanted to refresh and recharge before heading up to her.

Glancing at her phone, Sloane was surprised to be wrong.

On both counts.

Harper: Have a few minutes? Talked to Mom. Coming for Thanksgiving. Want to coordinate.

Sloane stared at the text, her eyes wide. Well, I’ll be damned. She hadn’t seen her sister in over a year. Harper certainly hadn’t given a shit about family functions before.

Does the sudden interest have something to do with the wheelchair lift being installed? Sloane accepted the gift for what it was.

Sloane: Free at 9.

As soon as Sloane stepped into the guest house, she stared at the luggage neatly piled in the corner of the living room. The black tower was a dark anomaly in the otherwise light room, a marred picture of modern coastal living.

Deciding it was time to get rid of some clutter, Sloane rolled one of the bags to the walk-in closet, empty of anything but her business attire, and propped it up on the luggage stand.