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Mara’s blue eyes took in the entire situation, and she found that she had difficulty swallowing. June’s condition must be far worse than even Mara had realized.

“Are those the nerve pills that Dr. Bernard prescribed for you?” Mara asked. She poured herself a cup of coffee, and although she was already late, took the time to sit across from her mother-in-law, hoping to communicate with her.

“Yes,” June admitted, dusting the lapel of her moss-green jacket nervously. “Among others.”

Mara took a scalding sip of the dark liquid and observed June over the rim of her cup. Why did the older woman look so defeated? Just how ill was she? Mara scowled into the cup and then, in a soothing voice, tried to broach the painful subject again.

“June,” she reproached, “you would tell me if you were seriously ill, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course,” the gray-haired woman snapped, but she couldn’t find the strength to meet Mara’s concerned, intense gaze.

“And you would let me know if watching Angie was too much of a burden?”

“Yes, Mara, I would.” This time, watery blue eyes reached out to Mara and begged her to understand.

“But, this morning . . . because you didn’t sleep well . . . don’t you think Angie might be too much trouble for you?”

“Nonsense! She’s never any trouble for me! And . . . and . . . well, if I do get tired, today, Sylvia Reardon comes in to clean, doesn’t she . . . I’m sure she’d give me a hand.”

“Of course she would,” Mara agreed thoughtfully. June’s eyes pleaded with her, and Mara couldn’t find the heart to refuse. Putting her coffee cup down on the table, Mara rose and grabbed her purse. “You will call me, won’t you, if you need help. Shane’s in the office today. So, if you need me, I can run home . . .”

June’s smile seemed frozen on her face at the mention of Shane, and fleetingly Mara wondered if Dena had told her mother the truth. All during the drive into Asheville and for most of the morning, Mara was wrapped in worried thoughts about her mother-in-law. She stayed close to the telephone and waited in case June should need her.

It was late in the afternoon when Shane walked into her office. Although he had been in the building since early in the morning, he had been busy making sure that the computer was functioning properly and that the conversion of space in the factory for assembly of the new line of video games he hoped to promote was complete.

“I’m leaving for Atlanta,” he said after closing the door to her office and dropping into a chair opposite her desk. He folded his fingers under his chin and studied every emotion that traversed her face. “Are you coming with me?”

“For the weekend?” she asked, hedging. She had been writing on her memo pad, but she stopped doodling, and her blue eyes fastened on his.

“For the rest of your life.”

Mara took a deep swallow of air, let it out wearily and dropped her pen, before leaning back in her chair.

“You know that I want to Shane,” and she seemed as if she meant every word she breathed.

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“I just can’t . . . not yet.”

Shane’s jaw tightened, and his dark eyes promised that he would carry out his threats of the night before.

“I tried to talk to June this morning, but . . . I caught her taking some pills. And I’m very worried about her,” Mara explained.

“How can I make you understand that June Wilcox’s problems aren’t yours?” he asked. “And as for popping a few pills . . . don’t you ever read the papers. Drug addiction, whether it’s Valium, uppers, downers, whatever, isn’t confined to California. Lots of men and women, wealthy or not, use—”

“That’s not the way it is!” Mara shouted, interrupting him. Her tired nerves were stretched as tautly as a bow string. “She’s ill, for God’s sake!”

“Then she should see a doctor!”

“She will!”

“And until then, whenever it may be, I should content myself in the thought that it will probably be soon?” he inquired, disbelieving.

“It’s only a few more days . . .”

“You think! And what if your suspicions prove true? What if the doctors do find that there is something seriously wrong with June, what then? How long will you expect me to wait then?”

“I’m not asking for much,” she pleaded quietly, inching her chin upward in a show of dignity.