Laura Toivo stopped by her assistant's desk before she went home to change. "Cindy, are the reservations for tonight's dinner meeting set for eight o'clock?"

"They are." Cindy, at twenty-six, was five years Laura's junior, but every bit as hungry for success. "Close the Albert-son deal and you'll get promoted to senior sales exec."

Laura drummed a pencil against her lips. Everyone knew she'd thrown her name in the hat. She wanted to move up. A promotion might be hers if she succeeded. After years of proving herself, it boiled down to the outcome of tonight's meeting. "That's what I'm hoping for."

Closing a deal was the sweetest side of sales. When everything clicked, it was like celebrating a lucrative marriage—one she hoped to make happen with Albertson Manufacturing.

Not that she knew anything about marriage. Once upon a time, she'd longed for a husband, house and kids. But that was before she'd had a taste of domestic life. After a brief engagement fraught with tension due to her fiancé's young daughter, Laura had had enough. Or rather, her fiancé did by breaking it off nine months ago.

Laura scanned her list of cell phone messages. Too many to follow up on tonight. She rolled her shoulders to stretch out the knot of tension that had become a permanent fixture in the middle of her back. There was only one person she could count on. Herself.

"Laura? Anthony from corporate is on line three," Cindy said.

The knot pulled tighter. Speaking of her ex-fiancé… "I'll take it at my desk."

Stepping into her gunmetal-gray cubicle, Laura slipped off her headset and picked up her phone. "Hey, Anthony."

"I knew you'd be working late." His voice was soft, but carried a hint of regret. Or maybe it was condemnation.

"I heard you've got a big deal going with a plastics company. Keep it up, you're getting noticed."

"Thanks." Laura traced the buttons of her phone with her fingertip.

"I called because…well, I'm getting married."

Laura closed her eyes. He'd set a speed record, even for a rebound relationship.

"Aren't you going to congratulate me?"

"Congratulations." Her well wishes sounded dull. Lifeless.

"She's Brooke's teacher. You'd like her."

Brooke was Anthony's obnoxious seven-year-old. Laura couldn't please the girl no matter what she did or didn't do. Obviously, the kid had bonded with her teacher. So had Anthony.

She spotted her direct line blinking and jumped at the chance to end the sensation of her heart bleeding all over her desk. "I'm happy for you, Anthony, really I am, but I've got another call."

She heard him sigh. How many times had he accused her of putting work first? When he'd made her choose between work and him, work always won. Work didn't hurt her. "Take care, okay?"

"You, too." She connected with the other line. "Laura Toivo."

"Laura, you have to come home, your mother's had a stroke." Her aunt's frantic voice rang through the phone.

"How bad?"

"We don't know yet, honey. She's in ICU. She needs you. We both do."

"I'll be there as soon as I can." Laura stared through the glass partition at Cindy.

Laura had to make that meeting. Her mom was hospitalized, surely a few hours wouldn't change anything. But what if a few hours was all the time her mother had left? She'd regret it the rest of her life if she didn't see her mom one more time.

What if—

Panic coiled in her gut, making Laura sick.

Cindy poked her head into Laura's cubicle. "Everything okay?"

"Call Mr. Albertson and postpone my dinner plans. I've got to go to Michigan. It's my mom—I've got to go home."

It was late when Laura pushed open the door to her mom's hospital room. Stepping closer, she stared at the frail-looking woman lying in a bed surrounded by monitoring machines. The stroke had aged her mother, making her look older than her seventy-four years.

If Laura were a good daughter, she would have visited more often. But she wasn't a good daughter. She was an only child who'd never figured out how to please her mom.

Her mother's eyelids fluttered. "Is that you, Laura?"

"How are you feeling?" Her whisper came out sounding choked.

"My left side is nummmm." Her words slurred. She opened only one eye, the other lid drooping.

"I know." It wasn't easy seeing half her mother's face immobile.

"Have you eaten anything? I can get you something," Laura asked. Did they feed stroke patients?

"Too much trouble." Her mom's thick slur held a trace of stubborn martyrdom.

Laura knew if she went out of her way to bring food, it would sit untouched and uneaten. With a sigh, she peered out the window at the shiny black water of the Portage River. It'd be crammed with boats lapping up the last days of summer come daylight.

"Are you home to stay?"

Laura fiddled with the buckle to her purse. Pressure. Whether she closed a deal, tried to make a relationship work or please her mom, the pressure built and simmered, never finding release. "People depend on me. It's not easy to get away."

"You're too thin."

"I can't cook like you do." Laura pulled a chair closer to the bed. How long did they keep a person with a stroke? She'd left a message for her sales manager that she needed family leave.

"Your hair looks lighter."

"I just had it done." Laura threaded her fingers through her highlighted blond bob. Looking like she hadn't worked hard this summer was a sure sign of success, wasn't it?

After hours of sitting beside her mother, watching her sleep, the door opened. Her mother's only sibling and younger sister, Nelda, entered with a fresh-cut bouquet of flowers in her perfectly manicured hands.

"Good, you're finally here." Aunt Nelda gave Laura one of her pointed glares—as if driving through the night from Wisconsin was not enough. Married to a man who'd once been an actor off Broadway, her aunt dressed like she was headed to Hollywood instead of the local Wal-Mart.

"How's Anna?" Aunt Nelda kissed her sister's forehead.

"A little weak," Laura's mom whispered, her slur worse.

Aunt Nelda pinned Laura with another stern look. "You're lucky your mother and I were shopping in Houghton when she had her stroke. There's no telling what might have happened had she been home alone."

Like she needed more guilt. Laura rubbed her aching head.

"I need coffee. Do either of you want anything?" "I'll meet you in the cafeteria in a few minutes." Aunt Nelda wanted to talk, but it was a conversation Laura didn't look forward to.

Twenty minutes later, Aunt Nelda sat down across from Laura. "Sweetie, you look beat up."

Laura cradled her mug of coffee and shrugged.

Aunt Nelda patted her arm. "I'm sorry, are you okay?"

"I'm working on it." Laura cringed. She'd sounded too much like her mom.

"How long are you home for?"

"I don't know, a couple weeks?" Laura lived in Madison, Wisconsin. It was six hours south from her mother's hospital room in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, but it might as well have been halfway across the country.

Aunt Nelda fetched a mug and a fresh carafe of coffee. "What if you need more time?"

Laura stared at nothing in particular.

"Laura," Aunt Nelda scolded softly, "your mother needs you. It's not like she has other kids to lean on. Nancy and I visit when we can, but your mom's going to need constant care."

Laura avoided her aunt's gaze.

"What if you moved back home?"

Laura straightened. "I spent my whole life trying to stay out of Mom's way, get away from the U.P., and make something of myself. Moving back is the last resort."

Aunt Nelda shook her head, making her drop earrings bounce against her neck. "Why?"

"Because I'm on the verge of a big promotion. There's no need to jump to conclusions just yet."

"Strokes at your mother's age are serious, no matter how mild the damage," her aunt whispered.

"What am I supposed to do? Uproot my whole life and make us both miserable? Mom doesn't want me here. She never has."

Aunt Nelda sighed.

"I've suggested she move near me."

Aunt Nelda stirred sugar into her coffee. "Your mother will never leave that house. I know, I've offered for her to live with Ed and me. I'm sorry to be so hard on you, but you're all she's got."

Her cousin Nancy's three young children were no doubt part of the reason Laura's mom wouldn't think of living with Aunt Nelda and Uncle Ed. Her aunt had her hands full watching her grandkids while her divorced daughter worked full-time.

"I could hire someone to come in," Laura said.

"Who's going to pay for that?"

"Me."

"I didn't think you were doing that well."

With that promotion…

Laura had homework to do. Her mother's insurance might not cover home visits. She'd have to borrow against her 401K, or maybe her condo. Either way, she'd figure it out.

"What about selling the barn with half the acreage?" Aunt Nelda said.

"Daddy's barn?"

Aunt Nelda brightened, clicking her hot pink fingernails on the table. "Why not? It's not doing anyone any good sitting there empty. You might get a good price for it."

"Do you think Mom will agree?""

"She doesn't have much of a choice." Aunt Nelda rubbed Laura's forearm. "Go home and get some sleep. I'll call my friend who's a Realtor and see what she thinks."

Laura stretched when she stood. Aunt Nelda's idea was a good one. She needed her mom's agreement to make it work, but then real estate didn't move fast in the UP. They had time.

She gave her aunt a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Aunt Nelda."

Her aunt looked surprised. "It'll work out, Laura. You'll see."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Jack Stahl threw his hands up with disgust.

"Didn't you get my letter?"

Jack clamped his mouth shut before he said something he'd regret. "No, Carl, no letter."

"I know we agreed for you to rent month by month, but I had to sell the place. My wife took the kids to live with her parents in Saint Ignace. I closed last week."

Their agreement had been verbal, and Jack could have kicked himself. What had he been thinking not to call and confirm his plans? He reached out and squeezed the guy's shoulder. "I'll find another place. I'm sorry about your wife."

"Thanks, man." Carl looked away. "Life stinks, doesn't it?"

"Sometimes." Jack scanned the fields surrounding Carl's house. They were in the middle of nowhere with only a few other homes along the road, and those were miles apart.

"Do you know of any other houses for rent in the area? My daughter, Angie, starts school in a couple of weeks and I'll be working nearby."

Carl shrugged. "There's a real estate office at the corner before you hit town. They might be able to help. They found me a small place just north of here."

"Thanks." Jack collected the boxes he'd left a few months ago—cleaning stuff and a few tools.

He thanked God he'd found out about this situation, before the movers showed up this weekend. A lucky stop after dropping off his son, Ben, at Michigan Tech. The past six months, he'd put his life in order to move. He'd been so sure, and now…

He backed out of the driveway and headed toward his motel room. It was too late to stop by the real estate office. He ran a hand through his hair. Being both mom and dad to his daughter, Angie, was becoming impossible for both of them. He couldn't get anything right.

It'd been a rough couple of years since his wife, Joanne, had died. They might not have had the kind of relationship that inspired love sonnets, but she'd been the ground wire in the family. Joanne had kept them connected, involved in church and the community. Too late, he'd realized how much of his time and attention he'd denied her. Working around the clock to buy into a lucrative vet practice at the expense of his family was a lesson learned too late. He couldn't make up for lost time, but a better future waited.

If he could just find another house.

Jack pulled off the road and rubbed his eyes. It had been so easy with Ben, but he didn't have a clue how to reach his daughter. Forcing this move had pushed her further away.

With a defeated sigh, he bowed his head. "Dear God, I'm in way over my head. Show me where to go from here."

The low hum of locusts and the wind swishing cornstalks in the field next to him was interrupted by a new noise. The grind of a motor sounded in the distance. Looking across the road, Jack spotted an attractive blonde astride a riding lawn mower.

He surveyed the two-story house in need of paint and a hundred feet to the right was a large barn with a stone foundation, also in need of some fixing up. His heart pounded as he stared at the sign posted in the front yard: Barn With Apartment And Twenty Acres For Sale.

Jack got out and walked across the street to get a better look. He tried not to gawk at the woman on the mower, as he signaled with waving arms and then pointed at the sign. He had to know more.

She drove the mower toward him.

Squinting against the glare of a late afternoon sun, he scoped the view of Lake Superior shimmering like a strip of blue tinsel on the horizon. He took a deep breath, wiped his hands on the bottom of his shirt and moved forward. The closer she got, the slower he walked. She was tall, lean and tan. She looked like one of those beach volleyball players he'd seen on cable. All he had to do was sound intelligent and not stare.

The woman carried herself with an air of professionalism that was at odds with the neglected property. She gave him a cheeky grin and extended her hand. "I'm Laura. Wanna buy it?"

He gave her a firm handshake. "Jack."

She quickly let go and slipped her hands into the back pockets of her denim shorts. Her cell phone hung from a holder clipped to her waist.

"Is it just the barn and not the house?" He kicked at a stone with the toe of his boot. "I'm in the process of relocating and the house I had rented was sold."

"Wow, that's a tough one."

"Yeah." He glanced at her.

She squinted, too, her hand shielding her eyes. "Sorry, but it's just the barn. There's an attached apartment, though. Take a look around."

"You wouldn't mind?" Jack had his reservations, but he might as well check it out. If nothing else, he'd met a pretty woman who'd brightened an otherwise frustrating day.

"If you don't mind me finishing the lawn. Go on in, the door's open."

"Perfect," he said.

Her expression changed as if it just dawned on her that she was alone in the sticks with a pretty good-sized stranger.

Jack gave her an encouraging nod. He might be tongue-tied, but he didn't pose a threat. Crossing the driveway, he stepped into the barn and flicked on a light switch to a single bare bulb hanging over a workshop area. A few old bales of hay lay stacked in a corner and dust covered everything.

Nosing around, he found a ladder leading to a lower level.