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“That should certainly impress them. Aren’t you going to tell them that the politicals in Vermont want you to run for Congress next time around?”
    â€œNaah, that sounds too much like bragging. People who live in Texas don’t care about Vermont, unless of course their maple syrup is slow in arriving. Let’s not mention it.”
    â€œI won’t, but I think it’s wonderful. The United States Congress!” Not for the world would Billie let Thad know the idea scared the daylights out of her. She didn’t want to live in a Washington fishbowl. And she didn’t want her husband compromising his principles, as she knew most politicians were forced to do eventually. But if it was what Thad wanted, she’d back him all the way.
    Thad was saved from replying. “We’re here.”
    Billie raised her eyes. There it was, the high wooden arch with the name Sunbridge emblazoned on it. Miles of white fencing stretched into the distance; tall oak trees arched over the winding drive; and behind them was an expanse of bright green lawn dotted with sprinklers pulsing rhythmically.
    Billie always felt as though she were traveling through a tunnel of dappled green. The drive ahead of them sparkled with reflected sunshine, and when they made the final turn, the house came into view.
    Thad braked the car, as much for himself as for Billie. Both of them sat for a moment, still captivated, still awed after all these years, at the sight of Sunbridge.
    Sitting upon a gently sloping rise, the great house basked beneath the blue Texas sky and was caressed by the sun. Billie had once thought that only here, in this place, could the sun seem so warm and golden. In Vermont, she’d learned the same sun was warmer, even more golden.
    The house was a three-story brick of the palest pink, flanked by two wings that were also three stories, but set back from the main body. This expanse of prairie rose was accented by white columns that supported the roof of a sweeping veranda. A multipaned fan light crested the huge double front door, and the design was replicated in miniature over each window on the top floor. Ornamental topiary trees and crape myrtle hugged the foundation, and surrounding the house was a magnificent rose garden complete with trellises and statuary.
    â€œIn the old days, Thad, this was called ‘a spread’—at least that’s what Seth called it. I can still hear him boasting, ‘Two hundred and fifty thousand acres of prime land!’”
    Thad laughed. “I can almost hear the old bastard. And to think that he built this all himself—the son of an itinerant sharecropper, a boy with no education, only good sense and a talent for ruthlessness.”
    â€œSunbridge,” Billie said softly. “It’s the perfect name for it. Even Jessica told me she was amazed by Seth’s poetic turn of thought when he named it. He always said he felt as though he could reach up and touch the sun from here. I never felt that way, but I’m sure Maggie does.”
    Thad reached over and slid the back of his hand down Billie’s silky cheek. “What say we get this show on the road, Mrs. Kingsley?”
    â€œSounds good to me!” Thad could always make the darkest moment bright again. God, she loved him.
    Â 
    Maggie stood beneath the portico, waiting. She’d felt lightheaded from the moment she’d heard the sound of a car coming up the drive. Who would arrive first? She strained to make out the passengers. Mam! And Thad! Thank God.
    The car had almost come to a stop when she realized Coleman wasn’t beside her. She’d called out to him on her way down the stairs, but he hadn’t followed her. No matter—there’d be time for Coleman later. Mam was here! Mam had come to visit her at Sunbridge.
    Billie was out of the car and up the steps, her arms outstretched. Thad watched from his position inside the car. He reached for one of