hair.â
âIâd have never been that brave, or inventive. Boy, it suits you, Rebecca. Andââ
âThe clothes?â Her smile widened. âThat was Europe, too. I had a crisis of style, so to speak. I was walking along the Left Bank and happened to catch a glimpse of this woman reflected in one of the shop windows. She looked like an unkempt scarecrow. Her hair was tangled and hanging down in her face, and she had on the most dreadful brown suit. I thought, Poor thing, to look like that in a city like this. And then I realized it was me.â
âYouâre too hard on yourself.â
âI was a mess,â Rebecca said firmly. âA cliché, the dowdy prodigy with a sharp brain and bad shoes. I walked into the nearest beauty salon, gave myself no time to think, to rationalize, to intellectualize, and threw myself on their mercy. Whoâd have thought a decent haircut could make such a difference to the way I felt? It seemed so shallow. I told myself that even when I walked out with several hundred dollarsâ worth of skin creams.â
She laughed at herself as she realized that, after all this time, she was still savoring that moment. âThen I realized that if appearances werenât important, it couldnât be a problem to present a good one.â
âThen Iâll say it again. You look wonderful.â Regan reached out for Rebeccaâs hands. âIn fact, since youâre happy with the change, Iâll be perfectly honest and tell you I wouldnât have recognized you. Youâre absolutely striking, and Iâm so glad to see you looking so fabulous.â
âI have to say this.â She gave Reganâs hands a hard squeeze. âRegan, you were my first real friend.â
âRebecca.â
âMy very first, the only person I was close to who didnât treat me like an oddity. Iâve wanted to tell you for a long time what that meant to me. What you meant to me. But even with you, I had a hard time getting that kind of thing out.â
âYouâre making me cry again,â Regan managed.
âThereâs more. I was so nervous coming here, worrying that the friendship, the connection, might not be the same. But it is. Hell.â Rebecca gave a lavish sniff. âGot any tissue?â
Regan dived into a diaper bag and pulled out a travel pack. She handed a tissue to Rebecca, used one herself. âIâm so happy,â she said, weeping.
âMe too.â
Â
Rebecca decided the rambling old stone house just outside of town suited Regan and Rafe MacKade perfectly. It had the rough, masculine charm of Rafe MacKade, and the style and feminine grace of Regan, all rolled into one.
She would have spotted Rafe as Shaneâs brother from a mile away with one eye closed, so powerful was the resemblance. So she wasnât surprised when he pulled her into his arms for a hard hug the moment he saw her.
Sheâd already gleaned that the MacKades liked women.
âReganâs been fretting and fussing for two weeks,â he told Rebecca over a glass of wine in the big, airy living room.
âI have not been fussing or fretting.â
Rafe smiled and, from his seat on the sofa, reached up to stroke his wifeâs hand as she sat on the arm near him. âShe polished everything twice, vacuumed up every dog hair.â He gave the golden retriever slumbering on the rug an affectionate nudge with his foot.
â Most of the dog hair,â Regan corrected.
âIâm flattered.â Rebecca jolted a little when Nate knocked over his building blocks and sent them scattering.
âAttaboy,â Rafe said mildly. âIf itâs not built right, just tear it down and start again.â
âDaddy. Come play.â
âItâs all in the foundation,â Rafe said as he got up and ranged himself on the floor with his son. They began to move blocks, Rafeâs big hands moving with
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley