But—and this was an important but—if Ethan went on about his dislike and disapproval of Emma too much, he was going to lose Lyle, and he might be bitchy but he wasn’t stupid.

 Emma stood outside the shop and took a deep breath before walking through the door. And of course, who should be behind the counter but Ethan. “Well, Emma, I see you made it,” he said as though it took effort to be kind.

 “Yes, thank you,” she answered carefully.

 “Rough journey?” Ethan surprised her by asking.

 “In every way,” she said.

 “Well, there you are,” Lyle said as he came from the back and rushed over to embrace her. “Would you like a cup of coffee or something before we head over to Penny’s house?”

 She shook her head. “I parked down the block in the only available space. I’d like to get going—I have a lot to do.”

 “Sure,” he said. He turned to Ethan. “I’m going to give Em a hand, visit with Penny a little. I’ll probably grab something to eat with them. I won’t be late.”

 Ethan lifted his chin and sniffed, but his reply was perfectly appropriate. “I think I’ll drop in on Nora and Ed. Sounds like a good night to get a little uncle time.”

 “Excellent. Give them my love.”

 Then, hand on her elbow, Lyle escorted her out of the shop. “I’m parked right here. I’ll drive you down to your car,” he said.

 “Oh, please, no,” she said, laughing. “My butt hurts so bad, I hate to even get back in the car. I’m going to walk—it’s only a block. And I have a cooler with some drinks for us. Listen, I don’t want to...” She tilted her head toward the store. “I don’t want to cause any friction. If you’ll just get me to the house and introduce me to your friend, I can manage from there.”

 “No worries, Emma. I explained to Ethan days ago that I was going to lend a hand when you got here.” He chuckled. “He was very adult about it. It’s time for him to pay his sister a visit anyway. They live a mile away and Ethan doesn’t visit as often as he should. I think I visit more than he does—we have a gorgeous niece. He can go over there and complain about me and my stubborn ways. Besides, I want to make sure you’re all right.”

 She smiled at him with gratitude. “I might never be all right again,” she said. “All I want right now is a little quiet and anonymity.”

 “Have you heard from Rosemary?” he asked.

 “I did her the courtesy of emailing her that I’d be moving to a small bungalow in Sebastopol and told her I could be reached through you. I don’t even trust her enough to give her my new cell number—I bet she’d sell it to the press. I take it you haven’t heard from her?” He shook his head and this came as no surprise. Rosemary had been in touch when she thought Richard was rich and powerful; after his fall from grace, she behaved as if she didn’t know him. “We haven’t made amends. She wasn’t exactly supportive.”

 “Your sisters should be helping you now,” he said.

 They had never done anything to help her. “We’ve never been that kind of family,” she said. Indeed, they weren’t family at all.

 “I can relate,” Lyle said.

 Emma knew Lyle had always had a hard time with his father, but at least his mother adored him. She gave his upper arm a squeeze. “Well, you’ve saved my life here. I’d be lost without this little place you found.”

 “It found me. Penny is elderly, but don’t use that word around her. She’s what we’d call spry. Almost eighty and still walking three miles a day, gardening and playing the occasional game of tennis. But the problem with living forever, the money thins out eventually.”

 “And she knows everything?” Emma asked.

 He nodded. “As you wished. She said, ‘We’ve all hooked up with the wrong person here and there, poor girl.’ This little bungalow is a sort of guesthouse, a casita, though her house, the main house, isn’t that much bigger. Prepare yourself, it’s all quite small. She doesn’t need a keeper. No care involved. But a little bit of rent will probably help you both.” He shook his head. “I don’t know that you’ve ever lived in anything this simple, Em. It’s old, musty, small and tacky.”

 “You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to it.”

 * * *

 The guesthouse was actually a remodeled freestanding garage with a wall and large picture window where the doors once were. The window looked out onto a pleasant tree-lined street. It was a tiny, two-room bungalow with a small bathroom and galley kitchen. A patio separated the guesthouse from Penelope Pennington’s two-bedroom house. “And of course you’re welcome to use the patio at any time,” Penny assured her. “And if you ever have any serious cooking to do, feel free to borrow my kitchen.”

 It was an attractive little arrangement. Penny had the driveway removed years before and now there was a carport and storage unit. In front of both little houses and on either side of the driveway and carport were two small patches of grass, shrubs, trees and flowers. From the patio one could reach Emma’s little abode on the right or Penny’s on the left. A tall, white fence with a gate bordered the property.

 It took less than half an hour to unload Emma’s small car. There wasn’t much furniture in the bungalow—a bed and bureau, a small table and two chairs, a couple of lamps, a small sofa and two armchairs. She had her own bedding and kitchenware. She found the guesthouse quaint and cozy. Her boxes and suitcases had yet to be unpacked, but she didn’t care. Lyle went off to a nearby market to get dinner, bringing Penny and Emma a huge Greek salad, some hummus, flatbread and a bottle of wine. They had their dinner at Penny’s, sitting around her little dining table, and Emma loved her at once.