"Stay so busy all the time. You were a workaholic before your vacation, but since you've been back, you're going all the time. To be honest, I'm starting to worry about you."
Few people would have been able to tell that Spring's smile was forced. She devoutly hoped that Kelsey wasn't one of those people. "Why in the world would you worry about me? I'm doing fine."
Rich brown eyes studied her face with an intensity that almost made Spring squirm. "I don't know what it is," Kelsey said finally, "but something's been different about you ever since you got back from visiting your sister. I've asked you repeatedly if anything happened while you were away, but you always shrug off my questions. Are you sure you don't want to talk to me about anything?"
"Kelsey, when did you become such a worrier? Haven't I always been able to take care of myself?"
"You're not going to talk about it, are you?"
Deliberately avoiding those searching eyes, Spring shrugged. "I don't know about you, but I'm ready to see what's in those packages. Deferred gratification is all very well, but it's time for birthday presents."
"You can be a real pain sometimes, Spring Reed," Kelsey muttered, but her attention had already strayed to the tantalizing birthday presents. She might be close to twenty-seven, but Kelsey Rayford did love presents—even if they were someone else's, as Spring knew very well.
"I'll open yours first." Spring reached for the colorful package that Kelsey had brought in earlier and tugged at the ribbon. The box opened to reveal a sheer, lace-trimmed nightgown in swirls of pastels. "Kelsey, thank you. It's lovely."
"It'll look great on you. I'm hoping it'll give you the incentive to find someone special to wear it for."
Avoiding her friend's mischievous grin, Spring began to open the box from Florida. She reflected somberly that it was a good thing she enjoyed wearing pretty nightgowns just for herself; she had no plans to wear the garment for anyone else. She couldn't imagine being that close again to any man but—
No. She wouldn't even think about him. She ripped the paper from Autumn's gift with unnecessary force, then laughed when she opened it and saw a heavy-duty lavender plastic case fitted with a set of tools—hammer, screwdrivers, pliers, wrenches, tape measure. A woman's tool kit. How typically Autumn. Defiantly functional, yet somehow feminine. "Now this will come in handy."
"You must have told Autumn that you're thinking of buying a house. You won't have a manager then to take care of repairs for you."
"I've discussed it with her. She agreed that it would be a good investment."
Kelsey looked around Spring's rose-and-cream apartment, carefully decorated with Victorian antiques and reproductions, and sighed. "I don't know how you could even think of giving up this place. It's so beautiful and you don't have to worry about lawns and plumbing and peeling paint."
Spring shrugged. "I like it here, but I've always wanted to own my own house. Don't ask why; it's just a personal whim. Besides, these furnishings are mine. My house would look a lot like this."
"True. Open the others."
Amused at Kelsey's child
like excitement, Spring obliged, tearing the paper off a package from the West Coast to reveal a large, flat box. Her breath caught in her throat when she lifted layers of tissue paper to reveal a painting. The painting. The one she'd seen in the boutique in Sausalito of the intricately depicted Victorian house surrounded by flowers, with just a suggestion of San Francisco Bay in the background.
Oh, Summer, why?
"Spring, it's beautiful! It goes perfectly with all your things. Gosh, look at the detail of that house. It's— Spring, what's the matter? Don't you like it?"
Spring cleared her throat and blinked, pushing her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose as she pasted on a smile and looked at Kelsey. "Of course I like it. I saw it in an art gallery in Sausalito and fell in love with it then. I was just...touched that Summer and Derek bought it for me."
"Oh." Kelsey frowned, still watching Spring closely, obviously suspecting that she hadn't been told the entire story.
Spring hadn't cried since she'd returned from California. Not that she hadn't wanted to, but she couldn't. The pain was too deep for tears. She refused to cry now. Tossing her head, she lifted the smaller package, barely looking at it as she fought to hold on to her enthusiasm for her birthday presents. She pushed at her glasses again and smoothed back a curl that had escaped from her prim roll of hair. She'd worn her hair up every day for the past two months.
"Oh!" The delicate gold bracelet was exquisite, engraved with an old-fashioned pattern of birds and flowers. It could have come straight from the early 1800s. It suited her perfectly. From her parents? Spring lifted the small white card enclosed in the box, read the four words written on it and dropped it with a strangled cry.
Happy birthday, sweet Spring.
"Oh, no," she whispered, her body curling inward and her eyes closing with the pain. "Oh, Clay, why?"
She'd tried so hard not to think of him. She'd stayed busy, kept her mind occupied. And it had worked—during the days, at least. Only during the nights had he haunted her. Endless, empty nights filled with laughing eyes, lazy, bright smiles, thick golden hair. A deep breath, and she could imagine herself in his arms, held close to his pounding heart as he loved her with a hungry tenderness that had surpassed any fantasy she'd ever had. And then she'd open her eyes and she'd be alone. But she hadn't cried.
She still regretted their quarrel. Though she could understand now that the argument had been the result of their precarious emotions regarding their impending separation, she wished they could have parted on better terms. They'd said some terrible, hurtful things to each other. She hoped that someday he could forgive her, as she had already forgiven him. And it seemed that he had. But it still hurt.
If only she knew how to get over him. Would there ever come a time when she could think about him without this horrible pain? When spotting a tall blond male in a crowd would not cause her heart to stop? When she'd stop thinking of amusing incidents she'd like to share with him? She had tried; God, she had tried. And she still loved him. Just as she always would.
"Spring? Spring, are you all right?" Kelsey's voice came from unexpected proximity.