She did worry. She worried constantly, about everything, which was doubly stressful since Jack apparently worried about nothing. Including the fact that they hadn’t had sex since…since…Christmas?

The next morning Meg had hoped to be on the road by nine-thirty so she’d be at the airport well before Sarah’s flight landed, but she got a late start after discovering Jack Jr.’s baseball uniform hadn’t gotten washed after his Tuesday game.

Grimacing, she pulled the plastic cup from the jockstrap and stripped the belt from the pant loops before throwing the uniform into the washer and returning to the kitchen to scribble last-minute notes for Lindsay, the Friday sitter.

In the note, she reminded Lindsay that Jack Jr.—or JJ for short—had baseball, Gabi went to the stables either today or tomorrow, but not both, and Tessa needed to go to the dance store to pick up new tights and ballet shoes before Saturday’s four-hour rehearsal.

Meg chewed on the tip of her pen, wondering what she should leave out for dinner when her phone rang. It was Jack calling from his office in downtown Santa Rosa, where he worked in an older building (of course) not far from historic Railroad Square.

“How’s traffic?” he asked.

“I haven’t left yet,” she answered, glancing at her wristwatch and feeling a rush of panic, which only heightened her anxiety. Oh God, it was ten. She was late. Really late. “I was trying to figure out dinner—”

“I’ll order pizza.”

“But JJ’s uniform is in the wash. It needs to get moved to the dryer—”

“I’ll come home at lunch. Now go, and give your sisters and mom my love.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, Meg.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. See you Sunday. Have fun.”

Two

Traffic was light—probably because it was one of those stunningly beautiful days when the red Golden Gate Bridge popped against a wash of blue and green—and Meg made it to South San Francisco in less than an hour.

She was just a few miles north of the airport when she got a text from her youngest sister, Sarah, who was flying in from Tampa Bay via Atlanta, saying she’d landed and was heading to the curb in front of the baggage claim.

Meg spotted Sarah on the curb as she rounded the terminal corner. Tall, slender, and pretty, Sarah had always turned heads as a teenager, but she was even more beautiful at thirty-four. She still wore her hair long, with the addition of artful streaks in the golden-brown color, and managed to keep her body bikini perfect even after two kids with diligent workouts. But then, Sarah, like Meg, was disciplined.

Little wonder that the youngest Brennan had caught Boone Walker’s eye ten years ago when he was a first baseman for the Cincinnati Reds and in the Bay Area for a three-game series against the San Francisco Giants. Sarah had been wary of the baseball groupies in the beginning, but how did one say no to Boone? Six foot four, gorgeous, and ridiculously charismatic, Boone attracted attention wherever he went, even before people knew he was a major-league baseball player.

“How are you doing, hon?” Meg said, leaning across her white Lexus SUV to open the door for Sarah.

Sarah flashed a smile, showing perfect white teeth. She’d had her teeth done a couple years ago, the same year she’d had her boob job, taking her stunning looks to the next level. Meg liked Sarah’s teeth. She wasn’t sure about the implants.

“Fantastic, now that I’m here,” Sarah answered, opening the back door of the Lexus and dropping her suitcase and purse on the floor before climbing into the front passenger seat. “How are you?”

“Good. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”

Sarah shut her door and buckled her seat belt. “I was out here only a couple minutes and it felt good to stretch my legs. It was a longer flight than usual today. I guess there were pretty strong headwinds.”

“Turbulent?” Meg asked, shooting her a quick glance as she merged with airport traffic.

“Very.” Sarah rubbed her hands together. “You don’t know how happy I am to be here. Can’t wait to get to the beach house. I haven’t been since our last girls’ weekend.”

“You weren’t there for the Fourth?”

“No. Boone had just gone on the injured reserve list and I didn’t want to leave him.”

“How is Boone?”

“Great.”

“And the kids?”

“Wonderful, except for Ella not wanting me to go.”

Meg accelerated, changing lanes, preparing to enter 101 South to San Jose, where they’d take Highway 17 through the mountains to Santa Cruz. “She’s only four. It’s hard for them at that age for Mom to go.”

“I know.