Her secret was safe, Lily Miller reminded herself again as
she stared past the sea of mourners to the casket. A crack
of thunder sounded overhead and clouds darkened the
Eastwick skyline, causing the mid-May temperatures to dip
below the fifty-degree mark.
"Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust," the minister began. Tears
welled in Lily's eyes and she reached into her coat pocket
to retrieve a tissue. Dabbing at her eyes, she thought of
the woman she had come to mourn — Lucinda "Bunny" Baldwin,
the darling of Eastwick, Connecticut, society, the editor
of the titillating Eastwick Social Diary and the woman
who, oddly enough, had been her friend. How was it
possible that she was dead, the victim of a heart attack
at age fifty-two?
Lily thought back to the last time she had seen Bunny —
only two days ago. She had been so vibrant, all excited
about some juicy new tidbit of gossip that, no doubt,
would have appeared in one of her upcoming issues of the
Diary.
"We commend the soul of our sister, Lucinda, to You,
Lord," the minister continued.
Guilt tugged at Lily as she remembered Bunny's knowing
looks during the past few months. It had been because of
those knowing looks that Lily had tried to avoid crossing
paths with the other woman for weeks now. But two days ago
her luck had run out. Bunny had arrived early for the
Eastwick Cares board meeting and she had been unable to
avoid her any longer. When Bunny had started to question
her about the night of the black-and-white ball, she'd
realized that Bunny had figured out the truth, that she
knew her secret. Lily had even feared that it was her
secret that Bunny planned to expose in the pages of the
Diary. She had been prepared to beg Bunny not to say or
print anything, only she'd never gotten the chance. The
other board members of Eastwick Cares had begun to arrive
and she'd been forced to leave or risk being seen by Jack
Cartwright. Yet, as she'd hurried away, she had wished for
some way to ensure Bunny's silence — at least until she
could decide what to do.
Be careful what you wish for.
The old adage popped into Lily's head. She had gotten her
wish. She had wanted Bunny's silence and now she had it.
Her secret was safe. But at what cost? Overwhelmed by
feelings of guilt, Lily squeezed her eyes shut for a
moment.
"May she live on in Your presence, O Lord," the minister
prayed.
Opening her eyes, Lily focused her attention once again on
the minister and the service being conducted at the front
of the gravesite. "In Your mercy and love, forgive
whatever sins she may have committed..."
Lily shifted her gaze to the woman standing to the minis-
ter's right, quietly crying into her handkerchief. She
recognized her immediately — Abby Talbot, Bunny's
daughter. She noted the tall, intense-looking man with his
arm around Abby and assumed it was Abby's husband, Luke.
She had never met the man, but according to Bunny he
traveled a great deal, something that had bothered Bunny.
Lily studied Abby. Though she had met her only once, she
had liked the other woman. In truth, she had been taken
aback by the pretty blond socialite's warmth. She hadn't
expected someone of Abby Talbot's social standing to be so
welcoming to someone who lacked not only money and a
pedigree, but any family whatsoever. Yet, Abby had treated
her as an equal. A wave of compassion engulfed Lily as she
witnessed the young woman's grief. She'd known from
Bunny's comments that the two of them had been close. She
couldn't even begin to imagine Abby's pain at losing her
mother so suddenly.
Thinking ofAbby's loss brought home her own. She had lost
a friend. While she and Bunny might not have been bosom
buddies, and while she had never understood the older
woman's penchant for gossip, the two of them had been
friends.And that friendship had been born out of their
shared desire to help the underprivileged. Bunny had been
fervent in her support of Eastwick Cares with both her
time and her money.
But she hadn't limited her generosity to those who fell
under the umbrella of the non-profit agency on whose board
she served. No, Bunny had extended that generosity to
Lily. She had treated her with kindness, and not just as
an employee of Eastwick Cares. In many ways, she'd treated
her almost like a daughter or, at the very least, a
special friend. No one else had ever come closer to making
Lily feel like a fairytale princess. Certainly not when
she'd been a child shuffling in and out of the foster-care
system. Then again, she hadn't exactly believed in fairy
tales, Santa Claus or the tooth fairy. By the age of six,
she had learned that life wasn't anything like the fairy
tales. And while most of the families who took her in were
kind, she wasn't a part of their family. She didn't
belong. She never had. It was a lesson she'd learned
quickly. As a result, she had never expected things like
fancy clothes or party dresses. Those were for dreamers
and silly young girls. She had never been either of those
things.
But for some inexplicable reason Bunny Baldwin had been
determined to have the grown-up Lily Miller experience the
fantasy she'd never known as a girl — attending a party
all dressed up in a beautiful gown and feeling as though
she belonged. Bunny hadn't chosen just any party. She'd
chosen Eastwick Cares'major fund-raiser — the black-and-
white ball.
As if it had been only yesterday, Lily's thoughts drifted
back to that day last December when Bunny had marched into
her office and proclaimed that she had to attend the ball.
All Lily's protests had fallen on deaf ears. Bunny had
insisted that her employment as a counselor for the agency
required she be there to assist at the event. That had
obviously been one of Bunny's white lies — as Lily had
discovered within ten minutes of her arrival at the ball.
For some reason, Bunny Baldwin had cast herself in the
role of fairy godmother to Lily's Cinderella. It was the
only explanation for the society doyenne tricking her into
attending the event and even presenting her with an
elegant gown to wear. Oh, Bunny had claimed the dress was
something that she'd found in the back of her closet. But
she had recognized the quality of the beautiful black
gown, Lily admitted, though it wasn't until she was in the
powder room the evening of the ball that she had learned
from one of the other women that the gown she was wearing
was a vintage Dior.
Another bellow of thunder sounded overhead, jarring Lily
from her memories. As the weather continued to
deteriorate, Lily huddled in her coat and instinctively
placed a hand on her stomach. She should leave now, she
told herself. She had already taken a risk just by going
to the church, she reasoned. Why push her luck? Every
member of Eastwick society had turned out to pay their
respects. And the Cartwright family certainly ranked among
the city's elite. No doubt Jack Cart-wright had been there
among the hundreds of mourners who had filled the church.
For all she knew, he was among the small throng who had
gathered at the cemetery for the burial. So far, she had
managed to avoid him. But what if he saw her? What if Jack
recognized her as the mystery woman he had slept with the
night of the ball?
Even now, more than five months after the masked ball, she
couldn't believe her behavior had been so out of
character. But then, she had hardly been herself that
evening, Lily reminded herself. Just thinking about that
day and how great her expectations had been when she'd
awakened that morning sent another pang of disappointment
through her.
She should have known better than to get her hopes up. If
she had learned nothing else in her twenty-seven years it
was never to expect something simply because she wanted
it. Doing so had proven time and again to be a surefire
path to disappointment. Yet, she had done just that. She
had been so sure that this time it would be different. The
detective she'd hired finally had a solid lead. She had
believed that at long last she would have the answers
she'd been searching for most of her life — who she was,
where had she come from, why had she been left at the
church all those years ago. Most importantly, she had
believed she would finally know the identity of the woman
whose soft voice and gentle hands were the only memories
she had of her origins.
Only the lead hadn't panned out. She hadn't learned
anything more about who she was or why she had been
abandoned in the church with only a note saying her name
was Lily and a gold locket around her neck. Lily reached
for the locket that, once more, was on a chain around her
neck. She closed her fingers around it and felt the
familiar sting of disappointment. She had been more than
disappointed that night. She had been devastated. Hitting
another dead end when she'd believed she was so close had
left her reeling.
She should never had gone to the ball that night — not in
the emotional state she'd been in, Lily realized with the
wisdom that comes with hindsight. But she hadn't wanted to
disappoint Bunny after she had gone to the trouble of
providing her with the gown. Nor had Lily wanted to
jeopardize her job by failing to show up. So she had gone —
only to discover she wasn't needed after all. Then, just
when she had been about to leave, he was standing in front
of her — the tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed stranger —
asking her to dance. She had needed something, anything to
block out the ache that consumed her. And once she was in
his arms, all the pain, all the anguish of disappointment
had faded.
There had been only him. The strength of his arms. The
warmth of his smile. The feel of his mouth on hers. For
one night, she had ceased to be sensible, dependable,
predictable Lily Miller who had never done anything
remotely reckless in her life. For one night, she had
allowed herself to experience passion instead of just
reading about it. For one night, she had followed her
heart instead of her head. And because she had, she was
pregnant and expecting Jack Cartwright's child.
"Grant her eternal rest, O Lord..."
Shaking off the memory, Lily took a breath, then released
it. She scanned the faces of those gathered. Not
surprisingly, many of them were familiar — members of
Eastwick society, local dignitaries and politicians. Quite
a few of them she'd met through her position at Eastwick
Cares. Others she knew from the news or social columns.
Then she saw him — the tall, dark-haired man standing two
rows back from the minister. Her pulse quickened. Even
without seeing his face, she knew from the set of his
broad shoulders and the conservative cut of his hair that
it was Jack Cartwright.
Of course, she hadn't known it was him at the ball. If she
had known that the dashing man with the Tom Cruise smile
behind the mask was the newest nominee to the Eastwick
Cares board, she might have refused his request to dance.
She certainly never would have accepted the key to his
hotel room. But she hadn't known it was him. Or maybe she
hadn't wanted to know. She'd wanted to believe that
wearing masks and not exchanging names meant that she
could steal those hours of happiness without consequences.
She had been wrong.
Yet, she didn't regret what had happened, Lily admitted.
How could she when the result was that she was going to
have a baby? Smoothing a hand over her stomach, she felt a
flutter of excitement as she realized that in just under
four months, she would be able to hold her baby in her
arms. She wanted this child, had from the moment she'd
discovered she was pregnant. After being alone all these
years, she was finally going to have a family.
You are loved, my baby. You are wanted. You will always be
loved. You will always belong.
Silently, she repeated the vows she had made to her unborn
child the moment she had learned the baby was growing
inside her. And as much as she already loved her child,
she struggled once again with her decision to remain
silent.
Was she doing the right thing by not telling Jack he was
going to be a father? she wondered. But how was she
supposed to tell one of Eastwick's wealthiest and most
sought-after bachelors that the stranger he'd spent one
night with was pregnant with his child? The answer eluded
her — just as it had for nearly five months now.
Or was she simply avoiding the answer rather than risk
rejection? She could handle rejection, Lily told herself.
But her baby...her baby was another story. She didn't want
her child, even at this stage in his or her life, to be
unwanted.
As though sensing her gaze, Jack turned and looked in her
direction. He scanned the crowd of mourners as though
searching for someone and then his eyes met hers. For the
space of a heartbeat, she couldn't move. She simply stared
into those blue eyes. Suddenly his eyes darkened,
narrowed, and she realized he had recognized her.
"May her soul and the souls of all the faithfully departed
rest in peace...."
Lily didn't wait for the minister to finish, she simply
turned and fled.