Birthright

either.”
    “Didn’t you?”
    “Nope.” He opened a drawer. “I didn’t leave it out because I wasn’t sure what the maid might make of it.”
    Lana stared as he pulled out a can of Boston baked beans. When he dropped it into her hand, grinned at her, her heart not only tripped, it fell with a splat.
    “That just tears it. I’m done in by a can of beans.” She pressed it against her heart and began to weep.
    “Oh Jesus, Lana, don’t cry. It was a joke.”
    “You sneaky son of a bitch. This was not going to happen to me.” She waved him away, opened her purse and pulled out a pack of travel tissues. “I knew I was in trouble when you stepped off the elevator. You got off, and when I saw you, my heart . . .”
    She tapped the silly can of beans against her breast. “My heart leaped. I haven’t felt that jolt since Steve. I never expected to feel it again. I thought, I hoped, that one day I’d find someone I could love. Someone I was comfortable with, who I could live with. But if I didn’t, that was all right. Because I’d had something so extraordinaryalready. I never believed I’d feel anything this strong again. Not for anyone. No, don’t say anything. Don’t.”
    She had to sit, steady herself. “I didn’t want to feel like this again. Not like this. Because when you do, there’s so much to lose. It would’ve been so much easier, so much easier if I could have loved you a little. If I could’ve been content and have known you’d be good to Ty. Good for him. That would’ve been enough.”
    “Somebody told me that you can’t live your life worrying about what could happen, or you miss what’s happening.”
    She sniffled. “Clever, aren’t you?”
    “Always have been. I will be good to Ty.” He sat beside her. “I’ll be good to you.”
    “I know it.” She laid a hand on his knee. “I can’t change Ty’s name. I can’t take that away from Steve.”
    Doug looked down at her hand. At the wedding ring she continued to wear. “Okay.”
    “But I’ll change mine.”
    He looked up, met her eyes. The flood of emotion was so huge, it almost swamped him. But he took her hand, the one that wore another man’s ring. “You know, this is starting to tick me off. First, you beat me to asking for a date, then you seduce me before I make my move. You follow me here. And now you propose to me.”
    “Is that your way of saying I’m pushy?”
    “No, I can just say you’re pushy. It’s my way of saying I’d like to ask you this time.”
    “Oh. Well, that’s all right then. Forget what I said.”
    He opened her hand, kissed her palm. “Marry me, Lana.”
    “I’d love to, Douglas.” She rested her head on his shoulder, sighed. “Let’s get this job done so we can go home.”
    T hey had a nice working rhythm, Lana decided as they drove to house number four. She imagined they looked like a very safe, all-American couple. Which was why those first three doors had opened to them so easily.
    When they found the right door, she doubted it would open quite so smoothly.
    “Lovely neighborhood,” she considered as they drove streets lined with big, well-tended homes, rolling lawns. The cars in the driveways were all late models.
    “Money,” he said.
    “Yes, money. She’d have that. And would probably be smart enough to spend it well, and discreetly. Nothing big and splashy to draw too much attention. Just quiet class. It should be coming up on your left.”
    It was a rosy old brick with a white veranda with flowering vines trailing up both sides to shield it from its neighbors. The drive was flanked by two tall magnolias. And in it sat a vintage Mercedes sedan in soft yellow.
    There was a realtor’s sign in the yard.
    “It’s on the market. Interesting. Pulling up stakes?” he considered. “Nobody but you and my family know we’re here, but somebody knew I was poking around in Boston.”
    “Mmm.” Lana played the angles in her head as he pulled to the side of the shady street. “If she’s in any way connected to what’s happening now, she’d know we’re pulling the threads. Relocating would be a natural step. And it certainly gives us a logical way inside.”
    “House hunting.”
    “The affluent and happy young couple, looking for their dream house.” She tossed her hair, then took out a tube of lipstick. Flipping down the vanity mirror on the visor, she applied it in smooth, meticulous strokes. “We’ll be the Beverlys—that’s my maiden name—from