EXCERPT

CHAPTER ONE

June

Far, far beyond the rainbow-hued neon lights of Portland, Sondra Michaels raised her sun-burnt face toward the lustrous starlit infinity. Time ceased while the coastal community of Infinity Point slept but she found no tranquility in the cool calmness of the night to sleep. She stood by the railing at the rocky cliff, and gazed out over the beach. A malicious enmity spread through her when she thought of Rob Clair. In his case, the old saying that the rich get richer and the poor get poorer proved true. Although he had innumerable business interests, his wealth accumulated from his vast holdings in real estate. He resided in Portland in luxury and elegant surroundings while her mother and she lived in poverty in the worthless resort inn he leased to her father. Her family believed that he did them the kind deed of buying and then selling their home in Salem. She thought him nothing more than a swindler.

Sondra breathed in the scented air as she counted to ten. She unclenched her fists when she glanced at her older sister, and then returned her gaze to the darkened ocean. "Is Mom sleeping?" she asked in a soft, silken voice.

"No thanks to you," Jill snapped in her lower pitched voice. "You know how much Mother thinks of the Clairs, and you slandered them when they have done more for them than you have, Doctor."

Sondra ignored the comment while she looked up toward the stars, mesmerized by the nightly show. She lowered her head when Jill informed her that she planned to leave. "You promised you'd stay with Mom while I--"

"Those damn lectures on cats and dogs mean more--"

Sondra found her control slipping. "You know that's not true."

"I'm glad to hear that." Sondra didn't need to see Jill's eyes to know they expressed pure dislike. "You can stay in this godforsaken place like the perfect daughter while I go to Seattle with my boss."

"Don't," Sondra choked out before she ran across highway 101 to the Inn with her tears falling like summer rain.

* * *

Bob Laird parked his Lamborghini in the underground garage. He quickly grabbed his suit jacket before he scrambled out of the low-slung black car. Cursing the time he wasted in bed with June Niven, he strode to the elevator tucking in his shirt as he went. He jabbed at the button with his index finger as he cursed at the elevator for making him wait. He knew his grandfather was cursing the morals of the younger generation. The wide metal doors finally separated and he bent his head out of long practice as he entered the cubicle. He pushed the button before he slipped on his jacket and straightened his tie. He rushed out onto the twelfth floor colliding with an imposing individual. Extremely late, he offered a hasty apology over his shoulder while he dashed down the hall. Passing his brother's office, he stopped before his father's office and glanced at his watch preparing himself for the lecture on punctuality.

Opening the door, he didn't have a chance for explanations before his grandfather began his speech. With a wink, and the offering of a glass of sparkling lemon-lime from his father, he sat trying to listen to his grandfather.

After they finished their business, the man he had just run into entered the office introducing himself as Paul Michaels, the company's design consultant.

* * *

The torrid day waned into late afternoon, and exhausted from her furious labor in the flower garden, Sondra stood in the kitchen. Washing the earth from her rough, scratched hands, she stared out the window as her mind winged its way to Portland. She missed her father and wished he would come home to answer her questions and to ease her worries over her mother's health. She feared her mother wasn't getting stronger day by day, and the doctor always hesitated when she questioned him. Why, she kept asking herself, but the only answers she received were the ones she answered herself. Almost daily, she wondered if she had done the right things, or if she had made any mistakes. Now, she thought, with her fate, she might as well have been stranded on a remote island. Then she would at least have hope for rescue. "Yes, dammit, I'm mad as hell. I wanted to see Mom's doctor plus attending the lectures."

"Are you too mad to let in an old man?" The familiar voice came from the direction of the back porch.

"Come on in, Doc," Sondra called out to him, "I'm harmless." She walked over to the refrigerator as Dr. King entered the kitchen. Pouring iced tea into two glasses, she placed one before her guest with a smile not quite reaching her eyes.

She took a chair across the table as he looked into her face heavily lined with the responsibilities that she carried proudly. At twenty-five to his fifty-five, she seemed emotionally young. She had just begun to explore life, and he finally agreed with his wife that she needed a young man to share her discoveries. However, it would have to be a man who understood her strong determination and satisfaction in her career. Sadly, Eddy, didn't seem to catch her eye when his godson needed a diversion from his blonde. "You want to talk about it?"

"It's nothing," Sondra replied, keeping her features deceptively composed. "I was just letting off steam. It's good for me, Doc."

"Other than you need to find a good man, I know what else is good for you," he replied warmly. "Carl is bringing over Margery to visit with Janette while you come over to our place for supper."

"I do have a wonderful man and I think you'll like Bob." Sondra sprang to her feet, and promised she wouldn't take long.

She left Doc to ponder, and to decide this was a horse of a different color. What he learned from the horse's mouth would make Eddy happy.