Vaughn's head pounded and he slung back two aspirin, then called Nick for a ride to the lodge where he'd left his truck. Half an hour later, the doorbell rang and though Nick was early, Vaughn went to let him inside.:

Instead he had a shock waiting for him when he opened the door. Estelle stood on his front step with a bag from Cozy Cups in her hand.

His headache increased. "Hello, Mother. What brings you by?" Because Estelle's visits were few and far between. To come bearing food was even more unusual.

"I heard about the awful incident at the lodge. That dreadful man pulling a knife on poor Annabelle. She must be so shaken up. I came to see how she was doing. And I brought both of you breakfast." She offered him the bag, shifting from foot to foot, clearly as uncomfortable as he was with this surprising visit.

"Annabelle's gone." Certain Estelle hadn't planned to stay long, especially now that she knew he was the only one home, he didn't ask her to come in.

"Oh my, she went to work already? She's certainly made of strong stuff."

"Annabelle's gone back to New York." He ran a hand through his hair. He was exhausted and his mother was the last person he wanted to deal with at the moment. "Look, I don't know what your angle is or what you want with Annabelle, but she isn't here, so you can turn around and go home."

Estelle drew a visibly deep breath. "But you're here and I'd like to come in and share breakfast," she said, her voice trembling.

Vaughn narrowed his gaze. She wanted to have breakfast with him? "What's going on?"

She blinked. "Did Annabelle tell you we had coffee yesterday?"

He took the news like a punch in the gut. "No, she didn't. But we didn't have the chance to talk much." They'd done everything but talk.

And like a fool, he'd been ridiculously relieved at the notion. Yet he didn't miss the irony that Annabelle apparently talked in depth to his mother, a woman who'd never bothered to talk much to him at all.

Vaughn studied Estelle, really seeing her for the first time. She seemed more subdued, less uptight and arrogant than usual. What had caused the change, he didn't know but something made him step back and gesture for her to come inside.

Feeling awkward-he couldn't remember having breakfast with her as a teenager-he poured two glasses of orange juice, the only drink left in the house since Annabelle had never made it to the store. Then he sat down across from his mother.

"The fire changed a lot of things," Estelle said at last.

Vaughn raised an eyebrow but didn't reply.

"We-and I do mean we-panicked. Your father and I couldn't reach you by phone. He drove up to the lodge but you weren't there, either. At that point the firemen didn't know if you had been inside." She spoke, her voice low and subdued.

"I wasn't in town. Annabelle's firm threw a party and I was in Manhattan."

His mother nodded. "Annabelle told me. And I realized I didn't even have your cell phone number. What kind of mother am I?" She didn't meet his gaze.

Vaughn didn't know how to answer her question. "We don't understand each other, that much is a fact. And I'm not sure you ever bothered to try. Or to accept that I wasn't the kind of son you wanted."

The words burned the back of his throat but he forced himself to say them anyway. Not with hatred or anger this time, but as a means of baring his soul and maybe cleansing himself of the bad feelings he'd harbored for so long.

"That's all true,” she admitted, shocking him. "Your father had dedicated his life to academia and I'd dedicated my life to him. An athlete wasn't… didn't-"

"Fit into your plans," he finished for her. "Neither did a kid with a learning disability, but that's what I had. That's who I was," he continued, his voice rising as he spoke. "It's not a goddamn choice I made to make your lives more difficult." He slammed his hand against the tabletop and started to rise.

Then catching sight of his mother's glassy eyes and hearing Annabelle's voice in his head saying, give her a chance, he forced himself to remain seated.

"I was wrong," Estelle said. "We were wrong. We didn't know any better. I'm not making excuses, Brandon. Your father was raised that way by his father before him and you've seen where my parents came from. I was lucky to get out and not end up washing someone's toilets for a living like my mother did." She reached for a napkin and blotted her eyes. "But as I said, we were wrong and you paid the price. So did we, missing out on celebrating all your achievements and accomplishments because we had tunnel vision."

He pressed a hand to his pounding temples. "I don't suppose I made it any easier," he admitted. He'd been a pain-in-the-ass kid from the moment he'd realized he didn't understand school and never would.

Amazingly she laughed. "No, you didn't. But it wasn't your job to make our lives easier. It was ours to be more accepting. Now I'm not saying peace can come overnight or that we can all just wave a wand and forget the past and our differences, but I was hoping maybe we could try. You know, make a start toward trying to be a family."

Damn, but he just didn't know. Old habits were hard to break. Old resentments even harder.

"I don't know where to go from here," he admitted.

"I'm just glad we made a start." Rising, she offered him a tentative smile. "I'm glad I took Annabelle's advice."

Her words caught him up short. "What advice?"

Estelle shook her head. "Nothing specific. Just some words on how to bridge the gap between us. She's a very special woman, Brandon."

They hadn't discussed girls when he lived at home and he felt ridiculous starting now. Especially since he'd let this particular special woman walk out of his life without a word from him to try and stop her.

He started to lead Estelle to the door when he paused by the kitchen counter and scribbled on a sheet of notepaper.

"Before you go," he said, feeling more off-kilter than he could ever remember. "Take this."

She accepted the paper and looked at him questioningly.

"It's my cell phone number."

Her look of gratitude said it all.

THREE DAYS AFTER leaving Vaughn behind, Annabelle sat in her office sorting through a stack of messages and piles of important documents. For an hour, she tried to concentrate but thoughts of Vaughn and their time together continued to intrude. Missing him was enough to distract her but the thumping that had started from her uncle's office next door was driving her insane.

The entire atmosphere here had changed because, true to her word, Lola had packed up and gone, leaving The Hot Zone in the hands of temporary help. There never would be a good time for Lola to quit and without her presence, the office felt vacant and empty. At her desk sat the third temp in as many days. Competent or not, each woman had quit after one of Uncle Yank's yelling tantrums.

Another loud thump sounded from her uncle's office. Annabelle picked up the phone and buzzed for their new assistant but nobody answered. She tried Sophie next.

"What's up, Annie?"

'That's what I want to know. Can you come in here?'

Sophie entered the office seconds later and shut the door at the same time another loud, jolting sound came from next door.

"That!" Annabelle pointed to the wall adjoining her and Yank's office. "What the hell is going on in there?"

Since Lola's departure, which had coincided with Annabelle's return, Yank had been more out of sorts than usual and Annabelle had no intention of checking things out on her own.

Sophie shook her head. "You really don't want to know."

"Yes, I do. Just break it to me gently."

Before Sophie could explain, Annabelle's office door opened and Micki stormed inside. "I can't take it anymore!" she screamed.

Since Micki's office bordered Yank's on the other side, Annabelle didn't have to ask what her sister meant.

"Shut the door and join us," Sophie said, then turned back to Annabelle. "Uncle Yank is in his office and he's practicing."

"Practicing what?" Annabelle asked, wincing even before she heard the answer.

"Being blind. He's got a bandanna tied around his eyes and he's trying to see if he can navigate his office."

"Oh my God." Annabelle laid her head down on her desk and groaned. She raised her gaze and looked at her sisters. "Wait a minute. I've done Internet research on macular degeneration. There are some very promising treatments and it could be years before he has a serious vision problem. Am I right?"

"Completely correct," Sophie said. "In fact, he may retain much of his peripheral vision. Right now he's operating on pure fear."

Micki nodded. "Lola's leaving didn't help, not that I blame her. The man's impossible! I think we should keep him blindfolded until he admits he needs and loves Lola. Then he'll be reasonable again and we can deal with his eyesight and the future of the agency."

Annabelle rolled her eyes. "If only it were that simple," she murmured. "Sometimes a woman's love isn't enough. Sometimes a man hasn't been given the foundation to enable him to express his feelings in return."

Sophie cocked an eyebrow, then strode over to Annabelle's desk. Leaning down, she got right into Annabelle's face. "Are you talking about Uncle Yank or Brandon Vaughn?" she asked bluntly.

Annabelle dropped her head against her desk once more. "Argh!"

"She's talking about Vaughn," she heard Micki say.

Annabelle peeked up from above her folded arms. "I really blew it this time. Me, Miss I Can Handle Him Without Getting Attached'," she said wryly. "Not a chance."

"I'm sorry, sis." Sophie shot her a sympathetic glance. "Can I take that to mean you're over Randy, though?" she asked, her expression showing she cared just a little too much about Annabelle's response.