Chapter 3: PART ONE

"Bailey?"

Bailey George turned and looked across the busy lobby of Casa Blanca Resort and Spa to see Lacey Walker, the owner, threading her way through the crowd. She stopped and waited for her. In the past few years, especially since Lacey's architect husband had taken her son, Michael, under his wing, the women had become close friends.

"Hey, Lacey. What's up?"

"Whew!" Lacey juggled the large box she was holding. "We're really rocking this week. Just checking to make sure everything was set up the way you wanted and the menus are okay."

"It's fine. Are you kidding?" Bailey laughed. "Everything is perfect, just as it always is."

Lacey winked. "We want to be sure we're taking good care of one of our favorite law firms. We're just thrilled to have you here."

As one of the junior partners in Blake, Rothbart and Padilla, it had become Baily's responsibility to plan the partners' annual retreat. A few years ago, she and senior partner Warren Blake agreed that the retreats did a lot to create bonding with the young associates in a non-office setting. This was their fifth one, but their first at Casa Blanca.

"I'm just so happy we became friends so I could bring everyone to this fabulous place," Bailey told her. "By the way, that's some fancy villa you put me up in. You could have saved that for one of your high-profile guests."

"Don't be ridiculous. You are a high-profile guest. You're still having cocktails before dinner tonight, right?"

Bailey nodded. "That's the plan."

"And that's why you have that villa. There's a huge patio out by the pool. I thought it would be a great place for drinks and hors d'oeuvres. The crew will be over about four to set things up. And they won't have to disturb you if you're inside. They'll just go in by the pool door, if that's okay."

"That's fine. I probably won't get back there much before then myself."

"Well, holler if you need anything. We live to serve. I'd better get these folders to the office before I drop them. Oh, and let's have coffee Sunday so you can tell me all about how it went."

"Will do."

Lacey hurried off through the lobby, nodding and smiling to everyone as she passed them. Bailey was always amazed by her. The woman was a marvel. She never got ruffled, even with the resort to run as well as its ancillary businesses to keep track of, like Barefoot Brides. Not to mention a teenage daughter and a little boy. Bailey treasured the friendship that had developed between them.

Funny how things sometimes worked out. She had gone home to have the baby, home to her parents who were completely supportive and nonjudgmental, thank the lord. They had helped with the baby while she went back to school until she'd completed both her undergrad and law degrees. Then she'd gone to visit a friend in Fort Myers, met Warren Blake at a dinner party, and the rest, as she was fond of saying, was history. She supposed, geographically, she was as far away from Zack Wallace as she could get.

Michael had chosen to attend the University of Michigan, citing the excellence of its college of architecture. However, he made it plain he wanted to stay around the Fort Myers-Naples area after graduation. He applied for the position of architectural intern, a licensing requirement, with local firms, and then the perfect situation came up. Clay Walker, Lacey's husband, was an architect looking for help, and a mutual friend put the two of them together.

"He doesn't want to get real big, Mom," Michael had told her, excited at the prospect. "In a situation like this, I'll get to do a lot more than I would in a larger firm."

And that's the way it had worked out. Clay was a great teacher, and Michael was a terrific learner. Bailey was monumentally proud of him.

Clay had invited them to dinner at the resort so Lacey could meet them, and the bond was created. That was a year ago, and Bailey had lobbied hard since then to have the retreat at Barefoot Bay. Naples had great resort hotels they'd used before, but this was something different, with a little bit of everything mixed together.

"Let's make sure everyone understands we aren't there just to play," Warren had warned her but grinned when he said it.

Heading down toward the meeting rooms, she bumped into Clay.

"How's it going, Bailey." He gave her a one-armed hug, the other one wrapped around rolls of blueprints.

"Great, Clay. Everyone's very happy with their accommodations, and dinner last night was an epicurean delight."

He chuckled. "Be sure to tell that to Ian."

Ian Browning was the chef in Junonia, the resort's excellent restaurant. Bailey didn't think she'd ever eaten anything as good as the meals he prepared.

"I will," she assured him. "Hope that son of mine is behaving himself."

Clay had started to walk away, but he turned back.

"Bailey, that kid is pure genius. He has a feel for things, a sense of what works and doesn't, all the while working the measurements flawlessly. I'm going to do everything I can to keep him when this internship is over."

"I don't think you'll have to do much. He loves working for you."

"Good to know. Okay, see you later."

Bailey continued on down the hall to where the event and meeting rooms were. She wanted to make sure the room she'd chosen was set up properly for the morning's session. She and Warren had decided to try to make this as informal as possible but still have enough structure to get the work done. The firm was thinking about making some changes, and she also wanted to look into new ways of doing old things.

I have a good life. A really good life. Great career. Outstanding son. Yup. Good life, all right.

If every so often her heart ached just a little, well, she pushed the feeling away in a hurry. No regrets, she always told herself, even if sometimes, late at night, she whispered to herself, Liar.

She was standing at the back of the meeting room, taking a long look at the setup when Warren Blake walked in, carrying coffee in two of the resort's very fancy go cups.

"Everything's looking good, Bailey." He smiled as he handed her one of the cups. "As usual."

She laughed. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

"I'll remember that." His face sobered. "Seriously, I looked over the agenda, and you've done a great job mixing business with playtime. Not too many people realize the downtime is as important to creating a cohesive organization as training."

"You wanted to create an environment where people, especially the junior partners, would feel relaxed and free enough to throw new ideas on the table."

"And it looks like that's what we've got here." He cocked his head. "You've been with the firm for, what, fifteen years now?"

"Eighteen," she correct. "But who's counting?" Warren Blake knew to the day exactly how long she'd been with the firm, so what was the deal here?

"Eighteen. Right." He sipped his coffee. "Just checking to make sure you knew how long it's been."

"You thinking of firing me?" she teased, even as a tiny bit of tension raced through her. No, that wouldn't be happening. Would it? Not at this retreat, which he was praising her about before it even got started.

"Hell, no. You kidding me? Smartest thing I ever did was hire you. Look at the list of corporate clients you've pulled in, and it just keeps growing."

"I still remember when you invited me to interview with you. I don't think the ink was even dry on my diploma. I still wonder why you did it."

He shrugged. "I saw talent and intelligence and a spark not a lot of people have. I was sure if you went back home, you'd hook up with another firm and I'd miss my chance." He winked. "I still worry someone smarter than I am will steal you away."

"That's not happening, so you can quit worrying."

She had found a great home at Blake, Rothbart and Padilla, a place that filled the empty spaces in her life Michael didn't occupy. Ninety percent of the time, she was extremely happy with her life. She had risen to junior partner at the firm, and she could not ask for a better son than Michael. Good-looking, smart, responsible even when he was very young. If there was a thorn in their relationship, it was his unwavering desire to learn who his father was and find him.

"Maybe if he met me," he said over and over, "he'd like me and want to acknowledge me."

"I guarantee he would love you and be proud of you," she always reassured him. "But please accept when I tell you he took a direction in life that didn't allow for a wife and baby. He was a very good man, Michael, but, sometimes, life puts roadblocks in your way. There were just reasons I could not tell him about you."

"Is that what I was?" he'd asked, unable to hide the hurt on his face. "A roadblock?"

"Oh, no, honey. That's not what I meant." When he was little, she could cuddle him in her arms and soothe away the hurt, but as he grew older, he shied away from that. "Please trust me that I had a good reason for not telling him."

"Why won't you at least tell me his name?" he demanded over and over. "And don't say because."

His question always gave her a stomachache. "Let me just tell you it's complicated, and ask that you trust me. We're doing okay, right? Aren't we?"

That would put a halt to the discussion for the moment but it always came up again.

She watched him walk away toward the lobby. He'd be spending the day out on the water with the water with Nate Ivory, one of the hotshot millionaires who lived on the island and owned, among other things, the local minor league baseball team. Warren's roster of friends and clients could have come straight from Forbes, but Bailey knew he'd worked very hard to accumulate it. On top of that, he was a really good guy.

Which made her wonder what his comment about her number of years at the firm was all about. Warren's steel-trap mind never forgot any facts, no matter how small. Oh, well. She gave a mental shrug and pulled up a document on her tablet. She walked the room slowly, checking off each item, making sure the staff at Casa Blanca had placed things where she asked.

Warren had wanted her to shake things up, make this a different kind of retreat, and that's what she had done. She just hoped everyone didn't think she was nuts. Satisfied at last, she headed off to find Jocelyn Bloom Palmer who ran the spa. She decided she'd take Warren up on his offer and get herself signed up for the full treatment.