"Mr. Stempel?"

Aaron glanced up from his evening meal to find his housekeeper hovering in the doorway. "Yes, Marie?"

"Sorry to bother you, sir, but there's someone who wishes to speak with you. Says it's urgent."

"Who is it?"

"I don't know, sir. But he's a most insistent young man."

Aaron sighed and threw his napkin on the table. "Show him in, Marie. The sooner I send him on his way, the sooner I can get back to enjoying my meal." The housekeeper curtsied and quickly ushered the visitor into the formal dining room. "You can close the door behind you," Aaron instructed her, and as the pocket doors slid into place, Aaron surveyed the visitor with interest. The clothes were rough, but they weren't worn or even travel-stained. "What can I do for you, Mr.—?"

"Miss," Jonah said, and whipped off her hat with a flourish. "Miss Jonah Bolt at your service, sir."

If she had had any reservations about her reception from Aaron, they were dispelled within an instant as he leapt up from his chair and hugged her. "My God, I can't believe it! Is it really you?"

"You mean you haven't heard about the prodigal sister's return?" she asked, a twinkle in her eyes.

"I came right here from the sawmill. It's been a hectic day. Sit!" He poured her some wine and rang the bell on the table. The housekeeper responded promptly, and if she was surprised to see that the "he" was a "she" she was too well-trained to show it. "Marie, prepare another plate for our guest."

A few minutes later Jonah was attacking the delicious chicken cordon bleu with gusto, fortifying herself for the long trip ahead of her, as a grinning Aaron looked on.

"You still have the best appetite I've ever seen."

"And you still set the finest table in Seattle," she said, and looked around, taking in the sparkling crystal, gleaming china, and the general splendor of the dining room with its floor to ceiling windows and sumptuous yellow silk-covered walls. "But only the best for Aaron Stempel, right?"

"As always," he said, and raised his wine glass to her in a toast. "Welcome home, Jonah. It's been far too long."

She toasted him back with a sad smile. "And it'll be far too short a visit, I'm afraid. I'm on my way again in the morning." In response to his puzzled look, she set out the events of her flight from San Francisco, ending with the tumultuous scene at Lottie's.

Aaron swore under his breath. Typical behavior on Jason's part, though he didn't voice this to Jonah, who had always worshipped her oldest brother as a god. Always so damned sure of himself, so stiff-necked that he could throw away the greatest gift that had ever been given to him because of stubborn pride.

"And how did you know you wouldn't get the same reception from me?" he asked. "You hurt us all when you left like that, Jonah."

She flushed slightly. "I realize that, and I'm sorry, truly sorry for what I did." Her chin jutted out stubbornly. "But I'd do it again if I had to."

Aaron swallowed a laugh. Pure Bolt, through and through. Always so sure they were right.

"And as for knowing I wouldn't get the same reception from you—well, I wasn't all that sure. But I took a chance, based on our friendship. You're a fair man, Aaron, and somewhat more removed from the situation than Jason and Joshua are. I just figured you'd give me the benefit of the doubt."

"Plus, you've always been able to bend me around your little finger," he admitted, and they both laughed.

But he had never told her or anyone else in Seattle why that was so. His past was a closely guarded secret for two reasons: he didn't want to be an object of pity, and it would always be too painful for him to discuss.

Aaron Stempel was the son of immigrants who settled on New York's lower East Side. Through dint of backbreaking work, he parlayed his father's ragpicking business into a successful clothing factory. So successful was it that he finally felt confident enough to marry and start family. His bride, Leah Sommer, a former seamstress in his shop, had been bold enough to complain about an tyrannical manager. He had investigated the man and when the claim turned out to be true, had fired him. Within a year he and Leah had married, and a year after that she had given birth to their first child, Rebecca.

But tragedy struck when Rebecca was two. A typhus outbreak entered the city like a thief in the night, and it soon struck Leah, who was six months pregnant with their second child, and Rebecca shortly thereafter. A frantic Aaron literally got down on his knees to beg the city's most respected physician to treat his family, but the man gave him the brutal truth: he just wasn't rich enough. There were others with far more wealth who ranked far ahead of him. Though Aaron was quickly able to secure the services of another physician, it was too late. Leah and Rebecca died within hours of each other.

Devastated, Aaron sold the business and decided to move as far away from New York and its bitter memories as possible. His business savvy told him lumber would be needed to supply the hungry demands of an expanding country, and he opted for the Pacific Northwest, in particular Seattle, where a retiring owner was looking to sell his sawmill business. The remoteness of the place suited the brooding Aaron just fine. For him there would be no family, just business. He had learned a bitter lesson; no matter how much money you had it would never be enough. So he closed off his heart and looked to profit instead.

Within a short time he had gained a reputation as an exceedingly tough but honest businessman. But his goal was to be the number one businessman in Seattle, which in his mind translated to being the number one citizen. However, he kept butting heads with another man who seemed to come by everything effortlessly: Jason Bolt. He had thought he'd be able to best the man after his father's untimely death and the burden of raising his brothers and infant sister, but he quickly learned that his rival thrived on challenges. In time, though Aaron would never admit as much to Bolt, he had come to respect him.

But it was his little sister Jonah who made the biggest impact on Aaron's life, stealing her way into his heart. He had purposely tried to avoid children, another reason why Seattle, with its lack of families, attracted him, but she wouldn't be put off. She was four when she was allowed to wander the town by herself, and she made Aaron's office at the sawmill one of her regular stops. She would have been just a little younger than his Rebecca, and though he tried hard to resist her, her dimpled rosebud face and big blue eyes proved irresistible. Undeterred by his stand-offishness, she would climb up in his lap and demand to know what he was doing. So he started to teach her how to keep the books, and was amazed when she picked up on everything very quickly.

But the real breakthrough had come one day when she asked him, with that forthrightness so typical of children, why he was always so sad. No matter how much he denied it, she wouldn't believe him.

"Your eyes are sad!" she insisted. "I think it's because you don't have any friends."

"I'm too busy to make friends," he replied evasively, but she wouldn't be put off.

"I'll be your friend!"

And so she had, despite his best efforts to deter her. She would bring him presents, often things she found in the woods that she considered pretty like bunches of pine cones or wildflowers, and within a short amount of time he made a graceful surrender to the little girl, looking forward to her daily visits, and eventually supplementing the education she was receiving from Miss Essie through his vast library. Though that wasn't to say their friendship was without its friction. Her first loyalty was always to Jason and her brothers, and when he pulled a business maneuver she considered unfair, he would instantly hear about it.

"Strictly business, Jonah!" he defended himself, and she would stamp out of his office in a huff. But she would always come back eventually.

Until one day, when without a word to anyone, she had left Seattle forever.

"So you still won't tell me why you left," he said as Marie brought in the dessert of vanilla ice cream topped with warm cherries.

"Strictly business, Aaron," she said mysteriously, and he laughed as he threw up his hands in defeat.

"Touché," he congratulated her.

"Speaking of business, Aaron, I have a proposition. I've decided to go far away from Seattle—" When he began to protest, she held up a hand to silence him. "Please hear me through before you say anything. I discovered earlier tonight that it was a mistake to come back to Seattle. Too many bridges have been burned, and they can't be rebuilt. So I've decided to go East, as far away from Seattle as I can without leaving the country."

The irony of her decision wasn't lost on Aaron, who had made a similar decision twenty years earlier. "You won't be happy there, Jonah. Not after growing up in Seattle. It's too settled, too boring there for you."

Her chin jutted out in that stubborn way he knew so well. "I've made up my mind. I can't be happy here, so I might as well take myself so far away I won't be tempted to come back and disrupt people's lives."

He gave in with a weary nod of his head. "If I can't talk you out of it, I'll help you in any way I can."

She smiled gratefully. "I knew I could depend on you. Mind you, now, it's not a handout I'm asking for. It's a loan. I'll pay you back, with interest, as soon as I secure a position."

"And just what do you intend to do?"

She shrugged. "Work as a governess or a teacher. God knows I'm more than qualified after all those finishing schools my grandmother made me attend."

"Typical Bolt arrogance," he teased. "You expect to just waltz into a city's high society and secure a plum position for yourself?"

"Not at all. I'll have a reference from Mr. Aaron Stempel. You once said you had extensive contacts back East—New York, if I remember correctly."

Aaron grinned. The little minx's ears were as sharp as her memory. "You do."

"Will you?"

"Do I have a choice? You'd eventally wear me down."

She scooped up a spoonful of ice cream and savored its cold velvet smoothness on her tongue. "It's too bad I can't guarantee the loan against my share of Bridal Veil Mountain, but I know that's tied up."

"Strictly business, Jonah," Aaron said as he shifted in his chair uncomfortably. "Jason needed money to bring the brides to Seattle. No brides, no loggers. The business was at risk either way. I offered him a fair deal and he took it."

Her spoon fell into the nearly empty dish with a clatter. "You? You hold the mountain as debt surety? For how long?"

"Held is actually the proper term. It was for a year. If any bride left or was deemed unmarriageable a year from the date they landed in Seattle, Bridal Veil Mountain would go to me. There were a few times I thought I almost had it, but Jason, as usual, always seemed to work a miracle at the last minute." He paused, realizing she had a strange look on her face.

"Are you all right, Jonah? You're not angry with me? I told you—"

"I know, Aaron. It was strictly business." Her temper was rising, and she fought hard to keep it under control. Damn her grandmother! That lying snake of a woman! She felt sick to her stomach at how she had been used. Forcing a smile, she said, "I have to get an early start in the morning. Do you mind if I use your guestroom?"

"Not at all. I'll write your letter of reference tonight and get the money from the safe." Reaching across the table, he squeezed her hand affectionately. "I wish you'd reconsider."

"I wish I could," she said sadly.

In the morning Jonah took a little used trail out of town so as to avoid possibly running into Jason and Joshua, whom she was sure would be just returning from their search. Reaching a small crest, she reined in Jeremy's horse. Taking one long, last look at her beloved Seattle, she blew a kiss toward the little town.

"I'll miss you all so much," she whispered in a choked voice, before turning and riding off resolutely into the bright light of the dawning day.