The Search

by Nora Roberts

and—Rosie was convinced—a rainy afternoon and a bottle of Pinot Noir. They hoped to repeat their success with a return visit to Orcas, and happily applied themselves to the mission at hand while their toddler slept with his beloved Wubby in the next room. It was too early in the day

her. “Who’s making them?” “Let the fates decide.” She scooted up, and in a long-standing Cauldwell family tradition they let the balance hang on Rock, Paper, Scissors—best two out of three. “Damn it,” she muttered when he crushed her scissors with his

hair back in a band. It was just being self-aware. She grabbed a sweatshirt and some flannel pants, glanced back at Devin, who’d gone back to snoozing. She really thought they’d hit the money shot.

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