It was a homemade mix, and written on the silvery disc in purple Sharpie, in a woman’s handwriting, was, “Merry Christmas, baby. Think of me, cuz I’m thinking of you.”

Annajane felt the blood drain from her face. Her hands were shaking so hard she had to pull the SUV onto the shoulder of the road. She sat there for five minutes, staring at the CD, considering the implications.

Think of me? Who was the me? The owner of the purple Sharpie? Eva? The Maxi-Mart exec? Was it Eva who’d made the mix of love songs? She bit her lip so hard it drew blood. Was this inevitable? After all, Mason was a competitor. He had to win, at any cost. And if it took sleeping with a sexy woman like Eva in order to close the deal, would he say no?

Would he?

Somehow, she pulled herself together and drove on to the country club. She managed to direct the workers who were loading up the sound equipment onto a truck for return to the rental company. She stayed until she was satisfied that the club’s ballroom had been restored to its formerly pristine condition. Annajane was walking out the front door of the club when her mother-in-law arrived with her two best friends, Martha and Corinne.

“Oh good, Annajane dear,” Sallie exclaimed, clutching her arm. “You’re just the girl we need. We can have a nice lunch, and then, since Gaynelle has a cold, you can make up our fourth for bridge.”

Annajane couldn’t remember Sallie ever inviting her to join her foursome before, and she could not think of anything she’d rather do less. “I can’t,” she blurted. “I’m awful at bridge. And … Mason is expecting me back at the house.”

But Sallie had insisted she stay for lunch with her friends, refusing to take no for an answer. Annajane managed to choke down just enough of the green salad and crab bisque to persuade her mother-in-law that she was all right. Finally, after an agonizing hour, she’d begged to be excused.

When she got back to the cottage, her Acura was parked in the same spot it had been that morning. Mason was sitting in the living room, dressed in faded jeans and his favorite raggedy Penn sweatshirt, watching a football game.

Without a word, she tossed the CD at him, bouncing it off his chest.

“Ow,” he’d said, more surprised than angry. “What the hell is this?”

“You tell me,” Annajane said, planting herself directly in front of the television. “It was in your car this morning. Interesting song selection.”

Mason turned the CD from one side to the other. “It’s not mine,” he said. He tossed it aside. “Do you mind? Carolina is driving the ball.”

Annajane picked the CD up and held it up. “Oh really? Not yours? But it looks like it’s got a message for you. ‘Merry Christmas, Baby. Think of me, cuz I’m thinking of you?’ In a woman’s handwriting? Purple Sharpie? Sound familiar?”

Mason shook his head. “Still not mine. Have we got anything to eat?”

“So you’re telling me an alien broke into your car and planted a CD of love songs there?” Annajane repeated.

Finally, she had his attention. He looked up at her, his blue eyes narrowed. “What I am telling you is I’m hungry. Also, that is not my CD.”

She thrust the CD into his hands. “Whose handwriting is this? Are you telling me it’s not that Eva woman’s?”

He took the CD and examined it. “I suppose it could be hers. I don’t really know. Or care. And I don’t get why you’re getting so worked up about this.”

“I’m worked up because you came home nine hours late last night,” Annajane said. “And when I got in your car this morning, I found this CD. Are you trying to tell me you weren’t with that woman?”

“Hell, yeah, I was with her,” Mason said, standing now. “I told you, we finalized the Maxi-Mart deal last night. Dad and I took Eva and the others to dinner at the Ritz-Carlton around eight to celebrate. It was business, Annajane. That’s what I do. I sell cherry soda. We ran into some people she knew at the restaurant, and we had to invite them to join us at the table, and by the time we got the check and got out of there, it was after ten, and there was a truck overturned on I-85. You know what the weather was like last night. We’re lucky we got home when we did.”

“It was two in the morning! Are you sure you and Eva didn’t slip upstairs to her room while you were at the Ritz?” She hurled the words at him, blind with anger.

He stared. “Did you really just say that? Did you accuse me of having an affair?”

“Aren’t you?’

“Have I ever lied to you, Annajane?” Mason’s voice was level, which was infuriating. “Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me?”

“What about last night?” she ignored his first question. “It was the company Christmas party. You were supposed to be there! Everybody was expecting you. I was expecting you. Do you know how humiliated I was? I worked my ass off putting that party together. For you. And your family and the company. But you didn’t even call. If you went to dinner at eight, you knew there was no way you’d be back in Passcoe. But you didn’t even call to let me know?”

He shrugged. “Okay, my bad. I should have called. But Dad was with me. And we had Eva and the Maxi-Mart folks with us, and everybody wanted to head out and celebrate. I would have looked like a wuss if I’d begged off. What was I gonna say? ‘Hey y’all, I can’t go to dinner. I gotta call my wife.’”

“And that’s worse?” Annajane asked. “Than letting me down? Breaking a promise to your wife?”

Mason was still holding the remote control. He tossed it onto the chair where he’d been sitting. “Okay. This is ridiculous. I was late last night. I missed the Christmas party. I should have called. For that, I am guilty, and I apologize.” He turned and stomped toward the front door.

“Wait a minute,” Annajane cried. “We’re not through here.” She shook the CD. “Just tell me how this got in your car.”

Mason had his hand on the doorknob. “ “I’m through. I am not talking about this anymore. Either you believe me or you don’t.”

“Where are you going?”

The door was open and he didn’t look back. “I’m going over to Mama’s. She’s always got something to eat. Unlike here.” He didn’t slam the door. In fact, he didn’t even bother to close it all the way.

Half an hour later, Annajane did slam the door. And she didn’t bother to lock it as she left. Nobody locked doors in Passcoe, especially at Cherry Hill. She tossed a hastily packed overnight bag in the backseat of her Acura, backed out of the driveway, and headed for the main gate. The snow had already begun to melt, and the ancient oak trees lining both sides of the drive looked menacing, with their twisted gray limbs blocking out the weak winter sunlight. A carpet of acorns crunched beneath her tires. A rusted-out pickup truck with an enormous Fraser fir poking out of the bed rolled past her, headed toward the big house. She gave a dispirited wave to Nate, the Bayless’s yard man. At the end of the drive, she picked up the remote from the passenger seat, mashed the button, and waited impatiently while the wrought-iron gates slowly creaked open.

Ten minutes later, she was on the bypass. At some point, she realized she didn’t really have a destination in mind. All she knew was that she had to get out of Passcoe and away from the Bayless compound.

An hour later, her cell phone rang. She picked it up, and, seeing the screen, tossed it back onto the passenger seat without answering. Mason. She blinked back tears, and a moment later heard the phone buzz, letting her know he’d left a voice mail.

Five minutes later, it rang again. Annajane’s hand hovered over the phone. She even picked it up, but then changed her mind. Let him call.

Two hours later, when she pulled into the driveway of the modest little frame house at Holden Beach, she paused before turning off the ignition. Had she really just done this? Picked a fight with Mason? Accused him of cheating, and then run home to Mama? This was crazy. She should turn around, go home, and talk things out calmly with Mason. Make him understand how badly he’d hurt her.