The next morning, Lucy looked up from her desk at the sound of someone rapping at her office door.
“Got a few minutes?” Ethan stood in the threshold. Judging by the look on his face, he was trying extra hard not to look grim.
“I always have time for my big brother,” Lucy said. “Come in and have a seat. Have you had breakfast? Would you like something to drink?”
Just as he was trying not to look upset, she could feel herself going overboard being cheery and nice.
His hands were clasped in front of him and he shifted from one foot to the other, but he hadn’t budged from the door. “No, I’m fine, Lucy, thanks.”
She bit the insides of her cheeks to keep herself from rambling on any more, but after a good minute passed when all they’d done was stare at each other, and he was still rooted to the spot, she finally broke the silence.
“Are you going to come in or are you just going to stare at me from across the room?”
Ethan cleared his throat, then flattened his mouth into a tight line before he finally said, “Why don’t we go for a walk?”
She didn’t have any appointments until this afternoon. “Sure, that sounds great.”
Actually, it sounded pretty serious, like she was being summoned to the principal’s office. She knew him well enough to know he wasn’t going to get into anything heavy in her office, where people could walk in right in the middle of everything. Hence, the walk.
Even if she hadn’t admitted it to herself before now, on a deeper level she’d known they were due for this talk. Last night, Ethan had remained silent as he’d eaten his dessert. Of course, Chelsea had chatted enough for both of them, asking about due dates—Lucy’s obstetrician had said the middle of next March—and about whether or not they were going to find out the baby’s sex before the birth. Zane had said yes at the same time that Lucy said no. She’d explained that it was like opening a Christmas gift before Christmas. That had inspired a discussion about what color to paint the nursery—gender-neutral sunny yellow, of course.
All the while, Ethan had sat there silently eating his Black Forest cake. And when he was finished, he’d carried his plate to the kitchen and proclaimed it was time to leave, that he had to do his morning rounds of the ranch early and then he had an early meeting. It was the most he’d said since the toast.
It was a good thing that they were getting this talk over with now rather than letting the awkwardness stretch on. Her gratitude that he’d made the first move toward that end overrode her nervousness at his disapproval.
She locked up her office and the barn’s front door. This was something new that she’d been forced to start doing since the feature in Southern Living magazine. Even though tours were supposed to be by appointment only, several times a week she entertained people who dropped in. One time she’d gone out for lunch and came back only to discover a large wedding party camped out in her office. They hadn’t caused any harm, but it was alarming to find them packed into the room. Her office door had been shut, but not locked, and they’d let themselves in and made themselves at home. That was when it dawned on her that she had the petty-cash box, the business’s checkbook and other financial information in her unlocked bottom desk drawer. Anyone could let themselves in and help themselves. It felt like the moment Dorothy discovered she wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Since the Campbell Wedding Barn had been lifted up and whirled around by the Southern Living twister—not that she was complaining—Lucy had decided it was better to be safe than sorry.
Outside, it was a beautiful summer day. It was a rare mildly warm day with a clear robin’s-egg-blue sky and a gentle breeze that ruffled the live oaks and tousled Lucy’s hair. Luckily, she had slipped an elastic band onto her wrist that morning, because it had been one of the rare instances that her hair was behaving. But as unpredictable as the weather had been lately, if the day decided to take a turn toward hot and humid, she wanted to be prepared to pull her hair back so that it wasn’t on her neck. Maybe it was just her imagination, but since discovering she was pregnant, her body temperature was already running warmer than usual.
Since Ethan had been so good to initiate this talk, Lucy decided she would be the one to get the ball rolling by easing into the inevitable conversation.
“How was your meeting this morning?”
It wasn’t what he’d come to talk about, she knew that, but at least it would get the ball rolling.
“Fine. A guy from over at McKinney wanted to talk about breeding his mare. We’ll see where it goes.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes, until they reached the white post-and-rail fence that ran between the gravel road that snaked through the Campbell property and the pastures where Lucy’s land ended and Ethan’s began. It wasn’t so much that they needed to define whose land was whose, as much as it was that Ethan’s business dealt with horses and Lucy’s dealt solely with people. It was the best way to keep the two separate.
Suddenly, Ethan stopped and turned toward his sister, which forced him to squint into the sun. “Do I need to get the shotgun and make an honest man out of Zane?”
Lucy’s eyes grew wide. She shook her head vigorously. “No, Ethan. No shotgun needed.” She knew he was speaking figuratively. She hoped. Of course he was.
“Zane asked me to marry him.”
A look of relief passed over Ethan’s face. “Why didn’t you say so? When’s the wedding?”
“The only wedding on the books is yours and Chelsea’s. Zane and I are not getting married.”
“Why not? He proposed and all.”
“I said no because I don’t want to get married.”
Ethan’s face screwed up like he didn’t understand a word she was saying. “But you’re pregnant. Why don’t you want to get married? Don’t you think you should?”
“When did you become so old-fashioned, Ethan? No, I don’t think we should get married. Zane proposed—if you can even call it that. It really wasn’t a proposal as much as a very unromantic declaration that he had decided we should get married. I told him I had decided we would do no such thing. It’s not what I want.”
Ethan put his hands on his hips. “Lucy, you are going to have a baby. You and Zane are going to be parents. When you got pregnant, you forfeited your right to fanciful notions about princes and princesses and saying no to a marriage proposal because the proposal wasn’t romantic enough. You need to grow up.”
“I said no because Zane doesn’t love me. Okay? Are you happy now?”
“Lucy, what the hell are you doing messing around with a guy who doesn’t love you? You should have more self-respect than that.”
Her mouth fell open and she saw red. “That is none of your business, Ethan. I’m sure you slept with plenty of women you didn’t love after you and Molly broke up and before you met Chelsea. And I’m sure you wouldn’t be having this conversation with Jude. I really thought you were more evolved than to perpetuate double standards. But the bottom line is, you are not my father and you have no business imposing your hang-ups on me.”
“And what do you think our father would be saying to you if he was here right now?”
Lucy’s mouth fell open. Tears stung her eyes. That was a low blow.
“That’s not fair, Ethan. Daddy isn’t here anymore and it’s hurtful for you to throw that at me right now.” She turned to walk back to her office, because right now she needed to be as far away from her brother as she could get.
“Lucy, stop. Come back. Please.”
She stopped and whirled around to face him. “I appreciate your concern, but I am a grown woman with a thriving business that allows me to support myself. I’m not marrying Zane and I am not asking for your blessing. So, you can just get over it.”
As her tears started to fall, she turned around and started toward the barn, keeping a brisk pace and not looking back. When she was safe inside, she latched the door, went into her office, buried her head in her hands and sobbed.
Having a baby on her own should mean that she was strong and self-sufficient, but it broke her heart that Ethan seemed to be looking at her as his flaky little sister, the one who always managed to mess things up. For a split second she worried that maybe he was right, that maybe she was getting in over her head. After all, this decision wasn’t just about her. It involved a tiny little life that hadn’t asked to be brought into this situation. This baby wasn’t something she could try out and quit like she had so many times in the past when she got bored or dreamed up something shiny and new.
She lifted her head to pull a tissue from her desk drawer, and she caught a glimpse of the sunshine that was streaming in through the skylights along the barn’s rooftop. Turning this old ramshackle barn into a place that had become one of the South’s premier wedding venues had taken every ounce of everything that she possessed—money, energy, blood, sweat and more than a few tears. It had been her baby, and she hadn’t quit on it. Not even when times had gotten tough. She didn’t intend to quit on it anytime soon, either.
Even if her brother thought she was a flake, she knew she wasn’t. She was having this baby and she didn’t need to tie herself to a man who didn’t love her in order to make it work, in order to be a good mother. Of course, it would be so much easier if she had her family’s support, but if she didn’t...
The sound of somebody unlocking the front door had her scrambling to wipe away her tears. She needed to pull herself together. She needed to remember that this was her decision, and if Ethan was going to judge her for it, it was his problem, not hers. But a moment later, her brother was standing in the doorway to her office just as he had when he’d first arrived, before their walk.
“Ethan, we’re not having this discussion here. This is my place of business and—No, you know what? For that matter, were not having this discussion anywhere. The discussion’s over. You can go back to the stables.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. That was when she noticed that her big, strong oldest brother actually had tears glistening in his own eyes. “You are absolutely right. That was a sexist, chauvinistic thing for me to say and I’m sorry. Lucy, I only want the best for you. And I guess in some ways I do feel like more of a father to you than a big brother.”
In many ways, that was true. After their parents died, Ethan had come back to Celebration, uprooting him and his ex-wife, Molly, from Chicago to come home and care for her. She’d been only fourteen years old. Their father died the night of the accident. Their mother, who had been left a paraplegic, died a few months later. Rather than relocate her to Chicago, Ethan had moved back so that she could finish high school in Celebration. In the end, his own marriage broke up over the move back to their small hometown. Never once did he blame her or make her feel as if it was her fault.
Maybe she needed to cut him some slack. She wasn’t changing her position, but she didn’t have to excommunicate him.
“Ethan, I appreciate you saying that.” She drew in a deep breath, trying to buy herself some time so she could weigh her words. “It’s so important to me to have you on my side because you’re important to me.”
He shook his head. “You need to know that I am on your side, Lucy. I only want what’s best for you. I want you to be happy. I don’t want life to be any harder on you than it has to be.”
“Then please understand that’s exactly why I’m choosing not to marry Zane. We are going to coparent, and we’re going to be great at it. He even seems pretty psyched about it. That will work, but tying myself to someone who doesn’t love me, to someone who didn’t choose to be with me out of love, won’t make me happy. In fact, in the end, it will make both of us pretty darn miserable.”
She remembered the feeling of Zane’s lips on hers last night, she remembered the way their bodies had felt together—how they’d worked so well together. A profound sadness washed over her and she shuddered. She was damned if she did, damned if she didn’t. But the most damning part of it would be if she roped Zane into a marriage he didn’t really want and the two of them ended up being a new-millennium replay of his parents.
The person who would suffer the most would be their sweet child. Zane, of all people, should understand that after what he’d gone through growing up.
* * *
After work, Zane dropped by the hardware store and purchased two gallons of yellow paint called soft banana. He’d spent some time on the internet researching the best shade of yellow for a baby’s room and had learned that a yellow that was too bright could make the baby agitated, while a soft, pastel shade had warm, calming effects. When he’d looked through the various color chips in the paint section, soft banana seemed to fit the bill.
He was going to surprise Lucy with it. If she hated it, they could go together and choose another color, but for now, he wasn’t sure how many clues she wanted to drop around town—even though shopping for yellow paint together didn’t exactly scream “we’re having a baby!” it might raise a few eyebrows.
Now that they’d shared the news with Ethan and Chelsea, there was no reason they couldn’t get a jump on converting Lucy’s spare room into the nursery. Last night when she’d said she wanted to paint the walls yellow, he’d decided to go for it. Get the paint and get to work. Actually, he hoped his proactive approach would prove to Lucy how much he cared about his child—their child. And he hoped Ethan would consider it a sign of his commitment, that he wasn’t going to flake out on Lucy and their child. Ethan had been pretty stoic last night after they’d shared the news. Chelsea, God love her, had enough enthusiasm for everyone, but Zane knew that he and Ethan were due a heart-to-heart before too long.
First, he and Lucy needed to figure out what they were going to do. He wasn’t pushing her, but he still hadn’t given up on the possibility of convincing her to marry him.
He might not believe in love the way she wanted him to, but frankly, he believed some things were more important than a nebulous, fleeting, highly overrated emotion.
He hoped she realized actions spoke louder than words. In this case, he hoped his gesture spoke volumes, filling in the spaces where he simply didn’t have the words.
Next, he went to the Campbell property and found Ethan at the Triple C offices.
“Got a minute?” he asked.
It was almost imperceptible, but Zane saw Ethan stiffen when he looked up from the paperwork on his desk and saw Zane standing there.
They needed to talk this out. Based on what Lucy had told him about Ethan’s suggestion of a shotgun wedding, he was taking the news of his sister’s pregnancy about the way Zane thought he would.
“Sure. Come in. Shut the door.”
The office was small and rustic. Zane sat in one of the empty chairs in front of Ethan’s desk.
“Thanks for letting me take my time clearing my mom’s stuff out of the bungalow,” he said. “I am going to wrap things up this evening. I’ve dragged it out long enough. It’s time.”
“We don’t have any plans for the house yet. There’s no hurry if you need more time.”
Ethan was making all the right noises, but Zane could tell that he wasn’t himself.
“Thanks, I appreciate that. But that’s not the reason I came by.”
Ethan nodded, but he didn’t say anything. He was staring at a spot over Zane’s left shoulder.
“If you want to punch me, go ahead,” Zane said.
He was serious.
Unsmiling, Ethan locked gazes with him.
“Yeah, I thought about doing that more than a couple of times.”
He was serious, too.
“Okay, how do you want to handle it? Do you want to set up a time, like a duel? Or do you just want to take me out right now?”
Ethan still didn’t smile.
“Are you making a joke out of this?”
Zane raked a hand through his hair and then composed his most serious face.
“This isn’t a joke to me. It’s one of the most serious things that’s ever happened to me and that’s exactly how I’m treating it. But that’s between Lucy and me. I came by as a courtesy to you to let you know that I intend to stand by your sister. I would marry her if she would have me, but that’s something she’s not so sure about.”
Ethan was doodling on the yellow legal pad on his desktop.
“Are you in love with my sister, Zane?”
He had known this was coming. It was a perfectly logical question that a big brother would ask the guy who’d gotten his little sister pregnant.
“With all due respect, that’s between Lucy and me.”
Ethan let the pen fall from his hand and his gaze nailed Zane to his chair.
“Since you can’t give me a straight answer, I’ll take that as a no.”
Zane should have been prepared for that, but he wasn’t. It wasn’t that cut-and-dried. He couldn’t say he didn’t love her. He cared about her—
Ethan smirked. “We could fall down a big black hole talking about all the reasons you shouldn’t have slept with Lucy if you don’t love her. But I know my sister. I know how she feels about you, and I know, deep down, you are a decent guy. Don’t hurt her, Zane.” He spat the word don’t through gritted teeth. “And don’t expect her to tie herself to a guy who doesn’t return her feelings.”
“I’m not going to hurt her. At least not on purpose.”
“Yeah. That’s what I’m afraid of,” Ethan said. “It usually happens when we don’t intend it.”
They sat quietly for a few beats as the truth of Ethan’s words swirled around them.
Finally, Ethan said, “Thanks for coming to clear the air. I was wondering how long it would take for you to slink in here.”
That was better. He sounded more like himself again.
“I don’t slink,” Zane said. “The only one who’s going to slink anywhere is you when I beat your sorry ass at bowling. Only you would have your bachelor party at the bowling alley.”
They talked for a while, about horses and houses, and about how one of the guests at Ethan and Chelsea’s wedding was her brother, who would most likely be the next prime minister of the United Kingdom. The security was crazy, but that would be their new normal when it came to Chelsea’s family.
Zane was happy things were back to normal with Ethan, but he had to get a move on. The final boxes weren’t going to move themselves. He drove his truck away from the offices to the gravel frontage road that led to the bungalow. He hadn’t realized it until he was parked in the driveway in front of the house, but by delaying the move out, it had been easier to ignore the fact that his mom was gone. But she was. Putting it off wasn’t going to bring her back. So tonight he would wrap it up.
He let himself inside the house. All the blinds were drawn, making the place dark and dank. The cardboard boxes were starting to smell a little musty from being closed up in the humid house all these weeks that Zane couldn’t deal. He cranked up the AC, let in some light and got to work. He made himself focus on the task and not think too hard about how the place looked empty and sad without most of his mom’s things. It didn’t even resemble the home that his mother had worked so hard to make for them. She’d done her best to provide for them. That was why she’d hung on to so much stuff. But in the end, all the things she’d accumulated, the stacks of fabric, piles of old patterns, half-finished projects and mounds of sewing supplies he couldn’t even identify—the stuff that had made her feel safe, as if she owned a little bit of something in this world—didn’t mean a damn thing. None of it had saved her when it mattered. The remnants of her life only served as a reminder to Zane that she’d gotten a raw deal when she trusted Nathaniel Phillips.
Zane was going to do better by his child.
A few hours later, he’d packed the last of her stuff. The boxes were ready to load into the bed of his truck. He’d separated things into four piles: keep, give away, trash and to be determined. The latter pile consisted of things he didn’t know what to do with. He’d snapped photos of things Ian might want and sent them to him. He’d ask Lucy about the other stuff. She might want some of it. She and his mom had bonded over crafty things. She might want some of her sewing supplies.
He loaded the last box and went back inside for one more look around. He’d hire Virginia Kelly, who had a cleaning service, to come over and put the final shine on the place. But his work here was done. The only thing he had to contend with was the trash. He started to tie off one of the lone remaining industrial garbage bags, but his well-loved and time-ravaged stuffed bear peeked out of the opening. Zane pulled it out.
He’d loved that thing when he was a child. Rather than a blanket, the bear had been his comfort and best friend. He’d dragged it around everywhere. He’d tossed it because it was too old and threadbare to be of any use to anyone. It wasn’t worth saving for the baby, but for some reason, instead of throwing it away, he wanted to share this connection to his past with Lucy.
Suddenly, he was grateful that his mom had kept things like the cradle and his bear. Zane realized that they were not only links to his past, but also links to his mom. She hadn’t just managed to give Ian and him a good, loving upbringing, but, even after she was gone, through the things she’d chosen to keep, she’d helped him realize that maybe his past did hold some memories worth hanging on to. For a melancholy moment, he wished Dorothy could be there to hold her first grandchild the way she’d tenderly held him when he’d needed her, but she wasn’t here. At least not in the flesh, but he felt her presence all around him like a hug—just when he needed it. Just like she’d always done.
Zane was filled with the overwhelming realization that the best way he could honor his mother was by being a good father to his own child. By being more like her and not like his own father.
As he stared down at the ugly stained bear in his hands, a quiet calm came over him. Maybe it was all in how he looked at life. From one angle, the bear, which had once been snowy white, but was now a funky tea-stained yellow brown, looked like trash. From another perspective, it represented the comfort of his past.
Maybe he could apply the same lens to love. He knew that was what his mom would tell him.
He closed his eyes, stood there still in the empty house and tried to imagine himself in love with Lucy.
While it didn’t crash over him like a breaking wave or envelop him like the sticky Texas humidity, something was there—like a swell in the ocean or the feel of a warm spring breeze. But where he turned a corner was when he looked at it from the opposite perspective and tried to imagine his life without Lucy and their child. That was the biggest shift. He knew without a doubt he needed them in his life.
He tied up the trash, tucked the one-eyed teddy bear under his arm and let himself out. As he was locking up, he heard the crunch of tires on the gravel drive behind him. It was just getting dark. Through the inky twilight haze, he could see a big black pickup parking next to his own truck. The windows were tinted, and the way the headlights shone in his eyes, he couldn’t readily recognize the driver. But soon enough the door opened and Nathaniel Phillips unfolded his lanky body as he exited the truck’s cab.
Zane’s ire prickled. His mouth flattened into a hard line. He cursed under his breath but kept his attention trained on the house door until he was sure it was locked. Then his fingers reflexively fisted into his palms.
What the hell does he want?
Zane was certain he’d made it perfectly clear where they stood when the bastard had the audacity to show up at Dorothy’s funeral. The guy couldn’t have been bothered to come around for the past twenty-five years. Now the jackass seemed to turn up around every corner.
Zane stood there stoically. He would let Nathaniel speak first. Or better yet he could turn around and get back in that fancy Ford F-150—Zane could see now that he wasn’t blinded by the headlights—and drive off a cliff, for all he cared.
Those trucks didn’t come cheap. The bastard must be doing all right for himself. Of course, he could never spare a penny for them. He lived in Dallas now. Or at least that was the last address that Zane knew of. He hadn’t cared to keep track of him over the years.
“Son.” Nathaniel hesitated for a minute. “I saw your truck from the highway as I was passing by.”
It was on the tip of Zane’s tongue to tell him to never call him son again. He had three sons with Marianne Crawford—the three kids he’d bothered to take responsibility for and raise. Wasn’t that enough? Why was he suddenly coming around now?
“What do you want, Nathaniel? I was just leaving.” Zane took a step toward his own truck, but Nathaniel moved at the same time, blocking the way. It wasn’t an aggressive move, but it put Zane on alert.
As a general rule, Zane wasn’t a violent person. He didn’t get in bar fights, he thought road rage was ridiculous—everyone had places to go—and he didn’t believe beating someone’s ass made him more of a man. Still, Nathaniel seemed to bring out the worst in him, because suddenly all he wanted to do was pound the sorry excuse for a man who was standing in his way.
“Move,” Zane said through gritted teeth.
Nathaniel seemed to shrink, but he didn’t budge. “I stopped here to ask you if you’d have dinner with me sometime.”
Zane laughed in his face. “Why would I want to do that?”
Nathaniel closed his eyes for a moment, and Zane took the opportunity to scoot by him. But Nathaniel must’ve sensed the movement, because he opened his eyes and turned toward Zane.
“I know I’ve never been much of a father to you,” he said. “And I’m sorry about that. If you would let me, I’d like to try to make it up to you.”
The words pierced Zane like arrows. They stung on impact but left him numb. It made no sense. After all these years, now that Dorothy was gone...now that Nathaniel was ready, he thought he could come around and everything would be fine?
Zane didn’t know whether he wanted to punch the guy or laugh in his face.
No, he didn’t deserve his anger. It was too good for him. He didn’t deserve any of Zane’s energy. Anger took energy. Anger meant he cared. Zane wanted to give the bastard exactly what he deserved: absolutely nothing.
Even so, all kinds of thoughts—all of the frustration and hurt and things he’d wanted to say to Nathaniel over the decades that the man had turned his back on Dorothy, Ian and himself—got log-jammed in his throat. Zane knew if he didn’t get in his truck right now and drive away, those words were going to organize themselves and he was going to unload them all over Nathaniel Phillips. He had never been a father to him. What the hell made him think he could come blundering back now?
“My mother worked herself into an early grave because you wanted nothing to do with us when we needed you.” His voice was calm and even, void of emotion. “You made her sell the ranch that had been in her family for generations when you decided you didn’t want to hang around anymore. You thought you deserved half so you could take care of your other family with Marianne. We got by without you then. What makes you think that you can make it up to me now?”
Nathaniel opened his mouth to say something, but the words were lost when Zane got into the cab of his truck. He tossed the sorry-looking stuffed bear into the backseat and slammed the door. As he pulled away, he glanced in the rearview mirror only once and he saw Nathaniel’s silhouette illuminated by the taillights of Zane’s truck. His father looked like the sorry man he was.
Zane probably should’ve gone home, because he wasn’t in a very good head space. In fact, he felt like he needed to punch a wall. But his instincts led him to Lucy. Suddenly, she felt like the only tangible thing of substance in his miserable life.
He didn’t blame her for not wanting to marry him. She deserved so much more than his offering of soft-banana paint and a stained, threadbare stuffed animal.
After seeing Nathaniel and remembering all the years of heartbreak he’d put Dorothy through and all the broken promises he’d dished out to Ian and him, was it any wonder he had no idea what love was?
Nathaniel Phillips withheld a lot from him when he was growing up, but he’d be damned if he was going to let the bastard cost him his future. For the first time in a long time he knew the only future he wanted was with Lucy and his child.
He was tired of words and lame promises. No, he had to let his actions speak for themselves.
Lucy’s red Toyota sat beside the house when he arrived. He parked next to it, then stomped up the front porch steps and pounded on the door.
When she answered, she looked surprised. “Zane—”
But he didn’t give her the chance to say anything else, because he pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth with his. As her lips opened under his, passion consumed him. In that moment, he wanted to walk her backward right into the bedroom and make love to her. Instead, he deepened the kiss and pulled her even tighter against him.
He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but when they came up for air, Lucy looked dazed. Her hand flew up to her kiss-swollen lips.
“What was that for?” she asked. “I mean, I loved it, but... Zane? What’s going on?”
He wasn’t quite sure what to say, how to tell her about his epiphany at the house and that he’d just seen his father and the combination of the two encounters had caused his entire life to flash before his eyes. That he didn’t want to be like Nathaniel Phillips. That if she would have him, he would never hurt her.
“I realized today that I don’t want to lose you.”
“You did?” She took his hand and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind them. She looked cute in the denim shorts and red blouse she was wearing. More than cute, actually. She looked sexy as hell. How had he been so blind all these years?
“And what exactly inspired this epiphany?” she asked.
He weighed his words and thought about what to say. Telling the truth was best, but it was messy. It contained too much baggage and he was tired of lugging it around. “It doesn’t matter. I know I’m not any good at this love thing, but if you’ll give me a chance, I can promise you that I will never let you down. What do you say, Lucy? Will you give me a chance?”