Judith Michael is beloved around the world for powerful stories of love and family. Now this renowned author returns with a richly emotional tale of the many kinds of love and the collision of good and evil that threatens to tear a family apart.

Sara Elliott has been forced to give up the life she's dreamed of to return home to Chicago and take charge of her sisters and brother. She finds a job and settles into the house she grew up in, building a life for ten-year-old Doug and teenagers Carrie and Abby.

But Sara has another brother, Mack, now twenty, who left home three years earlier. Suddenly he reappears, cheerful and unconcerned, as if he had never broken his promise to stay and help Sara with the children and the house. With bewildering volatility, Mack swings from kindness to cruelty, affection to hostility, keeping the family always on edge, his past and present a mystery. But with expensive gifts, storytelling, and the excitement of his presence, he is winning over the children, and sometimes the four of them stand together against Sara.

Mack challenges all Sara has achieved in trying to be a mother and keep her family together. And he does it at a time when she is confronted by crises at work that spill over into her home. Suddenly, events seem to be speeding past and Sara feels she cannot slow them down to regain control.

And then, when she thinks her life has room only for work and family, she meets Reuben Lister, a client from New York. As Sara helps him find and furnish a house and explore the city, they discover a closeness neither has known before and share new ways of dealing with conflicts each has always faced alone. Together, Sara and Reuben find answers to the questions: What is a mother? What is a parent? What is a family?

This is Judith Michael's most poignant exploration of the pressures and joys facing modern adults and children, in a story that will resonate with everyone for its universal themes and discoveries.

Sara arrived at the airline terminal as the Corcorans walked out, trailed by a young man pushing a cart piled with luggage. She wedged her car between taxis and stepped out to open the trunk and the two passenger doors before extending her hand to Lew Corcoran. "Sara Elliott," she said. "Welcome to Chicago."

"Right." His handshake was perfunctory. Squinting in the bright sun, he pulled a five-dollar bill from his wallet, considered it, replaced it with two singles, and shoved them into the young man's hand. He slid into the front seat, turning to Sara.

"I don't have a lot of time, I'm a busy man."

"We'll move quickly, then," Sara said with a smile, and when Pussy Corcoran, fur-clad and rosy-cheeked, had anchored herself in the center of the backseat, she drove toward the city.

"Never used one of you people before," Corcoran said, staring moodily through the window. "Taking a chance. Could be a waste of time."

"We'll try to make sure it isn't," Sara said pleasantly.

Everyone asked her how she managed to deal with her clients, spending her days with strangers who did nothing but make demands on her. "It's like a grab bag, your job," they said. "You never know who'll pop out when you answer your phone. It could be anybody. Anybody. The oddest people."

Her office telephone number was posted at airports, train stations, and rest stops on highways leading into the city. "Welcome to Chicago," the signs said above the mayor's signature. "For an official Welcome, and assistance with your visit or becoming a Chicago resident, our City Greeter is ready to serve you." Beneath, in bold type, were Sara's name and City Hall telephone number and e-mail.

Officially, her title was City Greeter; unofficially, she was General Factotum, Global Secretary, Walking Encyclopedia, Personal Telephone Directory, Everybody's Schlepper. Officially and unofficially, she was always supposed to be smiling.

"We'll be looking at three apartments," she said when they were on the highway. "And I have the names -- "

"You a broker?" Corcoran asked. "Otherwise, why bother, if we have to find a real estate broker when we're done with you?"

"I'm a real estate broker," Sara said, smiling. "I've lined up three apartments for you to look at. And, as Mrs. Corcoran requested, I have the names of four personal shoppers for her to interview."

"You're the one supposed to do the interviews," Corcoran said. "Weed them out."

Sara smiled. "You telephoned yesterday; that gave me very little time."

He rubbed the large ring on the fourth finger of his right hand as if ordering a genie to spring forth. The ring looked vaguely military, Sara thought. He filled his seat, a large man, ruddy-skinned, jowly, with a spreading nose and strangely small eyes, his sleek suit tailored to minimize his bulk. In back, Pussy Corcoran was small and round, perspiring gently inside her furs, her sprayed hair shining metallically in the April sunlight.

"All the apartments are available immediately," Sara said, "so if you decide on one, you would be in a hotel only until your furniture arrives."

"Don't bother with anything that doesn't have a view," Corcoran said. "I require a view."

"And a garage?" said Pussy. "So I don't go out in the rain?"

"Attended," said Corcoran. "Twenty-four hours. Same for the door-man. Twenty-four hours. Numero uno on my list, top-notch service twenty-four/seven."

"Maid service?"Pussy said. "And big bathrooms? Room to move around in, and one for each of us ... that keeps a marriage together? Stays together?"H er chirping laughter trickled down the back of Sara's neck.

"Stupid." Corcoran snorted. He lit a cigarette.

"Smoking is not allowed in our cars," Sara said. She smiled.

JUDITH MICHAEL is the pseudonym of husband-and-wife writing team Judith Barnard and Michael Fain. They live in Chicago, Illinois, and Aspen, Colorado.

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