#1 New York Times bestselling author Fern Michaels explores the enduring bonds of family as one man loses everything--only to find the freedom to create a bold new life… Gus Hollister owes all his success to his feisty grandmother, Rose, and her two sisters, Iris and Violet. They raised him, sent him to the best schools, and helped him start his own accounting business. Rose even bought the house Gus lives in with his wife, Elaine. Now, Gus stands to lose everything--his home, his car, and his business. Worse, he's alienated his beloved grandma, who tried to warn him about Elaine's greedy ways. Heartsick and remorseful, Gus returns to Rose's Virginia farmhouse. But it won't be easy to make amends. Yet family and forgiveness go hand in hand, and Gus isn't giving up. Because no matter how daunting starting over can be, the results can surpass your wildest expectations--especially when the Blossom sisters are in your corner… "Michaels' latest is sure to capture the hearts of its readers, even while tickling their funny bones." -- Booklist FERN MICHAELS is the USA Today and New York Times bestselling author of the Sisterhood, Men of the Sisterhood, and Godmothers series, as well as dozens of other novels and novellas. There are over one-hundred ten million copies of her books in print. Fern Michaels has built and funded several large day-care centers in her hometown, and is a passionate animal lover who has outfitted police dogs across the country with special bulletproof vests. She shares her home in South Carolina with her four dogs and a resident ghost named Mary Margaret. Visit her website at www.fernmichaels.com. The Blossom Sisters By FERN MICHAELS KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP. Copyright © 2013 MRK Productions All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-4201-0367-0 CHAPTER 1 Gus hollister couldn't remember when he'd been SO tired as he closed and locked the doors of his CPA firm. Well, yes, actually he could remember. It was last year at exactly the same time, April 16, the last day of that year's tax season. Not that it was totally over; he still had tons of stuff to do, extensions to file, but he'd made his deadline, all clients had their records, and he was going home. If only it were to a home-cooked meal and several glasses of good wine. Like that was really going to happen. But he was simply too tired to care whether he ate or not. Instead of taking the elevator, Gus trudged down the three flights of stairs and out to the small parking lot. Exercise these days was wherever he could find it. He winced at the lemon yellow Volkswagen Beetle that was his transportation for the day. His wife had taken his Porsche, and he was stuck with this tin can. If only he were a contortionist, which he wasn't. Gus clicked the remote and opened the door. After tossing his heavy briefcase on the passenger-side seat, he struggled to get his six-foot-four-inch frame into the small car. He hated this car. Really hated it. He inserted the key in the ignition, then lowered the windows and stared out at the dark night, an anxiousness, which had nothing to do with taxes and the long days and nights he'd been putting in, settling between his shoulders. For some reason, he didn't think it would be so dark, but then he remembered that they had turned the clocks ahead a few weeks back. Regardless, it wasn't supposed to be dark at eight-thirty at night, was it? But he couldn't bring himself to care about that, either. He was almost too tired to turn the key in the ignition, so he just sat for a moment, looking out across the small parking lot to the building his grandmother had helped him buy. A really good investment, she'd said, and she was right. He rented out the two top floors to other businessmen, and the rent money he received covered the mortgage and gave him a few hundred dollars toward his cash flow every month. He owed everything he had in life to his feisty grandmother Rose. Everything. And they were estranged at this point in time because of his wife, Elaine. He wanted to cry at the turn his life had taken in the last year. He banged the steering wheel just to vent before he started the Beetle, put it in gear, and roared out of the parking lot at forty miles an hour. Thirty-five minutes later, Gus untangled himself from the Beetle, a feat requiring extraordinary concentration and agility. Then he danced around, trying to work the kinks out of his body. The Beetle belonged to his wife. She looked good in it. He looked stupid and out of place sitting behind the wheel. Today, Elaine had been out job hunting, and she wanted to make an impression, so she'd asked him if she could borrow his Porsche. Every bone and nerve in his body had screamed out no, no, no, but in the end, he had handed her the keys. It was just too hard to say no to Elaine, because he loved her so much. Especially when she kissed him so hard he was sure she'd suck the tonsils right out of his throat. When that happened, he could deny he