The Julius House

"Why this farm?" he said, speaking for the first time.

Mary A

"Not only does it meet the criteria my church lays down for me," I said staunchly, praying for forgiveness, "but God guided me here." Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mary A

There wasn't much to look at outside, so we murmured together about acreage and rights-of-way and wells, and then went inside.

Martin's childhood home.

I gave Flocken some credit for trying to keep the kitchen, the downstairs bathroom, and his bedroom clean. Beyond that he had not troubled, and observing the pain it caused him to move, I could not blame him. I tried to imagine Martin as a child ru

He and Mary A

I wanted to leave.

I leaned forward and looked into his mean old eyes.

"I'll give you this much and no more," I said, and told him the sum.

Mary A

He said, "It's worth more."

"No, it's not," I snapped.

He looked taken aback. "You're a tough little thing," he said finally. "All right, then. I don't think I can take another winter here, and my sister in Cleveland has a spare bedroom she says I can have." And just like that, it was accomplished.

I shook his hand with reluctance; but it had to be done.

Chapter Two

The PURCHASE went swiftly since there was no loan to approve. I'd thought I'd have to do a lot by mail, or perhaps make a return trip, but it wasn't necessary, to my relief. The essential work had been accomplished after three days were up. By the time I drove my rental car back to the airport in Pittsburgh, I'd paid two more visits to the bookshop, eaten in every restaurant in town, and rigorously avoided Cindy's Flowers. If I could have a

I swore I'd never wear my hair in a bun again.

I wanted Martin to meet me at the airport, so passionately I could taste it, but of course he'd want to know why he was meeting a flight from Pe

"Something wrong?"

"Oh, he got some mail from South America that made him angry, and he was on the phone all day that day, but he's back to normal now, just about. Go on in." But I knocked, because he was at work; so he was looking up when I came in. He dropped his pen, rolled back in his chair, and came around the desk in a second.

After a few minutes, I said, "We should either lock the door or postpone this until tonight."

Martin glanced at his watch. "I guess it'll have to be tonight," he said with an effort. "I should have an appointment sitting out in the reception area by now. Mrs. Sands is probably wondering what to do. However—I don't mind keeping him waiting..."

"No," I said, trying not to giggle. "I have to confess, it makes me feel a little self-conscious knowing Mrs. Sands is sitting out there. Tonight, then?" "We'll go out to eat," he said. "I know you won't feel like cooking, and I won't get through here until seven, so I won't have time." Martin's cooking is limited to grilling steaks, but he never minds doing it.

"See you then," I whispered, giving him one last kiss. He tried to pull me back, but I wiggled away and gri

"Bye, Mrs. Sands," I said in what I hoped was a collected voice. It probably would have been more effective if I hadn't suddenly realized my blouse wasn't tucked into my skirt any longer. I scooted across the room quickly, catching just a glimpse of the dark-complected man waiting to see Martin; a man with a heavy, piratical mustache, thick black hair, and ropelike arm muscles. He looked more like a nightclub bouncer than a job applicant. I called my mother from the townhouse to tell her I was home, and learned what had happened in town in the few days I was gone. "Thanks for the flowers, Aurora. I don't know what the occasion was, but they were lovely."

I started. I'd forgotten all about sending the flowers from Ohio. I mumbled something deprecating.

"Have you seen Martin yet?" Mother was asking. She sounded as if the question were loaded. I could see her at her desk at Select Realty, thin and elegant and self-possessed, remarkably like Lauren Bacall.

"Yes. I stopped by the plant. But he didn't have much time. We're going out tonight." If I'd had ante

"In the backyard?"

"Yes, something wrong with that?"

"No, no," I said hastily. If I'd ever doubted my mother adored her recently acquired second spouse, I knew differently now. I could not imagine in a million years my mother allowing someone to dig up her carefully groomed backyard to plant tomatoes.

I hung up shaking my head, decided to put off retrieving Madeleine from the vet until the next day, and carried my bag upstairs to unpack, happily, in my own bedroom.

I scrubbed my out-of-state trip away in my own shower. I dried my hair. I took a nap. After I woke up, I went down to my basement to pop a load of clothes into the washer. The neighbor who'd been collecting my mail brought it over. I thanked her and she left. I stood by the kitchen counter leafing through the assorted junk. Suddenly, I let all the pleas from new resort areas and all the sweepstakes offers slip through my fingers to land in a heap on the beige formica.