First Impressions

began to level. “I’m going to see if it can be refinished.” Idly, she touched a section of peeling wallpaper. “My grandmother didn’t like changes. This room hasn’t altered one bit in thirty years. That’s when her husband died,” she added softly. “The windows stick, the roof leaks, the fireplace smokes. Basically, the house, except for the dining room, is in a general state of disrepair. She never had the inclination to do more than a patch job here and there.”
    “When did she die?”
    “Three months ago.” Shane lifted a corner of the patchwork coverlet, then let it fall. “She just didn’t wake up one morning. I was committed to teaching a summer course and couldn’t move back permanently until last week.”
    Clearly, he heard the sting of guilt in her words. “Could you have changed anything if you had?” he asked.
    “No.” Shane wandered to a window. “But she wouldn’t have died alone.”
    Vance opened his mouth, then closed it again. It wasn’t wise to offer personal advice to strangers. Framed against the window, she looked very small and defenseless.
    “What about the walls in here?” he asked.
    “What?” Years and miles away, Shane turned back to him.
    “The walls,” he repeated. “Do you want any of them taken down?”
    For a moment, she stared blankly at the faded roses on the wallpaper. “No . . . No,” she repeated more firmly. “I’d thought to take out the door and enlarge the entrance.” Vance nodded, noting she had won what must be a continuing battle with her emotions. “If the woodwork cleans off well,” she continued, “the entrance could be framed in oak to match.”
    Vance walked over to examine it. “Is this a bearing wall?”
    Shane made a face at him. “I haven’t the slightest idea. How do—” She broke off, hearing a knock at the front door. “Damn. Well, can you look around up here for a few minutes? You’ll probably get the lay of things just as well without me.” With this, Shane was dashing down the steps. Shrugging, Vance took a rule out of his back pocket and began to take measurements.
    Shane’s instinctively friendly smile faded instantly when she opened the door.
    “Shane.”
    “Cy.”
    His expression became faintly censorious. “Aren’t you going to ask me in?”
    “Of course.” With a restraint unnatural to her, Shane stepped back. Very carefully, she shut the door behind him but moved no farther into the room. “How are you, Cy?”
    “Fine, just fine.”
    Of course he was, Shane thought, annoyed. Cy Trainer Jr., was always fine—permanent-pressed and groomed. And prosperous now, she added, giving his smart-but-discreet suit a glance.
    “And you, Shane?”
    “Fine, just fine,” she said, knowing the sarcasm was both petty and wasted. He’d never notice.
    “I’m sorry I didn’t get by last week. Things have been hectic.”
    “Business is good?” she asked without any intonation of interest. He failed to notice that too.
    “Money’s loosening up.” He straightened his tie unnecessarily. “People are buying houses. Country property’s always a good investment.” He gave her a quick nod. “The real estate business is solid.”
    Money was still first, Shane noticed with irony. “And your father?”
    “Doing well. Semiretired now, you know.”
    “No,” she said mildly. “I didn’t.” If Cy Trainer Sr. relinquished the reins to Trainer Real Estate six months after he was dead, it would have surprised Shane. The old man would always run the show, no matter what his son liked to think.
    “He likes to keep busy,” Cy told her. “He’d love to see you though. You’ll have to drop by the office.” Shane said nothing to that. “So . . .” Cy paused as he was wont to do before a big statement. “You’re settling in.”
    Shane lifted a brow as she watched him glance around at her packing cases. “Slowly,” she agreed. Though she knew it was deliberately rude, she didn’t ask him to sit. They remained standing, just inside the door.
    “You know, Shane, this house isn’t in the best of shape, but it is a prime location.” He gave her a light, condescending smile that set her teeth on edge. “I’m sure I could get you a good price for it.”
    “I’m not interested in selling, Cy. Is that why you came by? To do an appraisal?”
    He looked suitably shocked. “Shane!”
    “Was there something else?” she asked evenly.
    “I just dropped by to see how you were.” The distress in both