First Impressions

and flawless. His mother had a similar piece in the drawing room of her Washington estate. Since he had purchased it for her himself, he knew the value. He also knew the difference between an amateur job of refinishing and an expert one. This hadn’t been done haphazardly. “Your time’s worth something,” he commented. “And your talent. It would have cost a good deal to have this done.”
    “Yes, but I enjoy it, so it doesn’t count.”
    Vance lifted his eyes. “You’re in business to make money, aren’t you?”
    “Yes, of course.” Shane snapped the lid back on the can of paste wax. “I love the smell of this stuff.”
    “You won’t make a lot of money if you don’t consider your own time and labor.”
    “I don’t need to make a lot of money.” She placed the can on a shelf, then examined the ladder-back chair, which needed recaning. “I need to pay bills and stock my shop and have a bit left over to play with.” Turning the chair upside down, she frowned at the frayed hole in the center of the seat. “I wouldn’t know what to do with a lot of money.”
    “You’d find something,” Vance said dryly. “Clothes, furs.”
    Shane glanced up, saw he was serious, then burst out laughing. “Furs? Oh, yes, I can see myself waltzing into the general store to buy milk in a mink. Vance, you’re a riot.”
    “I’ve never known a woman who didn’t appreciate a mink,” he countered.
    “Then you’ve known the wrong women,” she said lightly as she set the chair upright again. “I know this man in Boonsboro who does caning and rushing. I’ll have to give him a call. Even if I had the time, I wouldn’t know where to begin on this.”
    “What kind of woman are you?”
    Shane’s thoughts came back from her ladder-back chair. When she looked at him again, she noted that Vance’s expression was cynical. She sighed. “Vance, why do you always look for complications?”
    “Because they’re always there,” he returned.
    She shook her head, keeping her hands on the top rung of the chair’s back. “I’m exactly the kind of woman I seem to be. Perhaps that’s too simple for you, but it’s true.”
    “The kind who’s content to work twelve hours a day just for enough money to get by on?” Vance demanded. “The kind who’s willing to slave away hour after hour—”
    “I don’t slave,” Shane interrupted testily.
    “The hell you don’t. I’ve watched you. Dragging furniture, lugging boxes, scrubbing on your hands and knees.” Remembering only made him angrier. She was too small to labor the way he had seen over the past weeks. The fact that he wanted to insist she stop only infuriated him further. “Damn it, Shane, it’s too much for you to handle by yourself.”
    “I know what I’m capable of,” she tossed back, springing to her own defense. “I’m not a child.”
    “No, you’re a woman who doesn’t crave furs or all the niceties an attractive female can have if she plays her cards right.” The words were cool with sarcasm.
    Temper sprang into Shane’s eyes. Struggling not to explode, she turned away from him. “Do you think everyone has a game to play, Vance?”
    “And some play better than others” was his response.
    “Oh, I feel sorry for you,” she said tightly. “Really very sorry.”
    “Why?” he demanded. “Because I know that grabbing all they can get is what motivates people? Only a fool settles for less.”
    “I wonder if you really believe that,” she murmured. “I wonder if you really could.”
    “I wonder why you pretend to believe otherwise,” he retorted.
    “I’m going to tell you a little story.” When she turned back, her eyes were dark with anger. “A man like you will probably find it corny and a bit boring, but you’ll just have to listen anyway.” Stuffing her hands into her pockets, she paced the low-ceilinged room until she was certain she could continue.
    “Do you see these?” Shane demanded, indicating a row of shelves that held filled mason jars. “My grandmother—technically, she was my great-grandmother—canned these. Putting by, she always called it. She’d dig and hoe and plant and weed, then spend hours in a hot, steamy kitchen canning. Putting by,” Shane repeated more quietly as she studied the colorful glass jars. “When she was sixteen, she lived in a mansion in southern Maryland. Her family was very wealthy. They still are,” Shane added with a shrug. “The Bristols. The Leonardtown Bristols. You might