First Impressions

dessert, he’d have to settle for a bag of store-bought cookies. Hearing the sound of footsteps on the porch, she opened the door with a ready smile. It faded instantly, as did her color.
    “Anne,” she managed in a voice unlike her own.
    “Darling!” Anne bent down for a quick brush of cheeks. “What a greeting. Anyone would think you weren’t glad to see me.”
    It took only a few seconds to see that her mother was as lovely as ever. Her pale, heart-shaped face was unlined, her eyes the same deep china blue, her hair a glorious sweeping blond. She wore a casual, expensive blue fox stroller belted at the waist with black leather, and silk slacks unsuitable for an Eastern winter. Her beauty, as always, sent the same surges of love and resentment through her daughter.
    “You look lovely, Anne.”
    “Oh, thank you, though I know I must look a wreck after that dreadful drive from the airport. This place is in the middle of nowhere. Shane, dear, when are you going to do something about your hair?” She cast a critical eye over it before breezing past. “I’ll never understand why . . . Oh, my Lord, what
have
you done!”
    Stunned, she gazed around the room, taking in the display cases, the shelves, the racks of postcards. With a trill of laughter, she set down her exquisite leather bag. “Don’t tell me you’ve opened a Civil War museum right in the living room. I don’t believe it!”
    Shane folded her hands in front of her, feeling foolish. “Didn’t you see the sign?”
    “Sign? No—or perhaps I did but didn’t pay any attention.” Her eyes slid, sharp and amused around the room. “Shane, what
have
you been up to?”
    Determined not to be intimidated, she straightened her shoulders. “I’ve started a business,” she said boldly.
    “
You
” Delighted, Anne laughed again. “But, darling, surely you’re joking.”
    Stabbed by the utter incredulity in Anne’s voice, Shane angled her chin. “No.”
    “Well, for heaven’s sake.” She gave a pretty chuckle and eyed Shane’s dented bugle. “But what happened to your teaching job?”
    “I resigned.”
    “Well, I can hardly blame you for that. It must have been a terrible bore.” She brushed away Shane’s former career as a matter of indifference. “But why in God’s name did you come back here and bury yourself in Hicksville?”
    “It’s my home.”
    With a mild
hmm
for the temper in Shane’s eyes, Anne spun the rack of postcards. “Everyone to his own taste. Well, what have you done with the rest of the place?” Before Shane could answer, Anne swept through the doorway and into the shop. “Oh, no, don’t tell me, an antique shop! Very quaint and tasteful. Shane, how clever of you.” Her eye was sharp enough to recognize a few very good pieces. She began to wonder if her daughter wasn’t quite the fool she’d always considered her. “Well . . .” Anne unbelted her fur and dropped it carelessly over a chair. “How long has this been going on?”
    “Not long.” Shane stood rigid, knowing part of herself was drawn, as it always was, to the strange, beautiful woman who was her mother. Knowing too that Anne was deadly.
    “And?” Anne prompted.
    “And what?”
    “Shane, don’t be difficult.” Masking quick annoyance, Anne gave her daughter a charming smile. She was an actress. Though she had never made the splash she had hoped for, she wrangled a bit part now and again. She felt she knew her trade well enough to handle Shane with a friendly smile. “Naturally I’m concerned, darling. I only want to know how you’re doing?”
    Uncomfortable with her own manners, Shane unbent. “Well enough, though I haven’t been open long. I wasn’t happy with teaching. Not bored,” she explained, “just not suited for it. I am happy with this.”
    “Darling, that’s wonderful.” She crossed her nylon-clad legs and looked around again. It occurred to her that Shane might be useful after all. It had taken brains and determination to set up this kind of establishment. Perhaps it was time she started to take a little more interest in the daughter she had always thought of as a mild annoyance. “It helps to know you’re settling your life, especially since mine’s such a mess at the moment.” Noting the wariness in Shane’s eyes, she sent her a sad smile. If memory served her, the girl was very susceptible to an unhappy story. “I divorced Leslie.”
    “Oh?” Shane only lifted a brow.
    Momentarily set back by