Vivi woke up slowly, in a bright patch of morning sunshine that streamed through the curtainless window, straight into her eyes.

She rolled over and found Edna panting right into her face. She stroked the dog’s velvety ears. Wow. She felt so comfortable. The futon was so much softer than the little mattress in her van. Ah.

And she had to find another bed, fast. She could not be obligated to Kendrick for something so intimate as a bed.

She pulled clothes on, fed Edna, and munched on some yogurt and granola. The weather was gorgeous. A great day to hike back to the van, locate someone with a tractor, and stay out of Jack Kendrick’s way. But first, she needed to touch base with her sisters and check her e-mail.

The cell phone had no coverage. She looked around the apartment for a phone jack, and found one next to the back door in the kitchen, but there was no phone attached. She needed a vehicle to buy herself a phone. But it was probably the same phone line as the one in his house. Which meant she would have to ask permission to use it.

That thought turned her legs rubbery with anticipation.

She marched out—and a spasm of doubt stopped her on the steps. Maybe just a casual peek in the bathroom mirror, to wash the crumbs out of her eyes. She hustled inside and did the facial-cleansing routine. With toner. And moisturizer. And brushing her hair would be good. And that sweatshirt with the sleeves ripped out was terribly shabby. She rummaged through the duffel. Maybe the green tank—no. Too revealing. The red jersey. A belt, with a big, intimidating buckle. A hint of mascara. And a tiny swipe of gloss for her lips. Barely any.

One last look into the mirror sent her back to her purse to pull out a pair of silver and carnelian drop earrings. She posed for Edna, who wagged her approval, and out they stepped into the cool morning.

The fragrance was overwhelming: earth, flowers, pine needles, dew, rain. The air itself seemed to sparkle as it went into her lungs. Birds warbled. Pale sunlight sifted through pine needles, in a fluttering, swaying pattern. She looked around, openmouthed.

She hesitated before his door. It was seven-thirty, after all. Maybe he was a late sleeper. She’d decided to come back later when an unfamiliar voice called from across the yard. “Hello, there, missy!”

Vivi whirled around. A small, elderly lady with bluish hair, dressed in a rose-spattered dress and carrying a paper bag, was making her way up the path with the help of a cane. “Good morning,” she replied, smiling at the welcome that creased the old lady’s wrinkled face.

“And what’s your name, young lady?”

“Vivi D’Onofrio. Pleased to meet you.” She extended her hand.

The old lady set down the paper bag and took Vivi’s proffered hand, squeezing it gently. “My name is Margaret Moffat O’Keefe, but you can call me Margaret. So! My Jack has been a naughty fellow, hmm?”

Vivi was nonplussed for a moment, until she understood the twinkle in the old lady’s eyes. “Oh, no! Um, not with me! I barely know him. I’m just a friend of a friend, staying here for a while. In the apartment. Up there.” She pointed to the barn. “I was just looking for him. I was afraid he might be sleeping, so I didn’t want to—”

“Oh, good heavens, no. Jack’s no slug-a-bed.” Margaret’s faded eyes took on a speculative gleam as she stumped up the porch steps. She rapped smartly with the head of her cane on the front door.

“Jack, dear?” she called. “Are you home?”

There was no response. “Well, his truck is here, so he’s probably just gone down to see to his flowers,” Margaret said. “Have you seen his flowers?” Vivi shook her head, and Margaret clucked her disapproval. “Young Jack must show you his flowers! They are a sight.”

“Not these, you mean?” Vivi indicated the flower beds in the yard.

“Oh, no. I mean down by the river. I think he has columbines and lamb’s ears and Sweet William coming in now. And bachelor buttons, of course, and heaven only knows what else.”

Vivi smiled at the beaming old lady. “It sounds magical.”

“I’d take you down myself, but this arthritis has slowed me down some. You just sit down on the porch and have a cookie, and Jack will be along. I baked some molasses crinkles for Jack. He loves cookies.”

“Is he related to you?” Vivi asked.

“Not technically, but I think of Jack as my honorary grandson, since he came here to live with me some twenty-five ago, or so. In fact, he bought this property from me some years back. Dear boy.”

Vivi had to stifle a giggle at the thought of that big block of seasoned manhood being referred to as a “dear boy.”

“Well, I’ll be running along. Come have a cup of tea with me one of these mornings when you’re settled in. And say hello to Jack for me.” She held out the bag. It was heavy and fragrant. “And you tell Jack to show you the hot springs,” Margaret added, a gleam in her eye.

“Hot springs?” Vivi was intrigued.

“Oh, yes, dearie. There are some natural hot pools a couple of miles upriver. Very private. Just beautiful. Something tells me you would like them, bless your heart.” She patted Vivi’s shoulder.

“Something told you right,” Vivi said, with relish. Wow. Cookies. Flowers. Hot springs. She’d hit the mother lode. This place was paradise on earth.

Vivi gazed after the old lady as she made her slow, careful way down the walk. How incredibly sweet of her. An intoxicating buttery-sweet fragrance rose from the bag. She peeked inside. Molasses cookies, warm and fresh. She sat down on the porch steps and reached for one.

Predictably enough, her hand was in the bag when Jack strode around the house, carrying an armful of what looked like columbines, though they were much bigger than any columbines she’d ever seen. She yanked her hand out guiltily, licking her fingers with embarrassed bravado. He stopped in front of her, and nodded in silent greeting.

“Hi. I, uh, just met Margaret.” Vivi closed the bag and folded down the top. “She brought you cookies.”

“So I see,” he said.

“She said I could have some,” Vivi said, before she could stop herself, and blushed furiously as he began to smile. The lines crinkling up around his eyes sparked a warm glow somewhere in the vicinity of her navel. It crept inexorably downward.

“Eat all you want,” he said. “What kind are they this time?”

“Molasses,” Vivi informed him. She wrenched her gaze away now from the smile that had now become a grin, complete with shockingly white, beautiful teeth, and focused on his long, work-hardened hands, gently holding those long flowers. Whew. That grin. This guy had a whole store of secret weapons. Every one calculated to lay her low.

She struggled to remember what she’d come down to ask him.

“Ah, I need to make some phone calls, and get on the Internet, too, to check my mail orders. And, ah, my cell has no coverage here,” she said. “So I was just wondering—”

“Of course. There’s a jack in your kitchen, but it’s my phone line. I assumed, considering your security problem, you weren’t going to want to list a number right now. You mind sharing a line with me? I don’t spend much time hanging on the phone.”

“Me neither,” she said. “That’s fine with me, if it’s okay with you.”

“If you want to use your cell, hike up to the top of that rise,” he said. “See that stand of spruce? You’ll get some coverage up there. But for now, use my phone. Hook your computer up in the kitchen.”

“Thanks,” she murmured.

“I meant to get you a phone. You weren’t supposed to arrive so soon.” He gazed at her accusingly through the stalks of columbine.

“Yeah, right,” she mumbled. “Don’t you want to go and put those down somewhere?”

“Yeah, and then I’m, going to make coffee. Come and have a cup.”

She watched, fascinated, as he walked across the yard toward a small outbuilding. Oh, boy. The back view of his jeans was as appealing as the front. She leaned her head on her hands and exhaled, slowly.