First Impressions

Questions about himself were to be evaded. “I’ve done some work in Hagerstown. I like the area.”
    “Living this far back from the main road can be inconvenient, especially in the winter, but I’ve never minded being snowed in. We lost power once for thirty-two hours. Gran and I kept the woodstove going, taking shifts, and we cooked soup on top of it. The phone lines were down too. We might have been the only two people in the world.”
    “You enjoyed that?”
    “For thirty-two hours,” she told him with a friendly grin. “I’m not a hermit. Some people are city people, some are beach people.”
    “And you’re a mountain person.”
    Shane brought her eyes back to him. “Yes.”
    The smile she had started to give him never formed. Something in the meeting of their eyes was reminiscent of the moment in the store. It was only an echo, but somehow more disturbing. Shane understood it was bound to happen again and again. She needed time to decide just what she was going to do about it. Rising, she walked to the sink to rinse out her mug.
    Intrigued by her reaction, Vance decided to test her. “You’re a very attractive woman.” He knew how to make his voice softly flattering.
    Laughing, Shane turned back to him. “The perfect face for advertising granola bars, right?” Her smile was devilish and appealing. “I’d rather be sexy, but I settled for wholesome.” She gave the word a pained emphasis as she came back to the table.
    There was no guile in her manner or her expression. What, Vance wondered again, was her angle? Shane was involved in studying the details of the kitchen and didn’t see him frown at her.
    “I do admire your work.” Inspired, she turned back to him. “Hey, listen, I’ve got a lot of remodeling and renovating to do before I can open. I can paint and do some of the minor stuff myself, but there’s a lot of carpentry work.”
    Here it is, Vance reflected coolly. What she wanted was some free labor. She would pull the helpless-female routine and count on his ego to take over.
    “I have my own house to renovate,” he reminded her coolly as he stood and turned toward the sink.
    “Oh, I know you wouldn’t be able to give me a lot of time, but we might be able to work something out.” Excited by the idea, she followed him. Her thoughts were already racing ahead. “I wouldn’t be able to pay what you could make in the city,” she continued. “Maybe five dollars an hour. If you could manage ten or fifteen hours a week . . .” She chewed on her bottom lip. It seemed a paltry amount to offer, but it was all she could spare at the moment.
    Incredulous, Vance turned off the water he had been running, then faced her. “Are you offering me a job?”
    Shane flushed a bit, afraid she’d embarrassed him. “Well, only part-time, if you’re interested. I know you can make more somewhere else, and if you find something, I wouldn’t expect you to keep on, but in the meantime . . .” She trailed off, not certain how he would react to her knowing he was out of work.
    “You’re serious?” Vance demanded after a moment. “Well . . . yes.”
    “Why?”
    “I need a carpenter. You’re a carpenter. There’s a lot of work. You might decide you don’t want any part of it. But why don’t you think about it, drop by tomorrow and take a look?” She turned to leave, but paused for an instant with her hand on the knob. “Thanks for the coffee.”
    For several minutes, Vance stared at the door she had closed behind her. Abruptly, he burst into deep, appreciative laughter. This, he thought, was one for the books.
    ***
    Shane rose early the next morning. She had plans and was determined to begin systematically. Organization didn’t come naturally to her. It was one more reason why teaching hadn’t suited her. If she was to plan a business, however, Shane knew an inventory was a primary factor—what she had, what she could bear to sell, what she should pack away for the museum.
    Having decided to start downstairs and work her way up, Shane stood in the center of the living room and took stock of the situation. There was a good Chippendale fireplace seat in mahogany and a gateleg table that needed no refinishing, a ladderback chair that needed new caning in the seat, a pair of Aladdin lamps, and a tufted sofa that would require upholstering. On a Sheridan coffee table was a porcelain pitcher, circa 1830, that held a spray of flowers Shane’s grandmother had dried. She