First Impressions

counters and cabinets refinished.
    “Well, this is nice,” she said as he nudged her into a chair. “You do good work.”
    Without responding, Vance set a kettle on the stove. “I’ll fix you some coffee.”
    “Thank you.”
    Shane concentrated on the kitchen, determined to forget what she’d just seen. The windows had been reframed, the wood stained and lacquered to match the grooved trim along the floor and ceiling. He had left the beams exposed and polished the wood to a dull gleam. The original oak floor had been sanded and sealed and waxed. Vance Banning knew how to use wood, Shane decided. The porch was basic mechanics, but the kitchen showed a sense of style and an appreciation for fine detail.
    It seemed unfair to her that a man with such talent should be out of work. Shane concluded that he had used his savings to put a down payment on the property. Even if the house had sold cheaply, the land was prime. Remembering the barrenness of the rest of the first floor, she couldn’t prevent her sympathies from being aroused again. Her eyes wandered to his.
    “This really is a lovely room,” she said, smiling. The faintest hint of color had seeped back into her cheeks. Vance turned his back to her to take a mug from a hook.
    “You’ll have to settle for instant,” he told her.
    Shane sighed. “Mr. Banning . . . Vance,” she decided, and waited for him to turn. “Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I’m not a nosy, prying neighbor—at least not obnoxiously so. I was curious to see what you were doing to the house and what you were like. I know everyone within three miles of here.” With a shrug, she rose. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”
    As she started to brush by him, Vance took her arm. Her skin was still chilled. “Sit down . . . Shane,” he said.
    For a moment, she studied his face. It was cool and unyielding, but she sensed some glimmer of suppressed kindness. In response to it, her eyes warmed. “I disguise my coffee with milk and sugar,” she warned. “Three spoonsful.”
    A reluctant smile tugged at his mouth. “That’s disgusting.”
    “Yes, I know. Do you have any?”
    “On the counter.”
    Vance poured the boiling water, and after a moment’s hesitation, took down a second mug for himself. Carrying them both, he joined Shane at the drop leaf table.
    “This really is a lovely piece.” Before reaching for the milk, she ran her fingers over the table’s surface. “Once it’s refinished, you’ll have a real gem.” Shane added three generous spoons of sugar to her mug. Wincing a little, Vance sipped his own black coffee. “Do you know anything about antiques?”
    “Not really.”
    “They’re a passion of mine. In fact, I’m planning on opening a shop.” Shane brushed absently at the hair that fell over her forehead, then leaned back. “As it turns out, we’re both settling in at the same time. I’ve been living in Baltimore for the last four years, teaching U.S. history.”
    “You’re giving up teaching?” Her hands, Vance noted, were small like the rest of her. The light trail of blue veins under the pale skin made her seem very delicate. Her wrists were narrow, her fingers slender.
    “Too many rules and regulations,” Shane claimed, gesturing with the hands that had captured his attention.
    “You don’t like rules and regulations?”
    “Only when they’re mine.” Laughing, she shook her head. “I was a pretty good teacher, really. My problem was discipline.” She gave him a rueful grin as she reached for her coffee. “I’m the worst disciplinarian on record.”
    “And your students took advantage of that?”
    Shane rolled her eyes. “Whenever possible.”
    “But you stuck with it for four years?”
    “I had to give it my best shot.” Leaning her elbow on the table, Shane rested her chin on her palm. “Like a lot of people who grow up in a small, rural town, I thought the city was my pot of gold. Bright lights, crowds, hustle-bustle. I wanted excitement with a capital
E.
I had four years of it. That was enough.” She picked up her coffee again. “Then there are people from the city who think their answer is to move to the country and raise a few goats and can some tomatoes.” She laughed into her cup. “The grass is always greener.”
    “I’ve heard it said,” he murmured, watching her. There were tiny gold flecks in her eyes. How had he missed them before?
    “Why did you choose Sharpsburg?”
    Vance shrugged negligently.