“It’s not exactly Templeton Paris.” She unbent enough to smile. “The bedroom’s through there.” She gestured toward a short corridor. “It’s not terribly large, but I went with instinct on the bed. I know Josh likes room to, ah . . .” She trailed off when Michael grinned. “Room,” she finished. “So we stuffed a queen size in there. We had the iron head- and footboards in storage. I’ve always liked them. There’s not much of a closet, but—”

“I don’t have much.”

“Well, then.” At a loss, she wandered toward the front window. “The view,” she said and left it at that.

“Yeah.” He joined her, intrigued by the way her head fit neatly below his chin. He could see the cliffs, the azure sea beyond, the splits of rock islands, and the fuming water that charged them. “You used to spend a lot of time out there.”

“I still do.”

“Still looking for treasure?”

“Of course.”

“What was the name of the girl who tossed herself off the cliff?”

“Seraphina.”

“Right. Seraphina. A romantic little tale.”

“A sad one.”

“Same thing. Josh used to laugh about you and Margo and Kate haunting those cliffs and looking for Seraphina’s lost dowry. But, I figured he secretly wanted to find it himself.”

“We look every Sunday now. Margo and Kate and I, and my daughters.”

That brought him up short. He’d forgotten for a moment that this small, delicate woman had given birth to two children. “You’ve got kids of your own. Girls.”

“Yes.” Chin lifted, she turned back. “Daughters. My daughters.”

Something here, he mused, and wondered which button he’d pushed. “How old are they?”

She hadn’t expected him to ask, even out of politeness. And she softened all over again. “Ali’s ten. Kayla’s seven.”

“You got started early. Girls that age usually go for horses. They can come by and see mine whenever they like.”

More of the unexpected. “That’s kind of you, Michael. I don’t want them to get in your way.”

“I like kids.”

He said it so simply that she believed him. “Then I’ll warn you, they’re both eager to see them. And I suppose you’re eager to see the stables.” Out of habit she glanced at her watch, and winced.

“Got an appointment?”

“Actually, yes, I do. If you don’t mind taking the rest of the tour on your own, I really have to change.”

To get her hair done, he imagined, or her nails. Or to make her fifty-minute hour with some society shrink. “Sure.”

“I left the keys in the kitchen,” she continued, juggling details. “There isn’t a phone. I didn’t know if you wanted one. There’s a jack. Somewhere. If you need anything, you—”

“I’ll be fine.” He slipped a check out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Rent.”