But it wasn’t and she and Dan had a plan. She smiled at the rhyme. And Dan, unlike Harry, wasn’t serious and deep and uncannily perceptive. What you saw was what you got with Dan—an uncomplicated pleasure seeker. And more importantly, he wanted her.

But damn it! She and Harry had shared a lot this year and she thought they were close friends. Maybe she should go and see him and ask him what was going on? Except … was that crossing the boundary line Harry had obviously drawn after their failed date? Was she back to being the tutor?

She suddenly remembered she’d been paid for the mural and she pulled out her phone.

Hi, Harry, Alice here.

Duh! He’d know it was her, because her name was in his phone. She hit the backspace.

Hope all is well?

This was business. Again, she pressed the backspace.

I have $100 for Holly’s work on the swan. Can I stop by and drop off the cash? Alice

Immediately, pulsing dots appeared on her phone as Harry typed. Anticipation fizzed. Tingling delight spun through her and her thighs automatically tightened. Horrified, she hastily put the phone down. It didn’t mean anything. It was just the communication method triggering a response that had been established during all those weeks of texting Tim. After all, it sometimes happened when Dan texted.

It’s supposed to happen when Dan texts. It’s not supposed to happen with Harry.

“Hello, Alice, dear. You look pretty. Pink cheeks suit you.” Elsie Gregson and her walker stopped in the doorway.

A line of walkers banked up behind her and Roy Barton called out, “Hurry up, Elsie, you’re gumming up the works.”

“Patience is a virtue, Roy,” Elsie said.

“Bugger that. I’ve got too much to do and not enough time.” Roy winked at Alice. “Good to have you back, love.”

“It’s good to be back.”

“How’s your sick friend?”

Once Alice would have said, “Jess is Libby’s friend,” but the correction didn’t seem important anymore. “She’s fighting hard. It’s her son’s second birthday tomorrow.”

“That’s something worth fighting for.”

Alice nodded and blew her nose. “Let’s get started.”

With the usual friendly wrangling from the residents, it took a few minutes to get everyone settled into their seats. Then Alice took time to look at each of their projects, checking for any progress during her absence.

“Trudi did her best,” Cynthia offered when Alice tried to hide her dismay at some of the pages. “She’s a much better nurse than she is a scrapbooker. Can you weave your magic?”

“Absolutely.”