Antique furniture, including a sideboard and a long settee, had been placed to good effect on newly refinished floors. The pieces were solid and simple, nothing ornate or overly fancy.

“Everything looks expensive.” Mary Beth didn’t bother to ask about the cost. If Parr was covering most of it, his younger brother didn’t have to worry.

“That’s the effect I want. Knock ’em dead, right?”

“I guess so. Once you revive them.” The summer sun shone through the plate glass of the large front window and it was uncomfortably warm with the door closed. “How about the air-conditioning?”

“Parr recommended central air. When it’s installed, Robert Joseph Weston and Associates will be the coolest place in town.”

Mary Beth didn’t ask who the associates were or would be. The extra word had probably just looked more impressive on the sign. She walked over to a framed display of properties for sale. “Are these exclusives?”

“No. I got them off the multiple listings,” he said breezily.

He’d chosen big houses and estates. None were local. But she supposed that didn’t matter to potential clients. Mary Beth didn’t pretend to know anything about real estate.

Bobby Joe was heading toward the staircase but he stopped when a pretty woman paused in front of the window, shielding her eyes to peer through the reflection on the glass.

“Hello, honey. Come on in,” he murmured. Then he winked at Mary Beth. “Don’t worry. She won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because the door is locked. She’s been by a couple of times.”

The brunette gave him a dimpled smile, obviously not seeing Mary Beth standing in the shadowed interior. Since he’d gotten out of the hospital, Bobby Joe was magically more attractive to the opposite sex. The limp helped more than it hurt, apparently.

“I think she’s just trying to figure out when we officially open,” he added.

That date was several weeks away. Mary Beth had been charged with organizing the grand opening. However, in a town like Iminga, it wouldn’t be all that grand. Homemade cookies and nonalcoholic punch was what she thought would do, with colorful balloons outside and a sign to let people know they were in business. Bobby Joe had other, more grandiose ideas. Parr had asked her to talk him out of it. So far he’d seemed willing to listen.

Alma had volunteered to bake cookies and that was all. And even Parr seemed to have his limits.

Bobby Joe acknowledged the brunette’s curiosity with a nod just before she saw Mary Beth, who’d stepped forward. The woman’s smile faded away and she moved on.

“Told you. Come on upstairs.” Bobby Joe was taking them one at a time. Mary Beth followed slowly.