Jay stepped out of the shower and toweled off after a weekend of ripping off paneling and repairing the tears to the plaster that had been beneath the wooden facade. His muscles ached from hours with a chisel and hammer, but the house was taking shape. Most of the deconstruction was about finished. He had only a bit of linoleum to rip up and then he’d be ready to rebuild. He threw on boxers, a pair of khakis, and a cotton sweater, then yanked on a pair of socks and stepped into his shoes as he checked his watch. Less than an hour until his first class. With Kristi Bentz. He’d had no notes of anyone, including Kristi, dropping out, so he expected to see her.

Brace yourself, he thought, then chided himself for being childish. They were both adults now. So they’d gone together as teenagers. So what? Time had marched on and other relationships had come and gone.

The phone rang and he recognized Gayle’s number. What the hell did she want and why now, when he was just getting ready to deal with Kristi, did he have to talk to her? He almost didn’t answer. But the thought that she might really be in trouble, might really need him, caused him to take the call. Good old trusty Jay. “Hi,” he said, without preamble. They both knew about Caller ID.

“Hi, Jay, how’re you?” she asked in that soft, dulcet drawl he’d once found so intriguing.

An interior designer who adored antiques and New Orleans architecture, she’d grown up in Atlanta, the only daughter of a judge and his wife. Jay had found her cultured, smart, beautiful, and fun-loving. Until they’d gotten serious. Then he’d recognized her strong, unbending will and almost obsessive attention to detail. How many times had she insisted his tie hadn’t matched his shirt and jacket, or that his shoes were out of style, or that his jeans were far too “ratty to even be considered hip, darlin’?” Her temper, too, had come to the fore. What did it say about his personality that he always picked hardheaded, smart, sassy women who could blow at any minute. For a half a second, he thought of Kristi Bentz. Talk about a temper! Kristi’s was practically legendary. Jay figured his choices in women were a major character flaw.

“I’m doin’ fine, Gayle,” he said, realizing she was waiting for a response. Tonight, he didn’t have time for niceties. “How ’bout you?”

“All right, I guess.”

“Good, good.” He was gathering up his keys and wallet, making certain he had everything he needed. His gaze scraped the interior of the cottage as he made certain he was leaving everything secure.

“But I have to be honest. Sometimes I get lonely. Sometimes I miss you,” Gayle said, drawing his attention back to the telephone conversation.