He couldn’t contain his laughter. “Okay, you’ve made your point. You want me to tell Adam that he has more in his full life.” He waved his hand. “I have to go.”

“Me, too.”

“Writing something?”

“Yes, always, but I’m also trying to find a photographer to go with me. They’re a bunch of lazy scaredy-cats. They—” Her eyes widened. “You could do that job.”

“Oh, no. Not me. I have too much to do here. And Cait needs me.”

“Does she?”

“Stop it! I’m not one of your peons you can order about.”

“Never thought you were. You stayed here while I went away. And that worked out really well, didn’t it? You exude happiness.”

Miguel closed his eyes for a moment. “The problems now are temporary. I have a life. People need me. Pauly and Seth need me to—” He stopped, as the way she was looking at him was making him angry.

“The man I knew fought for what was right. But I’m sure staying here and making sure Cait doesn’t blab your secret to the Hattens is a worthwhile life goal.”

“I never—” He was too angry to speak coherently. With a look of anger, he left.

Vera leaned back in the bed. Now, that was the Miguel she knew. And loved. She lay there for a while, smiling. Then she got up and dressed. There was somewhere she needed to go.

Cait was holding the clipboard and writing down the measurements that Coop gave her. “Your new employees couldn’t be that bad,” she said. “Aunt Forey said they were all highly recommended.”

“They’re kids. You know what they did when the toilet paper roll was empty? That’s eighteen feet, six inches.”

She wrote the number on the sketch of the rooms. Later, they’d put the plan in the computer. “I hate to hear.”

“They pulled a roll out of the cabinet and set it on top of the holder. Fourteen and a half feet.” He closed the tape.

“Because Mom always put the paper on the holder for them.”

“Right. Only in this case, I was supposed to do it.”

“Their dad. How cute.”

He looked at her in speculation.

“What’s that look for?”

“If you ran the office, you could—”

“No! Absolutely not.”

“But I need—” At her look, he stopped talking. For a few minutes, he measured and she recorded the numbers.

When they took a break to drink the bottles of organic, no-sugar-added juice the uncles had included, he asked about her life. “Are you planning to always live in your little house? Always work at Heritage Harvests? I get the idea that you don’t really date anyone.”

Part of her wanted to tell him to mind his own business. But they were becoming friends. True friends were something no one could afford to lose. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think of going off with Vera Exton.”