They found the roadside picnic area a couple of miles down the highway, a few tables set under some cottonwood trees. The air had grown cooler, and she dug into her duffel for a sweatshirt while Dean took care of the food. She hadn’t eaten since last night, and the smell of the french fries made her mouth water.

“Chow’s on,” he said as she approached.

She’d ordered the cheapest items she could find, and she set two dollars and thirty-five cents’ worth of change in front of him. “This should cover my share.”

He gazed with open distaste at the pile of coins. “My treat.”

“I always pay my own way,” she said stubbornly.

“Not this time.” He slid the pile back at her. “You can do a sketch for me instead.”

“My sketches are worth a lot more than two dollars and thirty-five cents.”

“Don’t forget the gas.”

Maybe she could make this work after all. As the cars flew by on the highway, she savored every greasy fry and bite of hamburger. He set aside his half-eaten burger and retrieved a BlackBerry. He frowned at the small screen as he checked his e-mail.

“Old boyfriend bothering you?” she asked.

For a moment he looked blank, then he shook his head. “My new housekeeper at the Tennessee place. She sends regular e-mails with detailed updates, but no matter what time I call, all I get is voice mail. It’s been two months, and I still haven’t talked to her in person. Something’s not right.”

Blue couldn’t imagine owning a house, let alone having a housekeeper.

“My real estate agent swears Mrs. O’Hara’s great, but I’m getting tired of doing everything electronically. Just once, I wish the woman would pick up the damn phone.” He began scrolling through his messages.

Blue needed to find out more about him. “If you’re from Chicago, how did you end up buying a house in Tennessee?”

“I was down there with some friends last summer. I’d been looking for a place on the West Coast, but I saw the farm and bought it instead.” He set the BlackBerry on the table. “The place sits in the middle of the most beautiful valley you’ve ever seen. It has a pond. Lots of privacy. Room for horses, which is something I’ve always wanted. The house needed a lot of work, so my real estate agent found a contractor and hired this Mrs. O’Hara to oversee everything.”

“If I had a house, I’d want to fix it up myself.”

“I send her digital pictures, paint samples. She’s got great taste and came up with her own ideas. It works out.”

“Still…That’s not the same as being there.”