She knew the answer, of course, and was only torturing herself with the question. She had thought she meant something to Mitch Prescott and found out differently. She had provided the research material he needed for his book and he’d paid her and, as far as he was concerned, the transaction was complete. There would be a few “consultations,” and he wanted her input as the book progressed, but he’d made it clear enough that she wasn’t to expect anything more.

Shay drove home slowly, heated a can of soup for her supper and immersed herself in the books she had checked out at the library, making notes in a spiral notebook as she read. It wasn’t as though she needed Mitch Prescott to be happy, she told herself during frequent breaks in her concentration. She had Hank, she had her job, and she had the money and the determination to make her life what she’d always dreamed it could be.

Well, almost what she’d dreamed it could be.

For the rest of that week, Shay concentrated on her job at Reese Motors, grateful that she would have a little time before she had to do another commercial. She talked to Hank frequently by telephone and visited Rosamond every afternoon. From the convalescent home she invariably went to the public library, exchanging the books she’d scanned the night before for new ones. She told herself that she was preparing for her own entry into the world of private enterprise and she was learning a great deal, but the main reason for her marathon study fests was Mitch Prescott. Being absorbed in business theories kept her from thinking about him.

By Saturday morning, she was haggard. Ivy, showing up on her doorstep bright and early, was quick to point that out.

Shay yawned, feeling rumpled and dissolute in her old bathrobe. “How do you expect me to look at nine o’clock on a Saturday morning? Don’t you ever sleep in?”

The weather was nice and Ivy looked disgustingly vibrant in her old blue jeans and summery cotton top. “Sleep in?” she chimed. “And let the world pass me by?”

“The world wouldn’t dare pass you by,” Shay responded dryly, staggering toward the kitchen, homing in on the coffeepot which, blessedly, operated on a small timer set the night before. “Where’s Todd?”

Ivy settled herself in a chair at Shay’s table, shoving aside the current stack of business books with a slight frown. “He’s working. Ambition is his curse, you know.” She stopped for a breath. “I’m going to this great auction today. Want to come along?”

Shay poured coffee for herself and Ivy and stumbled over to the table to collapse into a chair. “Why would I want to go to an auction?”

“To buy something, silly. This is an estate sale, and they’re holding it in a barn.”

“I’m not in the market for harnesses and milk stools,” Shay muttered, beginning to come alive as caffeine surged through her veins.