Shay grinned. “It’ll be years before I live those spots down,” she answered. “Yesterday, in the supermarket, a little girl recognized me as the bee and called her mother over to meet me. It was half an hour before I could get back to my shopping. To make matters worse, Hank is selling my autograph.”

Marvin sat back in his chair, chuckling. His checkered jacket appeared capable of leaping into the conversation on its own, and Shay blinked as he replied, “You’ve definitely hit the big time.”

Shay sighed philosophically. “Not really. He charges more for Riley’s signature. The poor man must have written his name a hundred times while he was with Hank, just to keep the kid in spending money.”

“Enterprising boy, that Hank,” Marvin said with quiet pride. “Takes after his mother.”

“That’s a compliment, I hope.”

“Absolutely. If you need help of any kind, Shay, you come to Jeannie and me.”

Shay nodded and looked away, to hide the sudden tears that sprang to her eyes. “I’d better get back to work,” she said softly, turning to go and then pausing at the door. “About my replacement—”

“I think Ivy can handle the job, don’t you?”

Shay was delighted. She’d planned to suggest Ivy, but Marvin had saved her the trouble. “Yes.”

“Get a new receptionist, then,” Marvin said brusquely, tackling his paperwork with a flourish meant to hide emotions of his own. “Do it right away. Ivy will need to concentrate on learning your job and I want the transition to be made as smoothly as possible.”

Shay saluted briskly, her lips twitching, and hurried out. Ivy was standing up at her computer terminal, at hopeful attention.

“The job is yours,” Shay whispered.

“Ya-hoo!” Ivy shrieked.

Shay had obviously painted part of the old house herself, in a very light shade of blue and a pristine white. Both colors were well represented not only on the front of her coveralls but on her chin and her nose, too. Watching her, Mitch ached with the love of her, the need of her.

He’d been hard at work on Rosamond’s book for several weeks and now it was done, ready for Shay’s final approval. He cleared his throat and she lifted her eyes to his face, her conversation with a similarly clad Alice falling off in midsentence.

“Mitch,” she said.

Alice rubbed her hands down the legs of her tiny coveralls and did a disappearing act.

“The book?” Shay whispered.

Mitch extended a fat manila envelope. “Here it is, princess.”

She approached him, took the envelope, but her wide eyes never left his face. “I’ll read it tonight,” she said.

“I’ve missed you,” he replied.

“We’ve both been busy.” Her eyes were averted now. “Y-you’re starting a new book, aren’t you?”

Mitch sighed. The Alan Roget project was something they hadn’t discussed. “I’ve gathered some material, yes.”

She paled. “I—I guess I’d better get back to work,” she said.

Something in her manner panicked Mitch. He wanted to shout at her, grasp her arm, anything. Instead he simply said her name.