“Ryder. Ah, Bob Mackie, this is Ryder Montgomery. His family owns the inn.”

“Sure, sure, you told us about that.” Bob hooked the necks of the beer in the fingers of one hand, stuck out the other for an enthusiastic shake. “Pleased to meet you. You did a hell of a job here, hell of a job. My wife and I haven’t left yet, and we’re already talking about coming back.”

“Glad you like it.”

“The bathrooms alone,” Bob said with another grin. “And the history of the place. I love the old photos you’ve got back there. I’m into the Civil War. Connie and I spent the day at Antietam. Beautiful place. Just beautiful.”

“It is.”

“How ’bout a beer?”

“I was just—”

“Come on, a man’s always got time for a beer. You gotta meet Connie. And Mike and Deb, and Jake and Casey. They’re good people.” He thrust a beer into Ryder’s hand. “Say, we’re in Jane and Rochester. I bet that copper tub was a pain in the ass to get up there.”

He all but herded Ryder toward The Lounge like a border collie with a reluctant sheep.

Hope took a moment to compose herself. Ryder, not the most sociable of men in her experience, was about to be Civil War Bobbed.

HE TRIED TO get away. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the guy; Bob Mackie was as likeable as a puppy. He made an excuse, citing his dog in The Courtyard, but all that accomplished was the unified insistence he bring D.A. inside.

Where his dog was petted and made over like a visiting prince.

Mike, from Baltimore, wanted to talk carpentry. He ended up taking them all around, showing them some of the details, explaining how they’d been done, why, when. They had a million questions. Before he’d finished, four more people came back, and had a million more.

Hope didn’t help, not one damn bit. She just smiled, tidied up behind them, or worse, offered another avenue of discussion.

By the time he managed to get out, it was full dark, and his brain felt soft. Not from the beer; he’d been careful there. From the conversation.

He hadn’t gotten across The Courtyard when The Lobby door opened. He relaxed, a little, when he recognized the click of Hope’s heels.

“How do you do that?” he demanded. “All the time?”

“Do what?”

“Talk to total strangers.”

“I like it.”

“I worry about you.”