There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes, but Stephanie knew he hadn’t placed her. She wasn’t surprised. He probably swindled women all the time. He probably couldn’t keep track of all the people he’d stuck it to. “Stephanie Lowe,” she said. “We met two months ago when I bought your house.” The very same house that had been falling apart piece by piece ever since she’d moved in, she silently added.

Ivan’s brows drew together. Stephanie Lowe, his cook’s cousin, the woman who’d bought Haben. How could he have forgotten Stephanie Lowe? Early Alzheimer’s disease, he decided. He was suffering from premature senile dementia. He’d seen Stephanie Lowe only briefly at the Realtor’s office, but he should have remembered. She’d worn a Billie and the Boingers T-shirt, and she’d been disappointed to find he didn’t own a parrot.

She was just as outrageous now as before, he thought. Her hair was short and shiny brown with wispy bangs. It would have been pretty if it hadn’t been sticking out in all directions. He supposed she was one of those punk people. He did a mental calculation and put her at five-foot-seven, noticing she was slim and long-legged, wearing chunky silver, green, and white high-tops, bright pink socks scrunched down around her ankles, a pair of rumpled khaki walking shorts, and an orange tank top that was bright enough to get them through the best fogbank Maine could muster. She was probably there to complain about the house. Just what he needed to round out his morning. “Lucy tells me you’ve been having some problems with the house…”

“Problems?” Stephanie felt her control slipping. It wasn’t her strong suit to begin with. “Two weeks after I moved in, the front porch rotted out from under me. Then the water heater blew up and flooded the cellar. None of the windows will open, and it’s hotter than heck in—” She stopped when she saw the smile spread across his face. “Something funny about a water heater exploding?”

Ivan didn’t think there was anything funny about a water heater exploding, and he couldn’t understand how so many things could go wrong with his house. He’d left it in perfect condition. He loved Haben. It had belonged to his family for generations, and he would never have sold it if it hadn’t been absolutely necessary. He was smiling despite everything because Stephanie Lowe was a sight that inspired smiles.

“I think you’re cute when you get all steamed up,” he admitted, and playfully patted her cowlick. “Why is your hair sticking up? Is this a new style?”