Sarah had gotten used to coming home from work to find him busily working. She’d gone with him to pick out tile and supplies for the showers. She’d selected toilets, mirrors, light fixtures, and vanities that had an antique look to them to fit with the rest of the house. Bodie had gone behind her, picking up needed supplies to install her choices, and had made suggestions—good suggestions—when she’d asked his advice.

His knowledge and insight impressed her as much as his efficiency and how much he had already accomplished. He’d installed the plumbing and insulation for sound reduction and hung sheetrock in the two bathrooms. He’d finished painting the bedroom walls, and they’d done Aunt Jean’s bedroom’s trim together the night before. Sarah had painted the baseboard trim and Bodie had painted the ceiling’s crown-molding, the doors and their trim, and around the fireplace, taking great care to protect the tile and fixtures.

Sarah liked Bodie’s attention to detail. A lot.

Harry met her at the door each day, probably because she continued to bring food home each night, now always including something for the dog. Not the juicy cheeseburgers Lou had sent that first day, though. Her cholesterol levels would’ve put up a protest.

She’d started stopping by the grocery store and picking up items to cook for them. She told herself it was good practice, since she needed to come up with a few staple recipes to use when the bed and breakfast opened. Bodie was fun to cook for, and she enjoyed watching him eat and listening to him give “reviews” of her meals. Tonight, she planned to keep their meal simple because she had other things on her agenda.

“I should have known the minute Harry disappeared that you were here.” Bodie walked into the kitchen. He must have been crouched down on the floor or in some awkward position because he moved a little stiffly.

Sarah laughed, bending to talk to the dog at her feet who had totally won her heart this past week. She’d grown fond of Harry’s welcome home.

“Harry is a good boy,” she said, more to the dog than to Bodie.

Bodie shook his head. “Sweet-talking my dog.”

“’Cause he’s so sweet.” Sarah grinned, straightened, then washed her hands.

“What’s that?” He glanced toward the box she’d put on the countertop along with the grocery bags she’d carried in on her first trip inside the house.

“The On-The-Square Christmas Festival is in barely over two weeks,” she reminded him—not that he could have forgotten, with the way she constantly talked about the event. Well, when she wasn’t going on and on about Hamilton House and how excited she was at their progress.

He didn’t say a lot, unless it was about the house. Come to think of it, she didn’t give him many openings. He probably thought she never shut up.

“Despite starting earlier this year,” she continued, “we still don’t have enough ornaments to sell. I’m going to take a night off from working on the house to cut more plastic canvas pieces so we can move faster at tomorrow’s session. With this weekend being Thanksgiving, tomorrow’s our last official meeting. We need to get lots of ornaments made.”