Second To None. Muriel Jensen

and salad in the small refrigerator so he wouldn’t see her disappointment. When she turned back to him, she had a bright smile in place and a hand extended.

      “Thank you for your help.” He took her hand in his, and she noticed its considerable size and strength. And its warmth. She drew hers away and folded her arms as she walked him down the stairs. “I appreciate your giving up your morning to help me.”

      “Sure.”

      The situation had become awkward, a circumstance fairly foreign to Veronica. She was good with people, and they usually warmed to her. But dealing with single men her own age was different. She felt awkward because he’d turned down her invitation, but he seemed equally uncomfortable. Because he’d rejected her? she wondered. But she was doing her best to pretend it didn’t matter.

      Either she wasn’t as good an actress as she’d thought, or she still had a lot to learn as a woman.

      “Do you need a ride to rehearsal?” he asked when they reached his truck.

      She stood aside as he opened his door. “No, thanks. Colette and I are going to town to pick up my car this afternoon.”

      “All right. See you in church, then.”

      That, at least, was comfortable territory.

      

      AFTER THE REHEARSAL, Veronica met Bill Markham and Gina Free, Tate’s former partners in the architectural firm he’d left to come to French River. Their two-year-old, Jacob, was passed from lap to lap and fussed over particularly by Megan and Katie.

      The couple had also brought with them Tate’s former secretary, Cece Phips. The girl was blond with a buzz cut, an eccentric taste in clothes and a sweet, extremely enthusiastic nature.

      Over appetizers at the Chinese restaurant where they’d all convened after leaving the church, Cece couldn’t stop talking about Oregon.

      “I didn’t expect it to be so beautiful, you know?” She dipped fried wonton in duck sauce. “I mean, all everybody talks about is how green it is because it rains so much, but, I mean, there must be a million shades of green, and those yellow flowers along the road—what do you call them?”

      Veronica knew the answer because she’d noticed them, too, and had asked Colette. “Scotch broom,” she replied. “A real problem, I’ve been told, if you have allergies.”

      “I’m strong as an elephant,” Cece boasted after a bite of the crispy appetizer. “Had all the childhood diseases, but now I never catch anything. No allergies, no sensitivity to food.” She smiled wryly. “A few phobias, though. And sometimes I go at things too anxiously and I screw up. I want to do it perfectly, but I sort of go into overdrive.” The smile became rueful. “Guys don’t like that. You either have to be helpless or totally together. But if you’re sort of competent, but not entirely, then they’re tempted to get involved but don’t like it that you mess up, so they kind of come and go—you know what I mean?”

      Veronica was tempted to explain that she’d just come out of the convent and really didn’t know at all. But it seemed like the wrong time to get started on that. So she ignored it altogether. “Maybe you’re just meeting the wrong men.”

      Cece nodded as though that was a possibility. “I go to school part-time. I’m a Psych major. College guys are either party, party, or they’re totally intense! And the clients at Markham, Free, and McCann are so into their building plans, they don’t even see me.”

      “That could change tomorrow.” Veronica passed her the mustard for the barbecue pork. “Some wonderful man who’s looking for all the qualities you possess could walk right into your office, or your lecture hall, and you’ll be the first one he notices because he’s ready to find you, and you’re watching for him.”

      Cece considered her words wistfully. “You think?”

      “Sure.”

      “Are you married?”

      “No.” Veronica saw Cece’s faith in her prediction shrivel, forcing her to explain anyway. “But I’ve been a nun since I graduated from high school. I just left the convent a couple of months ago.”

      Cece’s eyes widened. “A nun! How cool! So you must, like, understand everything. Life, purpose...”

      “Actually, no. We struggle along the way everybody else does. We simply have more time to pray about it.”

      “Wow.”

      Tate interrupted, pushing a tall, lanky young man into the chair on the other side of Cece. “Cece, I’d like you to meet Tony Fiorentino. Tony, Cece Phips with Markham, Free, and McCann. She came for the wedding. Tony’s spending the summer out here and is working with the crew that’s doing the renovations around the winery. I spotted him in the lounge and knew you had to meet him.”

      Tony had a gold hoop earring, curly dark hair, a beautiful beaky nose, and a smile that was all for Cece.

      “You’ll never believe where Tony goes to school,” Tate teased.

      “Where?”

      Tony was obviously pleased to tell her. “I’m a Psych major at Southern Massachusetts University.”

      “You’re kidding!” Cece squealed.

      Veronica turned away discreetly as the conversation between Tony and Cece took off. Mike had slipped into the chair on her other side, and she felt an instant resurgence of that uncomfortable feeling she’d experienced when he’d turned down her invitation to lunch.

      She decided to fight it “Did you get your million things done?” she asked with a smile, then tacked on, as if the answer didn’t matter, “Did you get some of this pork? It’s wonderful.”

      “Only 999 thousand of them,” he said, helping himself to a piece. “The rest will have to wait until after the wedding. Did you eat both sandwiches and both apples?”

      “Yes,” she lied, “and all the salad. I did save you a pop for another time, though.”

      She was sure he knew she was teasing, just as he was teasing her. It seemed to be a way to skate over the strangeness of their relationship. Or their acquaintanceship, she mentally corrected—it could hardly be called a relationship. And she liked being able to challenge him about his rejection of her invitation by telling him there was nothing of significance left anyway.

      He acknowledged her comment with a small nod. Then he reached into the pocket of his chambray shirt and handed her a business card. “Got you two candidates for your day care center.”

      She blinked as she took the card. “You did?”

      “I ran into someone I know from the Rotary Club—Tate and Shea and I each belong to a service organization so we’ll be involved in the community. Anyway, this guy has a girl and a boy, five-year-old twins. His wife’s a teacher, and he happened to mention that she’s taken a group of high school kids to Europe for the summer. Right now his twins are at their grandparents’ until the middle of July, but he was wondering what to do with them when they come back. So I suggested you.”

      “Well—” Gratitude warred with guilt over teasing him. “Thank you. But, why? I thought you didn’t want a day care here.”

      Mike didn’t actually know why. Some do-gooder need to make peace for having opposed her presence after she’d had such difficult odds to fight? He didn’t necessarily understand her, but he could relate to her uphill climb.

      He smiled self-deprecatingly. “Everything doesn’t always have to make sense, does it? Like sliding down a banister.”

      She giggled. The sound was ingenuous and surprising, and warmed him deep inside.

      “You’re right,” she said. She touched his arm, and he felt it in his fingertips. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it”

      “Sure. You can