CHAPTER FOUR

      MAC SAT IN his living room, holding his knife in one hand and a piece of birch in the other, but he wasn’t carving. Instead, he stared at the flames dancing behind the glass window of the woodstove. Was he missing something? Ursula’s reaction when she handed him the key didn’t quite fit. She’d looked...hurt.

      He shrugged. Of course she did. She was an expert manipulator. She knew exactly what buttons to push, what expressions to adopt. He’d learned a few things in the little over half a century he’d been on earth, much of it from sad experience. Fame and money attracted con artists and moochers like ants to a picnic. He seldom even wasted the energy resenting them, just wrote it off as an occupational hazard.

      So why was he so disappointed in Ursula? Maybe it was because she’d seemed real. She was attractive, but not in an obvious way. Just classic bone structure, healthy skin and an infectious smile. He liked her hair, the way she’d left in the natural silver, short but still feminine. She was a good listener. And she seemed to care. Of course, that was stock in trade for people like her. Listen, learn and take advantage.

      Blossom rose from her bed and stretched, head low over her front paws, tail poking into the air. She padded into the kitchen and took a long and sloppy drink from her bowl. Her nails clicked across the vinyl floor into the laundry room beyond, where she made a scratching noise.

      Mac stood and followed her without bothering to slip on his shoes, wondering why she didn’t scratch on the front door. When he got to the kitchen, enough light filtered into the laundry room to see her on her back legs, pawing at the back door latch. What was she up to?

      He’d noticed the levers on the doors looked much more modern than the rest of the house. Probably easier for arthritic hands to operate than the original doorknobs. Within a minute, Blossom had managed to catch the lever with her paw and pull it down. The door swung open, and she ran outside. When the heck did she learn to do that?

      He flipped on a light and went to examine the door. Before he reached it, a gust of wind banged it shut. Just as he thought, the latch was turned to the lock position. What he hadn’t realized was the inside lever still operated. He reached outside without letting the door shut and tried it. Sure enough, from the outside, it was locked.

      Blossom pranced to the door, head held high. Mac let her inside and locked the door behind her, this time using the deadbolt. He hadn’t bothered with the deadbolts before, since he didn’t have a key, but that was before he realized he had a canine Houdini on his hands. Tomorrow, he’d call a locksmith. And fix that hole in the fence.

      He followed Blossom into the living room. “You have some ’splaining to do, young lady.”

      She wagged her tail, reminding him of Andi when she was five and had just learned to tie her own shoelaces. Blossom seemed so pleased with herself, it was almost a shame he had to shut down her new game.

      And it was an even bigger shame he’d jumped to conclusions. There wasn’t much he hated more than the taste of crow, but he was going to have to eat a big helping.

      * * *

      â€œTHERE’S ANOTHER EXTENSION cord in the hall closet if you need it.” Ursula held a folding table steady while her friend Catherine folded out the legs.

      â€œThanks. I’m sure someone will need it. You’d think after doing this so many times, we’d have it down, but someone always forgets something.” Catherine grabbed the far end of the table and together they set it in place. “There. That’s the last one.”

      Ursula checked her watch. Four o’clock. Some of the quilters would no doubt take off work early on a Friday afternoon. “They’ll be arriving soon. I’ve got a big batch of brownies in the kitchen.”

      â€œThe girls will love that.” The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it. It’s probably our guest speaker. She’s going to talk about wool appliqué.”

      â€œOkay. I’ll put those brownies on a platter.” Ursula started for the kitchen.

      Catherine opened the door. “Well, hello there, beautiful,” she crooned in her dog-and-baby voice. Ursula was betting dog. Possibly a black-and-white pit bull.

      She paused at the kitchen door listening to the murmur of voices. She wasn’t sure if she wanted it to be Mac or not. She thought they’d made friends, but she’d sensed a definite hostility when he picked up Blossom yesterday. That hint of cowboy drawl was gone, and he was back to his formal voice. She couldn’t imagine what she’d done to upset him, after helping him with his eagle, picking up wire to fix his fence and rescuing his dog from traffic. Maybe he was embarrassed about the dog getting out. Or maybe he was just moody.

      Whatever his reasons, she had better things to do with her time than spend it with a bad-tempered hermit. She’d be better off staying far away from him. And yet, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Ursula sighed. Who was she kidding? She’d seen his pain. She could no more walk away from him than she could have left the eagle in