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but he and his handpicked team of engineers (basically a bunch of classmates from university who were moonlighting on the project) were still working out some of the kinks in the planned manufacturing process. There would be dozens of e-mails to read.
    Miriam lifted her old hands from the rocker’s arms, and Hugh noted the swellings at each joint. His old Great-Aunt Maude had suffered terrible arthritis in her hands, and often the pain would drive her from her bed and down into the ladies’ parlor, where old Sam would set a fire for her in the stone fireplace. Sometimes, when Hugh had come home from school on holiday, he’d sit up with her well into the wee hours, telling stories over tea, just to help ease her pain.
    Great-Aunt Maude had been gone for almost fifteen years. He relaxed into the movement of the rocker and let the nostalgia settle in. It was a lovely, star-filled night—perfect for reverie.
    Miriam took another deep breath and let it out. “You know I keep praying that the Lord will send Dash a gardener, but that’s a selfish kind of prayer. The Lord will send Dash what Dash needs, and Lord knows that boy needs a great deal. I reckon I’ll have to be happy if He sends a strong woman, even if she does have a brown thumb like me.”
    “Well, I suppose Dash could always hire a gardener if push came to shove.”
    “Ah, so you’ve been in town long enough to know the state of my nephew’s bank account.”
    “Well, I had heard something along the lines that he was well off.” Which begged the question as to why Miriam Randall’s house looked as if it might tumble down around her ears. Was Dash one of those selfish bastards?
    “Hiring a gardener would break Harry’s heart. Harry loves this garden, and the house, too. He used to work on things all day long. Kept him fit until the last year. Now he can’t breathe well enough to walk across the room.Dash hired a man to do some weeding, and Harry nearly ’bout had a fit.”
    She let go of a long breath. “Well, I don’t have much to complain about. Fifty-one years of happiness is more than most of us get, I reckon.”
    Perhaps Dash wasn’t selfish at all. And the old lady didn’t need or want any kind of affirmation of what was, after all, a platitude. Fifty-one years of happiness were more than many got, but if one was left behind, it would still never be enough.
    She rocked a long moment in silence. “I do like a man who knows when to keep his mouth shut.”
    “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
    “It was intended as such. And more so, given what you’ve been up to this evening.”
    “Ah, I was wondering when you’d get to that. Shall I pack my bags and take myself off to the Peach Blossom Motor Court?”
    Miriam laughed and turned her head. The yellow porch light caught a glimmer in her dark, myopic stare. Her eyeglasses were perched on the top of her head, and the twin indentations on either side of her nose told him that she was probably blind without them.
    He knew the feeling. He was utterly blind without his contact lenses. But there were times when leaving them out and letting the world blur would give him a moment of inner peace.
    “No, I don’t think I’ll send you off to the Peach Blossom. That would put you at Lillian Bray’s mercy.”
    “Lillian Bray?”
    “Hmm. She’s the chair of the Christ Church Ladies Auxiliary, a member of the town council, and the chairof the Garden Club. Now
there
is a woman who takes gardening seriously. Her gladioli are legendary.”
    “Really?” he said politely, as if he were sitting down to tea with Great-Aunt Maude.
    “Yes. And she’s on your side, if you must know.”
    “Well then, I will have to seek her out and enlist her work on my behalf.”
    “You do that.” There was a sour note in Miriam’s voice.
    “I take it you’re not keen on my building a factory here in Last Chance. Would it change your mind if I told you it would employ two hundred people?”
    “Not if it means