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mind,’ I said, feigningcarelessness, justifying my ignorance to both of us. ‘And my mother made most of the arrangements.’
    Glancing at Gigi, who panted placidly in the sticky heat, Rhys acknowledged, ‘There does seem to have been some breakdown in communication.’
    He smoothly managed the trick of reaching the door before me and opening it. The idea of climbing into another vehicle, so soon after I’d gotten my feet on the ground – or at least the asphalt – twisted another loop into the weary knot in my stomach. I struggled for a moment with how to fold myself into the back seat with any grace or dignity, then gave up and clambered awkwardly in.
    â€˜All set?’ asked Paula, twisting round to look at me.
    I set Gigi’s carrier on the seat and tried to find a comfortable position. Alleged divahood aside, a Town Car would have had more legroom. I settled for stretching my leg out beside Gigi, and tried not to groan as I slipped off my shoe and wiggled my toes. ‘Much better.’
    â€˜That’s good,’ Paula said as Rhys circled to the driver’s side. ‘I figured if you wanted to, you could go to sleep back there. Travelling always wears me out.’
    â€˜I can never sleep in a car.’ Or a plane, or a bus. I’d gotten a lot of reading done while on tour with the company.
    Gigi wanted to get out of her carrier and into my lap. I needed a better stretch, and a pain pill, but I settled for digging the bottle of Advil from my purse and swallowing three gelcaps with a swig of bottled water.
    I waited until Rhys got behind the wheel and buckled his seat belt, then made a stab at needling him in return for that ‘princess’ business. ‘I’m impressed, Cousin Paula. A British chauffeur. That’s very hightoned. Your guests at the inn will be very impressed.’
    In the rearview mirror, Rhys shot me a narroweyed glare, but Paula just laughed. ‘If I could afford to offer him a job, I would. As it is, he’s been so helpful and tolerant with the work on the house, I hardly think of Rhys or his father as guests at all.’
    As the chauffeur in question pulled the car onto the road, I took the opportunity to find out whether there would be crack-of-dawn power-tool wake-up calls. ‘How is the work on the inn going?’
    Rhys gave a soft snort. He knew that I hadn’t known until two minutes ago that there was an inn at all. He didn’t mention that fact, and thankfully Paula missed his nonverbal commentary.
    â€˜Oh, lord,’ she said, as if revving up for a recitation. ‘You would not believe the work we’ve done on the old place. There’s still so much left to do, sometimes I don’t know where I’ll get the strength. This project is half cursed, half blessed, I think.’
    â€˜What makes you say that?’ I admit that my interest was merely polite. But talking distracted her, and I was able to slip Gigi from her carrier and into my lap, which made us both happier.
    Paula shrugged. ‘Oh, I suppose we’ve just met the normal roadblocks. Hundred-year-old plumbing, vintage copper wiring—’
    â€˜Installing an extra loo on the first floor,’ addedRhys, his eyes on the road as we approached the entrance ramp to the highway.
    â€˜Exactly!’ said Paula. She glanced back at me, but didn’t seem to notice the dog. Probably because I’d slipped off my sweater and covered Gigi with it. ‘But your great-great-great-grandfather – or however many it is – knew what he was doing. The house is solid as a rock. There have been some major expenses, but otherwise things have magically fallen into place. And of course, I’m lucky to have Clara.’
    Crap. Was I supposed to know who that was? In the rearview mirror, Rhys looked amused at the hole I’d dug for myself. ‘Um … so, Clara’s been a big help?’ I asked vaguely.
    â€˜I