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eat again?” He shook his dark head before she could answer, said in a tone that sounded more parent than child, “You know I don’t like when you do that. It’s been too much these past few weeks.” Nate laid a big hand on her shoulder, gentled his voice. “Maybe you’re doing too much. I know you love the garden and canning and all, but it’s not worth your health.”
    Oh, Nathan, if it were only as simple as canning bushels of tomatoes and red peppers. Those were the joys in life, tasks that brought peace to her existence and provided the ingredients to savory dishes her family and friends enjoyed. “I love working in the garden,” she said, trying to push aside her son’s fears. “And canning is tradition, you know that.” Miriam cast him a look she hoped appeared convincing when she added, “You tell Lily we can’t can anymore. See what she has to say about that.”
    “Okay, okay.” He smiled at her, his deep voice turning rough, tender. “I just worry about you, that’s all.”
    “There’s no need to worry about me, I’m fine.” When she looked into her son’s eyes, she could almost believe her own words, but the truth jabbed her heart, threatened to rip it open. Do what Candace wants , her conscience told her. Or else . She drew in a breath and let the next words spill out in a rush before she yanked them back. “Angie needs a place to work on her houses and I told her she could use your shop.” Pause. “And a few of your tools.”
    Those dark eyes turned black, the brackets around his mouth deep. “Why would you tell her that?” And then, “Nobody uses another man’s tools.”
    “Cash uses yours every day, doesn’t he?”
    Nate sighed, ran a hand over his stubbled jaw. “That’s different. We work together, and he knows what he’s doing.”
    Miriam studied her son, waited for him to make the comment she knew was in his thoughts. When he didn’t, she said, “So does Angie. She’s skilled on a table saw, band saw, and drill press. That’s talent.” The scowl said he didn’t agree. “But she’s a woman, so you doubt her skills, right?”
    “Of course not.” The blush said that wasn’t exactly true. “The woman’s a stranger, Ma. I don’t let strangers touch my stuff.”
    “You are such an old fuddy-duddy. Angela Sorrento’s presence is a big opportunity for Magdalena. Her skill has caught the eye of a wealthy benefactor, and these replications will promote small-town life all across the country.”
    “You mean nosy tourists will invade the town looking for their own slice of heaven and then call us hillbillies when they can’t find a restaurant chain or solid cell phone service.” He shook his head, those dark eyes full of questions. “Why would you think putting us all on display like mannequins in a window is a good idea?”
    Because I have no choice. It’s the only way I can keep my secret safe . Miriam laid a hand on her son’s forearm, willed him to accept what she was about to say, even though she didn’t believe it herself, not anymore. “People might not understand small-town living, but that doesn’t mean they can’t appreciate it or respect it.”
    “Yeah, right.” He shot her a look that said she was miles off base. “You really think some rich eccentric cares about us? Ma, think again. It’s all about leverage and money. You’ll see.”
    “Why would you say that?” How could he know that’s exactly what this was about? Candace was blackmailing her to pave the way for a friend’s illegitimate daughter to create miniature houses in Magdalena, but what was the real reason behind this project? Why did it matter so much to her? And why had Candace selected these particular places? Miriam forced a smile and said in a quiet voice, “Everything is not always about money and power, Nathan.”
    He raised a brow. “Is this where you pull the mother card and ask me to let this Sorrento woman work in my shop and have full access to my