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mother in the house in two weeks. And she suspected that her former skating coach, Mikhail, would be staying with them for some time. He had said, “I will come to this place if you could secure a little room in a cheap hotel. Just a bed is all I need—I despise to sleep on the floor. Someone should help get her settled. Winnie can be difficult. Then I will leave.”
    Difficult? She could be a nightmare!
But Winnie was ill now, losing her physical stamina, failing as ALS took over and the fatigue she suffered from made her more docile. It was true she had always listened to Mikhail. And Mikhail had said he was coming for two or three days and he’d been there over a month already. She’d better get that second upstairs bedroom and bath finished for him. She had a feeling Mikhail planned to stay much longer than he let on. There was an affection between Mikhail and Winnie that Grace couldn’t really identify. Not romance, certainly. Friendship, but more than the usual friendship. Partnership. Mikhail had been Grace’s coach for years, from the time she was fourteen until she was in her early twenties and quit competing, and through all that time he had stayed close to both Grace and Winnie.
    Virginia, Winnie’s assistant, would stay in her position until that big albatross of a house in San Francisco was closed and all the possessions were dealt with. There were a few pictures Grace wanted for this house, but the rest of her mother’s art was going to a fine-art museum on long-term loan—it would be displayed as
The Banks Collection
. With the help of the now part-time housekeeper, some things were being packed and shipped to Thunder Point—just a few treasured pieces of furniture, some dishes, kitchenware, her mother’s precious bedroom rug, a valuable Aubusson. Then there would be an estate sale—the furs and most of the jewelry would be included. Grace would have to make a couple of quick trips to look through things—there were undoubtedly photo albums, books, mementos and keepsakes that should be preserved.
    Virginia was looking for a roomy flat in the city where she could live and work until the estate was settled. Then Grace just might ask her if she wanted to continue to manage the estate after Winnie was gone.
    Meanwhile, that handsome history teacher on the deck was trying to get a binding pre-nup. He wasn’t looking for half, he was looking for nothing. He never wanted it even suggested that he was interested in Grace’s legacy. That would be the money she would inherit because as of now she had a flower shop and about a year’s income in the bank, cautiously invested. Troy had been intimidated by Winnie’s house and furnishings. If he ever saw the actual bottom line, the net worth, he might stroke out.
    Oh, they were going to make interesting neighbors. A teacher and flower shop owner, now expecting. A diva with ALS who would probably sit on the deck in a wheelchair wearing furs and diamonds. Full-time nursing help. And a little Russian coach who liked raisins in his
wodka
.
    “Troy!” she called. “I think I’m going to do a little painting in the loft.”
    He straightened and pulled off his cap. “You paint nothing! There are fumes. You can sweep. Or go arrange flowers. Or call your mother and tell her how helpful I am.”
    “She already likes you more than she likes me,” she muttered.
    “As it should be,” he said.
    “Wow. Good ears!”
    “I’m a high school teacher! I have to hear everything!” he shouted.
    “And so do I,” Spencer yelled from the bottom step.
    * * *
     
    Matt Lacoumette had one of those grueling weeks where he had to be everywhere at once. There was fertilizing to do in the orchard—the flowers were giving way to buds of fruit and it was a delicate time. Some of George’s ewes had lambed but there were some late breeders ready now. He liked to shear the ewes to make their lambing easier, and Matt helped with that. Then they liked to get the ewes delivered so