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He’s gorgeous!”
    “Patsy—”
    “No, I’m serious! You make a great-looking couple.”
    “This is a jury!”
    “He’s brilliant,” she went on as though Abby had never spoken. “Do you know that he’s a college professor? He didn’t say where, and I had to all but pry that much out of him, but you should have heard the discussion he had with Bernie about the caste system in India. Does he ever have facts at his fingertips!”
    Abby had no doubt about that. “It sounds like your dinner was a little more interesting than mine. Who’s Bernie?”
    Barely stopping for a breath, Patsy was fast proving herself to be the antithesis of the other jurors. “Bernie is Bernie Langenbach. He was the first juror sworn in. Poor guy’s been here since the day before yesterday! He owns a restaurant in White River Junction.”
    “How about you, Patsy? What do you do?”
    For the first time, the blond-haired woman spoke slowly, but it was only pride that weighted her words. “I work for the Eastern Appalachian Company designing skiwear.”
    “You design it? That’s fantastic!”
    Patsy nodded. “I enjoy the work.” Then she grew more mischievous. “And it gives me an excuse to stay near the slopes….”
    Something in her eyes told Abby that her interest wasn’t purely in schussing. “Okay,”Abby grinned, liking Patsy more by the minute, “Let’s have it. Who is he?”
    Smiling gaily, Patsy leaned closer. “He’s a ski bum and he’s the most wonderful guy in the world! I mean, he’s smart and funny, and is he ever a good-looker!”
    “But can he ski?” Abby asked, holding her expression sober only until her friend laughed aloud.
    “Can he ski?” She rolled her eyes heaven-ward. “When he comes down that mountain, it is something to behold,” she breathed in near reverence. Then, in the instant, she started up again. “Boy, was he annoyed when he found out I couldn’t talk with him.”
    Now the story sounded familiar. “He doesn’t like talking through an interpreter?” Abby asked, tongue in cheek.
    “Not…a…bit!” Patsy loudly sucked in her breath, then let it out with similar gusto. “And do I love that possessiveness!”
    Abby dissolved into gentle laughter. “You’re amazing, Patsy. A change from the very staid folks I ate with tonight.”
    Sitting back in her chair, Patsy grimaced. “You mean Dean didn’t thrill you with his opinion of the economy?”
    “Uh-oh. You’ve heard it too?” It was slightly conservative, at best.
    “Twice now. And Richard—he usually picks up with his plug for tourism. Youknow—it’s a good thing that the rich are getting richer so they can afford to ski in these mountains. I hope you didn’t try to argue with him,” she added her warning, but it came too late.
    “As a matter of fact,” Abby moaned, “I did suggest something about all those other people who might like to ski—”
    “And he clammed up?”
    “Not another word.”
    Patsy nodded. “That seems to be the pattern. It’s as though they’re frightened of discussion. Not your Ben, though.”
    “He’s not my Ben, Patsy. For all I know he’s got some little coed stowed in his cozy condominium.” All he’d said was that he’d been married once; he’d never ruled out a current lover. “And besides, I’ve got my own hands full just now.”
    “You do?” Patsy gleamed. “Tell me about him.”
    But before Abby was able to say a word, Nicholas Abbott approached. “Abby? You’ve got a phone call. It’s your fiancé.”
    “My fiancé?” Who else? “But I can’t talk, can I?”
    “Grace is just finishing up with another call. She said she’d be glad to help you out.”
    Not quite sure if she wanted to be helped out, particularly given her annoyance at Sean’s audacity, she hesitated.
    “He says it’s important,” Nicholas added apologetically.
    Sighing, she nodded. There was always that chance that Sean did have a question relating to the work she’d be missing during the