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instinctively going to the glass sliding doors and to the foothills on the opposite side of the valley.
    Mingo caught the direction of his gaze and after taking a swallow of his beer, he asked innocently, “So, have you been up to see the lady?”
    Jeb scowled. “What makes you think I'm going to waste my time checking on Roxanne Ballinger?”
    Mingo grinned. “And how did you know I was referring to that particular lady? I don't remember mentioning her name.”
    Knowing Mingo had him, he grimaced and leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, I drove up and verified that she bought the damned place.”
    “What's it going to hurt? Personally, I'd rather have a beautiful bundle like Roxanne living up there than Dirk Aston. That guy was bad news. Think you'd be thrilled one more scumbag was off the streets—and out of the valley.”
    “That's not the point. The point is that Oak Valley is no place for the likes of Roxanne. She's nothing but trouble spelt with a capital T and I do mean capital.”
    Mingo opened his eyes very wide. “You'd rather have a fuzzy-faced pot grower living across the valley from you than a gorgeous chick like Roxanne? Jeez, have you been out in the woods too long. You know, this vacation might have been a very good thing for you, old man. You need to get a grip. Women, especially women like Roxanne, are to be revered and enjoyed, not tossed aside like last week's garbage.”
    “What do you expect from someone with my track record when it comes to women? You can't say someone with two, not one, but two failed marriages behind him really appreciates the finer nuances in dealing with the opposite sex,” Jeb said, his expression bleak.
    Mingo hesitated. Looking at the condensation on his bottle of beer, he said carefully, “Don't you think it's time that you quit beating yourself up about that? You made some mistakes, I'll grant you that, but I don't suppose it ever occurred to you that the failures of both your marriages might not have been entirely
your
fault. It does take two to tango, you know. And two to make a failed marriage.”
    Jeb shut his eyes. It was an old argument between them and he supposed that Mingo had a point. It was just…It was just that he never expected to end up at forty-five living alone, with two failed marriages behind him…and no kids. When he could look at it realistically, which was seldom, Mingo was right, it wasn't all his fault that both his wives had left him. Hell, even he would admit that his first marriage to Ingrid Gunther, the daughter of an Austrian baron who had bought up half the south end of the valley, hadn't been smart. He'd just turned twenty-two and Ingrid had been twenty-one and they'd taken one look at each other and fallen into cosmic heat. They married four months later and for three months they had been deliriously happy screwing each other blind. By spring, the edge had been off their appetite for each other and Ingrid had been bored and contemptuous of life in Oak Valley. Oak Valley was Jeb's life, it always had been and he figured it always would be. He'd tried to explain it to Ingrid, but she hadn't listened. In the end she gave him an ultimatum, either resign his job and follow her to Austria or.…By June, their marriage was over and she had returned to Daddy and her jet-setting ways. Sometimes when he was lonely and blue he wondered if he'd given in to Ingrid if the marriage might have survived…
    “You're thinking of Ingrid, aren't you?” Mingo demanded, cutting into his thoughts.
    “Yeah, I was, how did you know?” Jeb asked, surprised.
    “Because you always get that look on your face—as if you'd committed a crime against nature. I can't for the life of me figure out what you had to feel guilty about: she left you.”
    Jeb's gaze dropped to the table. “Yes, she did, and if you remember correctly, so did Sharon.”
    Mingo snorted. “You know you're the only one that didn't have a clue about Sharon. She married you because she wanted