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traditional Japanese tea ceremony and its implications for daily living. It was the latest in a never-ending series of such philosophical explorations for Andromeda.
    “We got twenty-five new arrivals last night,” Cleo responded. “Another Seattle company is sending some of its employees through one of Herbert T. Valence's three-day motivational seminars.”
    “Oh, dear. Another one of those, eh?” Andromeda shook her head. “Hard to imagine that anyone really believes there are five easy steps to wealth, power, and unlimited success.”
    Cleo grinned. “I get the feeling good old Herbert does. The guy must be making money hand-over-fist with these seminars.”
    “True. He does seem to be doing rather well, doesn't he? This is the third seminar he's booked in here this winter,” Andromeda observed.
    Cleo laughed. “Just be grateful he's decided the inn makes a suitable setting for his uplifting and inspiring messages.”
    “I am, dear. I am well aware that the inn is doing very nicely this winter because of Mr. Valence. However, when I mentioned the new guest, I was not referring to one of the seminar attendees.”
    Cleo smiled wryly. “Let me guess. You're talking about Jason's friend, right?”
    “Yes. Are you certain he was a friend of Jason's?”
    Cleo glanced at Andromeda in surprise. “He says he is. He certainly knew about Jason having stayed with us from time to time during the past eighteen months. And he knew about the arrangement Jason and I had worked out.” Cleo wolfed down the last of the muffin. “At least I think he did. I offered him the same deal, and he took it.”
    “He's working for you now?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    Andromeda frowned delicately. “I told you when Jason first started to show up around here on the weekends that he was not exactly what he seemed.”
    “I know, but I liked him. You said you liked him, too. We both agreed we could trust him.”
    “Well, I knew he was not a threat, of course. In his own way Jason needed us. I am not so certain about this other man.”
    “You only met him briefly last night.”
    Daystar swooped down on Cleo before Andromeda could respond. “Saw his car in the parking lot.” She hoisted a spatula in a warning manner. “My ex-husband bought a Jaguar like that right before he married his secretary. Your Mr. Fortune is no starving artist, Cleo.”
    Cleo smiled at her. Daystar was a sturdy, competent-looking woman whose shrewd, no-nonsense eyes reflected her assertive, inquisitive attitude toward everything and everyone. She was the airy, ethereal Andromeda's natural opposite. Cleo had often thought the two made a perfect pair.
    “Jason wasn't exactly starving either,” Cleo pointed out. “At least not in the literal sense. But he needed a place like Robbins' Nest Inn in order to paint. And he wanted to help out around here.”
    Andromeda gave her a gentle smile. “You mean he wanted to be part of our extended family.”
    Cleo shrugged. “Maybe Max Fortune wants the same thing.”
    “Or perhaps he wants something else,” Daystar said darkly.
    “I doubt it,” Cleo murmured. “Don't forget, I saw him with a toilet plunger in his hand. You learn a lot about a man when you see him in action like that.” She popped the last bite of muffin into her mouth. “Besides, what else is there for him around here except the same kind of family thing that Jason found?”
    “I don't know,” Daystar said. “I'm just suggesting that you be cautious. The fact that he knew Jason does not automatically make Mr. Fortune a member of the family.”
    Andromeda nodded in agreement. “Daystar is right, dear.”
    “Don't worry, I'll be careful,” Cleo promised.
    She was about to pick up the teapot when a flash of awareness made her pause. There had been no telltale sound above the clatter of pans and the hum of conversation that filled the kitchen, but Cleo knew without turning around who was standing in the doorway. A small thrill shot through her, leaving