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doors.
    â€œMorning, Cadence. We started to worry, since it’s not like you to be more than a few minutes late, on the rare occasions that you are.” Arnold Mays was the first to the door. “Is everything all right?”
    â€œY-yes, thank you.” She had more problems with her sister, but that was nothing to trouble these fine people with. As for Ben…
    Chester Harrison halted beside Arnold, his best friend for over sixty years, and nodded once in the direction of Ben McKaslin. “He’s an eager one. Son, you’re doing pretty good with those crutches.”
    â€œI try not to let anything get in my way.” Ben stood straight and strong despite his injuries.
    The men moved inside, talking about sports as they went.
    In the clear light of day he seemed very different from the boy she remembered. He looked like an entirely different man, someone made of unbowed steel. He shrugged away his injuries as if they were nothing.
    Her gaze slid to his cast; it was a lightweight removable one. His leg was injured, but it must be healing, she figured, remembering how he’d managed to walk on it. Of course, he’d come to swim—one of the best rehabilitation methods for injured limbs.
    He was a customer, no more. This wasn’t personal. She held the door wide and tried to avoid his gaze. “C’mon in.”
    Ben remained where he stood, off to the side of the doorway, the wind ruffling his short dark hair like freshly mown grass. This morning he wore cutoffs and an old wash-worn tank top that bore some fading military insignia.
    A small duffel hung from his shoulder, barely visible, since he’d shoved it behind him so he could use his crutches. His big feet were hidden in a pair of ratty sneakers. Ben was never one for putting much stock in appearance, and after all this time she finally understood.
    It was the man and not the clothes she wondered about while she greeted Harriet Oleson, who sprinted along the walkway from the parking lot. Spry at ninety-three, the ever-young Mrs. Oleson praised the beautiful morning as she dashed by, eager to start her laps.
    Alone with Ben. The breeze carried with it thefaint scent of smoke—either from the fields burning off or the wildfire in the nearby national forest that had started during the night somewhere south of town.
    Cadence waited while a muscle ticked along Ben’s iron jaw. “Are you coming in or not? I’ve got to be on deck.”
    â€œThis is the lap swim, right? Open to anyone?”
    â€œWell, theoretically. I suppose that includes you. Or maybe it’s the lifeguard you have a problem with.”
    â€œNo.” He hooked his crutches more firmly beneath his arms and strode through the door, moving with the determination of a marathon runner sighting the finish line. He left her holding the door, watching his back.
    He was so…calm. That was a change from the boy she remembered. He walked straight and strong, as if nothing could diminish him.
    â€œâ€˜Mornin’, Cadence.” Jessie, another regular and a young mom in a hurry, had news of the approaching wildfire. They spoke for a few seconds as Ben disappeared. Jessie soon raced off to get changed, and Cadence was needed poolside.
    The office wasn’t empty as she passed through, stopping to grab her cup of tea. She greeted the assistant guard, a college girl named Melody, who must have come in the back door. She looked exhausted from what had to be another late night of studying. Melody resumed counting out change in the cash register’s till.
    As she did every morning, Cadence unlocked the locker-room doors, the gentlemen first because she knew Chester and Arnold would be showered down and waiting. And they were, pushing out the door and hurrying to pick their lane. Their bare feet slapped along the deck to the shallow end.
    Ben was still on her mind as she paced the length of the pool to unlock the women’s rooms. She