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she laughed. “Thanks, but it’s my third.”
    He thought of the scrawny, bad-tempered girl next door. “Three? You work fast.”
    â€œSo does Bill. You remember Bill Easterday, don’t you?”
    â€œYou married Bill?” He remembered a boy who had hung out in the town square looking for trouble. A few times, Jason had helped him find it.
    â€œI reformed him.” When she smiled, he believed it. “He runs the bank.” His expression had her giggling. “I’m serious, stop in sometime. Well, I’ve got to be moving along. This box has to go into a locked closet before my oldest girl sees it. Thanks, Faith, it’s just lovely.”
    â€œI hope she likes it.”
    To keep her hands busy, Faith began to rewind the spool of ribbon. A puff of cold air came in, then was cut off as Lorna breezed out.
    â€œWas that the bride doll?” Clara wanted to know.
    â€œYes, it was.”
    â€œToo fussy. Can I go over to Marcie’s?”
    â€œWhat about homework?”
    â€œI don’t have any except that dumb Africa report. He’s going to help me.” Jason met her smile with a lifted brow. “Aren’t you?”
    Jason would have dared any man within a hundred miles to resist that look. “Yes, I am.”
    â€œClara, you can’t—”
    â€œIt’s okay ’cause I asked him to dinner.” She beamed, almost sure her mother would be trapped by the good manners she was always talking about. “There’s no school now for ten whole days, so I can do the report after dinner, can’t I?”
    Jason decided it wouldn’t hurt to apply a little pressure from his side. “I spent six weeks in Africa once. Clara might just get an A.”
    â€œShe could use it,” Faith muttered. They stood together, looking at her. Her heart already belonged to both of them. “I guess I’d better start dinner.”
    Clara was already racing across the yard next door before Faith pulled the door of the Doll House shut and turned the sign around to read Closed.
    â€œI’m sorry if she was a nuisance, Jason. She has a habit of badgering people with questions.”
    â€œI like her,” he said simply, and watched Faith fumble with the latch.
    â€œThat’s nice of you, but you don’t have to feel obliged to help her with this report.”
    â€œI said I would. I keep my word, Faith.” He touched a pin in her hair. “Sooner or later.”
    She had to look at him then. It was impossible not to. “You’re welcome to dinner, of course.” Her fingers worried the buttons of her coat as she spoke. “I was just going to fry chicken.”
    â€œI’ll give you a hand.”
    â€œNo, that’s not—”
    He cut her off when he closed his fingers over hers. “I never used to make you nervous.”
    With an effort, she steadied herself. “No, you didn’t.” He’d be gone again in a few days, she reminded herself. Out of her life. Maybe she should take whatever time she was given. “All right then, you can help.”
    He took her arm as they crossed the lawn. Though he felt her initial resistance, he ignored it. “I went to see Widow Marchant. I had cookies right from the oven.”
    Faith relaxed as she pushed open the door of her own kitchen. “She has every word you’ve ever written.”
    The kitchen was twice the size of the one he’d just left, and there were signs of a child in the pictures hanging on the front of the refrigerator and a pair of fuzzy slippers kicked into a corner. Moving with habit, Faith switched on the burner under the kettle before she slipped out of her coat. She hung it on a peg by the door, then turned to take his. His hands closed over hers.
    â€œYou didn’t tell me Tom left you.”
    She’d known it wouldn’t take him long to hear it, or long to question. “It’s not something I think