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step.
    Brian stopped spinning and staggered to the edge of the playground. One glimpse of his gray-green face told Rob the inevitable was about to happen.
    “Be right back,” he said to the others, getting up and walking fast across the playground.
    “Gross,” a boy said. “Brian hurled chunks.” A few of the others, being boys, gathered around, echoing a chorus of “Gross!”
    “Hey, Brian,” Rob said, taking out a handkerchief. “Got a little motion sickness there?”
    Brian stayed bent over, hands on his knees, the back of his neck pale and clammy with sweat. “Uh-huh,” he said miserably.
    Rob felt awkward as he put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and mopped his face with the handkerchief. Briefly, he had considered specializing in pediatrics, but he’d opted for pathology instead. He didn’t think he had the patience or the special tenderness it took to deal with little kids. Brian looked completely forlorn, so Rob took him to the men’s room and had him rinse his mouth and wash his hands and face.
    “Let’s go find your mom,” he suggested.
    On the way to the raffle table, he stopped and got a cup of ice water for the kid. Twyla didn’t see them approach. Standing behind her table, she talked to a long-haired guy in blue jeans and a leather vest. She was smiling as she spoke to him.
    There were some obvious reasons why Rob had noticed her and why he’d had an intense reaction to her. A great figure and abundant red hair. It was probably out of a bottle, but since she was a hairdresser, she’d know the best way to make it look natural. Or maybe it was natural. Brian’s fiery red hair had to have come from somewhere.
    She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. He’d noticed that right off.
    Yet he felt more than a strong physical attraction to her. He had seen more gorgeous women before, had held them in his arms, taken them to his bed. But there was something about Twyla that went deeper than good looks. She had the most expressive face he had ever seen, eyes that hid nothing. When they spoke, he sensed an easy rhythm between them that worked. In one conversation she struck him as funny, sad, irreverent, practical, unassuming and proud. And self-deprecating.
    She laughed at something the ponytail guy said. She hadn’t laughed like that for Rob. As soon as the thought formed, he felt like an idiot. What did he care about who made her laugh?
    She noticed him coming toward her, and the laughter stopped. Her expression held a peculiar sweetness, and the way she looked down at her son, stroking his hair and brushing her knuckles over his forehead, evoked a strange and haunting reminder in Rob of a distant, dreamlike moment in the past.
    He stepped back, frowning. This he didn’t need. Trips down memory lane had never held any appeal for him. He had to stay focused on his goals and his future. The sooner he got this auction thing over, the better.
    “Hey, sport,” Twyla said, all her attention on Brian. “Did something happen?”
    “I hurled,” Brian said glumly, sipping his water.
    She glanced up at Rob. “And the medical term for this would be…?”
    He was intrigued that she seemed to know he was a doctor. Apparently she’d looked over his bio. “Acute temporary emesis. Induced by vertigo.”
    “Otherwise known as…?”
    “Spinning on the tire swing until he puked. He’ll be fine. Have him sit in the shade for thirty minutes or so.”
    “Are you going to bill me for this?”
    He grinned. “Only if I don’t win the blanket.”
    “Quilt. It’s a quilt. The pattern is called Log Cabin.”
    “We’d better get going, Rob,” said the guy with the ponytail.
    It took Rob a few seconds to recognize him as another former Lost Springs resident. “Hey, Stan. Good to see you here.”
    A wail of electronic feedback obscured Stanley Fish’s remark. Rob shaded his eyes in the direction of the arena. “They’re ready to start.”
    “I think you’re right.”
    He felt a sudden, idiotic jolt of