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tonight.”
    Apparently just hearing the bastard’s name was enough to get her scowling again, even as she blinked in obvious confusion. “What’s he got to do with—” Her eyes widened. “We don’t
live
together. Stanley lives up over the office and I live in my parents’ house.” She looked utterly scandalized. “And even if our engagement was real, we wouldn’t live together without being
married
.”
    Now Jesse was confused. “Are you saying you and Stanley aren’t really engaged?”
    She dropped her gaze and slowly started sliding the diamond ring up and down the fourth finger of her left hand, her bluster evaporating on a deep sigh. “It’s only pretend,” she admitted softly. “Just like the stone in this ring.” She looked up. “We got engaged shortly after my father had his second heart attack over two years ago. Knowing Dad worried about my being alone if he died, Stanley and I hoped that telling him we were engaged might ease some of the stress on his heart.”
    â€œAnd for the fourteen months since his death?” Jesse asked gently.
    â€œSince everyone in town also believed the engagement was real, we decided to go on pretending until we could make it look like we simply fell out of love but could still be friends.”
    â€œAnd it’s taking over a year to fall out of fake love?”
    â€œNo, it’s taking Stanley that long to find a new partner.” She snorted. “And for me to work up the nerve to finally leave Whistler’s Landing.”
    â€œAnd go where?” Jesse asked in surprise.
    â€œAnywhere,” she muttered, stretching to reach the wine bottle, then lifting it to her mouth and tilting her head back in the apparent hope it had magically refilled.
    Jesse remembered the other thing she’d said that had caught his attention. “So you wouldn’t consider living with a man you’re not married to?” he asked when she finally gave up and lowered the bottle. “I realize Whistler’s Landing might be frozen in time, but surely you know this is the twenty-first century.”
    That got him a derisive smile. “You try living in a small town full of people who are two and three generations older than you and not be old-fashioned. My parents tried having children early in their marriage without success, until my mother suddenly found herself pregnant at fifty-one years old.” She chuckled. “I got my driver’s license the same day she got her first social security check in the mail.” But then her smile turned sad. “She died in her sleep when I was twenty. I left college to come home and be with Dad, and finished working on my degree by driving to the University of Maine in Machias three days a week.”
    â€œA degree in architecture?”
    She shook her head. “I’m not a detail person and would go insane if I had to spend hours hunched over a drafting table trying to decide where every light switch should go.”
    Jesse arched a brow again. “You don’t spend hours hunched over your models?”
    â€œThat’s different,” she said with a shrug. “My dad realized early on that I visualized things three-dimensionally, which is why he decided to teach me to fabricate his models. When I’m building, it’s like I’m actually walking around inside the house.” She shot him a smile. “Or traipsing all over a forested island.”
    â€œSo what is your degree in?”
    Her smile went back to being derisive. “My original plan was to become a lawyer and set up shop in Ellsworth so I’d be close to my parents. But when Mom died, I switched from pre-law to environmental tourism when Dad suggested we could build a campground at the far end of our property to bring tourists to the area.”
    â€œBut now you’ve changed your mind and want to leave?”
    â€œWell, yeah,” she