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tighter.”
    “Oh, hush.” The jeans were old, white and ideal for applying varnish to a roll-top desk. Her navy top was another paint-spattered T-shirt, and today, in deference to Morgan, she wore a bra.
    Kyle was gone. When Erica awakened, the bedroom had been empty; there had been no sound or sight of him. A squirrel had been chattering outside the glass wall, a pair of robins had been pecking at the dew-drenched grass for a gourmet breakfast of worms, and the brilliant early morning sunshine had promised a lovely day; it had all been rather annoying. When one’s life was falling apart, nature should at least have the courtesy to provide a mucky, rainy day. Instead, a seven-thirty sunlight was streaming into the bright kitchen, and Morgan’s brown eyes were steady on hers like admiring beacons. Worse, he was already full of his particular brand of nonsense.
    “One small smile, eked out after three sips of coffee and an apple,” he observed. “I think it was the lady who had a little problem sleeping last night.”
    “A little,” she admitted. “Oh, Lord!” She glanced furtively at the front door as they both heard a scratching from behind them, and in a second she was off the stool, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard and opening the back door. The cat stopped scratching instantly and leaped in to tangle herself around Erica’s legs as she reached out to get the milk from the refrigerator and pour some into the bowl. “We will not mention this to Kyle,” she said severely to Morgan.
    “I take it Kyle doesn’t like cats.” Morgan leaned back with his cup in hand, grinning broadly. “Does the thing have mange, or has it just been in an accident?”
    “Not you, too!” Erica protested. “Hurry,” she urged the creature. The cat was a skinny faded calico, with strangely long legs and tufts of fur at intervals. When the bowl was empty of milk, she curled around Erica’s legs again. Erica crouched down, stroking her. “What could I do?” she said helplessly to Morgan. “She comes every day.”
    “You don’t suppose it’s because you feed her, do you?” Morgan suggested helpfully.
    “She was starving!”
    “So are all those children in China.”
    “Morgan!” she said disgustedly as she shooed the cat back out the door.
    “Your secret’s safe with me,” he assured her with a grin. “Although you’re kidding yourself if you think Kyle doesn’t already know you’re a sucker for lost causes. Now quit jumping around for two seconds and sit down with your coffee. I want to talk with you.”
    “What about?” she asked. She washed out the empty bowl and put it away.
    “What’s wrong?” he asked abruptly.
    “Pardon?”
    He sighed impatiently. “I’ve known Kyle for twelve years and you for better than nine. Kyle looks as if he’s carrying the world on his shoulders, and you, love, are more tense than that cat could ever be.”
    “Nothing’s exactly wrong,” she protested, as she drank her coffee. She sipped too quickly, the scalding liquid fiery on her tongue, meeting his probing eyes only for an instant over the rim of the cup before she looked away. She was not good at lying, and Morgan had been a friend for too long for her simply to tell him to mind his own business. “Kyle’s just terribly tired,” she said finally.
    “So he’s driving himself to the limit. Why? You two chose to come here. You left a successful business…”
    “Yes,” Erica interrupted rapidly. “And this one is doing well, too, Morgan. It’s just that we started out with so many…”
    “Debts,” Morgan supplied smoothly.
    She had never intended to say that, but she could tell from the expression on Morgan’s face that he had already guessed.
    “I would have to be a fool not to have realized that there was more to the move here than Kyle’s sudden love affair with wood,” Morgan continued. “Woodworking may have been in his blood for generations, but it sure as hell didn’t show up until now. So how