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inside his mouth, making noise, as if he were tasting wine. “Quite a lot of fancy coffee-brewing apparatus, eh? What is that affair there with the tube and valve?”
    “It’s a milk steamer. He’s got three of them, actually. Lord knows why.”
    Pennyman grinned and shook his head slowly. “Rather like a child with toys, I suppose.” He held up a hand as if he anticipated a response. “I don’t mean anything by it. I appreciate that sort of thing, in fact. I’m a fan of—what is it?—eccentricity, I suppose. It’s … charming in its way. That creamer there—the elongated toad with the open mouth, sitting on the stump; that’s it, the one wearing trousers and a cocked hat. I bet that’s something Andrew brought home. Am I right? I knew it. This place has his mark on it. Positively.”
    He grinned again and nodded widely while he looked around, as if he were appreciating the labored artwork of a six-year-old. “He has so much
fun
when he’s at it. I envy that. I’ve always been a little too serious, I think. Too … well, grown up.” And he said this last bit in a theatrically deep voice, as if to indicate that he saw very clearly through his own shortcomings, and that his seeing through them made them all right after all. He drank his coffee and regarded Rose with the eye of an artist.
    “You’re French,” he said, squinting.
    “On my mother’s side. Originally, anyway. They were—what do you callums?—Huguenots. Always sounds like Hottentots to me. They were filtered through Holland for a few years, though, before transplanting to Iowa.”
    “You can see it in your cheekbones. Very finely chiseled. My own ancestors were French. We’ve a certain amount in common, it seems.”
    Rose smiled at him and pushed a wisp of dark hair out of her eyes, tucking it back in under the scarf that she wore tied across the top of her head. “I‘ve got to get these dishes washed, I’m afraid.”
    “Of course,” he said. “Of course.
Devil
of a lot to this business of opening up an inn, isn’t there? I shouldn’t wonder that you were ready half the time to throw it all over. Looks like six months work to me, and here you are struggling to be ready for the public in June. Andrew will fetch it all together, though. He’s quite a character, quite a character. I don’t mean to muscle in, but if this were
my
inn, I’d throw another coat of paint on the west wall outside. The sun and the ocean will alligator that paint off quick.”
    “Andrew mentioned something of that sort. It’s on his list.”
    “His list! Of course; he’s a man of lists. I should have guessed it. Pity you can’t get a real workman in to do it, though. I have faith in this little venture of yours, Rose. I’ve loaned my books to Andrew; I could loan you the price of a housepainter.“ He held up a hand again to cut off any objections. “I wouldn’t suggest it except that we Huguenots have to rally round. Don’t give me a yes or no. Just remember that the offer stands. I like this place. The ocean air suits me. I shouldn’t wonder that I’ll spend a few years here, God granting me the time. I rather feel as if I have a right to offer.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Pennyman. Andrew has it on his list, though, as I said, and he’s promised to get at the list this afternoon.”
    “
Jules
, Rose. No more Mr. Pennyman. No backsliding now.”
    “Jules, then.”
    Pennyman touched his forehead and smiled. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he asked, “Tell me, does Naomi collect coins? She has the look of a person who might—a sort of—what is it?” Rose shrugged and shook her head. “Not at all then? Perhaps when she was a girl, or a young woman? You haven’t heard her talk about such a thing—a particularly valuable coin, perhaps?” Rose said she hadn’t, wondering at Pennyman’s curiosity. Under the right circumstances, she might rather like him for it. He seemed to make such an effort to
talk
to people. The world needed