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turn on his heel and leave. Because under that suave exterior, under the pressed, gray flannel slacks and behind the hand-knit Irish fisherman’s sweater he wore, she sensed he was the same proud, poor, combative, stubborn teenage boy she once fell in love with when she was eighteen. All along she’d thought of this deal as benefiting the town. Now she wondered if it might do something for Sam if he’d stay. It might help him overcome his bitterness about the past. If he’d let it. But he probably wouldn’t.
    â€œPart of the deal is free housing,” she said. As if he cared. As if he couldn’t afford to pay.
    â€œThat’s nice,” he said. “But I’m not exactly poor, since I had no debts to pay off….” The way he said it was averbal nudge to remind her that she’d shamed him into coming. That he had a debt to pay off and that was the only reason he was there.
    â€œI’m sorry about that,” she said. “I never meant to tell you. I told you Grandpa never would have let you know, but…”
    â€œBut you were desperate.”
    â€œYes. Anyway, since you’ll only be here six months, I hope you’ll be comfortable at the B&B.”
    â€œWhere is it?”
    â€œAt my house.”
    â€œYour house? You’ve turned your family home into a bed and breakfast? So you really did lose your money. How did that happen? Or is that another ‘long story’?”
    â€œNo, it’s a short story. My father made some bad investments. They left and retired to Arizona where it’s dry and warm and better for my mother’s arthritis. I managed to hang on to the house. But only just barely. Business hasn’t been exactly great. But I’m expecting guests tonight, a family. I hope you don’t mind having kids around.”
    â€œDo you?” he asked.
    â€œI like kids,” she said. “That house was made for a big family. I thought…”
    â€œYou thought by now you’d have a few of your own,” he said.
    She turned her head and swallowed over a lump in her throat. How had the conversation taken this dangerous turn? She wished she’d never mentioned kids. She wished she hadn’t ever confided in him and that he didn’t have such a good memory. Not so long ago she’d wanted a baby desperately. So desperately she’d married the wrong man and then… “I did, but I’m not married,” she explained. “I guess I’m an oddity these days. But I believe every kid should have two parents.”
    The lines in his forehead deepened, and she wished she could have bitten her tongue. Sam had a mother, but whata mother, and he’d barely known his father. How insensitive of her to say what she’d said.
    â€œAnyway,” she continued, “I’m expecting this family, and maybe they’ll tell their friends what a wonderful town New Hope is and what a great place the Bancroft House is for families and the word will spread and I’ll have more and more guests and—”
    â€œWhat if you do get more guests? How do you think you’re going to run a bed and breakfast and work half-time in the office?” he asked.
    â€œPiece of cake,” she said lightly. “If I have more business, I’ll hire help.”
    â€œI hope you don’t think having a doctor in town is going to bring in more tourists. Because I’ve got news for you. It’s probably not going to make a damn bit of difference. You know that, don’t you?”
    â€œOf course I know that,” she said. “But what about the mill worker who gets a finger caught in the saw? Or the kid who breaks his arm on the school playground or the baby who’s running a fever of 105? That’s where having a doctor will make a huge difference.”
    â€œI’m not a pediatrician or an orthopedic surgeon. I hope you know that.”
    â€œI know exactly what you are,”