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she asked me to come to the job fair, I couldn't refuse. I have a hard time saying no to my little sister,” Rob said as Micah poured a third, or maybe it was the fourth, round of coffee. She had lost count.
    “It must be nice,” Micah said and took a sip from the cup she cradled in her hand.
    “Having a sister to talk you into things?”
    “Having a sister, period.”
    Rob looked at her silently for a moment. “You don't have any brothers or sisters?”
    “No. My parents weren't young when they had me, so I am their only child.”
    “Then you must be very close to your parents,” he commented,
    “Dad and I were close for a long time.” Her fingers moved instinctively to the heart locket that hung loosely around her neck today and most days, and Rob's eyes followed her movements. “But now…” she began, and then hesitated.
    Rob studied her wary gaze and waited.
    “…we're not,” she concluded with a half-hearted smile.
    Rob started to respond, but then apparently changed his mind and returned his attention to the piece of gold jewelry Micah touched so lovingly.
    “That's a beautiful locket. I think you've worn it every time I've seen you,” he remarked. “Was it a gift from him?”
    “Yes, from years ago.” She cleared her throat nervously and attempted to move on. “Being an only child wasn't so bad really. I had lots of friends around when I was very young. But if I ever have any children of my own—”
    “‘If’ you have children? You're a teacher. You must love kids. I'd think you'd want a whole houseful,” Rob remarked.
    Micah stared at her empty plate. Now they were venturing into territory better left alone. Why did it have to happen so soon?
    “I do enjoy children, but I don't know how I feel about a whole houseful of them.” She stood up and began gathering up the dishes.
    “I'll help you,” he offered as he rose from his chair.
    “There's no need.”
    “You did the cooking. The least I can do is wash the dishes.”
    “A compromise?” Micah smiled. “I'll wash, you dry.”
    “Fair enough.”
    Soon they stood side by side at the kitchen sink, working together for the second time in one day.
    “I probably should tell you what happened with Mrs. Winslow and her maniacal driving,” Rob offered as he placed a cup in the dish rack.
    “Something good, I hope. Not another accident?”
    “No more accidents,” he stated. “She voluntarily gave up her driving privileges. You were only the first in a long line of people to express concern about Mrs. Winslow remaining behind the wheel of any vehicle. So, thanks for your honesty.”
    “You're welcome,” she replied and handed him a clean plate. The conversation returned to brothers and sisters, and Rob didn't mind talking about his.
    “That didn't take long,” Micah remarked while rinsing the empty dishpan. Then she switched offthe light and they exited the small kitchen, moving into the more comfortable, but not much larger, living room.
    “I haven't eaten pancakes since I had breakfast with my sister and her kids a couple of Saturdays ago.”
    “I don't know Angela very well, but she's been very friendly to me.”
    “She's great even if she does talk me into job fairs,” he conceded. “Is this your work?” Rob motioned toward a set of four small paintings hanging above the sofa. Each picture depicted the same covered bridge flanked on both sides by wooded areas, but each scene brought to life the heart of a different season. From windswept spring to the frigid blast of a winter snowstorm.
    In answer to his question, she nodded.
    “Micah, these are beautiful.” Rob studied the pieces. “It looks to me like you should teach art. To adults, I mean.”
    Micah smiled. “I do. At the tech school some evenings.”
    “Could I see more?”
    “If you like.” Micah led him back through the kitchen to the rear door. Opening it, they entered a tiny workroom enclosed in glass. Micah switched on the light “This is another reason I