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his hand.
    “Your hand’s like ice.” She gave it a tug, insistent. “I don’t want the cold air to chill the class.”
    Left without a choice, he stepped in so she could close the door. New Agey music murmured like water in a stream from the solarium. He could see the woman at the rear of the class come back up to that lunging position.
    “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m interrupting.”
    “It’s all right. Maureen can guide them through. We’re nearly finished. Why don’t you go on back to the kitchen? Have a glass of wine while I finish up?”
    “No. No, thanks.” He wished, almost desperately, he hadn’t taken the impulsive detour. “I just— I was out for a walk, and I just stopped by on the way back because I realized I didn’t pay you for the groceries.”
    “Hester took care of it.”
    “Oh. I should’ve figured that. I’ll talk to her.”
    The framed pencil sketch in the entry distracted him for a moment. He recognized his grandmother’s work even without the
H. H. Landon
in the bottom corner.
    He recognized Abra as well, standing slim and straight as a lance in Tree position, her arms overhead, and her face caught on a laugh.
    “Hester gave it to me last year,” Abra said.
    “What?”
    “The sketch. I talked her into coming to class to sketch—a gateway to persuading her to practice. So she gave this to me as a thank-you after she fell in love with yoga.”
    “It’s great.”
    He didn’t realize Abra still had his hand until she took a step back, and he was forced to step forward. “Shoulders down and back, Leah. That’s it. Relax your jaw, Heather. Good. That’s good. Sorry,” she said to Eli.
    “No, I’m sorry. I’m in the way. I’ll let you get back to it.”
    “Are you sure you don’t want that glass of wine? Or maybe, considering . . .” She closed her other hand around his, rubbed at the cold. “Some hot chocolate?”
    “No. No, but thanks. I need to get back.” The friction of her hands brought on a quick, almost painful warmth that emphasized he’d let himself get chilled down to the bone. “It’s . . . going to snow.”
    “A good night to be in with a fire and a good book. Well.” She let go of his hand to open the door again. “I’ll see you in a couple of days. Call or come by if you need anything.”
    “Thanks.” He walked away quickly so she could close the door and keep the heat in.
    Instead she stood in the open door, looking after him.
    Her heart—one some often told her was too soft, too open—just flooded with sympathy.
    How long had it been, she wondered, since anyone but family had welcomed him out of the cold?
    She shut the door, moved back to the solarium and, with a nod for her friend Maureen, took over again.
    As she completed final relaxation, she saw the snow Eli had predicted falling thick and soft outside the glass so her cozy space felt just like the inside of a fanciful snow globe.
    She thought it perfect.
    “Remember to hydrate.” She lifted her own water bottle as the women rolled up their mats. “And we still have room in tomorrow morning’s East Meets West class in the Unitarian Church basement at nine-fifteen.”
    “I
love
that class.” Heather Lockaby fluffed her short cap of blond hair. “Winnie, I can pick you up on the way if you want.”
    “Give me a call first. I’d love to try it.”
    “And now”—Heather rubbed her hands together—“was that who I thought it was?”
    “Sorry?” Abra responded.
    “The man who came in during class. Wasn’t that Eli Landon?”
    The name brought on an immediate murmur. Abra felt the benefits of her hour’s yoga practice dissolve as her shoulders tightened. “Yes, that was Eli.”
    “I
told
you.” Heather elbowed Winnie. “I told you I’d heard he was moving into Bluff House. Are you seriously doing the cleaning there while he’s in the house?”
    “There’s not a lot to clean if nobody’s living there.”
    “But Abra, aren’t you nervous? I mean,