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exactly the warm, loving household that I’m hoping to build for myself.”
    “Would you care to elaborate?”
    She met his gaze without blinking. “No.”
    “I see.” He stared at her a moment longer, as if trying to read answers in her face. Then he moved on. “Would you like to talk about the restaurant you hope to open someday? Or would you rather wait until you’re closer to making it a reality before spreading the news of your intentions?”
    Daisy was surprised but pleased that he hadn’t pressed her. “Oh, I don’t mind. I want folks to know what they have to look forward to.” She leaned forward again, trying her best to communicate her vision. “I don’t intend to make it all fancy and highfalutin. I want folks to feel comfortable and happy when they walk in. I’m going to serve hearty, homey food that fills the belly and warms the soul, because that’s what I do best. And I’m going to paint the place in bright cheery colors and have flowers on all the tables.”
    “That’s fine for this time of year, but it might be hard to do during the winter.”
    That was just like him to look for gray clouds in a sunny sky. To her relief, the food arrived just then, saving her from further inquisition.
    At least for the moment.
    * * *
    Everett set his pencil and pad aside as the waitress fussed with serving their food.
    The interview so far had raised as many questions about her as it had answered. The way she’d described her planned restaurant was indicative of how little business sense she had. She’d focused on feelings and cosmetics instead of a sound plan to achieve her goals.
    She’d said she was looking for, among other things, a family of her own. So that indicated she was looking for a husband. Which probably meant the restaurant idea was only something to get her by until she had a man to provide for her.
    She hadn’t wanted to discuss her time at her grandmother’s, yet she hadn’t been happy traveling with her father, either. What was she really looking for? Did she even know herself? And would she be able to find it in Turnabout? Or would she only face disappointment and find herself moving on once again?
    As soon as their waitress departed, and before he could resume his questions, Daisy beat him to the punch.
    “So is it my turn for questions?” she asked with a teasing smile.
    He raised a brow, not at all certain that would be a good idea. Better to treat her question lightly. “Are you planning to write an article for the paper, too? I thought you said you weren’t good at writing things down.”
    “Don’t worry. I’m not looking to give you competition, just trying to satisfy my curiosity.” Her smile broadened. “You’re not afraid to get a taste of your own medicine, are you?”
    He couldn’t let that veiled challenge pass. “What do you want to know?”
    “How did a particular gent like you end up here in Turnabout?”
    A particular gent? He wasn’t sure what that meant. And more important, had she intended it as a compliment or criticism?
    Better not to ask. “Before I came here, I was a reporter for a newspaper in Philadelphia. Unfortunately, the editor and I had a falling out. When I learned of an opportunity to actually own my own newspaper business here, I jumped at it.” Mainly because that was the only option open to him at the time. There was nothing to be gained by mentioning the scandal he’d been involved in, the scandal that had cost him nearly everything. And deservedly so.
    “So how’d you hear about this great opportunity? I mean, I wouldn’t think most folks in Philadelphia have even heard of Turnabout.”
    Everett decided being on this end of an interview wasn’t nearly the same as being on the other. “A friend of mine has some connections here—a granddaughter, as a matter of fact. He knew I was looking for something different, and he told me about it.” He raised a brow. “Anything else?” he asked in his chilliest tone.
    “Do all the