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leave and took the time to drive over from Maine for Stephanie’s birthday because her long, funny letters meant the world to him during deployment.
    Besides a half bath and a boring formal dining room, he found her office on the ground floor. It wasn’t a big room, but bookshelves full of romance novels lined the walls. In one corner, a fat easy chair begged to be relaxed in and a gas parlor stove stood across the room. A desk sat under the window, holding a fairly new computer and piles of paper threatening to slide off in every direction. He wondered if the filing cabinet next to the desk was full or if she just ignored it.
    He could still her voice coming from the kitchen, so he set his coffee down on an end table and made his way up the stairs. All of the doors stood open, so he peeked his head in each room as he walked down the hall.
    The first room he looked in had to be her grandmother’s, judging by the photos and the décor. A lot of crocheted things, too. Not the room he was looking for, so he kept going.
    He found what looked like a combination guest room and storage closet, so he guessed she didn’t have a lot of overnight company. The bathroom was big and had been updated in the last decade or so. Hiding behind a set of louvered doors, he found a state-of-the-art washer and dryer set, which wasn’t surprising considering what Emma did for a living.
    Finally, at the end of the hall on the right, he found what had to be Emma’s bedroom. His bedroom.
    Judging by the long arch meant to disguise a weight-bearing beam, it had started life as two smaller bedrooms, but at some point the wall had been removed to make a master suite. Besides a bed that looked queen-sized and the usual bedroom furnishings, there was a sitting area. End table with a lamp surrounded by more books. A small flat-screen TV mounted to the wall. And the couch she’d be sleeping on for the next month.
    Even with the room’s expansion, he figured there were only about ten feet between the bed and the couch. Despite the fact he’d learned over the years to sleep through any conditions, this arrangement was going to be a little awkward. Intimate.
    There was a door to the left of the sitting area and he poked his head through to find a three-quarter bath—toilet, sink and a shower. It’d do.
    Aware of how many minutes he’d burned exploring, Sean went back down to the kitchen, grabbing his coffee along the way. He could see by tension in her shoulders she didn’t really care for him being so free with her home, but she’d probably come to the same conclusion he had.
    “I just want to finish this coffee,” she said. “Rough night.”
    He splashed the little bit of hot coffee left in the pot into his mug and leaned against the counter, watching her make a few more notes in her organizer.
    “So…landscaping, huh?” He’d pushed a few mowers in his time. “Don’t you think having Emma in the business name’s a bad idea, though?”
    She set down her pen and narrowed her eyes at him. “What? Girls can’t be landscapers? You’ve heard we’re allowed to vote now, right?”
    “I just think if I want my lawn mowed or my weeds whacked, I’m more likely to call Bob or Fred.”
    “And that’s fine. If you want somebody to mow your lawn or whack your weeds, call Bob or Fred. But if you want an artist to design the beautiful, virtually maintenance-free landscaping for your summer cottage or lake house, you call Emma.”
    Her defensive tone made him want to chuckle and poke at her some more, but he stifled it. “So you specialize in design, then?”
    “Yes, but I do the labor, too.” She smiled. “Except for the next month, of course. I’ll have you to do the heavy lifting.”
    “Not afraid of a little hard work.” He was looking forward to it, actually. His body was accustomed to a little more physical activity than it was currently getting. If he got too soft, his cousins would wipe the grass with him during the annual Fourth