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been working craft fairs for the past nine months, marketing myself and my creations.” She moved slowly toward the display bench as she spoke, with the man following, his gaze pinned to her face. “The craft fairs brought interest, and I was commissioned by the Fox Gallery in Wichita for this piece.”
    Pausing in front of the cardinal scene, she looked up at McCauley. “Are you familiar with the Fox Gallery?”
    The man offered a slow nod. Andrew waited for him to say something, but he remained silent. By now, Andrew had nearly twisted Beth’s coat into a knot. He dropped it on the end of the display bench as Beth continued.
    “I’m hopeful this piece will garner enough interest to lead to more commissioned pieces. My heart really is in the larger works. As that opportunity opens, I want to expand the shop, doubling my work space, and build a small gallery onto the front of the building where people can come and purchase finished pieces, eliminating my need to attend craft fairs. Although it can be fun to go out and mingle with the public, the fairs take me away from the studio. I also hope to eventually have an Internet Web site offering pieces for sale and making myself available for special orders.”
    “High aspirations,” McCauley commented.
    Andrew couldn’t see the man’s expression, since McCauley faced the cardinal piece, but he clearly heard the note of praise. Yes, Beth had high aspirations. Her aspirations had become Andrew’s in the weeks he had worked with her. He wasn’t sure of this man’s interest, but he sensed trouble brewing for some reason he couldn’t quite understand.
    McCauley leaned one way, then the other, seeming to take stock of the cardinal scene. Standing upright again, he said, “What is it, about thirty-two by twenty-four inches?”
    Beth shot him a startled glance, and even Andrew found the man’s accuracy impressive. Beth replied, “Thirty-two by twenty-five, but that was a great guess. Are you an artist?”
    Andrew blurted out the answer. “No.”
    Both Beth and McCauley cranked their necks to look at him.
    He felt heat build in his neck. With a lame shrug, he said, “I asked him that earlier.”
    McCauley’s mustache twitched again. He turned from Andrew to face Beth. Holding out his hand, he said, “Let me finish my introduction. I’m Sean McCauley of McCauley Church Construction out of Kansas City. I’d like to talk to you about the possibility of making you a part of our team.”

FOUR
    Beth took a step back, her heart leaping into her throat. She had hoped the stranger was a gallery owner or a crafts buyer—someone who might purchase a few of her pieces for retail. But an offer to become a part of his company? Her knees felt weak, and she wasn’t sure she could remain standing. Turning, she stumbled to one of the tall stools next to the worktable and propped herself against it.
    “I–I’m afraid I don’t quite understand what you’re saying.”
    Sean McCauley laughed lightly, showing even white teeth beneath the straight line of his neatly trimmed, reddish gold mustache. His blue-green eyes crinkled with the broad smile. “I’m sorry. I do need to slow down a tad.” Crossing to the table, he pointed to an empty stool. “Do you mind?”
    With a wave of her hand, Beth gave him permission to sit. As Sean seated himself, Andrew approached and stood beside her, his steadfast presence appreciated.
    Slipping his hand inside his jacket, Sean retrieved a small card, which he handed to her. “So you know I’m legitimate...” His tone held a hint of teasing.
    Beth examined the card, then handed it to Andrew, who scowled at it as if it held an inappropriate message.
    “McCauley Church Construction has been in business for nearly forty years. We have three crews, and we’ve been involved in the building of churches from one coast to the other. We’ve built everything from simple chapels to three-story complexes. There is a McCauley building of worship in