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don’t know what might happen. And . . .”
    “And you’re afraid I’ll get hurt and sue your company.”
    Actually, Josie hadn’t gotten any further than Leslie getting hurt in her thinking. “I . . . would you sue Island Contracting?”
    “Of course not. I’d never get another job if it got out that I had sued my last employer. And I’d be happy to sign something. You know, a statement that I won’t sue. I’ve worked for other companies that were content to leave it at that.”
    Josie thought for a minute. “Why can’t you get health insurance?” she finally asked. “What’s wrong with you— if you don’t mind my asking,” she added, perhaps a bit late.
    “Multiple sclerosis. The first symptoms appeared about five years ago.”
    “But insurance companies can’t just drop your coverage because you become ill! One of my carpenters had cancer and she was covered.”
    “I was too—at first. But then I became too ill to work. I went on disability for almost a year. It was barely enough money to survive on despite help from my family and friends. If I hadn’t used my ingenuity, I would have starved. But then I was lucky enough to go into remission so I could return to work, only to discover that I couldn’t get insurance. It might be a different situation if I had one of those jobs you stay in forever, but I’ve always moved around from job to job. You know how it is in our business. So it’s been easy for insurance companies to deny me coverage when I—or the company I work for—apply for it.”
    “But isn’t there anything you can do?”
    “In some states I could apply for Medicaid, but then I couldn’t work, and I like to work and I like to make money. So I have little choice but to work without insurance and make sure nothing happens to me.”
    “I never knew anything like that could happen.”
    “No one does, until it happens to them or someone they know.” Leslie was quiet for a moment. “So, do I have the job or don’t I?”
    Josie didn’t see how she could say anything other than, “Of course you do.”
    “I’d be happy to sign a document promising not to sue . . .”
    Josie stood up. “That won’t be necessary,” she said. “I trust you. You trust me. That’s the way Island Contracting has always worked.”
    “Thank you. Thanks a million,” Leslie said, grabbing her hand and shaking it energetically.
    “I’d better finish up here. We’re all due on site in less than an hour,” Josie reminded him.
    “I’ll pick up Vicki and we’ll be there on time—or early even!” he added, dashing off.
    Alone on the deck, Josie stared down at the water. She had just made a huge mistake and she had known it as soon as she had done it. She didn’t know Leslie and had no reason to trust him. If Sam found out, he’d go nuts. She might even be risking the future of Island Contracting—and for a man! It was a lousy way to begin a job. Josie finished up at the office and drove over to the Higgins’s house feeling less than her normal enthusiasm at the beginning of a new project.
    A good-looking young man was standing on the porch, hands stuffed into the pockets of his chinos, with what looked like a cashmere sweater carefully tied around his neck. Josie wondered what a vacationer was doing up and about so early, and on the Higgins’s property. She parked her truck by the curb, got out, and started up the sidewalk to the house, calling out a greeting.
    “Hi yourself,” the stranger replied, smiling. “You must be Josie Pigeon.”
    “I am. Who are you?”
    “Christopher Higgins. I’m your architect.”
    “You’re . . . are you old enough to be an architect?” The words were out of her mouth before she realized just how rude she sounded. “I mean, you don’t look much older than my son. And he’s just seventeen,” she added, realizing she was making things worse.
    “I’ll be twenty-one in July. This will be my first professional job,” Christopher Higgins admitted,