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setting the table. She’d spread a dark-green linen cloth over the mahogany oval and rolled matching linen napkins into the silver napkin rings. She stood at the open breakfront, carefully gathering the good china dishes they would need for their meal, and the silver chest was open on the sideboard, the flatware inside glinting in the light. Fresh white tapers were wedged into the silver candlesticks Toby and Jane had gotten as a wedding present from Jane’s aunt Laura.
    Seeing him in the doorway, Lindsey smiled sheepishly. “Does it look okay?”
    â€œIt looks magnificent,” he said, hoping she would accept the heartfelt compliment without rolling her eyes. It did look magnificent. He was surprised that she’d done such a fancy job of it. Maybe she wanted to impress the famous TV star.
    â€œI think the water’s boiling,” Lindsey said. “I can hear it from here.”
    â€œRight.” He set one wineglass near his chair at the head of the table and the other at Sue’s place. Resisting the urge to give Lindsey a hug, he returned to the kitchen to add the spaghetti to the boiling water.
    He was lifting the lid from the pot when the doorbell rang. Whatever pleasure he’d felt from Lindsey’s efforts vanished in a wave of panic. Spaghetti and salad seemed too mundane to be eaten on fine china. Sue Dawson might think they were trying too hard, or not hard enough.
    â€œLindsey, can you get the door?” he shouted over his shoulder as he emptied the box of pasta into the water. Their guest would think whatever she thought. He was doing the best he could under the circumstances.
    He heard Lindsey’s footsteps as she hurried through the living room to the front door. He stirred the pasta, then pulled the defrosted shrimp out of the microwave. Voices floated down the hall to him, Sue’s and then Lindsey’s. He tossed the shrimp into the tomato sauce, gave it a stir and set it on the stove. He wasn’t nervous, he told himself. He wasn’t under any obligation to bedazzle the new neighbor.
    She preceded Lindsey into the kitchen, and for a moment he was the one bedazzled. Again he was reminded of the sun—its light, its heat, its ability to burn. There was no one thing about Sue Dawson that was so bright—her eyes were lively, her hair shimmering as it fell loose past her shoulders, her smile relaxed and her body graceful in a white tunic-style top and slim-fitting gray slacks—but put it all together and she practically shimmered with warmth. Small diamonds winked in her earlobes, discreet and utterly tasteful, and a silver bangle circled her wrist. She carried a plate heaped with something, wrapped in aluminum foil.
    â€œI brought brownies,” she said. “I hope that’s all right.”
    â€œBrownies,” Lindsey murmured reverently, hovering near the table and gazing worshipfully at Sue. “I love brownies.”
    â€œWell,” Toby said, “since I didn’t plan dessert—” hell, he hadn’t even planned dinner “—it’s a good thing you brought some with you.”
    â€œI’ll put them in the dining room,” Lindsey offered,taking the plate from Sue and disappearing from the kitchen.
    Toby smiled. Sue smiled. The water resumed its rolling boil, filling the room with a gurgling sound. “I hope you like spaghetti,” he said cheerfully.
    â€œSpaghetti’s great.” Her smile was luminous, altering her cheeks and brow, her eyes, her entire body. Did they teach people how to smile that way in acting school? “It was so nice of you to invite me over. It looks as if you’ve barely gotten home from work.” She gestured toward the tie still knotted tight at his throat.
    He grinned and tugged the knot loose. “It was my daughter’s idea to invite you,” he confessed, giving the sauce a stir. “It happens to be a fine idea, though.” It was, he