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you didn’t know?” she asked. “You had such a crush on him ten years ago, Ithought that might have been one of the reasons you came back.”
    A crush, Judith thought. The first great love of my life, and all it’s remembered as is a crush.
    But of course infatuation was exactly what it had been.
    Greg Moreland—Max and Rita’s nephew—had spent all his summers in Borrego, coming home from his boarding school each spring, impressing all the local girls with his blond curls and dimpled chin, as well as his sophistication, then leaving them each fall with broken hearts as he returned to New England, first for college, then for medical school. During the summer before his last year at Harvard Medical School it had been Judith’s turn to fall for him. Not that he’d even noticed her, of course, except to take a turn with her once or twice at the weekend dances at the union hall.
    But it had been enough to make her fall in love with him—or at least develop a major crush—and when he’d left, she was sure she would die.
    Not only hadn’t she died, but she’d quickly developed another crush on someone else—someone even more unattainable than Greg—and hadn’t even thought of Greg for the last five years.
    “But what on earth is he doing back here?” she asked. “Somehow, I always pictured him opening a terribly successful Park Avenue practice in New York.”
    Rita chuckled appreciatively. “Well, I can’t say I didn’t see pretty much the same thing myself. But it turned out we were wrong. He did a residency in Boston, then came back here for one more summer to think things over. And he never left.” Rita beamed with as much pride as if Greg were her own son, instead of hernephew. “He started dropping in on Bob Banning at the clinic every now and then, just helping out when there was an emergency, and at the end of the summer he decided to stay until Christmas. That was six years ago, and he’s still here.”
    “Does he live here?”
    “Oh, no,” Rita replied. “He has a little house in town—nothing special, considering what his tastes used to be.”
    Judith frowned. “But he has plenty of money, doesn’t he? Why hasn’t he built something terrific?”
    Rita smiled cryptically. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asked. “He’ll be here for dinner tonight.”
    Judith stared at Rita for a moment, then cocked her head. “Is this part of a plan?” she asked archly.
    Rita’s smile faded. “I wish it were,” she said softly. “But I don’t think I would have gone so far as to put poor Reba in the hospital.”
    Judith’s laughter died on her lips. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean—”
    “Of course you didn’t,” Rita assured her.
    Judith said nothing, but lay back, relaxing in the warmth of the sun that was now beginning to drop toward the western horizon.
    A lot in Borrego hadn’t changed at all.
    But a lot else, she suddenly realized, had.
    Unbidden, her thoughts returned to Alice Arnold, and she made a mental note to call Frank the next day.
    So many things had happened here, so long ago.
    And now she was back.
    *  *  *
    “How are you feeling?” Greg Moreland asked as he carefully unwrapped the gauze from Heather Fredericks’s arm.
    Heather winced as the bandage came off the wound, then relaxed as she realized there was no pain at all. Still, the cut looked ugly, with its coating of dried blood and the four stitches the doctor had taken a week ago. “Okay,” she said. “Is there going to be a scar?”
    Greg turned on his best reassuring grin. “Would I leave a scar on a girl as pretty as you?”
    Heather blushed with embarrassment at the compliment, and shook her head.
    Greg carefully began cleaning away the dried blood, and was pleased to see that the cut was healing nicely There was none of the puffiness that might have indicated an infection setting in, and the raw edges of skin were knitting perfectly. In another week there would be nothing left