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news would be all over town in an hour.
    That was the easy part. The hard part would be figuring out what to say to Jake when he found out about her seemingly abrupt capitulation, especially after the way she’d confronted him that morning. That would be the true test, if she could look in his deep blue eyes and make him believe that she felt nothing.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Three
     
     
    The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Jenny went home and, too tired to exercise, plopped down in a chair in front of the television. At exactly ten o’clock she turned on the news. At ten seventeen, when they’d finished the weather, she shut the TV off and climbed into bed. Routine, like numbers, made her happy, even if it was a little boring.
    But when she finally fell asleep she dreamed of Jake, and in her dreams she wasn’t safe, staid Jenny any longer.
    Jake, as was his habit, rose with the sun. He com pleted his daily yoga exercises; then, refreshed, he foraged in the gutted kitchen of the old house and made some green tea to carry outside.
    The backyard had a huge, covered porch. It had been more lovingly maintained than the house itself.
         This porch had been what attracted him to the house two years ago. A wild spray of rambler roses covered the trellises and huge caladiums nodded in the early morning sun. They’d held hands tightly on this porch, he and Jenny, unable to speak at first, but both imme diately understanding what the other envisioned here.
    Barbecues and baby swings, a huge shaggy dog and a cat or two. This porch was made for families . . . for love. Since such a fate was never to be his, not now, he would put tables out here, cozy little tables covered in soft white linen. Maybe another couple, while eating here at his restaurant, would be able to experience the magic of this porch.
    That would have to be enough.
    He unrolled the morning newspaper and saw it, right on the front page like it was a major event. Jenny’s ad—or message or whatever it could be called. Shocked and surprised, he read it. Not once, not twice, but three times, trying to make sense of it and coming up empty.
    What had caused her abrupt about-face?
    She’d said it was too late for them to be friends.
    He read the ad again. Coolly professional, it sounded like the Jenny she had become, not like the Jenny he remembered. It said nothing about them being friends, yet it gave him cause to hope. So she was willing to maintain a professional relationship with him now, was she? He’d take it in a heartbeat. It sure was better than what she’d told him before— that she wanted nothing to do with him.
    A professional relationship would be a good start ing point. He could build on that, learning what made Jenny tick now. From there he could figure out how he might best help her; how he might atone for the necessary hurt he’d caused her in the past.
    By his best estimate, the restaurant would be ready to open in six weeks. He needed to get everything set up with the IRS, set up his payroll, open accounts with suppliers, and various other bookwork. And needed to start as soon as possible.
    Energized, he drained his tea in one swallow. He would call Jenny’s office as soon as it opened and set up an appointment Then he could see if she really meant what she’d written in her advertisement.
    When the workmen showed up at eight, he’d just finished laying the last ceramic tile in the upstairs bath. He preferred handling all the restoration for his living area upstairs, letting the crew he’d hired take care of the downstairs restaurant area.
    Stepping back and surveying his work, he was pleased with the effect of the forest green tile. He and Jenny had talked about putting in the identical tile back when they’d planned on buying the house. He wondered what she’d think if she knew he was renovating the upstairs exactly the way they’d planned it together two years ago.
    Pushing away the thought, he grabbed the