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At first glance, Steffie thought Charles might have been talking to Norah, but that was impossible. The resemblance was there, though. This young woman was blonde and exceptionally pretty. Even from inside her car, Steffie could see how she gazed up at Charles with wide, adoring eyes.

The dread that went through her was immediate and unstoppable. She was jealous, and she hated it. The blonde was probably Wendy, the apprentice Charles had mentioned, and Steffie didn’t doubt for an instant that she was in love with him. Not that Steffie blamed her; she’d once played the role of doting female herself. Was playing it even now, despite her most strenuous efforts.

Charles was still talking to his intern, his hand resting against the back of her chair. He leaned forward as the two of them reviewed something, their heads close together. The blonde laughed at some remark of his and smiled up at him, her heart in her eyes.

Steffie couldn’t watch any more. It was like looking back several years and seeing what a fool she’d made of herself. Hurriedly she got out of the car and swung her purse over her shoulder. Forcing her eyes away from the newspaper office, she locked the car door. She was about to walk down the street when Charles stepped onto the sidewalk.

“Stephanie, hello.” He sounded surprised to see her. More than that, he sounded pleased.

“Hi,” she returned awkwardly, feeling guilty, although she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if she’d actually been spying on him.

“Where are you headed?” he asked, giving her business suit an appreciative glance.

“I—I was thinking about driving into Portland and visiting the university after I do some errands here. I plan eventually to rent an apartment in the city, but Dad…” She hesitated.

Charles grinned knowingly. “But your father wasn’t delighted with the idea.”

“Exactly. I promised him I’d wait another couple of weeks.”

“Why two weeks?”

“Uh…” For a few seconds, she panicked, wondering if Charles had guessed, wondering if her father had mentioned his dream, praying he hadn’t. “It seemed like a reasonable compromise.”

“Have you got a moment? I’d like you to meet Wendy. She’s the intern I was telling you about. Bart’s here, as well. You remember Bart, don’t you?”

Steffie bit her lip, feeling reluctant. The last time she’d been to the newspaper office she’d come bent on vengeance, with threats of a lawsuit burning in her eyes.

“Tell you what, I’ll throw in lunch. I’ve got an appointment at one, but it’s barely twelve now.”

She was still caught in the throes of indecision, when Charles took her firmly by the elbow and escorted her inside. She felt a wave of relief; after all, the opportunity to spend time with him, even a few minutes squeezed in between appointments, was too precious to decline.

It might have been Steffie’s imagination, but the people in the newspaper office seemed delighted to see her. She wondered what Charles could possibly have said to salvage her reputation.

A couple of the reporters, one of whom she remembered from high school, welcomed her back to Orchard Valley. Bart, the pressman, inquired about her father’s health. Even Wendy seemed inclined to like her, which raised Steffie’s guilt by several uncomfortable notches.

“I’ll be back at one,” Charles said as he guided Steffie out the front door.

“But—” Bart stopped abruptly when Charles cut him off with a glare.

“I’ll be here in plenty of time,” he promised. “What’s your pleasure?” he asked, smiling down at her.

“Whatever’s most convenient for you.”

“The Half Moon’s serving sandwiches now. How does that sound?”

“Great.” When Steffie left for Italy, the Half Moon, just down the street from the Clarion, had been a small coffee shop.

Now she saw that it had been expanded and modernized. While Charles placed their order, Steffie found them a table. Several customers, old acquaintances, greeted her and asked about her father, and before she realized it, she was completely at ease, laughing and joking with the people around her.

When Charles returned with their turkey-and-tomato sandwiches and coffee, she smiled at him happily, content to shed the troubled thoughts she’d carried into town with her. At least for the moment…

“How’s your father this morning?” Charles asked, holding his sandwich with both hands to keep bits of tomato and lettuce from escaping.

“Cantankerous as ever.” Opinionated, too, and occasionally illogical, but she didn’t say any of that. Even if she decided to warn Charles, now didn’t seem to be the time. Not when they were sitting across from each other, relaxed and lighthearted, and all the world felt right.

The hour passed quickly. This kind of pure, simple happiness never lasted, she told herself. But, oh, how she wished it could. Charles seemed equally reluctant for their visit to end.

Steffie walked back to work with him. “Thanks for lunch,” she said, standing on the sidewalk in front of the office.