But that last thought snapped his eyes open.

He never slept with someone after having sex, which was one of the reasons he preferred it to happen at the woman’s place rather than his. Far easier to be the one to leave. On a couple of occasions in the past, Sam had actually gone so far as to load a protesting woman into his car and take her home. The idea of spending an entire night with a woman had always filled him with an aversion bordering on panic.

Forcing himself to leave the bed, he went to take a shower. After putting on a robe, he brought a hot washcloth to the bed and took care of Lucy, and drew the covers up to her shoulders. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he murmured, pressing a brief kiss to her lips.

“Where are you going?”

“The roll-away bed.”

“Stay with me.” Lucy flipped back a corner of the bedclothes invitingly.

Sam shook his head. “I might hurt your leg … roll on it or something…”

“Are you kidding?” A sleepy smile curved her lips. “This brace is indestructible. You could drive your truck over it.”

Sam took a long moment to reply, alarmed by his own desire to actually climb back into bed with her. “I like to sleep alone.”

“Oh.” Lucy’s voice was deliberately casual. “You never spend the night with a woman.”

“No.”

“That’s absolutely fine,” she said.

“Good.” Sam cleared his throat, feeling inept. Oafish. “You know it’s nothing personal, right?”

Her gentle laugh curled through the air. “Good night, Sam. I had a great time. Thank you.”

Sam thought it was probably the first time a woman had ever thanked him for ha**ng s*x with her. “The pleasure was all mine.” And he went to the other room with the same uneasiness he’d felt before.

Something had changed inside him, and God help him, he didn’t want to know what it was.

Nineteen

Lucy’s mother, of course, was instantly smitten with Sam. Her father’s reaction was more guarded, at least initially. However, during dinner at Duck Soup, they found common ground when Sam asked about the robotic space probe that her father had helped to design. Comprehending the generous helping of geekiness that lurked under Sam’s exterior, Lucy’s usually reticent father started chattering like a magpie.

“… so what we expected,” Phillip was saying, “was that the comets would consist of a combination of presolar particles, and ice that had formed at the edge of the solar system at absolute zero.” He paused. “If you’re not familiar with the term, absolute zero is—”

“The null point of any thermodynamic temperature scale,” Sam said.

“That’s right.” Her father practically beamed at him. “Contrary to our assumptions, most of the comet’s rocky matter had been formed inside the solar system at extreme high temperatures. So comets are formed in conditions of severe heat and ice.”

“Fascinating,” Sam said, and it was obvious that he actually meant it.

As the men continued to talk, Lucy’s mother leaned close to whisper to her. “He is wonderful. So good-looking and charming, and your father loves him. You have to hold on to this one, sweetheart.”

“There’s nothing to hold on to,” Lucy whispered back. “I told you. He’s a lifelong bachelor.”

It was obvious that her mother relished the challenge. “You can change his mind. A man like him shouldn’t stay single. It would be a crime.”

“I’m not going to torture a perfectly nice man by trying to change him.”

“Lucy,” came her mother’s impatient whisper, “what do you think marriage is for?”

After dinner they went to the house at Rainshadow for coffee. That hadn’t been the original plan, but after hearing Sam’s description of the vineyard and the renovated Victorian house, Lucy’s mother had all but demanded to see it. Mark and Holly were away for the weekend, having gone with Maggie to visit her parents in Bellingham. Obligingly Sam asked Cherise if she wanted the twenty-five-cent tour.

“I’ll stay in the kitchen and make some coffee,” Lucy said. “Mom, don’t interrogate Sam while he’s showing you the house.”

Her mother gave her a look of wide-eyed surprise. “I never interrogate anyone.”

“You should probably know that I only take preapproved questions,” Sam said. “But for you, Cherise, I’ll allow some latitude.”

Her mother giggled.

“I’ll help Lucy with the coffee,” her father said. “Discussions of home renovation are lost on me—I don’t know a pediment from a pergola.”

After Lucy ran a cupful of beans through the electric grinder, she measured the coffee into the machine, while her father filled a pitcher at the sink. “So what do you think of Sam?” Lucy asked.

“I like him. A smart fellow. He appears to be healthy and self-supporting, and he laughed at my Heisenberg joke. I can’t help but wonder why a man with such a good brain would waste it on tending a vineyard.”

“It’s not a waste.”

“Thousands of people all over the world make wine. There’s no point in coming up with yet another one, when there are already so many being produced.”

“That’s like saying no one should produce any more art, because we already have so much out there.”

“Art—or wine—doesn’t benefit people the way science does.”

“Sam would say the opposite.” She watched her father pour water into the coffeemaker.

The appliance clicked and steamed as it began to percolate.

“A more significant question,” her father remarked, “is what you think of him.”

“I like him too. But there’s no chance of the relationship getting serious. He and I both have future plans that don’t include each other.”

Her father shrugged. “If you enjoy his company, there’s no harm in spending time with him.”

They were quiet for a moment, listening to the placid sputter of the coffeemaker.

“You’re going to see Alice and Kevin tomorrow?” Lucy asked.

Her father nodded, his smile turning grim. “You know that that marriage—if it happens—doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell.”

“You can’t be a hundred percent certain,” Lucy said, even though she privately agreed. “People surprise you.”

“Yes, they do,” he admitted. “At my age, however, not often. Where are the coffee mugs?”

Together they opened a couple of cabinets until they found them.

“Your mother and I have been talking recently,” Phillip said, and stunned her by adding, “I gather she’s told you that I’d been married once before.”

“Yes,” Lucy managed to say. “That was kind of a shocker.”

“All this business with you and Alice and Kevin has stirred up some issues your mother and I haven’t faced in quite a while.”

“Is that bad?” Lucy asked gingerly.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been convinced that everything in a relationship needs to be talked about. Some things can’t be fixed by a conversation.”

“I’m guessing these issues have to do with … her?” For some reason the words “your first wife” were too jarring for Lucy to say.

“Yes. I love your mother. I would never make comparisons. The other relationship was…” A pause, fraught with a kind of pensive strain she had never seen from him before. “It was in its own category.”

“What was her name?” Lucy asked softly.

His lips parted as if to answer, but he shook his head and stayed silent.

What kind of woman had she had been, Lucy wondered, that decades after her death, he couldn’t speak her name?

“That intensity of emotion…” he said after a while, as if to himself. “That sense of two people being so right for each other, they’re halves of a whole. It was … extraordinary.”

“So you don’t regret it,” Lucy said.

“I do regret it.” Her father looked at her directly, his eyes glittering. His voice was thick as he added, “Better not to know. But that’s just me. Other people might say that it’s worth any price to have just a few moments of what I had.” Turning away, he began to pour the coffee.

Stunned into silence by the rare display of emotion, Lucy hobbled to get spoons from the flatware drawer. Had he been a more tactile man, she would have gone to embrace him. However, his buttoned-up civility had always been a suit of armor, repelling gestures of affection.

Now she understood something about her father that she never had before—his calmness, his endless composure, had nothing to do with peace.

* * *

After the Marinns had returned to California, Lucy’s mother called to tell her that the day they had spent with Alice and Kevin had gone as well as could have been expected. According to Cherise, the pair had been subdued. Kevin had been especially quiet. “But I did get the feeling,” her mother said, “that they’ve both made up their minds to go through with it, no matter what. I think Kevin’s being pushed by his parents—they seem very intent on getting him married.”

Lucy smiled ruefully. Kevin’s parents were an older couple who had spoiled their only son and had subsequently been dismayed by his immaturity and self-centeredness. But it was too late for them to wonder what might have been, what they should have done differently. Perhaps they thought that marriage would be good for him, make him more of an adult.

“We went out to dinner,” Cherise said, “and everyone was on their best behavior.”

“Even Dad?” Lucy asked wryly.

“Even Dad. The only awkward moment came when Kevin asked me about you.”

“He did?” Lucy felt a startled jab in her stomach. “In front of everyone?”

“Yes. He wanted to know about your leg, and how you were feeling, and then he asked how involved you were with Sam.”

“My God. I bet Alice wanted to kill him.”

“It wasn’t good timing on his part,” her mother said.

“What did you tell him?”

“The truth—that you look well, and happy, and you seem to be getting very close to Sam. And I couldn’t be any more pleased about it.”

“Mom. I’ve already told you why there’s no chance for me to have a serious relationship with Sam. So please don’t get your hopes up for something that’s impossible.”

“Don’t say ‘it’s impossible,’” her mother said with annoying sanguinity, “about something that you’re already doing.”

* * *

Two days after her parents’ visit, Lucy moved into the condo at Friday Harbor. To her surprise, Sam had objected to her leaving Rainshadow so soon, insisting that she needed more time to rest and heal. “Besides,” he’d said, “I don’t think you’ve gotten the hang of those crutches yet.”

“I’ve totally gotten the hang of them,” Lucy said. “I can even do tricks with them. You should see my freestyle moves.”

“All those stairs. All that walking. And you can’t drive yet. How are you going to get groceries?”

“I’ve got a whole list of numbers from the Hog Heaven congregation.”

“I don’t want you to hang out with a bunch of bikers.”

“I won’t be hanging out with them,” Lucy said, amused. “They’re just going to lend me a hand every now and then.”

Although it was clear that Sam would have liked to argue further, he muttered, “It’s your life.”

Lucy gave him an impish grin. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll let you come over for a quickie every now and then.”

He scowled at her. “That’s great. Because sexual convenience was my main concern.”

Although Lucy was rather sorry to leave the house at Rainshadow, she felt it was better for both of them. Another few days of proximity, and she was fairly certain that Sam would have started to feel claustrophobic. And most important, Lucy was happy to be able to return to her studio.

She missed her glass desperately, could almost feel it calling to her.

On her first morning back at Swing on a Star, Lucy was filled with creative fire. She set out to produce a cartoon, or a full-sized design, of the tree window for the Rainshadow Vineyard house. Using a combination of hand sketching and computer software, she detailed the cut lines and numbering sections for color shading. When it was finished to her satisfaction, she would make three copies of the pattern, one for reference, one to cut apart with shears, and one on which to assemble the window. Then the meticulous process of glass scoring and breaking would begin, accompanied by reshaping and grinding the edges of pieces as needed.

Lucy was still working on the cartoon when Sam came to the studio at lunchtime. He brought in two crisp white paper bags from the Market Chef, both of which looked satisfyingly weighty. “Sandwiches,” he said.

“I didn’t expect you,” Lucy exclaimed. A teasing grin spread across her face. “You just can’t stay away from me.”

Sam glanced at the pile of sketches on the table. “Is this preferable to the life of leisure you had with me?”

Lucy laughed. “Well, being waited on hand and foot was very nice … but it’s good to be productive again.”

Sam set the bags on the worktable and came around to view the cartoon. He stared intently at the design. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s going to be stunning,” Lucy said. “You have no idea what the glass will add.”

The corners of his mouth quirked. “Knowing you, I’ll be prepared for anything.” After studying the design for a minute, he said, “I brought you a housewarming present. I thought you’d probably want to keep it here.”

“You didn’t have to get me a present.”

“You won’t be able to use it for a while.”

“Where is it?”

“Sit still. I’ll bring it in.”

Lucy waited with an expectant grin as Sam went outside. Her eyes widened as he wheeled in a bicycle with a huge bow adorning the center of the handlebars. “I don’t believe it. Oh, Sam. You are the sweetest, sweetest—” She broke off with a crow of delight as she looked at the fabulous vintage restored bike, painted a rich forest green with crisp white ballooner fenders.