TAMPA--Two million dollars was awarded to the victim of a hit-and-run accident that left an elderly couple dead and their daughter severely injured eighteen months ago.

The lawyer for Marta Lundstrum, her half-brother Carl Lundstrum of New York, reported Miss Lundstrum's medical bills had already consumed a good portion of the settlement.

Miss Lundstrum, a participant in many local distance races prior to her injury, is now in a group home, where she is making steady improvement through extensive therapy.

Burke Hildebrand opened the door of the motel room, switched on the light and threw his battered briefcase onto the bed. As he pocketed his room key, he retraced his steps to the balcony which ran the length of the upper level of the motel.

Taking a deep breath, he picked up the well-scuffed canvas bag which had accompanied him from the States to Australia and back again. He was used to traveling light.

Returning to the room, he closed the door behind him and dumped the bag on the bed. With a sigh, he began to remove the chambray shirt he'd been wearing for the last twenty hours. It had dust from three airports blasted into its fibers.

He flexed his shoulders, then swung his arms in wide circles until he felt certain muscles relax.

Burke tried to ignore the institutionally bland furniture and neutral color scheme by looking out the window at the night.

Something was bothering him, and it wasn't the breeze blowing in off Tampa Bay or the traffic on the highway a few hundred yards away. It was the feeling that once again he was dislocated from anyone or anything familiar.

A new project, a new town, but the same old Burke Hildebrand, and the same old loneliness.

He turned back to the situation at hand. It took almost no time to unpack. As usual, he opened a drawer of the bureau and dropped everything in. Later he'd send out his laundry, hang his good trousers in the closet after they'd been pressed, and sort out his socks.

He wasn't generally very neat at this stage of a project. When he was not working sixteen hours a day, he would try to become more civilized. Then he would shave regularly, maybe even eat where there were cloths on the tables. Not now. He was too busy.

He pulled a crumpled envelope from the side pocket of his canvas bag and once again took the contents from it. The airline ticket should go into a file in the briefcase which was labeled Expenses . The letter from Joe Parmeter, however, was full of instructions. Call Suncoast Answering Service for your messages, one of them read.

Burke stretched out on the bed, leaving his heavy brogans extended over the side so they wouldn't soil the flowered bedspread. Leaning his broad shoulders against the headboard, he swung the phone onto his rippled ribcage and punched out the numbers.

"Good evening, Suncoast Answering Service," a bright feminine voice responded. "How may I help you?"

"Uh!" Burke grunted in surprised response to something in the voice that reached out and clutched at his soul. It was the first time that day he'd heard anyone who didn't sound like a programmed machine.

"This is Burke Hildebrand of Parmeter Engineering Industries, checking on my messages."

"Mr. Hildebrand! Thank you for choosing Suncoast Answering Service." She greeted him as though she was expecting his call and it had made her night. He knew, logically, she was obviously searching for his messages.

"Well, I didn't do the choosing," Burke set her straight reluctantly. "I guess Joe Parmeter arranged for your services when he was in Tampa setting up this project."

"Oh, I see." Her alto voice was sweet and warm. "I didn't meet Mr. Parmeter when he was here. Welcome to Tampa. I hope we live up to his expectations. I have a message for you from Mr. Parmeter. He says he won't be able to get to town until later in the week and for you to proceed without him. I guess that's not too complicated."

She paused, as though waiting for him to finish writing something done.

"Generally, Mr. Hildebrand, I'll warn you if you need pencil and paper when I see what the messages are," she went on. "In addition to taking messages, we have a number of services we can perform for you. We can relay messages to your callers or page you at your work site."

"I'll remember that," Burke promised, wanting to keep her on the phone longer. "Ah, do you have a name, miss? I--I have a hard time just talking to voices. I like to attach a name to a voice."

"Marti," she told him, a slight giggle in her voice. "With an i."

"Well, Marti-with-an-i , it's been a long day for me. I started out in Melbourne this morning--the one in Australia, not the one in Florida. I have monumental jet-lag and I'll sleep better knowing someone will take my messages."

"Will do," Marti promised with a little laugh. "By the way, would you like a wake-up call?"

"Could you?" Burke asked, knowing his travel alarm had given up some months ago and he hadn't replaced it.

"Sure. What time?"

"I think I'll sleep in. Six would be fine."

She giggled. "That's sleeping in? You're down for six, sir. Good night."

He hung up the phone and put it back on the nightstand. He'd hate to have a job that kept him up all night. Maybe he could get used to it, though. But the idea of staying up all night on top of the fatigue he already felt just made him more tired.

A shower would definitely help.

It was strange how the voice of a real person at the other end of the telephone made a difference in his outlook. Someone who responded to your supposed cleverness at this time of night took the edge off the sterility of the motel room. A little of the loneliness evaporated from of the night.

Bemused by the lingering warmth of Burke Hildebrand's voice, Marti moved the microphone of her headset away from her mouth. She needed to see the images on the computer screen in front of her.

Katherine Nelson, director of the group home, stood behind her, waiting for her to finish giving Mr. Hildebrand his message. Now she moved closer to look over Marti's shoulder.

Katherine sighed. "We have that many people on our waiting list? And only one resident who is ready to move out?"

"I'd be glad to move out," Marti suggested, looking up at the woman who had become like a mother to her in the past year.

"You're the one person I want to have stay," Katherine assured her softly, afraid she would be overheard.

But they were alone in the neatly efficient office where the Suncoast Answering Service operated. Elsewhere in the rambling building were a dormitory, classrooms and workrooms for the twenty residents who were given jobs and shelter in the institution.

The other nineteen residents were permanently impaired and would probably always need assistance, but Marti constantly improved her ability to live independently. Once her physical problems had begun to improve, she'd put her

business skills to work in the office, much to Katherine's delight.

Marti had gone from wheelchair to crutches, and more recently to a cane. She spent the nighttime hours answering the phone and do bookkeeping and filing.

Katherine relied on Marti to instruct a class of residents in training to take over simple office work. There were also times when Marti was pressed into duty for informal counseling when Katherine was occupied elsewhere.

But it had become increasingly clear Marti needed the facilities of the group home less than the people whose names scrolled up on the screen.

Katherine sighed and pointed to a name. "Let me see the display on this one, please..."

Marti tapped a few keys and the list was replaced by the information on a single applicant. She turned to observed the pensive expression on Katherine's face.

"Hmm! All right." Katherine patted Marti's shoulder and started back to her own office. "Print that whole record out for me when you have a chance. Thanks, Marti. Have a nice night. There's not much work for you to do tonight, just the usual. I'll be in my room if you need me."

Marti straightened her shoulders, one of the exercises she did frequently to avoid

becoming stiff. She didn't particularly like working all night, but she was one of the few residents who could tolerate the isolation and quiet.

She liked the necessity of burning lights all night to chase away the darkness. If she slept in the mornings, when it was light outside, she could see everything around her if she woke up. It wasn't as embarrassing as admitting that she had to sleep with the lights on.

A blinker on the switchboard lit up and Marti pressed the button to answer it, lowering her microphone into position.

"Suncoast Answering Service. How may I help you?"

"Good evening, Marti," Dr. Elizabeth McAffee said, fatigue in her voice.

"Dr. McAffee, good evening," she answered, searching the file where messages for each client were kept separately. "Ah, nothing tonight. It's been pretty quiet."

"Maybe I'll get a good night's sleep for a change, then," Dr. Liz laughed. "How are you doing, honey?"

"I'm doing really well," Marti told her, relaxing a little, although she watched the switchboard to see if there was another call coming in.

"I saw you in a mall a few weeks ago walking with your crutches," she told her. "You were really moving along well."

Marti laughed. "I was helping one of the girls find a new jacket. Anyway, I'm using a cane around the building here. I just use the crutches when I have to go outside."

"Really? I'm proud of you. You'll be out on your own soon, then."

"Well, maybe." A tinge of doubt crept into Marti's voice. No matter how bravely she spoke of leaving to Katherine, she had some qualms.

"Have a good night, Marti. Bye-bye," Dr. Liz said, as though they were long-term friends, rather than doctor and patient, and business acquaintances.

When Marti had broken the connection, she did a few more exercises. Feeling more comfortable, she scooted around the room on her swivel chair, returning files to their places in cabinets.

It was time to start looking for a job outside the sheltered workshop, and an apartment of her own. Or with someone who understood her needs. After the ordeal of the last two years, this was an even more frightening challenge.

She did some bookkeeping, a few exercises, a bit of reading, all interrupted now and again by the telephone.

The clients of Suncoast Answering Service were professionals who kept irregular hours and to whom emergencies and crises were commonplace. Few knew her as more than a voice who gave them messages before they called it a night or called them out of a sound sleep.

All in all, she didn't mind the work. It gave her a sense of satisfaction. But now that she was well again, she knew it was a waste of her talents. Katherine had told her that over and over. Even dear little Bunni was beginning to say the same thing.

At a little past five, she turned on her radio to hear the earliest news and weather reports. Some of the clients liked to know what to expect before their eyes were fully opened.

As her shift ended and the sky began to lighten beyond the windows, Marti heard other parts of the building come to life. Aromas of breakfast wafted from the kitchen as she made wake-up calls to clients whose messages were held through the night.

The digital clock on her console read 5:58. She had come to the new client, Mr. Hildebrand.

Marti looked at his name for a moment before she punched out the number, wondering if he would be as cheerful this morning as he was the evening before. Maybe he would be a grouch, she thought with a twinge of apprehension. But she'd left his name for last in the before-six group, hoping perhaps to have a few extra words with him. Just to be friendly.

The phone rang four times before he answered in a slurred, muffled voice.

"Good morning, Mr. Hildebrand," she greeted with practiced brightness. "This is Suncoast Answering Service. There were no more messages through the night. The weather looks like it's going to be sunny and warm today. Have a nice day."

"Ah--ah--Marti!" he exclaimed, suddenly more alert. "Yes. Thanks. You have a nice day, too. Or as they say in Australia, 'G'day, luv.'"

Marti giggled, then broke the connection, pleased that he had been receptive.

Some people didn't click on that early in the morning, but he must be used to rising early.

A smile lingered in her eyes as she decided she'd probably like Mr. Hildebrand if she ever met him. There was a slim chance of that, though.

Once again, she moved the microphone out of her way and flexed her back.

"Coffee, Marti," Bunni called from the doorway, coming to relieve her.

Bunni walked with the slow deliberation of someone intent on what she was doing.

Afflicted with Downs syndrome, Bunni stretched beyond her limits constantly. She'd spent long hours on her diction and handwriting to be able to answer the phones and take messages.

Katherine and Marti had worked with her until she was as capable as any able-bodied woman at doing her job. Few people knew the voice that answered their morning calls belonged to a person society almost discarded.

Bunni put two cups of coffee on the desk and picked up Marti's cane from the floor.

"Anything special?" she asked expectantly.

"The new client called in last night," Marti told her. She removed her headset and left it on the desk. "I called him this morning. I think he'll probably be a regular wake-up. Aside from the usual later wake-ups, we're all caught up."

With her cane, Marti got to her feet, then picked up her coffee mug and took a long swallow. She watched Bunni log in, then tucked a file folder under her arm and started slowly in the direction of the dining room.

Burke Hildebrand dragged himself from the bed and thrust his naked body into the shower with barely a thought to what he was doing. He sighed with pleasure as the water sluiced over his body and the scent of the soap filled the steamy air.

The unlimited hot water of a motel was something he hadn't experienced in a long time--possibly the only advantage to staying in a place like this. After one night here, he already felt the beige-papered walls closing in on him.

He would go out of his mind if he had to spend five years in a motel room, while he worked on this project. Granted, his last quarters in the Outback of Australia couldn't compare with this place. But then again, it wasn't a home, either.

Burke stood under the shower longer than he needed to, trying to organize his thoughts for the day.

Joe Parmeter hadn't had much choice but to order him to leave the nearly finished Australian project and fly to Florida. Another company had stolen the chief engineer from him the week before the ground was to be broken on the multi-million dollar project.

The project, from the summary of plan he had seen, was an exciting one. It confirmed his feeling that he had indeed reached a rarified strata in the ranks of construction engineers. Years of college and retraining in seminars, fieldwork, long hours, the full fury of weather's caprice, dislocation and relocation were finally bearing fruit. It was an assignment he would have killed for.

As he dressed in a rumpled khaki shirt and work-worn jeans of an undistinguished color, he thought of the perks involved with this job. Answering service which woke him in the morning with the voice of an angel, not automatic or condescending, but a living, breathing person.

He laughed at his fantasy as he wiped some Australian dust from his brogans with tissues from the box on the nightstand. It was a useless exercise. His shoes would be twice as dirty the moment he stepped onto the jobsite that morning.

He was tucking a clean bandana into his hip pocket when there was a knock at the door. Burke took a moment to look out the peephole to see who was there.

"Mr. Hildebrand? I'm your assistant on this job," the gangling young man told him, before Burke had even unlocked the door.

Grabbing his briefcase, Burke swung the door open and went out onto the balcony.

"Len Lonergan?" he asked, locking the door behind him. "Joe was very high on you when he told me you were assigned to this job. He told me you're fresh out of Georgia Tech."

"Maybe not all that fresh, sir," Len laughed. "It's been a couple years. Joe thought I'd learn a lot from you."

Burke raised an eyebrow and a grin creased his mobile face. "Be a bit discriminating about that, young man," he advised. "I've been known to have raised Joe's hackles more than once. But never on an empty stomach. How's the coffee shop here?"

"There's a better place between here and the site," Len told him, starting down the cement steps toward the parking lot.

He loped over to an unmarked and unmarred white van. "This is the company's vehicle," Lon stated. "I guess you get the use of it."

"Hey, it's a step up from what I had on the last job," Burke appraised, taking the keys Len held out to him. "I had a four-by-four that lost its shocks the first week and I never had the time to replace them. What are you getting to drive?"

"A small pick-up," Len answered, then shrugged. "It's okay."

Burke studied the dashboard and the seat adjustments, then set the mirrors. "Hey, it has a phone!"

"--And answering service. And here's your beeper."

"Whoa! Joe's really putting some money into this job."

"The office trailer hasn't been delivered yet, so this is going to have to be your office for a while," Len explained.

"I'll survive," Burke laughed, starting up the motor and backing out of the parking place. "Which way to breakfast?"

Marti handed a print-out of the file Katherine had requested to the director of the group home.

That there was an opening in the home was a matter for some excitement among the residents. It meant someone had learned to take care of himself well enough to go back to live with his family. There was hope for the others. It didn't happen often enough.

Katherine looked at the folder and then up at Marti. "What do you think?" she asked.

"It's not up to me," Marti replied.

"Sit down a minute," Katherine invited. "I want to talk to you."

Marti lowered herself to a minimally padded straight chair near Katherine's desk and looked apprehensively at the middle-aged woman. Marti knew what was coming.

"You've been doing so well lately," Katherine told her with a bittersweet smile, "I think we're going to have to start looking for a placement for you. I've been searching for funding to keep you here as a full-time employee, not as a resident. But I'm afraid I haven't had very much encouragement."

The thought of staying on as an employee was of momentary interest to Marti, but only fleeting. "Maybe it's just as well," she said with a brightness she did not fully feel.

"I'd like to have you stay," Katherine assured her. "You're very good at training people for the switchboard and the computer. And you've made our filing system a thing of beauty. But you've got too much to offer to be stuck here. Now, do you want me to try to find an employment agency that will place you, or do you want to look for a job on your own?"

"Is there any rush?" Marti asked, suddenly overwhelmed. "It means looking for a job and a place to stay at the same time, and one depends on the other so much."

"Well, I'm not about to dump your suitcase on the sidewalk," Katherine told her, then laughed. "But the waiting list is twelve deep. I'd like to whittle it down to ten by the end of next month. We've got one resident leaving in two weeks. You're the other best possibility."

"I understand," Marti agreed, getting to her feet with the help of her cane. "I'll start looking through the want ads this afternoon."

"You don't have to do on your own," Katherine told her sympathetically. "I have some contacts we can use."

"It's not exactly unfamiliar territory," Marti reminded her. "I've looked for jobs before. When I graduated from college, I had about twenty interviews before I was hired."

"Whew! I get discouraged just thinking about it!" Katherine exclaimed.

"Right now, I need something to eat and a couple hours of sleep," Marti sighed.

"Go on, then." Katherine turned to her cluttered desk then glanced up again. "Oh, wait a minute!"

"What?" Marti asked, looking back over her shoulder.

"I think you ought to call your half-brother and tell him what great progress you're making," Katherine suggested. "Maybe he'll have some ideas--"

Marti shook her head.

Carl Lundstrum never seemed to have much interest in Marti herself, she thought, just in the sums of money he had to draft from her trust account for her expenses. But she made a mental note to call him later in the day. She would need his approval on the tough decisions facing her.

After having some breakfast in the dining room with several other residents, Marti took the elevator to her single room on the third floor. She took off her jeans and T-shirt, then removed the brace from her back, casually tossing it to the foot of her narrow bed. She picked up the lightweight robe from the back of a chair beside her bed and wrapped it around her with its sash loosely tied.

Marti plumped up one king-sized pillow and laid it along the right edge of the bed. Then she lay down on the cool sheet on her left side, allowing her back to rest slightly against the pillow.

She scribbled a note to herself to call Carl later, but right now, she was too tired to plan what she wanted to say to him. He was always so intimidating with his unanswerable questions.

It would be hard to leave the group home. The residents had been her family for almost a year. Now, though, it was time to move on. Time to move on.

Burke had forgotten to check his messages late in the day as he'd planned to. The first day of any job was always hectic. His day was spent meeting with the men who were employed by a subcontractor to clear the land and haul the debris away.

He'd been all over the worksite with a survey crew, away from his van most of the time, riding along with Len in his pick-up truck. He'd inadvertently left his beeper in the van.

A light drizzle had forced him back into the van at quitting time. He'd been so hungry that he went in search of a steak without thinking about messages.

Then when he got back to his motel room, he searched the television for some news. He found, instead, a college basketball game, the first he'd seen in a long time. When it was over and he had nothing else to do, he remembered to check his messages.

"Do you have a pencil handy, sir?" Marti asked him, her tone seeming to mean he had a lot of items coming his way.

"That bad?" Burke responded with a dry chuckle. He got up from his bed and searched his briefcase for a pencil, then snatched up a motel scratchpad to make notes on. "All right, honey. Fire when ready."

"These are in order of when they came in," Marti said.

She began by telling him when the office trailer would be moved to the site, that the paving subcontractor would meet with him the next day, and Joe Parmeter had made plans to be in Tampa on Thursday.

"Now, it appears that you didn't use your beeper today, or else the batteries are down. Could you check that out so we can reach you tomorrow? That way, you can take the calls on your cellular phone."

Burke laughed. "I have to admit to being a bad boy and leaving it in the van today, but I promise to carry my beeper tomorrow, Sarge! You'll be able to get me whenever you want me."

"The daytime operators are Bunni, Lisa and Carolyn," Marti told him.

"Oh! You don't work twenty-four hours a day?"

Her laugh was like lilting music. "No, thank goodness. Now, is there anything else we can do for you?"

"I'm going to need an office worker to take care of my office when it gets set up. Can you get me a list of employment agencies?" Burke asked.

"No problem. I'll drop it in the mail to you at your motel," she promised.

"Well, if it's that easy," Burke chuckled, "can you find me a good real estate agent who handles rentals? This motel room is already beginning to get to me."

"We happen to have a client who might be able to help you," Marti told him. "Would you like me to ask her when she calls in?"

"Please."

"What would you be interested in?"

"An apartment or small house within a couple miles of my worksite. Nothing fancy."

"I'll see what I can do."

"That would be great."

"Do you need a wake-up call tomorrow?" Marti asked, attending to business without sounding overly businesslike.

"Yes."

"What time?"

"Five-thirty."

"All right. Good night, Mr. Hildebrand."

Burke replaced the receiver, conscious he had prolonged the call a little just to have more contact with a real person, a real female person. He'd been in the bush too long.

Marti spent part of her afternoon looking through the telephone directory and the newspaper to compile a list of employment agencies. Taking her list into the office, she made a photocopy and mailed it to Burke Hildebrand at the motel where he was staying. She studied the original and then tucked it into the pocket of her jeans.

Lisa, a young woman confined to a wheelchair, was taking her turn that afternoon at the switchboard.

"Lisa, has Mrs. Alberti called in yet this afternoon?" Marti asked her, reaching for a spare message pad.

"Not yet," Lisa responded, her voice thin, not the one which she used when she spoke on the telephone.

Marti wrote her message on the slip of paper and inserted it in the folder for the real estate agent. She did not have to say anything more to Lisa. It would be condescending to tell her to give the message to Mrs. Alberti. Lisa was good at her job, but could work only about three hours at a time. It was just as well, because it gave someone else a chance to train for a few hours.

Lisa was very frail, and Marti was always concerned about her, but rarely made a point of mentioning it.

"I'm going to the kitchen. Could I get you anything?" Marti asked.

"Will you see if there are any oranges left from lunch?"

"Sure!" Marti promised. She moved away, her cane helping her to make better progress than she was able to when she used her crutches.

Katherine called to her as she passed the office. "Marti? Would you type something for me?"

Marti stopped and came back to the doorway. "Can it wait until I've had my lunch?"

"It probably could wait until tonight," Katherine told her. "It's just that I had it on my mind."

"I'll be right back, then," she told her.

The cook, a matronly woman named Bess who had endless patience dealing with the residents, grinned at Marti when she entered the kitchen.

"There's a sandwich for you in the fridge, Marti," she said, turning from supervising the rolling out of pie crust. "There's soup, too, if you want it warmed."

"This will be fine," Marti told her, taking the sandwich from the place where Bess put things for her. "Do you have any oranges left?"

"Sure."

"Could you have someone take one to Lisa? I'd take it myself, but Katherine has some work for me to do for her."

"Herbie can take it over when we finish with this crust, huh, Herbie?"

Herbie looked up from the pie crust he was rolling and nodded. Herbie had to be told everything to do, but when he understood, he could not be deterred without putting up a fight.

Marti took a napkin from the counter and returned to Katherine's office, where she sat down and unwrapped the sandwich.

"Now, what can I do for you?" she asked Katherine.

"There's some federal grant money floating around that I just heard of. I'd like you to help me put an application together," Katherine stated. She added one folder to a stack in her basket and opened another one. "If I get enough money for maintenance, then I can take some non-directed maintenance money to hire you as a full-time counselor and office help."

Marti picked up the steno pad that lay on Katherine's desk and opened it to a fresh page.

"All right," Marti agreed.

She knew in her heart that grants, particularly government grants, were difficult to come by. Katherine was grasping at straws. She had become too dependent on Marti to take care of the little day-to-day problems.

In fact they were too dependent on each other, Marti reflected a few minutes later when Katherine paused to think through another idea.

It was comfortable here. Marti had few decisions to make, few risks to take. Her meals were prepared for her, her room cleaned, her laundry done. It was all very neat. And yet, it was not the life that Marti needed.

Just out of community college a few years ago, she was eager to be on about her life. She had worked in the office of a plastics manufacturing firm and saved her money to add to her educational background.

One evening she and her parents had been out to dinner and their car had been rammed by a drunken driver. She'd regained consciousness a day later to find that her parents were gone.

She'd suffered a spinal injury which was expected to lead to partial paralysis. No one had reckoned with her spirit, though. No one had known how much she wanted to overcome the challenge placed before her.

Now there was another challenge facing her. She would have to leave this place to be the person she had once been.

"Katherine," she said softly as she closed the steno pad, "I appreciate the vote of confidence. I'll always be grateful for everything you have done for me here. But if you can't hire me, I'll be just as happy to go out on my own. I don't know how much of my disability settlement I have left. Carl has been taking care of that and I haven't really bothered to ask for the details. But I do have my education and I can get around better. It won't be easy, but I can make it."

Katherine looked at her sympathetically. "Maybe you can," she said. "I'll do anything for you to help you adjust to the outside. But there could be a place for you here."

Marti got up from her seat and picked up her cane. "I understand that, Katherine, but let's not count on it."

Katherine's smile was unexpectedly bright when she looked up at Marti. She nodded as though with a secret satisfaction. "I should have expected as much from you, Marti. You would never have gotten this far without a great deal of courage. It will hold you in good stead, I'm sure. You know you have my reference for any job you apply for."

"Thanks." Marti turned away quickly. "I'll type this report tonight when everything settles down. It will be on your desk in the morning."

Marti went over to the office of the answering service and watched as Carolyn relieved Lisa.

Carolyn no longer lived in the group home, having been able to return to her family even though she was confined to a wheelchair. She was robust and cheerful even with her limitations. Carolyn had been one of Marti's inspirations when she had first arrived at the group home.

"You're early!" Carolyn teased. "Or is it that you don't want me to work today?"

"I have to make some calls on the other line," Marti told her, settling into the swivel chair.

It was getting late in the day for the employment agencies to be open. Marti had made only a few calls when she began to encounter answering machines. Undaunted, she left messages.

Carolyn looked up from the review of the message traffic which was a part of her job. "Looking for a new job?" she asked.

Marti nodded, putting her list of employment agencies into her pocket. "It's about time I started looking. I suppose it will take a while, though."

Carolyn nodded. "I sometimes think maybe someone would hire me," she sighed. "But this fits into my mother's schedule at the restaurant. We both go to work at the same time and get off at the same time. If I worked from eight to five--" She finished her thought with a shrug of her shoulders.

The dinner bell sounded and Marti got to her feet slowly. "I'll see you at nine. Do you want anything from the kitchen?"

"Not just now," Carolyn answered, then pressed a button to answer a flashing light on the telephone system.

Marti left the office slowly, tucking away the note she had made to herself about calling Carl. This was not a good time of the day to reach him, she knew from experience.

All the world was opening up to her, she thought briefly, yet she hadn't the slightest idea of where to look for the gate.

With a little thrill that rippled through her, Marti recognized Burke's deep voice instantly. She abandoned the grant application she had been typing into the computer to look for his messages.

"Just Mr. Parmeter's flight number and arrival time for tomorrow," she told him.

"Good," Burke's voice came back to her. "Go ahead.....Okay. I've got it."

"Did your office trailer arrive?"

"Yes, finally. What a mess. Marti, do you know of a barber who is open late in the evening?"

"No, but a shop two blocks west of your motel opens at seven-thirty on Saturday mornings for men who can't get in during the week. I think he's open until about two. He's pretty good, too. You won't look like you've just gotten out of boot camp."

Burke's laugh was deep and uninhibited, and she thought how good it was to hear someone laugh like that.

"And how do you know about barbers and things like that?" Burke asked.

"Well, it's come up before on this job."

"Huh! Really? How?"

"Someone was visiting one of our clients to go to a wedding and needed a quick trim," she explained. "I made a few calls to see who was open and got him right in. He called back to thank me and said he was real pleased."

"That was thoughtful of him."

"It made my day."

"What would we do without you, Marti? You have an answer to my every need."

"Would you be Irish, Mr. Hildebrand?" she asked. "That sounds suspiciously like Blarney."

His response was another deep, uninhibited laugh and she laughed with him.

"Will you need a wake-up call tomorrow?"

"Yes, please. Five-thirty. Have a nice night, Marti."

"You, too, Mr. Hildebrand."

Marti went back to her typing with barely a thought to the words that flowed onto the screen of her word processor.

She wondered if Burke Hildebrand waited until he knew she would be on the desk before he called in. So far he had never called in when Carolyn was on the desk; she knew because she had checked the log.

Of course, checking the log was part of keeping up with the billing. If she waited until the end of the week to check the log, things were forgotten. Bunni in particular got flustered if there were any questions about her turn, so Marti checked all the logs every day or so.

There was just something about Burke Hildebrand's voice and his laugh that made her think she would like him. She generally liked her clients, but there were some men who were very condescending. They never took the time to say anything that wasn't absolutely necessary.

It was fine to be all business, she supposed, but it got terribly dull.

When she finished the work at hand, she did a few of her flexibility exercises. Then she took out the list of employment agencies and reviewed the notes she had made the afternoon before. There seemed to be only one that showed any promise.

She studied the bus schedule and decided that she could get there without bothering the driver of the group home's van. She needed to try this on her own, without any help from the home.

She could do this. She was sure of herself.

Marti took out the note she had made for the call she dreaded placing to Carl. When she placed the call, she got his answering machine and, contrary to her training, hung up.

Marti found other busywork to do in the office. She made an inventory of message pads and billing forms, but she knew that the call had to be made.

Gritting her teeth, she dialed the number once more, vowing to leave a message on the machine this time.

But Carl answered.

After the usual pleasantries, Marti moistened her lips and forged to the crux of the conversation.

"I'm about ready to leave this group home," Marti told him. "I'm able to get around on my own fairly well and I've been running the answering service for several months. The problem is that I'll have to find a job and a place to live."

There was a dead silence on the other end of the line while she took a breath and waited for Carl to respond.

"Well, of course, you could come here and live with me. I have a guest room," Carl offered, seeming under duress. "The building has an elevator. But the situation of getting a job--really, Marti, are you up to it?"

"I work here every day," Marti told him defensively. "I haven't missed more than a few hours since I started. Since I've been running the answering service, I haven't missed a minute."

"This city has more than its share of unemployed people," Carl pointed out. "I doubt that it would be easy to find something here in your condition. But you could come here for a little while and I'll see that you're taken care of."

"That's not the point," Marti argued, for the first time standing up to Carl, who was always intimidating. "I've been working so hard to be self-sufficient, it would be a setback to allow someone to take care of me."

"I see," Carl said softly, as though chastened. "It was a thought. The New York weather wouldn't be good for you anyway, since you're used to the Florida climate. What will you do?"

"I'll look for work here," Marti stated.

"I'll review your trust fund to see how it stands," Carl promised. "I know that your expenses have been down, and I've re-invested some of the money. I might be able to come up with something toward first month's rent and deposit."

"That would be a help," Marti agreed.

There didn't seem to be much more to say. Carl was a busy person. She imagined him at a desk stacked with legal papers to be gone through, reading glasses perched on his nose. His tie would be loosened and his shirt rumpled.

She had never seen him in less than suit and tie, crisp and neat, even in Florida heat.

How sterile his life seemed. Every bit as sterile as her own.

The difference was that she enjoyed her life as it was. Would she enjoy the new life she must build outside the group home as much, she wondered as she logged her own call.

"You'll have to forgive the state of this van. It's still my office, even though the office trailer arrived yesterday," Burke told Joe Parmeter as he chauffeured him from the airport to the worksite. The van pitched as he drove off the road onto the rutted earth. "It's hard to think of this place as Tanglewood Commercial Complex," he said, shaking his head.

Joe laughed. "If memory serves, you've always been assigned to a project after it's been started, when it's already taking shape. This is the first one you've been in charge of from the day one."

"If you weren't forever bailing out other contractors when they've been in trouble, maybe I'd have had my own project before now," Burke teased. He was able to poke fun at Joe after an association which was in its eighth year.

"Tanglewood is a good name for it, eh?" Joe asked.

"Jungle-wood would have been a good name! It's slow going in the area we're clearing now, even with the bulldozers." Burke parked at the edge of the worksite.

"You are being careful to clear only the area you have to, aren't you?" Joe asked, skeptically.

"You better believe it. There's a lot of pressure here to preserve as much of the vegetation as we can. Unfortunately, any disturbance of the vegetation is also displacing the creatures. We've already had to call in a state agency to relocate a couple of snakes for us."

"What about 'gators?"

"I haven't seen one yet," Burke chuckled, getting out of the van.

"They're nothing to fool around with," Joe warned, getting out of the van and taking off his sports jacket.

It was a good, warm day even for February. The sun glinted off the side of the office trailer. Where it shone through the trees, it dappled the disturbed land which would soon be an access road to the interior of the tract. Over the next five years, a collection of office buildings, small factories and warehouses would rise from the scrub.

Joe took a moment to look around before following Burke into the office. "You should be able to get quite a lot done before the summer rains," he appraised.

Burke laughed. "Rain? What's that? I don't think I've seen any in the godforsaken places you've sent me in the last three years. We had something wet earlier in the week, but the men told me it was liquid sunshine. They assured me it wasn't rain."

Joe laughed and surveyed the inside of the trailer. It was cavernously empty, a jumble of furnishings all pushed to one side in no apparent order.

"This just got here yesterday," Burke told his boss. "I was going to stay late last night and arrange it but I got as far as there and ran out of gas. I guess it's left-over jetlag."

"Don't think you have to do everything by yourself," Joe told him. "I employ you to be an engineer, not a furniture mover or a cleaning lady."

"That's reassuring. I think." Burke picked up a well-padded chair and started toward the separate office at the end of the trailer. Joe hefted another chair and followed him.

"I'm really excited about this project," Joe confided as he sank into the chair and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "The architectural plans show some real style."

Burke sat down and leaned back. "Yes, that attracts me, too. I want you to know that I'm planning to stick this out to the end."

"I never thought that you wouldn't," Joe chuckled. "You've never given up on anything yet, never threatened to walk out on me or take someone else's offer. That's why I gave you this job."

"All right, then. We understand each other. Look, the motel room I'm in is already closing in on me. Maybe it's because I've been used to all that space in Australia. Anyway, I want to rent a house for myself while I'm here."

"Burke, if you're going to be here five years, you might as well buy one, don't you think?" Joe suggested forcefully.

Burke looked at him seriously for a long moment, then shook his head. "No," he sighed. "I've never owned a place of my own. I've been spending most of my time in the crummy motel rooms you rent for me! The reason I thought I might rent a house is that an apartment might get to me, too."

"All right," Joe proposed, "I'll adjust your pay for you when you find a place. I think renting might be a good move, but buying a place would be even better for you."

"I suppose it will depend on what I can find," Burke said thoughtfully. "I have an appointment with a real estate agent Saturday. You know, that answering service you subscribed to for us is really on the ball. The night operator there has put me onto a agent, an employment agency and a barber who's open Saturday."

Joe laughed and searched his pocket for his pipe. "I'm glad I did something right. Now, let's get down to business."

It had been an adventure, Marti told herself as she sat waiting to be interviewed by a placement counselor in an employment agency.

She'd gone through this hassle before, then had gotten her job at the plastics firm because someone there knew her from college. The plastics firm had gone through two changes of ownership since the accident had disabled her. Marti had been informed her former position had been filled. Not that she was surprised. She wasn't sure she wanted to go back there anyway, after some of the things she'd heard since.

The woman who called her into a cubical to interview her looked at her crutches skeptically.

"Sprained ankle?" she asked.

"Ah, no," Marti replied, recognizing the problem immediately. "It's a little more serious than that."

"You might want to wait until you don't need the crutches before you go out on any interviews," the woman advised, sitting down behind her desk rather prissily.

Marti merely nodded.

"I must say I am very impressed with your credentials," she complimented, looking over the application form in front of her. "But you have a gap in here of about nine months. Can you tell me about that?"

"I was in an accident and it took quite a while to recover," Marti told her as normally as she could handle.

"So the crutches are permanent?" the interviewer asked in a judgmental voice. "Handicapped people are very difficult to place. Employers are afraid they won't show up regularly, that they'll be a strain on the health insurance."

"That might be true of handicapped people," Marti agreed, getting to her feet with a very deliberate movement and fitting her crutches under her arms. "However, I am not handicapped. My abilities outweigh my limitations. Thank you for your time. I'll look for representation elsewhere."

Maybe I shouldn't have said it quite that way, she thought a hundred times on the bus back to the group home. For a first outing, it could only be viewed as a disaster.

A voice inside hounded Marti that she needed as much work on her attitude as the interviewer she'd faced.

The only way to silence any opposition to being hired was to walk without crutches or a cane, without assistance of any kind. The therapist who worked with her felt that was still a long way ahead of her. But Marti couldn't wait long to find a job of her own. She had to keep looking.

Freshly trimmed and fragrant from the barber, Burke arrived at Marie Alberti's real estate office promptly at nine on Saturday morning. She was just unlocking the door of her strip-center office.

He spent half an hour with the grandmotherly Italian woman, looking through a book of listings to find something that would satisfy his needs. She'd given him a scratchpad to make notes on. While she was diverted to answer the phone, he noticed the advertising on the pad.

Suncoast Answering Service, 17 Brickmun Court. Um!

The notepad got quite a workout that morning as they looked at houses within a short drive of the Tanglewood development.

"I'm afraid none of these is quite what I had in mind," Burke told Marie after they had gone through the fourth house. "They are probably nice places for older people who are only here for a few months of the year, but I'll be here for five years. I take up a bit of space."

Marie's brows raised over her brown eyes. "I really think you should think of buying, then," she advised. "Unless there's some reason that isn't feasible--"

"My boss has already suggested it to me," Burke affirmed, giving the idea more weight in his mind.

"I'm listing a place close to your worksite," Marie commented. "Let me drive you by and if you want to look at it we'll take a look. But I warn you, it was specially built. The heirs are amenable to a reasonable offer just to get the estate settled. That happens a lot down here."

From the quiet street, the house looked slightly seedy, but it was nothing a landscaping crew couldn't handle with a few hours' work. It was typically Spanish-style, with cream stucco walls and a red tiled room. The front courtyard was walled and gated with elaborate wrought iron. There were iron grates on the windows and the arched front door had an additional grate.

"It looks--very secure," Burke observed.

"An elderly woman lived here," Marie explained. "She had a live-in nurse. It's really quite nice inside."

"Yes, I think I would like to see the inside."

"Good!"

It was the pool with its built-in spa that sold Burke. The house had more room than he needed. He told himself it would be a good place for all his relatives from New Jersey to stay when they took Florida vacations.

As he stood surveying empty space, he envisioned what he would do with it. He'd set up a drawing board in the living room, and use the room that looked out on the pool for a living room--

"I'll take it," he told Marie. "When can I move in?"

"Well, it usually takes eight to ten weeks to close," Marie said, caught by surprise at his quick decision.

"That long?" Burke asked. "I'll go crazy in the motel."

Marie scratched the top of her salt-and-pepper head. "I could call the heirs and see if they would rent it to you until the closing. They're so anxious to unload the place, they might be agreeable. We'll go back to the office, and I'll call them while you fill out the papers."

Half an hour later, he was finishing a mortgage application while Marie was on the phone to someone in Michigan. Burke noticed a stack of maps of Hillsborough County on the cabinet beside Marie's desk.

"Go ahead and take one of those," she invited in an aside. "Take a few. It will help you and your people learn their way around."

While she talked on the phone, Burke studied the map.

For some reason, he noticed Brickmun Court. Where had he heard or seen that name before? Oh, yes, the Suncoast Answering Service.

Marie hung up the phone a short time later. "The man I spoke to has to talk it over with his sister," she explained. "But he liked the idea of someone living in the house as soon as possible. He said he'd be inclined to go along with anything I thought was reasonable for two months. The way we generally figure rent for a month is one percent of the house's value."

Burke thought for a moment. "Well, that seems fair, considering what rent of a motel room is costing my company."

"Good. How can I reach you later today when I get something definite?"

"Through Suncoast Answering Service," Burke told her. "It's been nice doing business with you, Marie. We'll probably be seeing a lot of each other in the next few months."

Marie laughed. "You'll think we see too much of each other."

When Burke got back into his van, he took out one of the maps and studied it to see how he could get to Brickmun Court from where he was. He should drop by and tell whoever was there that he appreciated Marti's help.

It wasn't hard to get there, but the only thing he could see was a sign that said 17 Brickmun Court was a group home and sheltered workshop for handicapped adults. Well, maybe the scratch pad was old stationery. Maybe Suncoast Answering Service had moved out.

He'd seen a taco stand a few blocks away, and his stomach told him it needed sustenance. The mystery of Suncoast Answering Service could wait until he had something solid in his system to make mental exercises easier.

"Thank you for everything you've done for me," Burke told Marti that evening when he called in.

She'd told him the good news from Mrs. Alberti. He would be able to move into the house he wanted to buy while the paperwork went through. She could hear the excitement in his voice.

"I'm pleased things have worked out well for you," she remarked.

"Not everything has worked out so well," Burke complained in a teasing voice. "But I've got to say I like your batting average so far."

"Oh? What hasn't worked out?" she asked, concerned.

"One of the employment agencies you recommended sent two women out to look at the job, and they both turned it down."

Marti paused a moment before commenting. "Huh! Jobs aren't that easy to come by. I'm surprised you didn't get a better response."

"So am I," Burke agreed, a note of wonderment in his voice. "I hope I don't come across as an ogre to work for. But I guess it's because we're too far off the bus line and the place is pretty rugged, although it's in the city. A woman would be the only one working here. There aren't very many women working land clearing and excavating jobs."

"That could be the problem," Marti agreed with a chuckle. "A woman would have to be pretty sure of herself to take on that kind of a job."

"Things will get better fairly soon," Burke assured her. "Now I really need someone who can get our office organized before the paperwork gets too far out of hand. Oh. And I need to contact an office-cleaning firm. Any help?"

"Sure!"

"Why did I doubt for an instant that you knew one?" Burke laughed.

"Rainbow Cleaning Service," Marti suggested. "I'll have them contact you first thing Monday morning."

"I really appreciate all this help, Marti," Burke told her. "I just had a great idea. Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?"

"Ah--Mr. Hildebrand--"

"Well, if you're married and have six kids, I'll take you all to McDonald's," Burke teased, blithely.

"No, I'm not married."

"Going with someone?"

"No. It's just that--"

"Company policy. No fraternizing with the clients--"

"Actually, no. That's definitely not an issue."

"Then what's the problem? I told you I'm not an ogre, at least--no, it's not the full of the moon. You've been very nice to me, and I'd like to take you to dinner."

"For one thing, I have to be on duty at nine tomorrow night."

"No problem. We could make it early--"

"Mr. Hildebrand--" Marti sighed. She'd run out of excuses, except for the one she knew would probably discourage him flat. "Oh. Sorry. I have another call coming in."

"Some other time, then. No wake-up tomorrow, okay?"

"Good night, sir." Marti broke the connection with a trembling finger.

There was no incoming call. Maybe if there had been, the need to be in control would have kept Marti from feeling so--well, kind of hollow inside.

The truth was that she had fantasized about what Burke Hildebrand was like. He certainly had a kind voice and a nice laugh. He couldn't possibly be as handsome as she'd constructed him in her mind.

It had taken inner strength to turn down a date with him. But she'd created a minor god in her imagination, and she wanted to prolong the illusion as long as she could. She certainly didn't want to expose her own shortcomings to his scrutiny.

Months from now, when she'd thrown away crutches and cane and learned to walk without the slightest hint of a limp, she could meet Burke Hildebrand. Yes, that thought would keep her going toward a new goal.

She picked up some filing she had to do.

He'd had a swim in the motel pool, read most of the Tampa Tribune Sunday edition, and the idea still nagged at him. Burke dug out the map of Tampa and some of the bits and pieces of paper that had been accumulating on the desk in his motel room.

He saw a pattern developing, and to check it out, he reached for the telephone directory.

The group home, the Suncoast Answering Service, the Rainbow Cleaning Service--all the same address. Burke decided he thought better when he was doing something, so he went back down to the pool and did twenty more laps.

He hadn't changed his mind, though. The idea still had some merit, and he felt powerless to stop the wheels that seemed to be in motion. For one thing, he knew he wouldn't sleep that night if he didn't follow up on the crazy idea buzzing around in his head.

So he showered, then took extra care in shaving the blondish stubble from his square jaw. Carefully, he removed a fresh pair of gray slacks from the plastic cleaner's wrapper. He'd worn his favorite shirt the day before when he went looking at houses, so he dug out his second favorite, a dark blue sportshirt. Then he put on the boots he'd brought back from Australia.

Yup, he thought, appraising his image in the mirror, this is as good as you get, mate.

He had made up his mind to meet this Marti-with-an-i and that was exactly what he was going to do. When Burke Hildebrand promised someone a meal, he kept his promise. If she couldn't leave the home, he'd find a way to bring a meal to her. There had to be some treat she could appreciate, and by George, she deserved it for all the help she'd been to him.

He was concerned about what he would find, but it couldn't be any worse than his old friend Kevin. When they were kids, Kev had gotten some disease that had degenerated his bones until he could no longer even sit in a wheelchair. A breathing difficulty became pneumonia. Kevin had died at the age of fifteen, a brilliant witty mind that might have literally soared to the stars--wasted. Burke had mourned for months.

Whatever problem Marti had, Burke would cope long enough to fulfill his promise. He was a man of his word.

It was too hot to sleep, so Marti had gotten up just after noon, washed and dried her long, light brown hair and put on fresh jeans and an long Tampa Bay Buccaneers' T-shirt. She was doing her fingernails, out of boredom, when Bunni came puffing to her open dormitory room door.

"Katherine told me to tell you that you have a gentleman caller," Bunni gasped, concentrating on the message. Then she grinned, sure she had delivered it properly.

Marti laughed and blew on her nails. When she looked up at Bunni, the girl was grinning at her expectantly. Katherine was not one to pull tricks on anyone, and Bunni was unable to lie.

"I have a gentleman caller? Sure I do. Where?"

"In her office. Come on. Hurry."

Everything was always a wonderful adventure to Bunni, a big surprise around every corner. Maybe that is what had made her so good to work with in the answering service; she never got bored.

"Tell Katherine I'll be down in a minute. Go on. It won't take me long."

Bunni was gone, leaving the third-floor corridor echoing with the little humming noise she made when she was happy.

Marti pushed her feet into her low-heeled shoes and looked around for her cane. It was resting against the chenille of her bedspread and she could not pick it up without ruining her newly painted nails. So she took her crutches from their place near the door and fit them under her arms.

Bunni was standing outside the open door of Katherine's office waiting for her when she got down to the first floor. She didn't say anything, just smiled the little smile she had that told Marti something pleased her.

The moment Marti entered Katherine's office, a tall sandy-haired man stood up and smiled back at her. He had blue eyes and a deep dimple at each side of his mouth. The smile was vaguely questioning.

Katherine sat on the corner of her desk. "Marti, this is Mr. Hildebrand, one of your clients."

"How do you do?" Marti said cordially, nodding in his direction. She would have reached her hand out to him, but she needed the support of her crutches just then. Oh, yes, she felt a weakness in her knees.

She had seen that look in other people's eyes, but it slipped away in his faster than in anyone she had ever seen before.

A grin separated his lips, exposing strong white teeth. His eyes were a sparkling blue, accented by lines at their corners, lines from squinting in the bright sunlight.

She liked his face. It was the kind of face that could never hide anything. She had known from his voice that he would be handsome.

"I was just telling Mrs. Nelson what a help you've been to me since I came to town," he told her.

The sound of his voice took away any doubt she had that this was the man whose calls she'd begun to look forward to each night. In a way, it was as though they were old friends.

She looked away from him, unable to watch the intensity of his eyes any longer. "I--ah--I'm glad--I've been some help."

"I thought maybe you could show me around town and we could have an early dinner," Burke suggested. "I really think I owe you--"

"Burke--Mr. Hildebrand--"

"You were right the first time."

"I really don't think--" Marti tried to back off.

Katherine stood up and reached out to take Marti's arm. "I think it's okay, Marti. Just to get out of here for a little while, huh?"

"Look, I--I don't feel right going out in these old jeans and this shirt," Marti told him, clutching at any excuse to put the inevitable off a little longer.

"All right," Katherine said. "You take a few minutes to change into that new pink outfit you got after Christmas. In the meantime, I'll show Mr. Hildebrand around the building."

Bunni followed Marti back up to her room, offering all kinds of help, much more excited than Marti was. Marti, out of love for someone who had treated her like a sister, let Bunni search for her white shoes. Then she suggested Bunni help her decide which of her two scents of cologne to use.

Marti moistened her lips and smoothed the ribbed hem of her pink sweater over the crisp white and pink striped culottes she had worn only twice before. Dressing still took a lot of her energy and for once, she didn't begrudge her body its temporary awkwardness.

But the inevitable moment came, anyway. Marti picked up her cane and returned to the hallway just outside Katherine's office. In a way, she hoped something had happened in the intervening moments to convince Burke to change his mind about taking her to dinner.

"This is really a fascinating place," Burke was telling Katherine as she led him back to her office. "You must be very proud--"

"But we can't possibly help everyone who needs the kind of services we can provide," Katherine informed him. "We need more room and another a full-time counselor."

Katherine cast a meaningful look at Marti, then nodded approvingly.

It had been a long time since she'd had a date, even as impromptu as this one. As much as she admired the man, she was not pleased about Burke Hildebrand's insistent manner.

"If you're ready, Marti," Burke said, "I'll go bring my car around. It's parked down at the other end of the parking lot."

"We do get a little jammed up on Sundays when people come to visit our residents," Katherine observed.

Marti would have made an issue of his going to the extra trouble had she not wanted to talk to Katherine for a moment. She watched Burke walk away with long easy strides then turned back to Katherine.

"How could you do this to me?" she pleaded, already uncomfortable and short of breath.

"Do what?" Katherine asked. "I couldn't very well tell him you weren't here when Bunni and Lisa were right there. Bunni doesn't know how to tell a lie; she would have told him you were here."

Marti agreed reluctantly. "All right, all right."

Katherine put her hand gently on Marti's shoulder and lowered her head to speak confidentially to her as the family of one of the residents passed them.

"Marti, he's a lovely man," she told her. "Can't you just see it in his face? And it's only a dinner out, not an arranged marriage, for heaven's sake."

"But--" Marti protested, "I haven't been out with anyone since--"

"It's about time you were," Katherine declared, starting to maneuver Marti toward the front door. "I wouldn't be saying this to you if I didn't think you would be safe."

"All right," Marti agreed, reluctantly. She had just reached the glass door, which opened automatically when anyone neared it, as Burke approached it from the other direction.

Burke took her free hand and pulled it into the crook of his arm, matching his stride to her uncertain gait.

"I'm afraid my own car hasn't been delivered yet," he said as they approached his van at the end of the walkway. "This is the van I use for my office at the work site. If any of the litter gets into your way, just kick it aside. Another footprint won't make much difference."

"It's fine, really," Marti told him. She brightened as she spotted the swivel seat and the low running board which provided an extra step. "These vans are a little tricky to get into, but I like being able to slip out of the seat into a standing position."

"Good," Burke said. "Tell me how I can help you in."

Marti laid her cane on the floor of the van. "I can manage."

"Watch your head," Burke said, solicitously standing by.

Having levered herself into the seat, Marti felt herself relax as she settled in and fastened her seatbelt.

Burke got in on the driver's side. "Good; I don't have to tell you to use the seatbelt."

"Not me!" she replied. "It's what saved my life two years ago."

"So Katherine was telling me." He seemed not to want to dwell on his conversation with Katherine. "What can you show me of Tampa?"

"Ha! A challenge-- The University of Tampa might interest you. The main building is an old hotel built in the last century with a strong Victorian and Arabian influence."

"That I've got to see!" Burke laughed, putting the van in gear.

Marti directed Burke though the town she had been born in, trying to think of landmarks a man of his background would find interesting.

Each time they came to a construction site, Burke's attention took in the bulky equipment used to shift earth around. Marti was amused that his eyes seemed to search out anything painted yellow.

"What are you grinning at?" Burke asked, catching her looking at him.

"You seem to have the van trained to slow down at construction sites," she teased.

Burke's laughter filled the van. "Guilty. I love earthmovers and bulldozers and cranes and--backhoes!"

Marti shook her head. They were all just big and yellow and somewhat scary to her.

"Some kids like cars or trains or planes," he reflected. "I've always liked heavy equipment."

"Can you operate things like that?"

He nodded. "I worked a couple summers in construction before I got my degree. You have to know how those things work, what they're capable of, when you're in charge of a site."

He went on and on about his work then. It seemed to fill the space between them, and Marti found she was actually interested in his occupation, and everything else

about him.

After a while, Burke began looking for a place where they could eat dinner. Marti vetoed his first suggestion.

"No, that place is too fancy and overpriced," she told him.

"If you say so," Burke chuckled, an easy camaraderie having grown between them. "What do you suggest?"

Marti looked at him with careful assessment, then made her decision. "I think I know just the place. Turn left down at the next corner."

It's going pretty well, Burke thought, following Marti's directions.

He'd been prepared to find someone who had a physical problem when he got to the group home. But he wasn't ready for the fragile beauty that shyly confronted him. From what Katherine Nelson had told him about Marti, he was already in awe of her tenacity and determination.

"This was my father's favorite place to eat," Marti told him, when he'd followed her directions to a shopping plaza. He parked as close as he could to the front door.

"Now, you let me get around to that door and help you," he cautioned.

"I can handle this myself."

"You might know that," he reminded her, "but I don't. Humor me this once, and I'll let you be as independent as you want later on."

"Deal!" Marti agreed with a laugh.

She slid from the high seat of the van to land lightly on her feet and took her cane in her right hand.

Burke closed the door and took her arm in what he hoped was a firm but gentle grip. He'd been a wrestler in college and some of his sparring partners had told him he didn't know his own strength. God, he'd die if he caused her even the slightest pain.

The inside of the Jack of Diamonds was casual, filled with tables set for four people, mostly empty. It was a little early for dinner.

The hostess smiled at Marti, and, having seen her cane, asked solicitously, "Would you prefer a table or one of the booths?"

"A booth, please," Marti answered, then followed the hostess to a secluded area toward the back, along a wall.

"This restaurant probably doesn't look very sophisticated to you," she commented when the hostess had gone, "but the food is good, real nourishment. At least, I hope it's still as healthy as it was when I came here last."

"What do you suggest?" Burke asked, opening his menu.

She leaned across the table and pointed to something with a freshly manicured fingernail. "Barbecued beef with potatoes, beans and slaw. That's what my dad usually had here."

"What do you usually get?"

"Oh, a salad and a sandwich, maybe some onion rings or curly-fries."

"Are you sure that will be enough?" he asked skeptically. "I don't want you to go back and tell Katherine that I didn't feed you enough after she talked you into coming with me."

Marti laughed. "Just remember you said that when the food comes!"

She frowned when she looked back at the menu.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Oh, the prices have gone up a little," she told him. "I suppose I should have expected it. When I first started to get out and about again, I was shocked by the prices, but then, we have to go to places where we can get access with wheelchairs and crutches, so that lets out the places where I usually went for bargains."

"I never thought of that," Burke mused. "That you would have to pick the places you shop by your mobility."

"I don't have many needs, anyway," Marti remarked. "Just the personal items--shampoo, toothpaste, that sort of thing. Most of my pay from my job goes to offset the expense of my care. I get a few dollars, so when--I see higher prices, I cringe."

"Don't worry about it now," Burke said. "I think the prices here are reasonable, compared with other areas. I didn't have many options in the Outback. Just take it on faith that I can afford whatever you can eat."

Marti laughed unexpectedly and put her menu aside.

Yes, it was going very well.

She asked him about his experiences in Australia, then gave him her rapt attention as he described the project he had worked on. She was an intelligent listener and made the time go quickly until they were served. Then she chuckled knowingly when he exclaimed about how much food was set in front of them.

"You don't know how scared I was that this place had gone to wreck and ruin." Marti sighed with relief as she moved things around on the table that had suddenly become crowded. "I'll trade you a wedge of tomato and two onion rings for three curly-fries."

"I may never get to the curly-fries," Burke laughed. "Go ahead, take as many as you want."

"Try that mild sauce and the hot stuff and see which you like," she suggested.

"I think I'd better stick to the mild sauce," he laughed. "I've been out of the country longer than I thought."

She was easy to talk to, and he forgot about her physical problem until he saw her cane lying along the back of the bench. He wanted to talk to her about the accident she had been in and how far along in her rehabilitation she was. But the restaurant had begun to fill up, and he didn't want to cause her any embarrassment.

"Do you have any family?" Burke asked her after he'd told her about his parents, younger brother and sister back in New Jersey.

"I have two half-brothers in New York," she said, then smiled. "I tell myself that that amounts to one brother, which is about right. I can't remember ever meeting the one but the other came down and settled my parents' estate. Carl is a fairly successful lawyer in New York. He was declared my legal guardian and took care of all the details for me while I was recovering from the worst of all this."

Burke looked back at her apologetically for leading the conversation exactly where he didn't want it to go. "I'm sorry I mentioned--"

Marti shook her head. "It's all right. I can talk about some things very easily. Carl was one of the bright spots in all of this. He'd never come to terms with my father after he married my mother. Taking care of the details, he said, let him work out a lot of his guilt. I guess that might be part of the way things were supposed to happen."

"You have a marvelous attitude," Burke remarked.

Marti laughed. "It's an achievement in itself. I have had very bad attitudes at times. There were times when the going got tough and the tough went back to sleep."

He shook his head and watched the waitress refill his coffee.

"At least now I can get around a little more," Marti said. "I went looking for a job Friday."

"Did you find anything?" Burke asked.

Marti glanced at him, then looked away. "Attitudes."

Burke nodded. "Right. What are you looking for? Receptionist? Secretary?"

"I have an Bachelor of Arts degree in Business," she informed him in an I-can-tackle-anything voice.

Burke looked at the set of her jaw and the clarity of her blue eyes. "I have a job for someone who can organize a one-person office and manage it without a lot of supervision from me. Someone has to know what sub-contractors are on the job and what they are doing. It job requires someone who can keep track of where we are on the schedule every day. With a little bookkeeping to see that the money flows, but only when the work is done."

"The problem is that it isn't on the bus line," Marti told him. "I'm a long way from having my own car again. I had Carl sell mine rather than have to worry about storing it and insuring it. There is no guarantee I'll ever be able to drive again."

"Oh," he said.

"Then there's the problem with having a place to live. If I'm not working for the sheltered workshop, I don't have a place to stay."

"You need something on the ground floor, huh?" Burke looked at her for a long time. "There are solutions and there are perfect solutions. Sometimes you have to take a solution and make it perfect."

"Sorry," Marti said with a wistful smile. "It's just that the timing's off. Maybe in a few months I'll have a job and car and I can come talk to you. Of course, you can't wait that long."

"I'm afraid not."

He was still thinking over the problem when he took Marti back to the group home. They walked slowly up to the front of the home and through the automatically opening doors.

"Do you go right to work now?" Burke asked.

Marti laughed. "No, I'll have to go up and change into something I can be comfortable in."

"You weren't comfortable this evening?"

"With the company, yes, perhaps," she answered. "But this outfit is scratchy on the inside."

She laid her hand on his arm. "Thank you for a lovely evening. I'm glad Katherine talked me into going with you."

He wouldn't tell her that he'd had his doubts about the venture, but had a wonderful feeling now that everything had turned out better than he had hoped. "We'll have to do this again soon so I'll learn my way around town."

"You'll get tired of my taste in restaurants," she teased, starting to back away from him.

But he caught the hand that had been resting on his arm and clutched it in his own.

Her blue eyes looked back at him in surprise.

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. He didn't know quite why he did that, except that he'd wanted to kiss her and had known instinctively that she wasn't quite ready for it.

An hour later, his head still full of thoughts of Marti, he dialed the number of the answering service from his motel room and asked for his messages. He wasn't expecting anything; he just wanted to hear her voice.

"Let's see if there is anything in your folder," Marti mused. "Oh. You mother called. Do you need the number?"

"Heck no!" Burke laughed. "They've had the same number since I was a little kid. Even when they moved to a bigger house, they were able to keep the same number. Is that all?"

"It looks like it." Marti made a mark in her log to show that the message had been forwarded.

"I'll have to call her and tell her about the house I'm buying. She'll be really pleased."

"It's pretty late," Marti cautioned, glancing at the clock.

"Oh, Mom's a real night owl," Burke laughed. "When her arthritis bothers her, she sits up and reads mysteries."

"Hmm! Oh, do you want a wake-up call in the morning?"

"Usual time, please. And, Marti, I enjoyed our evening together. Think about the job, huh?"

"I will. I promise. Goodnight, Burke."

At three o'clock, he called back. "I know I'm abusing my privilege here," he apologized. "But I can't sleep and I'm not used to being so alone."

"Did you call your mother?" Marti asked, amused that it sounded as though she was nagging him.

"Yes. Mom and Dad are just fine. It's good to hear her voice after we hadn't been able to talk to each other for so long. I invited them to come down to visit as soon as I get into my new house. I guess that's one of the things that has me too wound up to sleep. It's a big house, and it's not that I don't know what to do with all that space, but it's the responsibility of it all."

Marti nodded in agreement. "Yes, it must be rather daunting to have to decide what to do with it all."

"I hope the neighbors won't be angry with me if I go swimming every morning. I'm looking forward to that. Do you like to swim?"

"Not particularly," Marti said. "I'm afraid of deep water."

"It has a heated spa in one corner of the pool. That would be good for your back, wouldn't it?"

"It would be great!" Marti said. But she didn't take casual remarks seriously.

"Then I'll have to ask you to my housewarming. Have you given any thought to the job I offered you?"

"I've had my hands full with this job tonight," Marti laughed. "Our fund-raising carnival is early in May. The work I have to do for it is always the first out-the planning and scheduling and publicity. I've been pulling last year's files and upgrading them. Considering the goal this year, it's going to mean a lot more work all around." She took a deep breath. "Besides, I don't think I could work out at Tanglewood. There are just too many problems."

"You should never say anything like that to an engineer," Burke scolded, then laughed. "It's like waving a red flag in his face, daring him to come up with a solution. It's getting awfully late, isn't it? I should get some sleep, but my body schedule has been all messed up since I got back from Australia. Every afternoon I want to take a nap, and I'm sitting here thinking late at night. But it's getting a little better. Promise you'll think about the job?"

"I will," Marti agreed.

When she had broken the connection, she had to admit the job he'd offered her had captured her random thoughts all evening long. But she would have to find a job somewhere near the group home and the apartments that were available to her.

She had long since come to terms with the accident and its disastrous effects on her life. There was nothing that could be done about some of the problems that had come up, but the attitude of some people whom she had to ask for a job could not easily be changed.

She suspected it would not be hard to work for Burke Hildebrand. Nor would it be difficult to be his friend. If she could drag herself away from being lost in his pale blue eyes.

Marti turned to the billing and eventually came upon the note of her call to Carl. For a long moment, she sat staring into space, picturing Carl Lundstrum in her mind.

Marti knew very little about the spare, blond man who peered down at her through glasses framed so slightly she wondered how fragile they were. She could see a strong Lundstrum family resemblance, in the high rounded forehead, the narrow chin and piercing blue eyes. In the fog of pain-killer medication, she had first mistaken him for her father. That flustered Carl, and she had to fight against her bruised reality to understand what he was about.

In businesslike tone and legal terms, he'd explained what he had done for her and ordered her to sign papers, here and there. Then he was gone, back to New York.

There had been four more visits, while she had been in the hospital, and one, the first week she'd been in the group home. Katherine had termed it an inspection tour, because he seemed more interested in the facility than in Marti.

Because she had so few people to send Christmas cards to now, she sent him one, and got one in return-with printed signature--two days after the holiday. About all she knew, additionally, was that he was a bachelor.

That last visit, when she was barely able to endure sitting in her wheelchair for very long, they had gone to the solarium. In those few minutes, she had asked Carl why he was taking the time to visit her.

"I couldn't forgive Father after he divorced my mother and--married your mother," Carl Lundstrum said, his boney hands resting on the sleek wooden arms of his chair. "Over the years, I've recognized it as my failure, not his. I always thought there was plenty of time to come down here and apologize for my hardheadedness. Taking care of the details for you is the last service I can render for him to reconcile my guilt."

Marti nodded in agreement.

Her father had not been an easy man to live with. In a way, she was gratified that she had not been the only child to have difficulty with him. This sophisticated, educated, professional man had never come to terms with his didactic, overbearing father. It was probably the only common ground they shared.

"If the suit I've filed in your behalf is decided in our favor," he went on as businesslike as ever, "your medical expenses will be taken care of. I'll act as your trustee, and I'll take only my expenses, not a percentage, as I would with a regular client."

Marti had raised her chin, recognizing something she could relate to. "You've had experience in matters like this, then?"

"Extensive experience," he emphasized. "You won't have to do anything in the way of paperwork unless you recover enough to be out on your own. And even then, I'll watch over your interests."

He sounded almost threatening. Abruptly, he got to his feet.

"I have to fly back to New York later this afternoon," he told her, reaching for his briefcase. "Do you have any questions?"

How could she ask him any questions? He was standing there, towering over her, intimidating. Very much like her father.

Carl had mentioned, when he first sat down to talk with her, that the group home depressed him. So when he turned to leave, he squared his shoulders and hurried toward the exit. His whole attitude changed to one of relief.

She couldn't blame him. She wouldn't have been there if she hadn't been confined to the wheelchair, without family to take care of her.

Marti had watched after Carl for a long moment. Carl, stiff and officious as he was, was all the family she had now. She accepted that, then and now.

Marti put her pen aside and did an exercise to loosen her shoulders.

How very dissimilar Carl was from Burke Hildebrand. She sensed that Burke was much more relaxed and easy-going, but clearly no less competent and successful in his own field. Marti felt many times more comfortable with Burke than with Carl. But it was a different situation entirely.

"How'd it go?" Katherine asked as she looked up from her desk late the next day. "Strike that! I can see from your face that you're discouraged."

With a sigh, Marti sank to the straight chair and let her purse and cane slip to the floor. "It's not a pretty picture out there."

"I know," Katherine commiserated. "Look, with a few phone calls, I could set up some interviews with some really nice people."

"But would they give me a job?" Marti asked. "Or would they just pat me on the head and wish me luck, and congratulate themselves for having seen me at all?"

Katherine sighed and pushed her work away. "I'm certain there are a lot of places that would love to have you for your skills."

Marti sighed. "Mr. Hildebrand offered me a job at Tanglewood when we were at dinner last night. It seems the two applicants who went out to interview didn't like the working conditions."

"So! Why didn't you jump at it?" Katherine demanded, her usual half-smile brightening.

"It's out in the boondocks, so far as public transportation goes," Marti told her. "But he is getting desperate."

"Make an appointment and I'll schedule the van to take you out!" Katherine offered, reaching for the telephone on her desk.

"Katherine, it's against my principles to use a personal contact this way," Marti argued.

"All those good intentions are fine, dear, but we both know that that's not the way the world works." Katherine crossed her arms in front of her and looked very wise. "How did you get your first job?"

"Well, that was because of someone I knew, but--"

Katherine shook her graying head emphatically. "Proves my point! Oh, everyone says that it's not who you know but what you know. When it comes right down to it, though, friends give jobs to friends because they know their character."

"I wouldn't feel right about exploiting a friendship, though," Marti sighed.

"Burke Hildebrand wouldn't have offered the job if he didn't think you were the best person for it. Give it a shot, kid. Mr. Hildebrand was very impressed with you. He told me so."

"I'll--call from the switchboard," Marti sighed, getting to her feet. "Did you get through all that material about the carnival?"

"Most of it."

"I was thinking maybe we should contact more people about bringing crafts in. We could have sold more than just what the residents and their parents set out last year if we'd had it."

"You'll be long out of here by carnival time," Katherine remarked. "It won't be your problem."

"Do you think I'll stop caring about what happens here?" Marti asked.

"No, you won't stop caring," Katherine said. "But you'll have a life outside. Coming back here might hurt too much for a while."

"I doubt it," Marti argued.

Katherine followed her into the room where the switchboard was. Marti looked at her appraisingly, then reached for the spare headset. In a few moments, she had Burke on the line from his van.

"What can I do for you?" he asked over the roar of excavating equipment.

"I was wondering if you've filled that job you were talking about." Marti half hoped that he had.

"No, nobody's even inquired about it today."

"I'd like to make an appointment to discuss it with you," she told him, trying to find some common ground between friendship and business.

"Great! How's tomorrow for you?"

"Good. Let me check the driver's schedule for tomorrow."

Katherine, listening attentively, slipped back into her office and brought the schedule back with Marti.

"How does it look for after noon?" Marti asked, consulting the chart Katherine thrust at her.

"That would be fine for me," Burke replied.

"About one-thirty?"

"Whenever you get here, Marti," Burke agreed earnestly.

"I'll see you then," Marti promised.

She put the headset down and stared at the ceiling for a long moment. "I don't know about this," she sighed.

"Oh, I think he'd be great to work for," Katherine said. She was writing something on the schedule as she went back into her office.

"You're really going to make a break for it?" Carolyn laughed, pausing in the crocheting she did between calls. She wrapped the red yarn around her metal hook and dipped it into her work again. "Good for you."

"I don't know," Marti wavered. "It's a little scary. Hey, are you going to make those dolls for the carnival like you did last year."

"I'm making something different this year." Carolyn reached into her work bag which was hitched to the back of her wheelchair to take out a magazine. "Look at these country rag dolls. I think they'll be real good sellers. Want to help me with them?"

"Sure. It will give me something else to do on my shift!" Marti joked. "Yes. They look like fun."

Marti wasn't thinking of stuffed dolls or the switchboard when the van pulled into the rutted lot around Tanglewood's office trailer. She had been jolted around in the van while it delivered someone else to a doctor's office first. She was hot and uncomfortable in a skirt and blouse, part of an old outfit she'd worn when she worked at the plastics plant.

The van had no more than come to a stop when Burke bounded from the office trailer to lend her a hand getting down from the high seat. In faded jeans and a blue chambray shirt, he looked so different from the way she had seen him Sunday afternoon. She'd had the impression of a very powerful, purposeful man coming toward her and felt overwhelmingly attracted to him. It took her a moment to recognize him as the man she'd spent a Sunday afternoon with.

"Careful, now, this ground is very uneven," he warned. He slid the door of the van open and took her hand firmly in his. "I was so afraid you'd take one look at all this mess and tell the driver to drive you back to the home."

"Not much chance of that," Marti assured him, hazarding a smile. Although, with a cursory look at the worksite, she reflected that it might have been a good idea.

"How long will this take, Marti?" the driver asked.

"You go on," Burke instructed him with a wave of his hand. "I'll see that Marti gets back to the home safe and sound."

He pushed the door closed with a resounding slam and patted it twice to signal he was clear of its path.

Marti was about to protest that Burke didn't need to take the trouble, but the driver was already putting the van into gear.

"The office is a mess," Burke apologized as he helped her up the metal steps. "If you're going to work here, I'll have a ramp built."

"There's no need for--" Marti started to say, then looked into the cavernous disarray of the trailer. Whatever thought she had escaped her as she scanned the disorganized office.

"The cleaning service will be in tomorrow," Burke went on. "I've done what I can, but . . ."

"Really, Mr. Hildebrand--"

"Burke," he corrected with a sheepish grin.

"I'm used to working in offices that are--already set up--with some--order--and--"

"Maybe that's what scared the other women away," Burke remarked, a slightly bewildered look on his face as he drew his hand through his sandy blond hair. "But, you see, you can start from the ground up."

"Almost literally," Marti mused, nudging a clump of mud with the toe of her shoe.

"Katherine told me that you took her office and the answering service and set up the routines and the filing. She said you were very efficient and eliminated a lot of problems for her."

Marti turned and looked up at his handsome face, getting almost lost in the beseeching gaze of his clear blue eyes. He was trying to sell her on taking this job. Their roles were being reversed, and she didn't know how to handle the situation.

The trailer seemed almost airless. The dust made breathing difficult. At least she could blame the dust, the heat, and the sun which came unrestrained through the bare windows, for making her uncomfortable.

"May I sit down?" she asked, motioning toward a typing chair which was pushed aside into a corner.

"Wait right there," Burke said, stepping over boxes of supplies. "I'll bring the chair to you."

For a moment she was bemused by watching how easily he picked up the chair and lifted it over obstacles to place it in the middle of the room.

"I'm used to doing most of my work on a computer," Marti told him as she seated herself stiffly on the chair he fetched. She didn't see anything that even resembled a computer. "Situations change so much from day to day, some things just stay in the computer and never get printed out. Of course, the accounting has to be run."

"We have to make a daily report to Joe up in New Jersey," Burke explained, leaning his broad shoulders against a corner which jutted out to form a sort of hallway. "Right now, all I have to do is call him on the phone. As soon as more crews are working, there will be detailed progress reports on the portion of the schedule completed."

"Well, that would be no problem if you just have a form set up on the

computer--"

Marti explained to him how she would set up a certain task and he watched her, seemingly spellbound by her every word.

"Can you start Thursday?" Burke asked her suddenly, straightening up and unfolding his strong, muscled arms. "I need you as soon as the place is cleaned up and in order. There will still be some putting away to be done, but my assistant and I will help you with that."

"Thursday?" Marti asked, her mouth suddenly dry. "I-I guess I can arrange it. What about--salary--W2 forms and--insurance?"

"I have that stuff in my van," Burke said excitedly. "Sit right there. I'll be right back." He left the door open so a slight breeze stirred after him.

This is silly, Marti thought, swiveling the chair slightly to examine the mismatched boxes and cartons around her. How can I make sense of all of this?

She got to her feet slowly and began poking through the boxes, reading labels and nudging the tops open. In her mind, she was already arranging them in priorities.

No, this is impossible! she told herself. She would have to have the van bring her to work every day. She'd have to move soon--heaven only knew where...

"You'd be on grade three of this salary scale," Burke was saying as he came back into the office with some papers. He pointed a blunt finger to a column of figures. "First step. Generally, the office help moves up a step after the first six months, then once each year, unless they get a promotion. It's a good company, small, but solid. I've worked for Joe Parmenter for eight years."

Marti looked at the salary figures and swallowed. "Ah--"

"I realize that might be--" Burke looked down at her. "I hate talking about money. If you don't think it's enough for an office manager--I mean, I have a budget for the office, and I might be able to talk Joe into raising it."

"Believe me, Burke, the salary is just fine."

He shoved more papers into her hands. "Just take all this back with you and fill it out. I'm sure you know what it's about better than I do." Burke was probably eager to have that part of the interview over with. "Let me tell Len that I'm leaving the site for a few minutes and I'll take you back to your place."

He was gone again, his boots rattling the metal stairs and thudding across the sandy ground outside the trailer.

She walked slowly to the door of the trailer, trying to make some sense of the papers she held in her hand. This is crazy, she told herself, looking out at the scraggly white oaks draped with Spanish moss. I can't work here. Not with Burke. But the money!

She looked at the figure again. Well, she'd be able to afford a nice apartment shortly, and then a car if it was nothing fancy.

"Marti!" Burke called, coming around the corner of the trailer with another man. "This is Len Lonergan, my assistant. Len, Marti Lundstrum, our new office manager. Don't you dare call her a secretary. I have to take her back to her place, so you hold the fort and I'll be right back."

His eyes having lighted up when the words office manager were mentioned, Len gave her an appreciative smile. He waited for her to shuffle papers around so she could shake his sturdy hand.

"I hope you can make some sense out of that office," Len laughed. He had a decidedly Georgian drawl. "It looks like we've been running pigs through it."

"Marti assures me that the cleaning service she recommended can handle it," Burke said, taking Marti's arm and helping her down the steps.

"I don't recall those being my exact words," Marti defended.

"Don't worry about it," Burke chuckled. "Everything will work out fine."

When Burke had driven his van out onto the highway and headed back toward town, he turned to Marti.

"I know you're reluctant to take this job," he remarked. "But I think you can handle the work."

"I can, if you're patient with me while I'm learning it."

"I'll take responsibility for the men behaving themselves, if that's what's bothering you," he went on. "There's no reason for anyone but Len and me to come into the office, anyway. Maybe some of the supervisors of the crews, but that should be pretty rare. I don't expect you to put up with anything--rough language, practical jokes, that sort of thing. Understand?"

"Yes," Marti agreed.

But that wasn't what was bothering her. What she had to worry about was the man beside her. He was nice, too nice, too protective. Yes, in that lay the problem.

He was treating her like a china doll that the tiniest jar would shatter. She might be frail, but she wasn't fragile. She wouldn't break that easily.

"Then why are you so quiet?" he asked.

"Just--thinking," she told him.

"I start Thursday," Marti told Katherine and Lisa.

"Wonderful!" Lisa exclaimed, dropping the pencil she had been tapping on the desk.

"Congratulations!" Katherine added, giving Marti a quick hug. "I knew you could do it."

"I'm glad you did," Marti sighed, trying not to clench her teeth. "It's going to be a challenge just to get them straightened out. And here-- The problem is shifting Lisa and Bunni's schedules to cover the time I used to handle the answering service."

"That can be worked out, I'm sure," Katherine said confidently. "You know what I was thinking? There might be someone on one of the other crews who is ready for something more difficult."

"I know I'm going to have to move out--" Marti said, following Katherine into her office.

"Not until--let's say--the end of March."

Marti nodded. "Do you know of anything in the way of apartments?"

"I'll ask around," Katherine promised, settling into the chair behind her desk. "Now, we're going to have to work out your transportation. Are you going to need any new clothes?"

"I don't think I'm going to wear dresses and skirts out there. Maybe I'd be smart to buy some cheap cotton slacks and blouses."

Katherine leaned toward Marti and lowered her voice. "I feel like getting out of here for a few hours this evening. Let's go shopping."

Marti laughed. "Yes!" she agreed after a moment of hesitation.

A short time later, as Marti was filling out her paperwork, she came to the space to write the name of her next of kin. For a moment, she paused, then wrote in the name and address of her half-brother Carl.

She should call him. Carl would be pleased that she had gotten a job outside the group home. On his one visit, he confessed that the place depressed him. He'd never come back to see her, never even mentioned it as a possibility during their infrequent phone conversations.

She had a feeling that he thought he was going to be saddled with her forever, that she would be a liability to him far into the future.

Yes, she'd have to call Carl. He'd be happy for her.

"I hope you'll be pleased with what we've done so far." Burke helped Marti up the metal steps into the office on Thursday morning.

Marti had been holding her breath, wondering if anything had improved from the last time she had been at the office of Tanglewood.

"We put the desk here so that you don't have to sit in the sun all day," Burke pointed out. "We've got the phones hooked up. And we've set up your computer--it was locked in a closet. We've moved just about anything that's heavy."

Marti grinned at his over-eager gestures. He was endearing, like a puppy trying too hard to please.

"Well, it certainly is a far cry from the way it looked two days ago." She felt herself relax. "Now, tell me what has to be done."

The next few hours went quickly, with Burke familiarizing Marti with as many details of the project as had been worked out.

She stood back and supervised as Burke and Len tacked elaborate artist's renderings and charts of Tanglewood to the walls. They worked out the intercom system between her desk and the two in the other office.

Then Marti set up a program on her computer to handle the daily reports which would be emailed to Joe Parmenter's office in New Jersey.

"Lunchtime!" Burke declared, glancing at his watch. "Where are we going for lunch?"

"I brought mine," Marti said, pulling a brown paper bag from the bottom drawer of her desk.

Burke took the bag from her and looked inside. "What kind of sandwich is that?" he demanded, sniffing at it suspiciously.

"Peanut butter and jelly," Marti told him. It wasn't her favorite, but she thought it would survive the conditions of the office the best of anything the home's kitchen had to offer.

"Yuck!" Burke grimaced, dropping the bag into the wastebasket. "You need--salad, and carbohydrates and something with protein--"

"Peanut butter has a lot of protein," Marti defended, trying to retrieve her lunch.

"Come on, Len and I will treat you to lunch to celebrate your first day on the job," Burke offered.

"You two go ahead," Len said, wiping his hands on a paper towel. "I'll go out and check on the crews and go after you get back."

"You mean you are turning down lunch with a beautiful lady?" Burke asked.

Len shrugged. "I'm afraid my beautiful lady would get jealous."

"Oh! You have a lady already? You'll have to bring her to my housewarming Saturday night. I'm getting into my house Saturday," Burke told Marti as they went out to his van. "You'll come to the party, won't you? I'll provide your transportation."

"I think I just said yes," Marti laughed. "Are you always like this?"

"Like what?" Burke asked.

"Full steam ahead, get your own way, don't take no for an answer." She ticked off her observations, but realized that she admired some of the very traits she was denouncing.

"No, I don't think so," he drawled slowly. "It's just that when you're perfect, everyone else falls in line."

"Oh-ho!" Marti chuckled.

She was glad he was in a good mood.

The supervisor she had worked with in the plastic company seemed to have a permanently soured outlook on life. He could never say anything nice to anyone without following it with a cutting remark, no matter what the occasion.

It was a treat to work with someone who had at least glimmers of a positive attitude.

"Well," he mused, thoughtfully. "Who would have thought that Len would have a girlfriend so soon after coming to town--"

Marti adjusted the air vent on the dashboard. "Maybe they're old news."

"Maybe," he agreed. "It's good, though. A man can work better if he has a stable private life, some steady companionship in his off-hours."

Burke turned thoughtful as he backed the van out of its spot then started toward the paved road. "I'll tell you, Australia is a lonely place if you don't know anyone. I've spent the better part of my professional life stuck in out-of-the-way places. It's a real treat to be near a big city where I can meet people and live a real life that's not just camping out! Not the kind of a place where you find many women, and only a single man could put up with the conditions. A vicious circle, I'm afraid."

Marti wondered if she was as special to him as she had begun to think she was. Maybe she wasn't the only first friend he had come across. She might soon be just a shadow in his life, someone who had made the first adjustments to civilization more bearable.

It was obvious that he was open to a relationship. It was comforting, knowing that and considering how she was attracted to him. But on the other hand, it was entirely possible that he didn't view her the same way she saw him.

He drove to a small restaurant on the highway toward town. It featured men in workclothes and furniture that had been there a while.

The man behind the counter hollered out to them that the special was turkey with mashed potatoes. The waitress, a large woman in a checkered uniform and smudged apron, took her pencil from behind her ear and wrote their order on a small green pad.

"The lady will have a salad, a cheeseburger with onion rings and a large glass of milk," Burke told the waitress, "and I'll have the special."

"You didn't have to order for me," Marti hissed when the waitress had gone.

Burke shrugged. "You told me what to order in the barbecue place. I just saved you from trying to read their menu."

Marti laughed. "It's that bad, is it?"

"I like this place," Burke told her, glancing around the room. "Cheeky, unpretentious, honest," he added with the air of a connoisseur.

"Hmm!" Marti appraised. "Are you a food critic for the local paper?"

"You never really understand the ambiance of a place like this until you haven't been able to get to one in a year and a half."

"You must have been in the wilderness," Marti laughed.

The look in his blue eyes became distant. "Funny, I always thought of wilderness as having trees. It doesn't have to, I suppose."

"Well, you have plenty of trees to work with now," Marti told him.

"More than enough. We have to keep a tally on how many trees we cut down because we have to replace them, one for one. That's another part of your job."

"Thanks!"

"I'm serious," Burke said, tenting his fingers on the table in front of him. "Every tree over six inches in circumference has to be accounted for and replaced when we draw up the landscaping. That's why you see them taped when we survey. But there is always the chance that we miss counting them. In your capacity as bookkeeper, make certain that we buy enough trees to replace them."

"Exactly? By species?" Marti asked, wondering how she would ever keep such detailed records.

"If you can, so many palms, oaks, pines--" Burke said, pausing while the waitress put a large glass of iced tea on the table in front of him. "But the ornamentals count, too, as replacements. The plans call for a screen of trees between the office buildings and the factories and warehouses. That's where you'll make the most of the replanting. Of course, we'll not disturb any trees that we don't have to. The one thing you have to remember about plans is that sometimes you have to change them."

"Oh, I learned that a long time ago!" Marti agreed. "Well, rest assured that I'll take the tree counting very seriously."

"Tanglewood has a chance to be an outstanding example of a well-planned business and industrial park," Burke bragged. "Once we get a few buildings up and occupied, we'll probably have visitors from all over the country, maybe the world, coming to review our plans. It will be a big help if you keep on top of everything enough to answer even the wildest questions quickly."

"Do I get a chance to consult my notes, or is this a closed-book test?" Marti asked, moving her milk aside so that the waitress could serve her salad and cheeseburger.

Burke laughed heartily, paying no attention to the few heads that turned his way. "You can use any help you can find. And we won't be stuck in the trailer very long. As soon as the first office building is up, we'll have a permanent suite so that you can have scads of space for files. Then if someone asks you how many tiles are in the floor of the men's room, you can come up with an answer right away."

Marti shook her head. "Is it too late to back out of this job?"

"Yes!" Burke hissed with a leer. "Once I have you in my clutches, my pretty, I'll never let you go!"

Unable to think of a clever rejoinder, Marti laughed and attacked her lunch.

Marti entered the last data for her first daily report and pressed the keys to make it appear on the screen the way it would be sent to the main office..

Burke braced himself against her desk and read it carefully. Tucking her lower lip between her teeth, Marti proofread for the third time, hoping she hadn't made any mistakes.

Finally, Burke patted the top of her monitor. "Send it to Joe and print two copies." he ordered, then watched carefully as the words appeared on the paper in the printer.

Marti smiled indulgently. He was like a kid with a new toy.

"These things always fascinate me," he mused over the clatter. "You'll have to teach me how to work all of this. But not today. Okay? Then we're done for the day."

Marti frowned and looked at the clock.

"Problem?" Burke asked.

"The van can't come for me until four-thirty at the earliest."

"I'll take you home," Burke said, unconcerned. "I have to drop by the real estate office, anyway, and there are some other errands I've been putting off."

It had the feeling of a pattern forming, a routine they were falling into the first day of working together.

Marti could get very comfortable here. The only problem was that she was afraid she might be falling in love with the boss. So far he'd been a joy to work for. But there were no assurances that his attention to her was not just a passing fascination with something new.

When the telephone rang, Carl Lundstrum reached across his desk to answer it, welcoming the diversion. He didn't mind being dragged away from the brief before him. He had a headcold and nothing was making sense at the moment.

"Carl? It's Marti. Do you have a minute?"

"Of course," he answered, removing his glasses. He placed them meticulously to mark his place on the document in front of him. "I've been thinking about you--"

"Well, I just have a few minutes to talk," Marti said. "I just wanted to tell you that I got a job."

"So soon? I'm surprised!"

"One of the clients of the answering service needed someone to run a small construction office. It's a big project but it's just starting."

"Excellent," he responded a little more strongly that he'd expected and felt a sneeze coming on. Before he could get his handkerchief from his pocket, he sneezed into the phone, then had to excuse himself.

"Do you have a cold, Carl?"

"I'm miserable. I got caught in a blizzard Wednesday."

"Too bad," Marti observed. "It was seventy-eight degrees here today."

The tone of her voice told him she was gloating, the way his father used to do. He scowled.

"What about this job? How's the pay?" he asked, back to business.

"Great for this area. I won't get rich, though."

Carl coughed. "Marta, I really wish we could have a face-to-face talk about your finances," he said.

"I'll do just fine, once I find a place to live."

"I want to impress on you the necessity of being careful about the people you surround yourself with," he cautioned. "You really should be closed-mouthed about your trust fund."

"I don't see that it makes much difference," Marti countered. "After all, you're in control of it, and it's just for my medical expenses."

"Well, not entirely," Carl said. "That's what we need to talk about."

"I can't right now," Marti said. "I have to go to a party in a few minutes. I just wanted you to know my good news. You won't have to worry so much about me."

He didn't tell her that he had more to worry about now than ever before.

When he had hung up the phone, he pushed his chair back and stared out at the snow that swirled against the window of his study.

When Marta's case had been settled, the media had crowded around for some sort of statement. The issue needed closure. The driver at fault had political connections that had shielded him from the consequences of his record of drunken driving. But with two deaths and the maiming of a woman who had some reputation as a distance runner could not be ignored.

Carl had made use of Marta's success at running to hike the settlement as much as possible. He could not ignore her background when the media showed up.

Thinking quickly, he had worded the statement to make the public believe that there were little money available. Marta had to be spared anyone who would take advantage of her. That was why he had approved the group home she had gone to.

He hated the place, but he had seen the instant he had met Katherine Nelson that she was honest and forthright. He had not begrudged allocating funds from the living expenses allowance to the group home, knowing that a portion of it was handed on to Marta for her own discretion.

Now, Marta was about to go out on her own and he could see dangers she was probably unaware of.

Holding a college degree didn't mean that she had a grasp of the obstacles ahead. She'd led a sheltered life, living at home through college and beyond. She had told him she stayed at home because he parents seemed to need her there. Their father had probably intimidated her into believing she couldn't survive on her own--the way he had brainwashed his first wife.

Carl shivered at the thoughts he was entertaining, then righted his chair and went back to his work. He would have to deal with the problem of Marta, but not before the case before him.

It was an unusually warm evening for late February. Marti enjoyed a few moments of quiet reflection as she waited for Burke to pick her up to take her to his housewarming party.

The azaleas in front of the group home were a blaze of red and orange, the petunias planted at their base a carpet of white. In a few weeks, the azaleas would be past their peak, and the petunias grown straggly as they fought for water in the dry springtime.

It was curious how she had learned to enjoy things as they came into their prime, mindful that the season would pass too quickly.

It had been fun to tell Carl about the nice weather, knowing that, according to the news broadcast she had seen, New York was getting more snow than they needed.

Carl was a puzzle. He seemed to have her best interest at heart, but he seemed very reticent whenever she asked him any questions about her money. He could ramble on and never tell her anything.

Katherine told her that that was the way lawyers were, and she had to agree. She just hoped that he wouldn't spending all her money and leave her with nothing. Now that she had a job, though, she'd be able to take care of herself.

If the truth were told, however, she'd rather have her parents, her health, and two years of her life that were lost forever.

The van pulled to a stop at the end of the front walk, and Marti smiled up at Burke as he got out. Many times she'd made the point that she could get into the van without his help, but he pretended to have forgotten. It was sweet of him to be so solicitous, but she really wished he would let her do these things for herself.

"I invited all the neighbors I could reach," Burke said nervously as he drove out of the home's parking lot. "I hope some of them come. It won't be much of a party with just Len and his girlfriend and the couple of subcontractors and their wives."

"That sounds like a quorum to me," Marti reassured him.

"But then, if everyone comes, maybe I won't have enough food," he worried.

"In my younger days, we said it wasn't really a party unless you have to send out for more of something," Marti teased, hoping to take the edge off his nervousness. His humanity was endearing.

"Have you had parties before?" he asked.

"Sure. A few."

"Will--will you be the hostess?" he pleaded. "Just keep me from making too much of a mess of things."

"Don't worry," Marti assured him. "I'll walk you through it."

The house was a surprise to Marti, more elegant than the dinky two-bedroom box with a treeless yard and sparse landscaping she'd expected. She had anticipated a house that would look like three others on the same block.

But that wasn't the case. The house's Spanish influence was carried through the semi-tropical plantings, courtyard and heavily carved front door. Inside, the floor was thickly carpeted and the walls spotlessly clean, if all a slightly monotonous beige.

They'd been there only a few minutes, barely long enough for a quick tour of the main rooms, when Len and his girlfriend Gloria arrived. They entered the tile-floored foyer and surveyed their surroundings a little bashfully.

It had been a long time since Marti had been hostess for a party, but it took almost nothing to get this one organized. Burke had already laid out some of the food, and there was more in the refrigerator in trays from a nearby deli. But Burke proved to be the main obstacle, fretting every moment that she was lifting something she shouldn't.

Finally he was distracted by a group of neighbors arriving. Marti was able to send him off in the direction of the patio to leave her and Gloria to sort out the liquid refreshments.

The subcontractors came but, close acquaintances, decided to leave early and go to a club where a country band was playing. The neighbors, mostly older couples and already familiar with the house, were content to sit on the patio. They were eager to swap stories of things that had happened in the neighborhood over the past few years. They seemed to overlook Marti's use of her cane to get from one place to another.

"It's still a little chilly to go swimming, eh?" a man asked Burke.

"I suppose so," he replied. "But as soon as I have someone come in to clean and treat the pool, I hope to start using it every day. I hope it won't disturb anyone if I swim at six in the morning."

"Why wait until six?" someone else asked.

Then there was a round of laughter as someone recounted the tale of a former neighbor who liked to swim at four in the morning and then run three miles before breakfast.

"Not much else to do at that time of the day," a third chimed in.

Marti could tell from Burke's face that he was relieved to have such understanding neighbors. They seemed like a close-knit group who were already well-established friends. Cautious and apprehensive about someone new moving into the house when they had arrived, now they relaxed and included Burke in their conversation.

"Why don't you folks join us for our theater party next month?" a woman asked Marti.

"It does sound like fun," Marti commented, "but I don't know what Burke's schedule is going to be."

"Well, we only need to know a day or two ahead, so have him think about it."

She told Burke about the invitation when everyone had gone and she was clearing away the debris on the kitchen counter.

"Why didn't you tell her we would go?" Burke asked. "I'm dying to see live theater. It's been years!"

"I didn't know if you'd want me to go with you," she responded tentatively.

"I asked you to be here tonight," he countered. "That should have told you something."

She made a face. "I'm not good at this."

"At what?"

"Knowing what to do in a relationship."

"Oh? Is that what this is? A relationship?"

"I don't know. I work for you, and it seems we're getting social, too. I haven't had to deal with that before."

"Okay, if I want to go to the theater party, I either go alone, or take you with me, or--someone else? Katherine? Mrs. Alberti? One of the cleaning girls? Or the waitress at the truck stop? Those are my choices at this point. You're elected. Now do you get the picture?"

Marti nodded.

"What do you have for me to put the last of this potato salad in?" she asked.

"Will you quit fussing around here?" Burke asked, taking the bowl from her hand. "I can take care of what is left here after I take you home."

"It might spoil."

"The worst that can happen is that I'll eat it and die! Marti, this is supposed to be a party, not work." He took her hand and led her to the couch in the living room. "Sit down. Relax. You don't have to be back at the home at some particular time, do you?"

"I told Lisa I'd take part of her shift tonight. She's having trouble adjusting to working nights, and since I don't have to work tomorrow..."

"You're hiding," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"You're afraid to be alone with me," Burke observed. "I'm surprised you don't trust me yet."

Marti stared at him for a moment. "It's been a long time," she said at last.

"When was the last time you dated anyone?" Burke asked.

She was tempted not to answer him, but then decided that he'd understand her feelings better if she told him.

"Back . . . just before the accident, I was dating a guy. After the accident, he came to see me a couple times. But when it was apparent that I'd be recovering for a long time, his visits became phone calls, then nothing. I don't blame him. We weren't serious about each other."

"I find that hard to believe, Marti," Burke said. "I don't think you're the kind of girl who can be less than dead serious about a man you see more than a few times. That's probably what scares them off. It has me scared, I'll tell you."

"I didn't mean to imply anything..."

"I know that. I just want you to know--I'm the same way. I've never had a casual affair and I don't plan to. I certainly wouldn't hurt you. "

"Why? Because I'm..." Her fingers moved convulsively on the handle of her cane.

"Because you're a nice person, Marti. That's the sum total of my reasoning."

"Oh," Marti said flatly.

Burke stood up and went back to the kitchen. The nondescript music on the intercom became more distinct.

"Are you able to dance yet?" Burke asked, returning.

"No, I don't think so," Marti replied. "Sometimes I take a few walking steps without support, but I know I risk falling. That could put my therapy back months. I've promised myself I'll walk without a cane or a limp as soon as possible."

"All right," he sighed. "I understand. But I might not be able to wait that long before I put my arms around you."

"It seems to me men aren't apt to wait very long for anything," Marti observed.

He raised an eyebrow as though he knew she was referring to the last experience she'd had. Then he smiled an equally enigmatic smile. "Only if they don't know a good woman when they see one."

"I never thought of myself that way."

"The really good ones never do."

"I'll remember that," Marti promised, trying to laugh. She got to her feet slowly. "I think you'd better take me home."

"I like walking with you," Burke observed as he accompanied her to the van. "You make me go more slowly. Sometimes I get too impatient to get things done in a hurry. You remind me that they will get done just as well at a slower pace."

Marti paused to look up at him. "I wish other people looked at my slow gait that way."

He smiled in the dim glow of the yard lights. "Other people? They aren't here right now."

She nodded. "They are other places, though. Do you mind if I ask for just one thing from you?"

"What's that?"

"That everything at the office be strictly impersonal?"

A frown crossed his face. "I hadn't thought of that! I'm sorry, Marti, if I've been out of line."

"You haven't," Marti reassured him. "It's just that I can see it could be a problem shortly if we don't recognize it right now."

"You're absolutely right! I've never worked with anyone I was attracted to before, Marti. I don't know how to act," Burke confessed. "Tell you what. At work we'll try to be perfect strangers, so you won't be embarrassed by gossip or anything else."

"I'm thinking about your career as much as my own," she told him.

"I understand. But, you know, there will be times when you might need my help."

"Then I'll ask for it."

"Good. We have an understanding, then."

He helped her into the van and they rode back to the home in a silence broken only by the radio.

"I can still help you out of the van?" he asked, a touch of humor in his voice.

"I think you'll have to," Marti said. "I'm tired and my coordination is the first thing to go."

He put his hands on her waist when he lifted her from the seat, and held her a moment longer than he had to. Marti's hands rested on his shoulders for that moment, assessing the strength she felt there, coiled beneath the soft fabric of his shirt.

Burke's lips grazed her cheek, so gently Marti could not at first be certain that he had kissed her. It was the kind of moment that a woman files away in her memory, in case that was all she ever had of a man she loved.

Marti was learning the routine of the office, much of it subject to her own control. Outside the trailer, heavy machinery growled and occasionally shook the earth, and Marti held a healthy respect for it. Inside the closed door and windows, the air conditioner's quiet whir blocked all but the worst of the racket.

The men on the crews rarely came into the trailer, and to Marti it was just as well. She had heard them yelling at each other enough to know that their language was not always gentlemanly. She could do without the embarrassment of putting up with them.

She could almost tell when Burke or Len would be coming into the trailer. She'd hear their vehicles pull into one of their accustomed places, then the sound of boots on the plank ramp Burke had constructed himself.

If it were Burke, there would be the sound of scraping his feet on the mat outside--he took a few more pains with his boots than Len did.

So when the door opened and someone came in without the usual overture, Marti looked up from her computer screen with some curiosity.

The man who stood just inside the door, looking at the office with great interest, was tall and balding. His girth strained his safari shirt over his snakeskin belt.

"You must be the wonder-woman who tamed this place," he observed, his eyes coming to rest on Marti.

"Mr. Parmenter!" Marti exclaimed, recognizing his voice from talking to him on the phone. "Burke didn't expect you until tomorrow! I'll try to get him with his beeper."

"No hurry," Joe said, moving a chair a little closer to her desk and sitting down slowly. "I have some questions for you, anyway."

Nonetheless, Marti punched the necessary buttons to call Burke on his beeper and hoped that he had it with him. "What can I help you with?" she asked.

"First of all, I want to say that I like the way your reports are set up," Joe complimented. "I can see everything I want to know right at a glance. You are so thorough, I won't need to make these inspection trips every other week."

"Your wife will be sick of having you at home!" Burke laughed from the doorway. "Joe, good to see you. I see you've met Marti--"

"Well, she certainly brightens the place up," Joe said, getting to his feet to shake Burke's hand. "We were discussing a fax machine for the office, and we reached an agreement on that machine I suggested to you. Now, when shall I schedule the sales representative to come down and start getting these leases in order?"

"Anytime now," Burke approved, hanging his hard hat on the peg by the door. He left the plans he had been carrying on top of the file cabinet. "We just finished staking the office building foundation, so we can start leasing space anytime. Marti, you don't mind having someone else share your office, do you?"

"Let him have your office," Joe teased. "You're never in it."

"Come on back to the other office and I'll fill you in on the latest progress," Burke invited.

Marti went back to her work.

"Marti's very bright," Joe said with quiet approval as Burke closed the door of his office behind them.

"Very bright," Burke agreed, easing himself into the chair behind his desk. "She has about taught me how to use the engineering program on this computer. I've found she has a good mind for this business, beyond just functioning as an office manager."

"That's what makes the word from our insurance carrier so--maddening." Joe made a gesture with his clenched fist. "They don't want to cover her."

Burke stared back at his boss, stunned. "Don't want to cover her? Good lord, why not?"

Joe took a deep breath and rubbed at his lined forehead with blunt fingers. "They say her health is too frail. It's too risky--"

Burke threw his hands into the air. "I never thought to ask her how all her medical expenses are covered now. I just--assumed--"

"We can employ her without having her covered by the group policy, but we open ourselves to another liability."

"I'm not--firing her!" Burke stated adamantly.

"I don't expect you to."

"She's a damned good worker!"

"I can see that, but--"

Burke pressed a button on his intercom. "Marti, can you come here a moment?"

"Right away," Marti's voice responded. A few moments later, she came into the office, supporting herself with her cane. She looked at them with and expectant smile. "What can I do for you?"

"We have a problem," Joe informed her, getting up from his chair and motioning for Marti to sit down.

Burke crossed his arms on his chest and scowled at Joe. He refused to be any help to him if he was going to dismiss Marti from her job. It was grossly unfair.

"Marti, our insurance company is giving us a problem about extending their coverage to you," Joe explained, not looking directly at her. "I'm certain this is a problem many people in your position encounter. I know it's unfair, but we'll have a real problem employing you knowing that, God forbid, something might happen to you. You could sue the pants off us."

Marti looked at him, unruffled, and had the equanimity to chuckle at his phrasing. "Perhaps--if I could use the phone--" She looked at Burke before turning the instrument to face her, then punched out a long line of numbers from memory.

"Shelly? This is Marta Lundstrum. Yes, thank you, I do have a new job. If you can, have Carl send me a printout on my trust fund. Good. How about two copies, one here and one to Parmenter Engineering."

She rattled off the addresses and hung up the phone. "You were saying--"

Joe and Burke stared at each other.

"What did you just do?" Joe asked.

"I called my half-brother's office in New York and had his assistant send you each a copy of my trust fund, over which he is the trustee," Marti explained. "Lest you think I don't need this job, I'll point out that the fund is only to be used for my medical expenses and rehabilitation. I can't touch it for living expenses. If your carrier doesn't want to cover me, that's fine. I went through an ordeal to get the driver who caused this to give me that money, so I don't have to go through this humiliation to keep a job."

There was an underlying tension in Marti's voice that alarmed Burke.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Marti positioned her cane and got to her feet. "Is that all?" she asked. "Or would you like me to bring you your tea?"

Burke took a deep breath and shook his head.

"God bless the child who has her own," Joe said softly after the door had closed again.

"I'm afraid we made her angry," Burke sighed.

Joe nodded and looked out the window at the work site. "We tend to make fools of ourselves when we take things for granted."

"It does appear that we need her more than she needs us," Burke sighed.

Later that morning, Joe made a point of insisting Marti go to lunch with them.

At a nicer restaurant than they usually frequented, they sat around the table and talked business. At one point, Marti made a very succinct comment regarding a problem they were having with a subcontractor and Joe stared at her.

"Not just another pretty face," he said to Burke under his breath.

Having known Joe for eight years, Burke appreciated his boss's reaction. Joe rarely took any woman seriously, including his wife. Employing Marti was going to be a learning experience for both of them.

Marti had yet to impress Burke that, when he took her back home each afternoon, he didn't need to help her from the van and up the ramp to the front door. That particular afternoon, she was about to broach the subject again when Katherine Nelson met them in the hallway just outside her office.

"Just the person I wanted to see!" Katherine exclaimed, reaching into the pocket of her jacket and taking out a piece of paper. "Mrs. Alberti has a couple apartments for you to look at. I told her to drop by this afternoon. She'll be here in about twenty minutes."

"Oh! Great! I'll have to hurry to change," Marti said. "I've had a rotten day."

"I'll wait for you," Burke told her.

"What?" Marti demanded. "Why?"

"Mrs. Alberti's car would be too uncomfortable for you to ride in," he related. "Trust me. I'll take you both around in my van."

"Don't you have to get back to the site?"

"With Joe and Len there?" Burke said, and shrugged his broad shoulders. "It'll show Joe that I have faith in Len to carry on without me."

"Sure!" Marti argued cautiously. "Joe doesn't impress me as a man who would appreciate your running off when he wants to hold court."

"Whoa! You have him pegged already?" Burke asked, then laughed.

"She's a pretty astute judge of people," Katherine said with a laugh.

"I should say so," Burke agreed with a shake of his head. "I'll have to watch myself around her. Katherine, may I use a phone and call my office?"

Burke was full of opinions when he saw the first apartment. It was too small, too dingy, and the cupboards were too inconvenient. Then he dismissed the second one as being in too dangerous a neighborhood without even letting Marti express an opinion.

"But I'm afraid these are the only ground floor apartments available anywhere near the bus line. Marti needs certain features to accommodate her limitations," Mrs.

Alberti said, as though Marti was not even there.

"And they're much too expensive--" Burke said, disregarding Marti's attempt to say anything.

"Well, we'll just have to keep looking," Mrs. Alberti said.

They acted like old friends, Marti reflected. She sat in the front passenger seat of the van, smoldering, while Mrs. Alberti leaned forward from her seat behind Marti. The real estate agent talked to Burke about the house he was buying and how the transaction was going.

When they had returned to the group home, Mrs. Alberti hurried away, but Burke kept Marti from getting out of the van. "I've got a better idea," he said, putting the van in gear.

He drove to his house and parked in the drive way.

"Look at it this way," he suggested, letting them in through the garage. "This house was built for an invalid woman and her live-in nurse. Right here behind the garage are two bedrooms and a bath, with an entry from the patio. I'm sure the nurse used one bedroom as a sitting room. Look at it. We could share the kitchen and the pool, and you could have all the privacy you want. And it would solve the transportation problem too, because we could ride to work together."

It was tempting.

In the intervening days since the housewarming party, Burke had arranged his furniture to be more homelike. The swimming pool with its ornamental fountain and waterfall dominated the patio which was deliciously shady in the late afternoon.

"I'll think about it," Marti told him, looking up at the roof of the screened enclosure which surrounded the pool and patio.

He didn't play fair, though. He took her over to the spa at the end of the swimming pool and uncovered the water. With a flick of a switch, the water began to bubble, and he thrust her hand into it.

"I've found that fifteen minutes in here at a hundred and two degrees solves all the world's problems," he told her. "Think what that would do for your back--"

"I'll think about it," Marti promised. "But I have to warn you. I can't do windows."

"Do--do you think I want you to live here just to--be a maid?" he demanded.

"Frankly, I don't know what to think. I'm spoiled. At the home, there are people who are being trained for the cleaning service. They take care of anything I'm not flexible or strong enough to do, or just don't have time for. Maybe you should hire a cleaning service to come in once a week."

"You don't approve of my housekeeping?"

Marti avoided answering him. "Rainbow does a good job at the office."

"If I hired cleaning help, would you move in?"

"No," Marti said solemnly. "If we split the cost, I'd consider moving in."

The idea of her moving into the house was all Burke talked about on the way back to the home. In the end, he played another trump card. He mentioned it to Katherine.

"All right, all right!" Marti stated, finally. "We'll talk over the details later. But I'm moving in just until I've saved up enough to get myself my own place."

Burke grinned. "I'll help you move in this weekend."

Katherine grinned and started to look through her waiting list of prospective residents.

Later that evening, Marti was working with a young woman she was training to work the switchboard when her half-brother called. Marti sat back in her chair and let the pencil in her hand drop to the top of the desk.

"Carl! Good to hear from you."

"Shelly told me heard that you wanted an accounting of your trust fund sent to your employer," Carl's voice came back with an overtone of concern.

"Their insurance company doesn't want to insure me," she explained, now reconciled to the idea.

"Parmenter Engineering," he seemed to be reading the name. "What can you tell me about them?"

"Mr. Parmenter is nice but very businesslike. He pays very well and seemed truly distressed when there was a problem with insuring me. He visits every other week or so, but his main office is in New Jersey."

"Then who is in charge of your project?

"His name is Burke Hildebrand. I don't know much about his background, but he's had a lot of experience, it seems."

There was a silence at the other end of the line, as though Carl was writing something.

"Well, you've got your ace in the hole, then," Carl said at last. "If there are any questions, they can ask me. I've been looking this statement over, and your expenses have taken a dip the last three months. It's strange the stories a list of figures can tell."

"I appreciate the way you've taken care of all the paperwork for me," Marti told him. "But now I have to start taking care of myself."

"What are you going to do for a place to stay?"

Marti took a deep breath. The idea was so new to her that she didn't know quite how to express it.

"Temporarily, I'm going to live with my boss," Marti said, knowing that it was going to sound all wrong at the other end of the line.

Carl had never even acknowledged her existence until after the accident and he had to step forward primarily to protect his own interests. She didn't think he was going to see the situation of her living in Burke's home as innocently as she wanted it to be.

There was a pause at the other end of the line. "Well, whatever is best for you," Carl said.

"Let me explain." Marti picked up her pencil and doodled on a scratch pad. "Working outside the home has raised problems that have had to be solved immediately. If I don't work here, I can't live here. I needed a ground-floor place with convenient transportation. Burke is just moving into a big house with a pool and therapeutic spa. He's more or less insisting that I move in until I can find a place of my own and get a car."

"Well, look, Marti," Carl sighed. "If you want to go into the trust fund for a car, it might take me a while to work it out through the clauses we had put into the rules, but I'd be willing to try it."

"Not just now," Marti said, cautiously. "I can't be sure about any future medical problems that the fund might have to cover."

"Does the job pay well?" Carl asked.

"Very well, by the standards down here," Marti told him. "Of course, it's quite a challenge, and very responsible. I think it's pretty fair."

"Look, if the living arrangement doesn't work, or you find you need a car before you have the funds, let me know. If you can't get the money out of the fund, I'll advance you what you need."

"Why, Carl! I'm--surprised. Thank you, but I'll try to get by without inconveniencing you."

"Marti, you're a brave woman, but don't get stuck in a living arrangement that isn't comfortable. All it will take is a phone call, and you'll be on your own."

"Thanks, but I don't think I'll need it. I'm a pretty good judge of character, and I think Burke will keep his word when we get the details worked out."

"On the other hand, Marti, I'm glad you're going to live with a man rather than by yourself or with another woman," Carl said, unexpectedly. "Yes, I think so. But if you ever need anything, let me know."

"I want to get along on my own as much as possible," Marti told him.

"Good, I like to hear that. I'll try to get down to Tampa before too long and see you. I'll let you know when to expect me."

Marti didn't put much credence in his promise, knowing how little promises meant to her father.

Going back to her room, she reflected on the conversation, and on what she'd observed of older brothers of the girls she'd grown up with. She often thought she would have liked having a big brother. When Carl appeared and took over the myriad of problems after the accident, she was thankful.

His offer of help now just proved how thoughtful and generous he was. Maybe it was a good thing they had not met before she needed him. They might have had a history of conflict which would have made him less accommodating.

His offer of an alternative if things didn't work was tucked away in a mental file. Marti smiled to herself, then looked around her room to assess the problems she would have in moving out.

Darn! She should have asked Carl about getting her things out of storage. Since he paid her bills, his signature might be needed to get what household goods she had out of the storage. Well, she'd call him back after she had talked things over with Burke.

"When will you be moving out?" Katherine asked. "We'll have to have a party for you."

"I don't want any of that fussing," Marti objected, checking her purse on her way out to the van the next morning. "Besides, I'll probably be back here helping you train people for the answering service every time I get a free moment."

Katherine's eyes clouded for a moment. "Marti, when you leave here, don't be too anxious to keep the ties to this place so strong. More than anyone who has gone through this place, you have a chance to have a normal life, so don't feel tied to us. You need to establish your own life."

"After the carnival!" Marti laughed, patting her purse with its load of little dolls she was making to help Carolyn.

She walked to the van as quickly as she could with the cane, proud of herself for making the progress she had.

Burke was already in the office, discussing something with a subcontractor. But Marti found a list of questions on her desk, printed in Burke's precise, terse hand.

She read the list of almost personal questions over, then put it aside. She paused to glance up at him before getting started on her work for the day. It was going to be difficult maintaining a distance from Burke at the work site if they were going to be living in the same house. Perhaps it wasn't going to work.

It was interesting to watch Burke over the next few days, however, as he attacked the problem of her moving into his house. He met the men from the storage company when they delivered her belongings and supervised them.

While he was at the house, he installed a new lock on the door which divided her bedroom, sitting room and bath from the rest of the house. And all the time, he protected her privacy by never dropping the cool reserve he addressed her with in the office.

At times she thought perhaps he no longer felt as attracted as he had first seemed--and she wouldn't have been surprised if that were the case. Disappointed but not surprised. Then he'd help her into the van at the end of her day and hurry around to the driver's side, slam the door and make some teasing remark which would restore her faith.

Just as the men at the work site didn't know of the special feelings that Marti and Burke had for each other, Burke didn't know about the little dolls stuffed into a desk drawer. When Marti heard a vehicle pull into one of the parking places in front of the office trailer, she would quickly secret them away. That was just the way it was.

Marti was working on one of the dolls when Carl called her the next day. She quickly dropped the doll into the drawer and closed it with her foot.

"What can I do for you?" she asked her half-brother.

"It's about what I'm going to do for you," Carl said brusquely. "One of my associates was complaining this morning that he has to fly down to Tampa tomorrow to take some depositions in a case he is working on. It's conflicting with some family celebration, his anniversary, I guess. So I told him I'd take the problem off his hands. I'll be down tomorrow and drop by your office. I want to meet this man you're working for, and I'd also like to see the place where you'll be living."

"All right," Marti approved with a sigh. "Will you be renting a car or taking a cab?"

"I thought I'd rent a car since I'll need to go several places."

"I'll give you directions," Marti said, waiting for him to get something to write with.

Burke came into the office just as Marti was hanging up the phone.

"Was that the cement contractor?" he asked.

"No, it was my half-brother. I'm sorry I had to take a private call, but it did have something to do with the business."

"Oh. Your insurance?" Burke shrugged. "I know you're professional enough not to abuse any privileges."

Marti frowned. "Carl is coming to Tampa tomorrow to-- He wants to meet you, and see the place where I'm going to live."

Burke braced his fists on his hips. "Does he think--"

"I don't know what he thinks. He's my guardian, as archaic as that seems. I guess he has to look after my welfare. If he's anything like Father, he'll be very arbitrary about everything, and I'll have to decide whether to put up with him or go my own way."

"Just as a word to the wise," Burke said. "Don't jeopardize your trust fund. If he doesn't want you to live with me, we'll find some other arrangement."

"Maybe I should show him the places you turned down," Marti suggested. "They'd curl what little hair he has left!"

Burke laughed and reached for the phone to place a call to the cement contractor.

Carl appeared late in the afternoon, in a neat business suit, carrying a briefcase. Marti offered him a large cup of iced tea. But he shook his head, as though he could not tolerate the thought of consuming anything in this makeshift office.

Burke strolled in casually from outside, and Marti wondered if he had been watching for Carl.

She introduced them to each other, and they shook hands, but Marti sensed their wariness.

Carl set his briefcase down on the corner of Marti's desk and snapped it open. "I thought I'd deliver this statement in person," he said, handing copies to Marti and Burke.

"This looks very complicated," Marti observed.

"I'll explain it all to you over dinner. First, I'd like to see this place where you're going to live."

Burke's jaw stiffened. Nonetheless, he took his keys from his pocket and handed a house key to Marti.

"I can't get away from here right now," Burke told them. "But go on over to the house and I'll come by when I get a few things settled here. Don't leave until I get there. We need to sit down and talk."

Marti directed Carl to the house and watched his reactions are she acted as tour guide. They were standing beside the pool, staring at the backyard when Marti heard Burke's van in the driveway.

He appeared in the doorway and slowly walked out to join them. Marti was impressed with his quiet air of proprietary ease.

"Nice place you have here," Carl said, rocking forward to his toes then settling on his heels again.

"I think I was very lucky to find it," Burke responded.

"I see that there is plenty of room here for Marta to live comfortably," Carl remarked.

"Let me put your mind at rest," Burke said, seeing through Carl's cool expression. "Marti and I are business associates and personal friends. There is nothing more to our relationship at this moment. And if there was, I don't see that it's anyone's business but ours."

"Granted, that is your business," Carl agreed. "But I have Marta's business to look after. I don't want her taken advantage of."

Burke bristled. "That's the last thing on my mind. I'm very comfortable in my financial position and every other aspect of my life. Marti is not someone who can be used. She's much too bright and strong for that."

Carl looked at him skeptically. "I'll take your word on that," he said. "I promised to take Marta to dinner, and my flight leaves at nine, so we had better be going."

"I don't appreciate your attitude," Marti told Carl as they drove away. "Burke has been more than kind to me. We understand each other and have worked things out to our mutual satisfaction."

"And you hadn't told him anything about your finances until he heard about your trust fund?"

"Nor since. Maybe he understands all those figures on the statement you gave him, but somehow, I don't think it will make any difference to him."

"I've yet to meet a man to whom a large lump of money doesn't pique his interest."

"I'll allow you that statement because you don't know Burke very well."

"Oh, I accept him as being a pillar of virtue, until he proves otherwise."

They went to a restaurant where neither Carl's business suit nor Marti's slacks and blouse were remarkably out of place.

Carl took another piece of paper out of his briefcase and handed it to Marti.

"What's this?" she asked.

"A part of the statement I didn't provide for Mr. Parmeter of Mr. Hildebrand. There is a portion of the trust fund which was set up for your personal expenses." Carl's finger tapped the bottom line of the page. "That's the current balance on hand."

"That's--a lot!" Marti gasped.

Carl went through a lot of legal jargon about payments from an annuity being spread over the next twenty years and residual amounts being reinvested. Quarterly reviews and disbursements.

"I'll send you a check when I get back home," Carl said over his second cup of coffee. "You'll need a few things when you move into the house. I'm sure all your clothing is out of date and you'll want a few other things."

"A car?"

"Not just yet," Carl said. "Maybe next quarter."

On Saturday morning, Burke arrived at the group home, ready to haul Marti's personal belongings over to the house, thinking he'd have to make several trips up and down the elevator. But several of the able-bodied residents pitched in to transfer everything to his van in one trip.

For once, Bunni was not making her happy little sound when Marti stopped by the switchboard to say goodbye.

"I'll miss you," she complained, sniffing.

"I'll be back next weekend to help get things ready for the carnival," Marti promised, hugging her diminutive friend. "I'll probably be back at least once a week for a long time."

"I'll miss you," Bunni repeated.

Marti kissed her cheek and hurried away as fast as she could so that she would not dissolve into tears.

"All set?" Burke asked, opening the van door for her.

"Where's Katherine?" Marti asked.

"She was called to the phone," Burke said, helping Marti into her seat. "She told me to take good care of you and that she'd see you often enough anyway, there wasn't any reason to say goodbye."

"Yeah," Marti sighed, fastening her seat belt.

She couldn't think of anything to say on the drive to the house. They'd worked out all the ground rules, tried to anticipate all the things they would need, so there wasn't much need for conversation. She should have been happy to leave the home, glad to be moving into a nice house. She would have more freedom than she had had in a long time, but she felt--well, sad.

"I set up your furniture as best I could," Burke informed her, entering the house through the garage. "Your family must have had some beautiful things."

"Carl took all of Father's antiques back North with him," Marti countered. "He didn't think it was safe to keep them in storage. Besides, they were always just a chore to me--dusting them and being careful not to hurt them."

"But there is a lovely little sewing chest," Burke said, puzzled by her attitude. "I put it in your bedroom."

"That was my mother's grandmother's," Marti stated, looking first into the room that would be her sitting room.

"And there are boxes and boxes of books," Burke told her, pointing toward them, ranged haphazardly on the garage floor.

"I'll go through them and take what I don't want over to the home for the carnival," Marti sighed.

The furniture from her home looked comfortably shabby in the little room, not like the pristinely new things Burke had placed in the room he used as a living room. She smoothed her hand over the tropical print of the couch.

"Is this arrangement all right?" Burke asked.

"Fine," Marti said, wistfully.

"It was a lot to get into two rooms," he told her. "There was another couch, so I put it in my study. I hope you don't mind."

"The brown one? It's a monster--"

"Well, I was going to buy myself a couch for in there. It solves a problem."

"I'd better start unpacking," Marti proposed. "Maybe my own stuff first."

"I'll start unloading the van," Burke said. "Are you going to be all right?"

"Sure. Of course."

Burke wanted to help, she knew, but she could not abide his offer to help put her lingerie, utilitarian though it was, in the drawers of her dresser. Instead, he was put to work hanging things in the closet and disposing of empty boxes.

He seemed to be taking into account every move she made, glancing at his wristwatch every few minutes.

"All right," he announced. "Time for a break. Iced tea and sandwiches on the patio."

"It's not even noon yet," Marti protested.

He took her alarm clock from her hand and set it on the bedstand with an authoritative thud.

Marti sighed. "I guess maybe I do need a break."

Burke made a point of fixing Marti's tea for her and was about to make her a sandwich when she intervened. She hung her cane over the edge of the counter and elbowed him out of the way.

"I can do this as well as anyone," she told him. "In fact, I'll make your sandwich for you while you take those glasses out to the patio."

"I didn't have you move in here to take care of me," Burke informed her, pausing while he put more ice in a glass.

"Well, I don't need to be waited on hand and foot," Marti told him. "I do need to start taking care of myself more."

"I'm not going to argue with you," Burke promised. "Just make sure the mustard goes all the way to the edge of the bread."

Marti laughed. "Do you have a tray to carry things out to the patio?"

"All I have is my pizza pan."

"I guess it will have to do," Marti shrugged.

"I'll add it to the list of things I'll have to get."

"Oh? What do you need?" Marti asked, taking the sandwiches out to the patio. "I'm real good at shopping."

"Sheets for my bed. It's king-sized and one set dry-rotted in storage. I went to put them on, and they tore to shreds. And I need big towels.

"I'm sure I have plenty of towels in Mother's things," Marti told him, sitting down at the table. She adjusted her position so the sun didn't glare off the water into her eyes.

"Well, that brings up the question of whether we mingle our belongings or not," Burke said thoughtfully.

"I don't see why not."

"I saw the labels on some of the boxes," Burke told her. "China and crystal. I really don't want to be responsible--"

Marti looked away from him and studied the shrubs planted beyond the pool shelter as a windbreak and privacy hedge.

"Yes, I'd feel bad if my mother's china or crystal was broken. Well, maybe they should be kept separate. But her old pots and pans--that kind of thing--I have no sentimental attachment for. I guess I'll have to make decisions." She chuckled to herself. "It's been so long since I've had to make a decision that really mattered, I don't think I remember how."

"I'll be all the help I can be," Burke promised, and she thought she heard some sympathy beneath the teasing tone of his voice.

"I've heard that before," Marti groaned as she rearranged her sandwich.

"What do you mean by that?" Burke asked, suddenly coming to attention.

"My father used to say things like that. What he meant was that either he was going to take over and run things his way, or, worse yet, he washed his hands of the hard decisions. Then he'd say 'I told you so' when things went wrong."

"Would I do that?" Burke asked.

"Frankly, I don't know you well enough to judge whether you would or not," Marti answered.

"I'll try not to. It's hard, though," he confessed. "I would like to just take over all your problems and make everything easy for you. I have to keep myself from doing that."

"And there are times when you don't do too well," Marti teased him.

"Well, I'll try to restrain myself," Burke promised.

"I can't eat all of this right now." Marti pushed the second half of her sandwich aside. "Maybe later. I want to get back to those boxes before they multiply."

"How's it going?" Burke asked her from the doorway of her bedroom an hour later.

"Slow," Marti sighed, closing a dresser drawer. "About three times slower than if I didn't have to contend with this stupid cane and could lift more than a few pounds at a time."

"You know I'll do everything I can--"

Marti shook her head. "There are things I have to do by myself," she told him.

"I could bring the boxes you want in here," Burke offered.

"Fine," Marti agreed. "There's one marked miscellaneous."

"Why don't you just sit down on your bed and I'll help you unpack this one," he offered, putting the box on the floor at her feet.

The first thing out of the box was a batch of framed pictures wrapped with the cheap newsprint paper storage companies use. "I'll hang these anywhere you want them."

The first one was her high school graduation picture, and Burke turned his head to study it as she held it.

"You're prettier now," he observed. "Lost your baby fat."

Marti chuckled. "The hard way!"

She put that picture aside and looked at the next one, a wedding picture which must have been her parents. She took a deep breath as she stared at the smiling faces that looked back at her.

Then a tear started to slide down her cheek. In a moment she was biting her lower lip and holding herself stiffly, trying to contain the pain she was feeling.

Gently, Burke took the picture from her hand and placed the others back in the box, sitting down beside her and wrapping his arms around her.

"It's all right," he crooned. "Don't cry. You don't have to do this now. We'll do something else."

He took his handkerchief from his pocket and touched it to her cheeks, but that seemed little use to her. The tears flowed unstemmed.

He hated the way he felt inside. He'd long wanted her in his arms, but not in tears. He'd never had to deal with tears before and now understood why men traditionally could not face them.

Marti's vulnerability was part of her charm, but at the moment she was totally defenseless. He could barely restrain himself from kissing her and cuddling her. My God, they were sitting on her bed!

He had offered her the living arrangement with the purest of intentions. He'd honestly thought she could live in these few rooms, share the pool and the kitchen and the family room with him. They would live a very modern, platonic way.

But within hours of her arrival, he was having anything but platonic thoughts--at a time when she needed sympathy, not the lust that was growing inside him.

His hand almost trembled as he smoothed her light brown hair away from her moist cheek. Marti put her arm around his waist and tried to regain her composure.

"I didn't get a chance to mourn when my parents died," she explained, struggling to form the words. "I was sedated most of the time because of the surgery. Then there were always so many people around. This just--slipped up on me, but I have to deal with it."

"Were your parents happy?" Burke asked her.

"Yes, I suppose so. I think Father always regretted that his sons didn't accept Mother. But aside from that, I think they were happy--comfortable, you know."

"So--"

"I don't think one could have lived without the other," Marti said. "I hate myself for sometimes thinking they were better off to die together, before Father's heart hindered their lifestyle. It's just that--I don't have anyone anymore."

What about me? he wanted to ask, but it was not the time nor the place. He wanted her in his life, permanently. He would never willingly let her go, but he couldn't tell her that now.

He slowly disengaged himself and got to his feet. "This wasn't such a good idea," he said, picking up the box. "You can deal with this later."

"Leave it there," Marti protested forcefully. "I'll take care of it now, no matter what. I have to. Don't you see?"

"All right," Burke agreed reluctantly. "But I'm staying here with you."

"Thanks." Marti started unwrapping more pictures.

He had to admire her strength. God, if he'd lost his parents--both at the same time--he'd be devastated. It would take more than two years to get over the loss. Even though he'd been on his own for years, he was reassured to know his parents were comfortably situated in their retirement. They were available to him at the other end of the telephone if he needed their advice.

He'd have to call them later in the day.

"Let me get some of these empty boxes out of your way," Burke offered, scooping up a handful of wrapping papers.

He went to the garage for a few minutes by himself, to contemplate how lucky he was. How easy it was to move around, travel, do whatever he wanted to without thinking where he would set his foot so he wouldn't fall. He could pick up a heavy box without the slightest twinge of pain. If he needed anything, he had money in the bank to pay for it. He needed to count his blessings more often.

"There are a few nails in the walls to hang your pictures," Burke observed, returning to Marti's room. "How about your graduation picture over here?"

"No," Marti laughed. "Put the picture of Father and Mother up there. Yes, I like it there. And this one of my mother's mother over there. I never knew her very well, but I love the picture, don't you? She must have been an elegant lady."

Burke looked at her cupid's bow mouth, the white fox collar, and the marselled hair. "Think she knew Jean Harlow?" he asked.

Marti chuckled to herself and took a small wooden box from its wrappings. "I never heard anything like that."

"One more box and we'll have to go do some shopping," Burke said, stepping back to see if the picture was hanging squarely. "What all do you need? Do you have a swim suit?"

"I have one, but I can't wear it," Marti said. "I need one that will cover up the worst of the scars."

"Oh." Burke was sorry he'd brought the matter up. "What about--other things."

"I'll wait until I get my first paycheck."

"Then you can help me get what I need. This house looks so--empty. I don't know what it needs."

"Plants!" Marti told him, pausing as she unwrapped a heavy glass vase. "Magnets on the refrigerator. Pot holders and magazines and souvenir coaster sets."

"You mean I can put out the duckbilled platypus ashtray my mates gave me when I was leaving the Outback?"

"Dinkum!" Marti laughed. "I have enough tacky stuff to make any place look like home if I can get to it."

"I like that vase," Burke commented, lifting it from her hands.

"I paid two bucks for that at a yard sale when I was eleven and gave it to Mother for Mother's Day. She loved it. It's great for gladioli, and they were here favorite flower. She grew tons of them."

"Done with that box? Come on, let's do some therapeutic shopping and come back to the rest later."

Marti had insisted that Burke leave her in the department store in the mall so she could find a swimsuit. Now she looked at the sizes and prices and styles and wondered if she'd find anything she could use. A middle-aged salesclerk with a heavy New York accent sidled over to her, rearranging stock as she moved.

"Looking for something special, dear?" the clerk asked.

"Something with a high back."

The clerk looked at her skeptically. "Really, don't you think these styles are a bit too mature for you?"

"Well, I have--scars--" Marti explained, gesturing toward her back.

"Ah," the clerk sighed, sympathetically. "Well! Let's see. These over here are some a little more lively."

Somehow the clerk convinced her to take three suits to the fitting room.

It seemed that the fabric that had been applied to the back had been taken from the front, particularly in the neck line and leg holes. But Marti found a yellow suit which fit nicely and disguised her problems.

She contemplated buying a second suit, but neither of the others fit quite as well, and she had her budget to consider. True, Carl had promised to send her some money, but she didn't know when it was coming or how much it would be. It was best just to take the yellow suit and keep her eye out for another. It would be an excuse to go shopping again sometime soon.

Somehow it didn't surprise her that Burke was waiting for her when she returned to the cash register.

"Find something?" Burke asked.

"Yes," Marti answered. She handed the yellow suit to the clerk and dropping the two she'd rejected to a pile of garments to be returned to the rack.

"Just one?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I was lucky to find it," Marti replied.

For some reason he smiled and chuckled to himself. Marti had about given up on figuring out what amused him.

Burke took the bag from the sales clerk and led Marti out into the concourse of the mall, matching her slow gait.

"I need some ice cream," he said, turning toward the ice cream shop.

"Sure you do!" Marti laughed.

"Well, we had an early lunch..."

"Oh! That's your logic!" Marti laughed and shook her head. "I'm going to have to guard against gaining weight while I'm staying with you."

"But we have the pool," Burke explained. "All I have to do is swim a few extra laps."

"That's it? Work off all the extra calories swimming?"

"It's worked so far," Burke told her proudly.

"You're crazy, you know that?" Marti asked. "I'll have a vanilla on a stick, with crunchies. How long will I have to swim to work that off?"

In a garden shop, Burke had asked her opinion on plants for the house and patio. Then he'd bought a bunch of cut gladioli from the florist section.

"You shouldn't," Marti protested.

"Why? Do they clash with the family room?" Burke asked.

"You know..."

Burke's jaw set slightly. "That's why I'm getting them. Are you going to get all upset whenever you see a vase full of Glads?"

"I hope not."

He gave her a look that told her he understood more than she'd thought.

"Last one in the pool is a rotten egg," Burke teased as he tossed his keys down on the kitchen table. He handed Marti the shopping bag that held her new swim suit.

"Ah, c'mon! I have to get these flowers into water, put some of these things away--" Marti tried to beg off.

"That's it! Flowers in water, then you in the pool," Burke called over his shoulder, already on his way out to the van to get the plants.

He said something else about balancing work with fun, but Marti didn't hear him very well.

She maneuvered back to her room and found the vase she'd unpacked earlier. It was clear that Burke had intended for her to put the flowers in it.

The pink and white gladioli looked nice enough to go on the lamp table in the family room. Marti pressed her lips together and touched the flowers one more time before going to her room to change into her swim suit.

She knew that at other times, she might have thought Burke's insistence on buying the flowers was cruel. But she understood his desire for her to get herself back into the real world.

Besides, there was something about having live flowers in a house that made it more of a home--her mother had taught her that. This was going to be a home, even if she was not here very long.

Marti was glad there was no full-length mirror in her room; she really didn't want to see how she looked in the swim suit.

She hadn't indulged in lying in the sun for almost two years. Living in a place were there is no real winter, she felt almost guilty for not having the slightest bit of a tan. While she stayed in the group home, though, too many of her needs were taken care of and she could go for weeks without leaving its walls.

The loud splash of water and the rhythmic sloshes that followed brought Marti out of her reflective mood. Burke was already in the pool. She wouldn't hear the end of it.

Frantically, she rooted through a drawer to find an oversized shirt to use as a cover-up. Then she remembered she'd given it to one of the girls at the home who had admired it.

Being careful not to slip of the tile floor of the bathroom, she grabbed the first towel she came to. Then she opened the sliding frosted-glass door which led from the bath to the patio.

Burke pulled himself out of the pool. His powerful arms and shoulders eased his solid body up over the side so he could swing one foot onto the surface of the patio. His sleek blue swim suit gave new meaning to the word brief.

"I've got the heat already turned up in the spa," he told her, his quick strides skirting the pool.

Marti stared after him. She should have expected the perfect body, the gentle suntan that said he used the pool every day. Still, she was caught motionless and in need of air.

When she recovered, she followed him to the spa. She tried to make sense out of the instructions he gave her on how to turn on the compressor that made the water circulate.

Before she had fully assimilated everything, Burke took her cane from her hand and helped her into the spa.

"Lie back on that couch there," he instructed. "Oh! I have an air pillow for behind your head." He dashed off somewhere and was back a moment later. "Is that more comfortable?"

"It's fine," Marti said, struggling to breathe.

The pressure of the water seemed to take her breath away. Or was it the man whose main interest at the moment was making her comfortable? Well, it was a hopeless chore, so long as he was within her range of sight.

Burke lowered himself into the water and sat on a seat built into the other side of the spa. "You can't imagine how far away the rest of the world gets after you've been in this thing for ten minutes."

Marti lay her head back on the air pillow and closed her eyes. No, that wasn't as restful as not using the pillow at all, so she put it aside on the deck and tried to will herself to relax.

"These bubbles are awfully loud," she observed. "I can't hear myself think."

"Then turn them down," Burke suggested, as though he couldn't imagine her not knowing the solution to the problem. "Just do what feels good to you."

"That would be going back to my room and taking a nap!" Marti quipped, experimenting with the controls. Suddenly the roiling water settled to a persistent gurgle. "That's better," she decided.

"Good. I'm glad you're happy. Now, if the water gets too hot, turn the thermostat down."

"I think this is just about right," she said, wishing he'd stop lavishing his attention on her.

"You don't mind if I go back to swimming my laps, do you?" Burke asked.

"No. Go ahead. You don't have to entertain me."

She wished she hadn't watched as Burke got to his feet and stepped out of the spa. She had never in her life reacted to a man the way she was responding to Burke and she was ashamed of herself.

She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind, a technique of pain-control she had learned.

But still she saw him in her mind, each image changing with the sounds coming from the pool. She could imagine the water glistening over his muscled shoulders, down his strong back, his sleekly formed buttocks and long sturdy legs.

The strokes were not slow and easy, more like deliberate racing strokes, and her heart was racing with them.

Living here wasn't going to work out, after all, if she spent agonizing hours trying to get her heart rate and blood pressure in line. All the bio-feedback she had learned was proving to be useless!

She'd learned the hard way not to trust physical attractions. The handsome men she'd been attracted to in her life had proved to have the worst character flaws.

Burke, however, couldn't have been hiding a flaw from her anywhere. No, he was more than generous, obviously trusted and well-liked by the man who had employed him for eight years. She knew from observation that he got along well with the men on the work site. And Katherine Nelson, whose opinion she respected, openly approved their relationship--such as it was. Until now.

All right, he was her boss and Marti liked him. Tremendously.

But it was decidedly tacky to be in love with the boss.

Even though he hadn't been her boss when she had fallen in love with him.

Fallen in love with him!

When had that happened?

Marti opened her eyes and pressed her wet and wrinkly hands to her face. When had it happened? She couldn't remember.

But she was in love. All the symptoms were there, she had to admit.

Slowly she turned her head and looked over at the pool where Burke was persistently swimming laps, his pace now slowing.

Well, she thought, how is this for a situation that's normal in every way? I've fallen in love with a guy who thinks of me as an office drudge and a malfunctioning piece of machinery. I really haven't learned anything, have I?

Burke looked at his waterproof watch the next time he touched the wall. Ten minutes was long enough for Marti to be in the spa the first time. Unfortunately, ten minutes was not long enough for him to get his system back to normal.

Not that she was a great beauty in a swim suit, but Marti had affected him profoundly in another way. He didn't want to label it as pity, but he'd felt his heart constrict when he had seen how thin she was. He'd guessed at it, but seeing her when she came out onto the patio, he had to face the fact she'd been gravely injured. He was angry that it had happened to her.

No one could have knowingly hurt someone who was so thoughtful and caring and intelligent.

He was only glad that he didn't know the person who had caused the accident in which she'd been hurt. He'd have to remind himself to avoid knowing that name at all cost.

It was costing him a great deal to maintain some objectivity. He avoided showing any signs of his personal feelings when they were at work, and the price was high. Avoiding those same feelings here in his home--their home--was going to be all but impossible.

She probably didn't suspect a thing, he decided. She was always cool and professional with him, when it came to their private moments as well as those at the office.

Maybe she'd even forgotten their discussion about how they would act at the office, after he'd told her he was attracted to her. She'd probably let time take care of anything she was feeling.

He hadn't been so lucky. He'd never fallen in love that it didn't take hard work and formidable inner strength to get over. This time, he wasn't even going to try.

"Do you think you've had about enough of that?" Burke asked, using the ladder to get out of the pool and slinging a dry towel over his shoulder.

"Yes, I guess so," Marti answered, reaching out to turn off the bubbles.

"How do you like it so far?" Burke asked, drying his hands and then pressing the end of the towel to his face.

"I think I'm getting the hang of it," she told him. "I combined it with my relaxation techniques."

"Hey, you'll have to teach them to me sometime," he said, reaching for her hand. "Come on. I'll help you until I'm sure you can take care of yourself."

"Like getting in and out of the van?" Marti asked.

"Well, I don't always know that you can manage," Burke argued.

If the only time he could touch Marti was to help her in and out of the van, that wasn't going to be crossed off his list of things to do very soon.

Marti looked up at him with a knowing smile. Sometimes he thought she just might know what he was going through--and enjoying his discomfort. But, no, not Marti.

Burke picked up her towel and wrapped it snugly around her shoulders, then picked up her cane for her. "Here. Now, go take a hot shower and don't let yourself get chilled."

"Yes, fah-ther," Marti mimicked.

As he watched her walk across the patio, he noticed the wet fabric of her swim suit couldn't conceal the dark scars it covered.

Burke's hands clutched at the towel slung around his neck. He'd have to do some very deep thinking about his feelings for Marti. He'd have to know exactly what was inside him before much more time went by.

He was dressing when the phone rang. Burke dived for it to save Marti the trouble of answering for him.

"Well, are you all moved into your new house?" his mother asked, her voice sprightly.

"Yes," Burke proclaimed proudly, tucking the receiver into his shoulder while he put on his socks. "It's beginning to take shape real well."

"I called to tell you we're having trouble finding someone to drive your car down to you," she said.

Burke could not keep the disappointment out of his voice. His classic Corvette had been his badge of independence and mechanical prowess for several years. Leaving it with his father while he had been in Australia had been a wrench, as though part of his identity had been obliterated.

"Well, I have the van to use," he reminded her.

He got more out of sorts as his mother ran through the activities of his brother and sister and his two cousins. They still lived in the old neighborhood and were almost as close as his own siblings. At the same time, he realized how lucky he was to have any family at all.

"Mom, I want you to know how glad I am to have a family I can reach at the other end of the phone. I know I don't tell you that often enough."

Edna Hildebrand chuckled. "--And if anyone asks me, I'll deny you ever said that."

"No, it's all right. I'm going to have to learn how to say all the stuff that sticks in my throat someday. It might as well be now."

"It gets easier with practice," his mother told him, then launched into something she'd read in the newspaper she thought would spark his interest.

Burke and Marti spent the weekend establishing themselves in their surroundings. Marti was surprised at how hard it was for Burke to make decisions about where to put things--kitchen pots, patio plants, books and brickabrack. Her image of him was of a man who routinely determined what had to be done and issued orders without qualm.

"You decide!" Marti demanded. He couldn't decide whether to put a clock on the mantle in the living room he planned to use as a workroom or in the family room. "It's your house."

"It is, isn't it?" Burke mused, stopping in midstride. "It's my house! God, what a responsibility."

Marti took the clock from his hand and placed it on the table beside the vase of Glads. "Mother had a little plate she hung over the sink. It said 'This is my house and I'll do as I darned please.' She left the price tag on it. Every time Father offered to scrape the tag off, she'd tell him to read what the plate said."

Burke laughed. The sound filled the open rooms which were looking more like a home than a haphazard collection of furniture.

"Do you suppose that plate is somewhere in your boxes?" he asked.

"It should be," Marti replied, more interested in studying the spatial relationship of the vase and clock.

"I want you to hang it in the kitchen," Burke said. "I want you to feel that way about this place, too."

Marti shook her head. "I'm only going to be here long enough to--"

He pawed through the wrappings in the box so he couldn't hear the words that struck like a knife in his heart over the rustling of the paper. "Well, speak of the devil!" Burke proclaimed, holding the plate for Marti to see. "Look! The price tag is still on it. Your mother must have been quite a character."

"She tried. But I always had a feeling she was holding back in deference to my father."

"I saw a nail somewhere... Oh! Beside the pantry door. Is that all right?" Burke asked.

"By Jove, I think I just heard a decision!"

Burke laughed and went to hang up the plate.

"I've got a favor to ask you," Burke warned, coming into the office trailer Monday morning after his first rounds of the work site.

Marti looked up from her desk. "What can I do for you?"

"There's a woman on the excavating crew now," Burke told her. "Before anyone plays nasty tricks on her, I want to know if she can come in here to use the powder room."

"Of course!" Marti responded. "It goes without saying."

"I'll tell her," Burke said, making a checkmark on his ever-present clipboard.

Belle was a bulldozer operator, a sturdy woman in her thirties whose face was tanned and lined from exposure to the elements. Her hair was sun-bleached and seemed to have a mind of it's own as it defied the restraint of a ball cap. Married and supporting two children and a husband who had been injured on a construction job, Belle took her work in stride.

Marti enjoyed the few minutes they shared each time Belle came into the office, about three or four times a day.

"You should come out and look at my 'dozer," she told Marti during her break on Wednesday afternoon. Marti had asked her some questions about the excavating equipment that had been puzzling her since she'd taken the job.

"Mm!" Marti was torn between the temptation and her duties in the office. Her daily report was about finished and she'd only sit and answer the phone until time to go home.

She pushed her chair back and took her cane from where it hung on the windowsill.

On the way to the site, Belle regaled Marti with the story of how she learned to use a smaller equipment at her father's urging. He had needed workers when the building boom was in full swing.

Belle told her how to climb up into the seat of the bulldozer as the machine sat idling in the parking area.

Marti grinned with accomplishment as she waited for Belle to hoist herself up to perch beside the seat, grasping the support of the canopy.

"You steer the tracks with those two levers in front of you. The position they are in is idle; forward for slow, back toward you for faster. You steer left or right by putting one track in low and the other in high," Belle pointed out.

Marti barely touched each of the controls in turn, feeling the vibration against her palms.

"The blade raises and lowers by the lever on your right, and the knob further right turns it on a slant," Belle told her. "The pedals are the decelerator on the right and the brakes on the left. See, they're split; you can brake one without the other."

Marti tried the pedals and was surprised that they reacted with a meshing of gears but the machine moved only slightly.

"Ol' Babycakes here isn't built for speed," Belle laughed, touching the dash affectionately. "Go ahead, raise the blade."

Marti moistened her lips and grasped the blade lever, expecting it to be difficult if not impossible to move, but it responded easily. "Ha! That's not as hard as I expected."

Belle patted her on the shoulder. "A bulldozer is a lot like a man. You can't overpower it. You have to use finesse."

They shared a good giggle over Belle's observation and Belle reached to ease the shift into forward. The bulldozer inched ahead slightly, and Marti's left foot pressed the brake pedal.

"Come on, Marti! Once around the park!" Belle urged.

"Are you sure you won't get into trouble?" Marti asked cautiously.

"Hell, no! My dad owns the company!" Belle laughed over the roar of the motor. "I've got diesel and dirt in my blood."

Marti shifted uncomfortably against the worn upholstery of the bulldozer's seat, then gripped the steering levers with palms that turned sweaty.

"Okay, show me what this thing can do." Marti felt a surge of excitement.

To the low-pitched chug of the motor and the tinny clatter of the exhaust pipe cover, they moved slowly around a broad cleared patch of ground where the heavy equipment was usually parked for the night.

She didn't see Burke until they had come to a stop and were running through all the moves the blade could make. He came to stand by the edge of the track, his face in a dark frown.

"What on earth are you doing up there!" Burke roared over the growl of the bulldozer's motor.

"Seeing what it's like from up here!" Marti yelled back, flexing her fingers around the steering levers.

"Come down this instant!" he ordered.

"I think you'd better," Belle advised, placing her hand on Marti's shoulder. "She'll be down in a minute, Boss!"

"Thanks for this," Marti said, getting to her feet with the help of her cane.

"I'll lift you down," Burke offered almost as an order, reaching up to her.

"I'll manage!" Marti insisted.

"Why would you do such a fool thing?" Burke demanded as she lowered herself to the top of the track, then to the uneven ground.

"To see what it's like!" Marti answered, shuffling her feet to get her balance. She took a deep breath while she planned her path to the graded road which led back to the office trailer. "I thought it would be a good thing to know the parts and the functions of the heavy machinery."

"But you took an unreasonable chance!"

"No! Belle was very capable," Marti answered. "And I'm not a cripple!"

"Get into the van!" Burke ordered.

He waved to Len and his assistant came running to see what was happening. "Take Marti over to the house," he commanded, handing Len his keys. "She's taking the rest of the day off."

Len pulled himself into the driver's seat of the van and flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. "What's wrong?" he asked Marti, genuine concern in his voice.

"I made a fool of myself," Marti replied.

"Why is he sending you over to his house?" Len asked.

"Because I live there," she answered tightly.

"Oh," he responded flatly.

"I'll need to stop by the office for my purse," she told him.

"I'll get it for you," Len offered. "No sense in crossing Burke's path again. Do you need anything else from the office?"

"There's a paper bag in the bottom left-hand drawer of my desk."

The drive to the house was almost silent after Marti had told Len what office chores needed to be finished that afternoon.

Finally as Len was helping Marti to the door, he cleared his throat. "I don't imagine Burke gets so angry very often. He's been more than accommodating with the people on the site. I think he just feels protective of you. Just--be a little patient with him."

Marti was going to say something but bit back the words. After all, the three of them had to work together--if she still had a job.

But when she was safely in the house, she dropped the bag that held the rags dolls in her sitting room and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the desk. There was a black smudge of grease on her cheek.

She contemplated the smudge for a long moment, then smiled.

Something that had once been a basic part of her, something taken from her in the accident, was back!

Burke stalked into his office and slammed the door behind him. He knew he was acting out of anger and was ashamed of himself, but he needed time to think through his feelings.

He was still in a deep black mood when Len knocked on the door and let himself in, handing Burke his keys, a questioning look on his face.

"I suppose you want to know what that was all about, huh?" Burke asked.

"It's none of my business," Len replied. "Marti told me how to finish the daily report and fax it out."

"Yes, go ahead and do that," Burke said with a wave of his hand. "And, yes, she is living with me, but it's not what you think."

Len's eyebrow twitched upward, but he turned and went to the outer office. A few minutes later, Burke heard the fax machine running.

Burke got up from his chair and stared out the window.

Damn! He wished it could be the way Len thought it was. But maybe he did think of Marti as a cripple, as being less able-bodied than she really was.

Perhaps he was too much in love with the role he was playing and not as much in love with the woman.

"Surprise!" two voices shouted behind him, and he turned to see is mother and father standing in the doorway.

Stunned, he stared at them for a moment before being engulfed in their hugs. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Well," his sprightly, white-haired mother said, "after I talked to you the other night, we were discussing not trusting anyone to bring your car to you. As you always say, the solution to the problem was within the problem."

"--So we decided to drive the car down ourselves," his father supplied. "The 'Vette is here, safe and sound. We're going to stay a few days and fly back Sunday night."

"I can't tell you how good it is to see you!" Burke hugged his mother again. "Look, I'll collect some things to work on at home tonight, and leave my assistant in charge of shutting down for the night. Wait till you see my house. You'll love it."

At his drawing board, he rolled up plans and slipped them into a metal tube.

But he was wondering how he was going to explain Marti, and how he was going to make enough peace with Marti to get through the next few hours, let alone-- Sunday night! It sounded so far away.

Out in the parking lot, the classic lines of his dark blue Corvette gleamed in the afternoon sun. Burke couldn't help pausing to run his hand over the rear fender on his way to his van. "Follow me!" he called, shifting his load to close the car door for his mother.

Burke heard the quiet gurgle of the spa as he entered the house from the garage. He paused at the door of the family room before approaching the patio.

Marti was in the spa, facing away from him. He was only mildly miffed that she wasn't abiding by his rule not to use the spa if he could not help her.

She turned and looked up at him when she heard him come near. She was still angry with him.

"I've got a problem," he told her.

"Oh?" she asked, turning off the bubbles.

"My parents just arrived," he informed her. "They decided to deliver my car themselves and surprise me."

"It looks like you're not the only one who'll be surprised," she observed dryly, reaching for a nearby lemonade.

Burke frowned. "They'll think what they want to about your living here. I need a favor. Could they use your sitting room as a quest room?"

"Of course. It's your house--" Putting the glass aside, she stood up and unfurled her towel.

"Look, I'm sorry I over-reacted to your little adventure," he apologized, reaching out to wrap the towel around her. He left his hands on her shoulders. "I can see your point--"

"I'm sorry, too," Marti told him, her voice almost cracking. "I should have realized doing something like that might have compromised your insurance and--"

"I was thinking of your safety--"

"Do--do I still have a job?"

"Of course!" Burke looked down at her, wanting to put his arms around her. "We can't get along without you."

"Good. Let me get dressed before I have to meet your parents."

"Take your time," Burke said. "I'll take care of the explanations."

Burke walked slowly back out to the garage, trying to choose the words that had to be said. It was strange how much he felt like a teenager, trying to explain a dent in the fender of his mother's car. He'd survived that test and he'd cope with this one.

His mother was investigating the washing machine in the garage, her veined fingers tracing the instructions as she read them through her bifocals.

"I thought we'd just go ahead and start our laundry, if you have enough detergent," Edna Hildebrand proposed. "We'll just use cold water."

"I--ah--wouldn't turn it on for a few minutes," Burke cautioned. "Ah--someone's about to take a shower."

"Oh, I'm sorry! Of course you'll want to shower!"

"Not me, Mom," Burke forged ahead. "There's someone living with me."

Nearby, water began to gurgle through the pipes around the water heater.

His father paused in sorting the contents of the muslin laundry bag.

His mother peered up at him through her glasses, her eyes piercing his soul.

"One of your crew?" Walt Hildebrand asked.

"Not exactly. She's the office manager."

"She?" Edna asked.

"Her name is Marta Lundstrum and she's very special."

Burke leaned against the clothes drier and poured out everything he knew about Marti.

"So, you see, living here is the only reasonable solution to her problem." he concluded.

Edna was unconvinced. "There are always alternatives," she commented.

"Don't pass judgment until you meet her," Burke pleaded.

"Quite right," Walt said, dumping one pile of clothes into the washer. "Edna, she's probably a lovely person."

Edna seemed to withdraw into her own thoughts as she measured detergent into a metal cup and sprinkled it on the clothes.

"I'm very disappointed in you, Burke," she stated, slamming the lid of the washer closed.

The water turned off with a clanking sound in the pipes, but the water heater maintained its hiss.

"It would appear that she doesn't waste hot water," Walt observed, folding the empty laundry bag.

Edna set the dials on the machine and the water began to sluice into the washer.

"Marti said you can use her parlor for a guest room," Burke said, starting into the house. "I'll show you where it is and then help you with the luggage."

Marti deliberately left her cane in her room when she went to meet Burke's parents. To compensate for its support, she walked slowly, her hands braced close to the walls, in case she started to fall.

From the sound of things, Mr. and Mrs. Hildebrand had already taken over her sitting room and were making themselves at home.

As she peeked in the door, they were making up the sofa bed. Burke stuffed a pillow into one of her mother's best pillowcases, which he held tucked under his chin.

"Oh, Marti," he greeted cheerfully, as though he hadn't been infuriated with her only hours before. "These are my parents--Edna and Walt."

"How do you do, Mrs. Hildebrand? Mr. Hil--"

"Edna and Walt," Burke's wispy, white-haired mother corrected her, then turned apologetic. "We had no idea we would be inconveniencing anyone by staying here."

"You're not," Marti told her, supporting herself with her hand against the doorframe. "Do you have everything you need?"

"I think so," Burke answered for them.

"If we're in your way, just tell us," Edna said, her eyes studying Marti through her bifocals.

"Have you seen a paper bag--ah, there on the footstool. Burke, could you reach that for me?" Marti asked. She planned to take her hand sewing back to her room and stay out the way as much as possible. "Oh, if you have laundry to do--"

"We've already got it started," Burke told her.

"Such organization!" Marti exclaimed.

"The sooner to go find a place to eat!" Walt Hildebrand proclaimed in a surprisingly resonant voice, giving a pillow one last fluff before putting it in place. "My treat. Okay, kids, where are we going?"

"Marti took me to a really great barbecue place," Burke suggested, reaching into his pocket for the keys to the van.

"Burke, it might not--" Marti cautioned. Judging from the his parents' casual clothing, the Jack of Diamonds might be more expensive than Mr. Hildebrand could afford. Besides, it was not quite a style the older couple might appreciate.

"Sounds great!" Edna decided, reaching for her big purse.

Marti slipped back out into the hallway to make room for them as they started toward the garage. Burke caught her arm as he passed her.

"Where's your cane?" he asked under his breath.

"In my room," she told him.

"Well, go get it," he ordered in a whisper.

"I'm not going to use it in front of your parents."

"They're not leaving until Sunday evening. I'm not going to let you take that much of a chance."

"I'm just staying around the house--"

"You're going with us," Burke said firmly. "Now, put your little dolls away and get your cane. I'm not sure I can remember how to get to that restaurant."

She gave him a look which expressed her disbelief in his alibi and her displeasure at being ordered around, but she went back to her room and got her cane.

Burke helped her to her customary seat beside him in the van and stowed her cane on the floor.

"Things certainly look different from up here," Edna observed, "especially after spending three days so close to the road in the sportscar."

Marti shot a glance toward Burke, and he looked back at her knowingly. "I guess this has been a day for changes in perspective," he observed.

Marti liked Burke's parents, but she stayed out of their conversation as much as possible. After all, she reasoned, they hadn't seen their son for the better part of two years. They had a lot of catching up to do, and she was just in the way.

In the restaurant, she spoke only when spoken to and merely listened to the conversation she had no way of relating to.

It was obvious that Burke came from a family which was fairly extended and quite successful.

His father, a bulkier and grayer version of his handsome son, had a great way of telling a story and a good, hearty laugh which punctuated the punch lines.

His mother made witty observations which were pungent without being malicious.

It was plain that Burke was very much at ease with his parents and felt no need to make his own accomplishments any better than they were.

"And what to you do?" Walt Hildebrand asked Marti as he approached another barbecued rib.

"I manage the office for Burke," she said simply.

"She's very good at it, too," Burke bragged. "I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to her."

Surprised at his praise, Marti looked up at Burke briefly, then went back to her curly fries.

"Marti was one of the first people I met in town," he said. "Actually, at first she was just a friendly voice in the night when I collected my messages. But she was so helpful, I stole her from the answering service."

Luckily just then a waitress came by with a pitcher of iced tea to top off their glasses. By asking if they needed anything more, she distracted everyone enough for Marti to retreat into herself.

Burke had a habit of never being able to go straight home from anywhere. He was learning his way to the best delis, bookstores and shopping malls with amazing speed. Leaving the restaurant, he headed for a mall which featured two bookstores, two delis, and a bakery.

"I'll let you all out here by the ramp," he said, "and meet you in the concourse."

Marti walked slowly toward the building, trying to distract Burke's parents from noticing how slowly she was walking by carrying on a lively conversation about the landscaping. She realized she'd failed when Burke's mother took her arm.

"I hope there's a bookstore here," Edna said. "I've finished both the books I brought with me."

"Oh, there's a nice one just down to the left."

"Why don't you just wait for Burke here and we'll meet you there?" Walt suggested. "Don't hurry..."

Marti had barely reached a bench when Burke came up behind her. "Where did my folks go?" he asked.

"The bookstore," Marti told him, with a gesture in that direction.

"I should have known," Burke chuckled. "Do you need to stop and rest?"

Marti shook her head and got to her feet.

"Then come down to the bakery with me and help me find something for breakfast tomorrow." He took her arm, his hand surprisingly warm as it closed firmly.

He matched his steps to hers, seeming not to notice that other people hurried past them.

"Thanks for putting your unresolved feelings aside," he murmured. "My mother seems to be able to read people's minds, and she's not above using her powers of observation and logic to discover more than I, for one, might want her to know."

Despite herself, Marti was amused. "You! Have secrets from your mother? Why, Burke, you shock me."

He chuckled. "Mom can be a problem. Maybe I should get some flowers, too. Do you like those little carnations?"

Marti nodded, but she didn't really expect Burke to buy the bunch from the kiosk and hand them to her. The croissants, however, were an almost-expected purchase. The scent of the cinnamon buns he had to have, too, almost overwhelmed Marti while they searched for his parents in the bookstore. They finally found Edna and Walt comparing Spanish-English dictionaries.

A short time later, Burke spread the plans for the Tanglewood development on his drafting table in his living room-cum-home office and switched on the long-armed study lamp.

His father surveyed the plans for a long moment, flipping through the drawings and charts that wanted to curl into tubes at the slightest relaxation of tension on them.

"Well, son," he said with admiration, "this is quite an undertaking."

Burke took his reading glasses from a case on the table and settled them on his nose. "It is pretty ambitious. There are some interesting concepts here."

They were lost in discussion when Burke's mother slipped into the room with glasses of iced tea for each of them.

"Ah! What's that?" Edna asked, glancing at the artist's rendering.

"That's the atrium of the office building we're starting next week," Burke explained.

"It looks like a garden," she observed. "All right, I know an atrium is supposed to look like a garden, but that one looks more natural than most."

"Well, I can't take credit for that." Burke laughed. "I'm not the architect, just the taskmaster."

"I'm just wondering," his mother said, changing the subject, "if it's all right if I cook dinner tomorrow night. I mean, I wouldn't be tramping on Marti's toes, would I?"

"Of course not," Burke told her. "Marti's not able to stand long enough to fix a whole dinner yet. Besides, that's not part of our agreement."

"I thought I'd fix pork roast and sauerkraut and dumplings, but I'd need a pot for the dumplings--" Edna said, ticking things off on her prematurely gnarled fingers.

"Marti has her mother's pots and pans," Burke told her, trying to get back to his drawings. "If she needs help finding anything, tell her I'll help her."

His mother nodded and went to find Marti.

Marti was sitting in the corner of the couch in the family room, working on one of the dolls she was making for the carnival.

"Well, what's this?" Edna Hildebrand asked.

Marti explained, possibly in more detail than necessary. But it was good to have another woman to talk to, and through the evening she had sensed that Burke's mother wanted to be her friend.

"I was wondering if you have a pot I could make dumplings in," Edna asked at last.

Marti looked up at her questioningly. "Dumplings? I don't think my mother ever made them. What kind of pot do you need?"

"Something with a tight lid," Edna told her.

Marti brightened. "Mom couldn't live without a pressure cooker. Would that do?"

"Perfect. You don't mind if I cook dinner tomorrow night, do you?"

"No! I'm sure Burke would love it." Marti knotted off a thread and clipped it, then added the finished doll to the ones in her work bag. "Most of the pots are still in the boxes in the garage."

"Burke said to ask him for help."

Marti chuckled. "He thinks I can't do anything by myself."

She shifted on the couch to get her feet under her so she could stand, not noticing that Edna had scooted out of the family room, calling something back to her.

Taking a deep breath, Marti straightened up her sewing and put it away in the drawer of an end table. But before she could get even a few steps away from the couch, Edna was back, handing her cane to her.

"Burke told me that you shouldn't be walking around without this," she said. The look in her eye precluded any discussion of the matter.

They were poking about in the boxes in the garage when Burke appeared in the doorway. "I knew you two just couldn't stay out of here once you put your minds to it," he said. "Marti, get out of there."

From behind the first rank of boxes, Marti looked up at him, then back at a large cardboard storage box. "But I think this box has Mom's heavy pots in it--"

"Then let me take care of it," he ordered.

Gritting her teeth Marti moved aside and watched as Burke lifted the box and read the label, which had been facing away from them. "Aha! This would appear to be the one."

He headed straight for the kitchen, with Edna and Marti following in his wake.

By the time Marti had caught up with them, Burke had slit the tape on the top of the box and was pawing through the wrapping papers. "Is this what you're looking for?" he asked.

"No, no! That's a Dutch oven," Edna said, shaking her head as she plunged her hands into the box. "I could use it, but if there's a pressure cooker around--"

"Where should I put this, then?" Burke asked, turning to Marti.

"That lower cupboard is empty," Marti told him.

"You'll never be able to pick it up from there," he observed. "You'll have to call me every time you want to use it."

"I'll risk your attitude," Marti said dryly.

"Look at this skillet!" Edna exclaimed, lifting a black iron frying pan with both hands. "This ought to keep you in line, Burke."

"Thank heaven, Marti isn't strong enough to lift that!"

"You'd be surprised how much stronger I'm getting," Marti told him, returning Edna's puckish smile.

"Ah! That's it! And a fine big monster it is," Edna proclaimed as Burke lifted the shiny pot from the box. "Let's see if it's all there--hmmm, it seems in order. I might need to get a new seal for it, but aside from that, it's in great shape. I'll rinse it out and it will be all ready for tomorrow."

"It doesn't take much to please Mom," Burke observed in an aside to Marti, then went back to the jumble of paper in the box. "We might as well finish unpacking this box, don't you think?"

"Oh! The crock pot!" Marti exclaimed. "Mrs. Hildebrand, would you like to use that for the roast?"

"Yes! Now we're all set for our dinner tomorrow. Well, you two can stay here and have fun. I have other things to do."

Burke glared at his mother's retreating back as she crossed the kitchen and the family room and disappeared in the direction of the quest room.

"She's some piece of work!" he marveled, shaking his head, and put the crock pot on the counter. "But I think she sensed that we have some fences to mend."

Marti turned away from him, shuffling her feet to find a more comfortable stance. "What do you mean by that?" she asked.

"Marti, I don't mind doing things for you. You know that. If you had wanted to see what it was like to drive a bulldozer, all you had to do was ask. I'd have helped you."

"You weren't there, and I didn't think I had to clear every little move with you," Marti argued, suppressing the anger she felt. "We're both making more of this than it deserves."

"I agree with that! Can we just--forget it?"

"It's a larger issue, Burke," Marti pointed out. "It isn't about the bulldozer. It's about my judgment of what I'm capable of doing. Maybe I'm not about to bench-press my weight in iron, but I'm getting more agile and my endurance is improving. I'm not an invalid, and I don't need a keeper."

"But if you don't let me do things for you, how can I--" Burke bit back what he was going to say, lifted the box from the table and placed it in a corner by the window which looked out at the lanai. "Never mind. I'll just try to remember that your condition is improving."

"Please do," Marti said icily as she started toward the family room. But a few steps along, she stopped and looked back at Burke. "I'm sorry, Burke. Something else to remember about me is that I hold grudges. I try not to, but my anger doesn't evaporate when someone apologizes."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Marti had rarely seen Burke so eager to get home from work as he'd been the following evening. Perhaps he'd been drawn by some unexplained force, but she suspected he knew they would be immediately seduced by the aromas that wafted around them the moment they entered the house.

Edna Hildebrand lounged in the family room, a terry robe over her bathing suit. She looked for all the world as though a band of pixies had taken over the kitchen for the day.

Marti was vaguely aware that she wished she could put together a full meal for Burke and his parents. It had been a long time since she had done much cooking. At that, her mother had always felt the kitchen was her own private domain and disdained help as a hindrance.

"Are you going to take your swim before dinner?" Edna asked Burke, and he nodded with a grin.

"Something tells me I'd better do a few extra laps, just in case I eat too much at dinner." He dropped off the work he'd brought home on his drafting board and continuing on to his bedroom to change.

"How about you, Marti?" Edna asked.

"I planned to use the spa, yes," she agreed. "You're welcome to join me."

"I thought you'd never ask!" Edna responded, getting to her feet.

"I'll turn it on for you so you don't have to wait for me to change," Marti offered, heading toward the patio. "I don't know how I ever got along without this thing," she observed, turning the switches and dials.

"It's doing you some good, then?" Edna quizzed, testing the water with her toes.

"I didn't know how much I hurt until I got some relief," Marti told her happily. "Of course, I was used to walking on hard cement floors all the time. But here we have the thick carpets and at work the floors are wood-based, so there's not so much strain to my spine."

"Interesting," Edna pondered, studying her face before stepping into the spa, which now bubbled cheerfully.

They had a nice chat while they sat in the spa. Edna was full of her observations from her day's activities shopping for dinner. Then the conversation drifted toward the Hildebrands' family activities. Marti gained insight into Burke's penchant for taking charge of every situation.

Refreshed, Marti showered and dressed with a little more care than usual. When she returned to the kitchen, Edna had set the butcher-block dinette table for their dinner, complete with using some of the flowers from the yard for a centerpiece.

Walt Hildebrand lounged against the counter, using the wall phone to talk to someone obviously back up North.

Burke poured iced tea into glasses and distributed them around the table, then turned to his mother for further instructions.

When Edna had served up the pork roast on the platter of Marti's mother's everyday dishes, she swatted Walt's arm with her potholder and pointed toward the table.

"Your Aunt Edna's telling me to get off the phone, Preston," he said. "I'll give Burke your message--"

Walt took his place at the table. "Preston wants to know if they can plan on coming down for a visit later this year."

"I'd love to have them," Burke assured him, consulting Marti with a look as he passed her the bowl of mashed potatoes.

"He just finished the licensing of the patents on my new polymer process," Walt related, beaming. "He got six million for the first five years. It's great to have a patent attorney in the family, huh?"

Marti stared at him as long as she dared.

"Well, I know what I want to celebrate," Edna proposed, her eyes suddenly gleaming. "I want a spa like this one. You can't imagine how much that helps the pains in my back."

"That's fine," Walt agreed. "But more immediately, I was thinking of taking us all to Disney World Saturday, that is if you folks don't have to work and we can take the van."

Burke looked pensively at Marti. "What do you think? Are you up to it?"

"I haven't been there in years," Marti told them, evasively, but inside something told her she wanted to go with them. "Do you want to see the new film studio?"

"I was thinking of EPCOT, if you folks don't mind," Walt proposed.

"Great!" Edna approved enthusiastically. "I love the little shops in all the national exhibits."

Burke laughed and turned to his father. "I'm afraid this is going to turn out to be more expensive than you expected."

"But I'm worth it," Edna boasted.

"She certainly is," Walt agreed, tapping his plate with his fork.

When they had finished the main course, Edna got up to clear the table for dessert.

"Marti, I found your mother's recipe box in the box with the pots and pans, and a recipe just kind of jumped out at me." She opened the refrigerator and took out a strawberry glaze pie. "I thought you might like something she used to make to finish the meal I made for Burke."

Marti saw the pie and took a deep breath. "My mother made a pie like that the day before--" she said around a catch in her throat. "We didn't have dessert in the restaurant because there was some left."

Burke's hand slipped over her wrist, oddly comforting.

"Darn. I should have made the gingerbread," Edna sighed.

"Oh, no!" Marti exclaimed, suppressing the twinge of regret and covering it with an old family joke. "That was my grandmother's gingerbread recipe and it makes enough for an army. You'd be taking it back to New Jersey with you."

"Are you sure?" Edna asked.

"That pie looks lovely," Marti assured her. "I hope it's as good as Mom's used to be."

Burke removed his hand from her wrist with a final pat, and Marti felt as though she had passed another test. His eyes were still thoughtful when he looked at her, as though he knew how close she had been to tears.

Marti didn't mind the crowds that drifted from one venue to another along the broad walkway between the exhibits in EPCOT Center. Burke was always beside her, matching his pace to hers.

"No, I think we'll skip Mexico until lunch time," Edna was planning. "We haven't seen the Norwegian pavilion."

"Why don't you folks go along and we'll catch up to you?" Marti asked.

"Oh," Edna sighed. "You wanted to see the Mexican pavilion?"

"Well," Marti temporized.

"She wanted to take that long dark boat ride," Burke teased. "Rio del Tiempo."

Walt was consulting his guide pamphlet. "Let's meet between Germany and Italy in--about two hours."

"Shall we synchronize our watches?" Burke teased.

Walt and Edna strolled off at a fairly brisk pace, holding hands and looking with avid interest in everything around them.

Marti followed Burke to the ramp which led up to the Mexican pavilion, avoiding the long flight of stone steps into the pyramid-like building.

Burke took her arm, pausing to point out one of the brilliantly plumed parrots which perched overhead. Marti smiled up at him, realizing Burke tended to miss very little. She was liable to come away from this excursion with a stiff neck and very tired eyes.

Marti had always loved the recreated village square in the Mexican exhibit. She let her eyes get adjusted to the artificial evening light by looking at paper flowers. But Burke impatiently tugged her along to the ramp which led to the boat ride.

"You're serious about this, aren't you?" she asked. "I'd think it was a little tame for you."

"Hey, any time I get to take a pretty girl on a moonlit ride, I jump at the chance."

The line was not long, and they approached the boats at a pace just slightly slower than Marti's normal gait. Burke got into the boat first and reached up to lift her in after him. He left his arm around her shoulders as their boat followed the others on the ride.

Marti barely remembered anything of the ride later, only that it seemed to have an oddly equalizing effect on her feelings about Burke. She hadn't thought of him as overbearing or arrogant, but for a few moments, he seemed more approachable than he had ever been before.

"We need straw hats, don't you think?" Burke asked as they returned to the village of pushcarts and small shops.

"What?" Marti asked, her thoughts far away.

"Straw hats. You don't want to get too much sun." Burke picked up a broad-brimmed hat and plopped it on Marti's head. "Perfect!"

Marti laughed and looked around for a mirror. Not finding one close by, she looked back at Burke and laughed as he turned toward her. "You look like a villain! Try this one. Ah, I like that better."

"I'll take your word for it if you take my word that your hat is perfect for you. What? Don't you trust me?"

"All right," Marti agreed, starting to reach for her purse. But Burke caught her hand to stop her.

"I talked you into that," he pointed out. "I'll pay for it."

"Thank you," Marti said.

Burke seemed content to move at Marti's slow pace, taking everything in and showing no impatience to walk any faster. They skipped the wild Maelstrom ride in Norway but spent a leisurely quarter hour in the shopping area of China before they took in the movie there.

"Is it time to meet your folks yet?" Marti asked Burke as they came back out into the dazzling sunshine.

Burke consulted his watch. "It won't hurt them to wait a few minutes."

"We'd better hurry."

"Are you bored with my company?"

"I just don't want to give them a bad impression."

"You couldn't," Burke said taking her arm. "I don't think anyone could ever not like you."

Marti memorized those words, hoarding them against the time she needed their warmth in a difficult moment.

Edna and Marti found they had to rest frequently, and took every opportunity to find a bench, preferably in some shade. At the exhibit representing Morocco there was no shade, but an inviting fountain high enough so they could sit comfortably on the edge.

While Burke and Walt wandered off to study the tile work on the walls of the buildings and the stalls selling leather and brass, Edna and Marti had time to chat.

"How are you faring?" Edna asked, mild concern in her voice.

"Pretty well," Marti told her. "And you?"

Edna grinned. "So long as we go slow, I'm fine. But there hardly seems a reason to hurry around here. There's always something to look at--like the flowers--and the other people."

Marti nodded. She loved to look at little children in their strollers or being carried on their daddies' shoulders. Sometimes her breath caught in her throat when she saw them.

Just now a Japanese couple pushed a stroller to the fountain and sat down nearby to amuse their baby and take his picture. Marti would have been all right had not Edna been so taken with the child, saying a few words to him in Japanese and making the couple giggle.

"You know so many things!" Marti exclaimed in amazement. \ "Blame it on an insatiable curiosity!" Edna laughed. "Every time one of the children had a passion, I got involved in it. Stan was the one who was good at languages. He had to learn Japanese, then he had to teach us at the dinner table! That's just the way it was. Dianne is the artist of the family, and Burke the mathematician and scientist. The poor grandchildren will have a lot to live up to."

"Do you have grandchildren?"

"Dianne and Stan are both married and have one child, and Preston has a child too. Preston and Penny are like son and daughter to us, since they were a block away from us and are so close to our three in age."

"That's nice," Marti said. "You might say I was an only child. I have two half-brothers, but I've only met one, the one who came down to help me when my parents died. I know almost nothing about him except that he's a lawyer and isn't married."

"Well, have you girls rested enough?" Walt asked, coming toward them carrying a shopping bag.

"What's in that?" Edna asked immediately.

"Never mind," Walt answered. "Come on. Next is France and I have a craving for an eclair."

"You'll get fat!" Edna chided, getting to her feet and straightening her walking shorts.

"Now I know where Burke gets his appetite for pastries!" Marti teased.

Marti was acutely aware of Burke's presence beside her, whether he took her arm while they walked through a crowd or strolled with his hands in his pockets, talking to his parents. It seemed that they were connected by some invisible thread which he had no intention to sever.

They finished the tour of the countries and Marti had enough energy left to look at a couple science exhibits.

When they were having their dinner, it was decided that they should stay for the fireworks that ended the day at an early spring dusk.

When Burke helped Marti back into the van, she choose to sit in the back with Edna and after a few moments on the highway, lost her battle to stay awake.

"Hey, sleepy-head." Burke roused Marti gently when they reached home. "Do you need me to carry you into the house?"

"Of course not," Marti answered, flexing her back. "There's nothing wrong with me fifteen minutes in the spa won't fix."

"I'm with you," Edna agreed, collecting her parcels from the floor of the van and sauntering off toward the house.

Where does she get her energy? Marti marveled, calling her stiffened muscles into action.

A few minutes later, Marti lowered herself into the spa and reached for the glass of iced tea Edna had left on the deck. Her sigh expressed her fatigue, her relief and her appreciation.

"Are you all right?" Edna asked solicitously from her seat in the spa. "We didn't wear you out too much, did we?"

"Of course not," Marti replied, leaning back into the bubbling water and closing her eyes.

"She wouldn't tell you if you had," Burke said from the door which led from his bedroom onto the patio.

Marti glanced up and wished immediately that she hadn't. He was wearing his swimming briefs and had slung a towel around his neck. He walked toward the spa with the assured gait of an athlete. Familiarity had not taken the edge off the reaction she had to seeing him this way.

"You don't mind if I join you, do you?" he asked, sitting down on the edge of the spa and swinging his feet into the water. "Ha! So this is what happened to the last of the tea!"

"There was some left when I poured this," Edna observed.

"Dad probably took it," Burke guessed, then laughed and shook his head. "He's commandeered my drawing board to sketch out some idea he came up with."

"I'll go make more tea--" Edna offered, but Burke reached instead for Marti's glass.

"We can share, huh, Marti?" he asked.

"Sure. You know what I forgot in all this excitement? I was supposed to take the dolls over to the group home today," she told him. "Can you take me over tomorrow?"

"Do you still have a driver's license?"

Marti nodded.

"Then you can take the 'Vette and go by yourself."

"Burke, I haven't driven in nearly two years. I don't think I'm confident enough in my reaction time to take the wheel of your Corvette!"

"Tell you what. I'll take you out first thing in the morning and show you how to drive the 'Vette, then you can use it whenever you need to."

"Notice that he did not say 'whenever you want to'?" Edna pointed out, then laughed.

"I did notice that," Marti agreed, smiling at his mother with new understanding. "Don't worry. In a few months, I'll be able to get my own car and the 'Vette will be safe."

Edna motioned toward a bag from Disney World that lay near Marti on the decking around the spa. "That's for you," she told Marti. "Burke said you admired the homespun robes in the Mexican exhibit, so we went back and got one for you."

"You shouldn't have!" Marti said, peeking into the bag.

"Nonsense! We've intruded on your space. Use and enjoy!"

"I will," Marti assured her, feeling the fabric with her fingertips. "I surely will."

The next morning, Marti tossed the bag of finished dolls into the space behind the seats and settled behind the wheel with Burke in the passenger seat. The apprehension she'd felt since Burke proposed this idea slowly evaporated as she got the feel of the controls. She quickly learned that her foot still moved from accelerator to brake without effort or hesitation.

After one turn around the neighborhood, Burke said, "All right, let's go over to the group home. I'll co-pilot."

"Roger!" Marti agreed, raising her chin into the air.

Marti declined accompanying Burke and his family to the airport. She cited the long walk from parking lot to boarding gate and the possibility of encountering crowds of people as her reasons.

Edna Hildebrand took the lead in not pressing the issue. Burke would have been surprised had Edna not immediately made her point clear until the van reached the main street.

"Burke, you're in danger of losing that lovely young woman," she warned, leaning from the passenger seat.

"I know, Mom," he agreed, not taking his eyes off the road ahead.

"I can't see why you haven't at least asked her to marry you," Edna pressed.

"Edna!" his father cut in.

"Is there some reason---"

"Mother! If I thought she'd marry me, I'd ask her. But you know how I am about rejection."

"Who says she'd reject you?" Edna demanded.

"I know her. She feels inadequate at the moment."

"And is she?" Edna asked.

"I'm not going to answer that."

"You're not sleeping together. Is that why?"

"How do you know?" Burke challenged.

"Her pain pills," Edna entered as evidence. "She has a little pillbox in her purse and a bottle in the medicine cabinet in what you both call 'her' bathroom. And there's another pillbox by her bed. But there are no pain pills in your room. Nor is there any indication that you use her room at all."

"And how, 'Miss Marple,' do you come to that conclusion?" Burke asked, feeling a blush rise on his cheeks.

"I'm a very light sleeper, son, as you well know."

"Curses--foiled again! Shame of shames, we're not sleeping together, never have and perhaps never will," Burke confessed heatedly. "Frankly, I'm ashamed that you think we should be, after all the lectures I got before I left home."

"There are extenuating circumstances..."

"Yes! Marti's in almost constant physical discomfort, not to mention the emotional and psychological pain she has been through. It's more important that I help her over the hard places than consider my own so-called needs. Our arrangement is only temporary."

"About as temporary as the Grand Canyon!"

"Mom, what's the point!"

"She's in love with you--you're in love with her," Edna stated. "You ought to do something about it, even if it has to be a companionate marriage."

"I don't think she'd go for that."

"What about you?"

"I haven't given it any thought."

Edna sighed. "It's a waste of a perfectly good emotional involvement."

Marti sighed for the hundredth time that evening. She leaned her head back against the rim of the spa, lulled by the warmth and action of the swirling water. She told herself she should get out soon or she'd fall asleep, but she felt too lazy to even lift a hand to turn off the water jets.

Suddenly the motor stopped and, without looking, she reached for the control to see what had happened. She encountered a hand and, looking up, discovered it was attached to Burke.

"Hi," he said, sitting down on the deck. "How long have you been in there?"

"Long enough," she replied, sitting upright. "Did your folks get off all right?"

Burke shrugged. "Yes, I guess so. Look, we've got to talk." He picked up her robe and held it by the shoulders, wrapping it around her as she got out of the water.

"We talk a lot," Marti teased, slipping her arms into the sleeves and then cinching the belt around her waist.

"Mom discovered a deep, dark secret," he told her.

"Which one?"

"That we're living together but not sleeping together."

"I already knew that one," Marti teased. "I thought you did, too."

Burke turned her toward him and looked down at her seriously. "She thinks it's a waste of a perfectly good emotional involvement," Burke quoted. "According to her, we're in love with each other."

"With each other," Marti asked, her breathing suddenly difficult. "No--I didn't know that one. Interesting."

"Is it true?" Burke asked.

"I can only answer for half of the people involved."

He let her go and stood staring at her. "How the hell did this happen? I thought you'd decided I wasn't worth getting excited about."

She raised an eyebrow, then turned away to pick up her tea glass. "Once in a while, we have to be realistic."

"About what?"

"Limitations," she responded, in a tone that told him of agonized contemplation and toughened resolve.

"What limitations?" he asked.

"Mine, to be specific."

"Marti!"

"Sure, I've spent the last two months telling you how normal I am. Well, when it comes to--to--to this, I'd just --fail."

"No, darling." He reached out to her, wanting to clasp her to him, to wipe the frustration from her face.

She tried to get away from him. "Let's not give the neighbors too much of a show, huh?"

He pulled her toward the family room and slid the door closed after them.

"Now, what on earth do you mean?" Burke asked.

"What do you think?" Marti nearly shouted. "You deserve more than part of a wife. I'm not able to be--everything you need. You're too good and kind to back off when things go bad. You'd allow yourself to be trapped into an empty marriage that wouldn't fulfill your needs."

She sank to the arm of a nearby chair. "What if this is as good as I get, Burke?" she asked. "I can't do housework. I can't stand up alone for any length of time. I--I doubt I'll be able to have a child. I can't think you'd ever settle for half a marriage--what might be even just a quarter of a marriage."

"Marti, we've never discussed---"

"I think I know what's involved here better than you do."

"Oh, you do, do you? You know how I feel? We've never discussed---"

"I'm a student of the human condition. I doubt you would be very happy with a marriage to me when every time you turn around, you'll be seeing women who are much more able than I am."

"Able, perhaps," Burke argued. "But not as brave or as intelligent as you. Damn it! There aren't words for the qualities I admire in you. Maybe that's all to the good. If I could categorize and compartmentalize everything about you, there wouldn't be anything left to surprise me tomorrow and the next day--which you always seem to be doing. Marti, I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Marti stared at him for a long moment. He hadn't used the word she wanted to hear--the M-word--marriage.

He obviously wasn't as serious about their relationship as she would have liked him to be. If he wasn't ready to commit to a marriage, then it was just as well that she was planning to be off on her own in a few months.

The end of June. She'd give herself that long.

"Burke--"

He put his arms around her and gently raised her to her feet. His mouth lowered onto hers with a sweet and gentle deliberateness.

She had expected more crushing power in his embrace, more fire in his kiss. She realized his restraint was in deference to what he perceived her physical condition to be.

Didn't he know that what she wanted transcended what he thought she could endure?

Ending his kiss, Burke held her to his chest, sensing, perhaps, the troubled thoughts going through Marti's mind.

"Sometimes things just aren't to be, are they?" Burke asked.

Marti looked up at him, for once not able to read what he was thinking from the clear blue of his eyes.

"No," she replied. "Sometimes nothing turns out right."

It was not that Marti took an instant disliking to Howard Thompson, the Parmenter sales representative who reported the next morning. It was just that the slick, sophisticated gentleman seemed so artificial and-well --rather spoiled.

Thompson disdained the corner of the office trailer that Marti was prepared to give him, wanting instead her windowed area. The tension rose until Burke intervened and pointed out the telephone lines were already set and the situation would be temporary, anyway. As soon as the first office building was finished, they would occupy a suite in it and Mr. Thompson could have his pick of windows.

Then Thompson complained that the cords on his television and VCR did not reach the electrical outlet if they were arranged on the shelves near his desk. Burke glibly mentioned there was a hardware store a few blocks away, and a surge protector wouldn't be a bad idea.

Burke bent low over Marti's desk on his way out the door for his early inspection tour. "One false move out of this character, you beep me," he grumbled, patting the beeper clipped to his belt. His expression was deathly serious.

Anything to get him to remember to carry the hated beeper! Marti thought, nodding.

Burke slammed out of the office and met Len Lonergan by his assistant's pickup truck.

"I see you've met the new guy," Len observed, a playful glint in his eye. "Those types are slick as frog's bellies."

"Well put," Burke groused, swinging up into Len's truck for their morning rounds of the development. "If he so much as--"

It was as though Len could read his mind as he threw the truck into gear. "I think Marti can take care of herself," he observed calmly. "If it comes to that, she has her cane."

Burke laughed in spite of himself. "It's hard to know, though, how much help she needs." Burke sighed, resting his elbow on the sill of the open window as the truck bounded over the rutted ground. "I thought this last weekend would have been beyond her limit. My folks took us over to EPCOT."

"Hmm! How did it go?"

"All right, I guess."

Len had known, of course, about his parents visiting him. And his reaction to the knowledge that Marti was living in Burke's house had been unmistakable. The less said about all this the better, Burke concluded.

"We'll have to stake Building A's foundation later this morning," Burke said as they neared the area where the earth was being prepared for a parking lot. "The surveyors are busy with something else for a few hours."

"Can we still be ready for the rough plumbing by noon?" Len asked.

"Yup!" Burke answered, opening the door before the truck had come to a full stop. "We may have to get our hands dirty. How are you at driving nails?"

"As good as I have to be," Len responded, reaching for his hard hat.

"That's about as good as anyone needs to be about anything," Burke declared.

He looked out over the land, the fringe of the palms against the clear blue morning sky. Too bad he and Marti couldn't reach an agreement on how much she had to do for herself.

Work was the answer. Burke was glad that this morning was going to require both mental and physical effort to keep his mind off Marti and the new man in the office. Not that there was any reason to connect the two.

Every time he relaxed his grip on the figures and angles involved in laying out the plans for Building A, his mind wandered back to the night before.

He thought again of holding Marti in his arms and stopping just short of telling her just how much he loved her. How much his life was tangled in her presence!

God, she was so fragile--physically and emotionally. He'd never forgive himself if her hurt her in any way. He loved her much too much.

His booted foot came down hard on the bracing of a corner in the frame he was preparing, splintering the edge of the board.

Fine! If he didn't soon get a grip on himself, he wasn't going to be much use to anyone.

Later that week, Marti borrowed the Corvette to keep a late-afternoon appointment with Elizabeth McAffee, her orthopedist. But only a few minutes into the discussion, the person Marti expected to have the answers to all her questions was called to an emergency.

Disappointed, Marti started for home. Then she spotted a drop-in hair salon and pulled into the parking lot. She'd been intending to have her long light brown hair cut anyway. Since she hadn't given Burke a reason for borrowing the car--and he hadn't demanded any--she'd have a visible result that would stop any questions.

As it happened, she didn't have to say a word when she got home.

Burke lowered his reading glasses, tilted his head, then placed his hand on her shoulder and turned her slightly to see the back of her head.

"Well, it was worth having to send my own daily report, huh?" he asked.

"Do you like it?" she asked, a touch of uncertainty in her voice.

"Yeah, I really do," he said, then went back to reading an engineering journal.

The work on the development went quickly. Burke pushed to get as much done as possible before the summer rains would start in late May or early June.

Marti was surprised at how rapidly Building A took shape, its single-story structure sprawling around the atrium. Then the tile roof and stucco walls were completed before the interior finishing was done. The final details were held until last to accommodate the specific firm that would lease each space.

Thompson, the sales representative, seemed to prefer working outside the office. He showed up at about eight-thirty to organize his day and didn't put in an appearance again unless he brought a client to tour the site.

Burke seemed to approve the arrangement as it stood, and made himself available in the office to answer questions when Thompson was there. This little game amused Len Lonergan no end; he'd merely wink at Marti and head out for the latest crisis-point on the site.

As much as her work occupied Marti during her hours at the office, it was the last thing on her mind on weekends. This particular weekend was the Carnival at the group home. She was surprised when Burke took for granted that he would accompany her, without the slightest invitation from her.

It took a few glances in his direction as he drove the Corvette through the sparse Sunday morning traffic for her to realize why his generosity and readiness to do anything for her was constantly a surprise.

For all that she loved her own father, she had to face the truth that he was decidedly selfish and overbearing. His physical condition--he was getting on in years during her teen years--and his own interests dictated her mother's entire life. He may have taken some pleasure in having to be begged to go somewhere that his wife wanted to go. He did things on condition that he had nothing else to distract him more when the time came.

In a flash of comprehension, Marti understood how much energy she and her mother expended tiptoeing around her father's ego in his later years.

Such was not the case with Burke. If she had three things on the list to get from the supermarket, he would offer to take her there. If there were so many things he was afraid she would get too tired or have difficulty carrying them, he'd insist. He insisted on pushing the grocery cart until he noticed that Marti enjoyed using the cart as a walker and got some good from the exercise.

At first, Marti had felt he was being intrusive; now she understood that he was being true to his nature of being sensitive and thoughtful. It had been unfair of her to fault him for being himself.

He took her arm as they walked slowly around the lawn of the group home to visit the various booths. It was just a friendly protective gesture, not the possessiveness which would have raised Marti's hackles before she had her flash of insight.

Carolyn looked up from a row of stuffed dolls she was realigning after someone had bought one. "Marti!" she exclaimed, her round face lighting. "I almost didn't recognize you! What--you had your hair cut?"

Marti grinned. "Do you like it?"

"Mm! It was about time."

"How are the dolls going?" Marti asked, picking up one with a particularly pretty calico dress.

"It's early yet," Carolyn said with a shrug. "Most people are getting something to eat or drink right now."

"Good," Burke observed, reaching for his wallet. "We can get ours before they're too picked over. Mom wants me to buy three."

"Whatever for?" Marti asked.

"For the children--" he explained, using the term Edna used to refer to not only her two grandchildren, but to include her grandniece.

"But they're not all girls--"

Burke smirked down at her. "She's not above giving a boy a doll or a girl a truck. You have to understand her."

"Do you?" Marti asked, then giggled.

"Part of the time." He took the doll that Marti had first touched, then debated silently about the others.

Amused by his diligent consideration of something so trivial, Marti didn't notice Katherine Nelson and Elizabeth McAffee approaching until Katherine called her name.

"Getting out of this place seems to have agreed with you," Katherine appraised, studying Marti's hair and face.

"Thank you," Marti said. "Burke, you remember Katherine? And this is my orthopedist, Dr. Elizabeth McAffee."

Burke shifted the bag in his hand to shake Elizabeth's hand. "Great to meet you, doctor."

"Marti, while Carolyn isn't busy, can we pick your brains about something that's come up with the answering service?" Katherine asked.

"Go ahead," Burke urged. "Carolyn told me there's a booth further on where they are selling little wooden cars."

"I'll catch up to you later, then," Marti promised.

Burke moved away, catching up to Elizabeth in a few strides. "Could we talk, Doctor McAffee?" he asked.

"Certainly," she agreed, looping a wave of her silver-streaked blond hair back over her ear.

"About Marti--" he said.

"Ah! Look, maybe we ought to go into Katherine's office."

"That might be best," Burke agreed, motioning for her to take the lead into the building.

"Now, what can I tell you?" Elizabeth asked, when they had entered the cool quietness of the group home's front corridor.

"Well, I feel sort of--guilty--" he started. "The other day I had to sit down at Marti's desk and I saw that she had made a note that she had an appointment with you."

"Um-hum."

"Is something wrong?" he asked anxiously.

"Quite the contrary!" Elizabeth said. She tried the door to Katherine's office, and finding it unlocked, led him inside. "She's making great progress. She's one of the most conscientious and--I guess the word is coachable--patients I've ever had. Of course, that's due to her athletic background."

He stared back at Elizabeth. "Athletic background?"

"She hasn't told you?" Elizabeth asked. "No, I suppose she wouldn't. She was quite the softball player and long distance runner. It stood her in good stead for the ordeal she went through. Her basic physical condition when she was hurt was very good and she has the knowledge of her body, the concentration, that type of thing."

Burke gripped the edge of Katherine's desk for support. "So--" he breathed, trying to assimilate the information.

"Primarily, she came to ask me some questions," Elizabeth said, carrying the conversation until he regained some of his composure. "I'm afraid I took them as rhetorical rather than substantive. We were interrupted before we were finished."

"Can you tell me--No! I don't suppose you can without violating confidentiality."

Elizabeth lowered herself into Katherine's swivel chair and stroked her chin for a moment. "Say a young woman with Marti's injuries was recovering quite nicely and thinking about her life in years to come. Marriage, perhaps, and having a child."

Burke's heart thudded once in his chest and he lowered himself into a nearby chair. All he could do was nod his head.

"Had I understood we weren't speaking hypothetically, I'd have told a patient such things are possible, but not necessarily in the common, normal forms. A physical relationship." Elizabeth frowned and became pensive. "Possibly but--"

She took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. "It would take some intelligence, creativity--and restraint. Do you understand?"

"The caution, yes, the--method, shall we say--" he shook his head.

She studied him for a long moment. "Might I ask-your background?"

"I'm an engineer," he said. "Construction."

"Then I have no doubt you can solve the problem, given time and motivation. As to--a child. There's no physical reason that conception could not occur, but it would be a mistake immediately."

She straightened her head and laughed ironically. "I'm afraid that's exactly where we were when the phone rang. I didn't have a chance to tell Marti that, from what I've seen of her progress, it might be possible later on. In--shall we say--three or four years, leaving a window of perhaps four years afterward. A child. But as soon as she gained weight--from about the fifth month onward, it would mean almost certain constant bedrest. It would take a great deal of patience. And lifting and carrying a toddler--" She spread her hands. "It would be unthinkable for her to try to take care of a child without a nanny."

Burke sat back in his chair and lifted one ankle to the other knee. "What else?"

"Possible early aging," Elizabeth said, then shrugged. "But that can happen with any injury as extensive as hers."

"Is that all?" Burke asked. "I don't see anything that can't be handled."

"Whoa! Do you understand, really understand--"

Burke straightened his shoulders and got to his feet. "I love Marti," he said simply. "Thank you, Doctor McAffee. You've been very helpful."

When he went to look for Marti, he found she hadn't moved from the doll booth, deep in conversation with Carolyn and Bunni. He looked at her with new wonder and understanding. When they moved on to the refreshment stand, he restrained himself from taking her arm.

"What? Didn't they have any toy trucks?" Marti asked him, excusing herself from her friends and strolling along with him to a refreshment stand.

"I--ah--got sidetracked," Burke told her, but pointedly went no further in his explanation.

Marti would feel uncomfortable, at least, if she knew he'd had such a thorough discussion of her condition with Elizabeth McAffee. He was not so sure that Elizabeth had not stretched the bounds of her ethics to be so forthright with him.

Besides, she had left him with a puzzle that he'd have to solve before he discussed anything so serious with Marti. So serious as--the M-word.

Marti had been cautious with her paychecks, salting money away as best she could, keeping her eyes open for an apartment she could afford. Then she had gotten a check from Carl, representing the residue of her living expenses allowance for the first quarter of the year.

It was a surprising sum on money. Marti had contemplated the figure on the check long and hard before she had taken the check to the bank and opened a savings account with it.

She wondered at Carl's perception of money, if he thought the amount was not very significant. Then, too, she had been living on scraps since the accident. Her needs had been small, her wants generally taken care of.

Now she saw a world opening up for her, a world she was ready to grasp with both hands and shake for all it was worth.

In the quiet of the evening, Marti rummaged through the bulky Sunday paper for the classified ads. She selected the used auto section and retreated to the corner of the couch in the family room.

Burke came from his study to the kitchen to find a snack, and Marti waylaid him with a question.

"What does 'triple black' mean?" she asked, lowering the corner of the paper.

"In reference to what?" Burke countered, straightening from his perusal of the fruit bin in the refrigerator.

"A car," she clarified, her tone suggesting that she was disappointed that he didn't know immediately what she was talking about.

"A car? Oh--black exterior, black interior, and black tinted windows," Burke responded.

"Oooh, neat! A bit pricey, though," she added.

"What make?"

"Porsche," Marti said nonchalantly.

The refrigerator door closed a bit more loudly than usual.

"I suggest you stick with something you can handle," Burke commented, polishing a large apple on the front of his white T-shirt.

Marti was momentarily distracted by the way the action had hiked the shirt to reveal a bit of Burke's tanned midsection. Wise advice, she thought.

Burke came to where Marti was sitting and wrested the paper from her hands.

"Let's see here," he said, adjusting the pages so he could read it without his reading glasses.

"Well, you know, you get what you pay for," Marti pronounced, exhausting her store of knowledge on the topic of buying a used car.

In his superior knowledge, Burke grumbled, "That depends."

So, it's going to be one of those discussions, Marti sighed inwardly, and was tempted to grab the paper back.

"Here's a nice little car--" Burke proposed, and read the ad.

"Sounds too small and cramped," Marti countered. "I need the right kind of seat."

"You didn't have any trouble with the Corvette, did you?" he asked.

"No," Marti conceded.

"You know you can use it whenever you need to," Burke reminded her, still scanning the ads.

"But I need a car of my own, or I can't get a place of my own."

The paper crackled as Burke lowered it to his lap.

"You don't need to leave here," he stated firmly. "We're both very comfortable with things the way they are. You're not in my way; I try not to be in yours. You can stay here as long as you want. You know how few decent places there are around here for a person with your particular needs, especially if you consider security."

"Burke, I would like to stay here forever, but the longer I do, the harder it's going to be for me to leave. We're going to get too attached to each other, and even if it's for our own good, we're going to have an even harder time--"

Burke put the paper aside on the coffee table and turned toward her, his eyes darkly serious. "You don't ever have to leave, Marti. You know that I love you, and you love me."

She interrupted him with an upraised hand. "Burke, I love you too much to disappoint you. You need someone who can--do everything you like to do, who can keep house and--have babies and--"

Her voice caught in her throat and, unable to go on, she got to her feet and went to her room.

Burke sat for a long moment, staring after her, then out into the velvet night beyond the windows. He could have said something--should have said something. But what?

Something might have tipped her to the conversation he'd had with Elizabeth McAffee before he'd been able to sift through everything and worked out the problems.

No. He was better off sitting here in the silence, licking fresh wounds, than trying to maneuver through a minefield of questions for which he had not yet figured out the answers.

It was better to let Marti think she was going to leave, let her look for an apartment and a car, and know in his heart he was never going to let her go.

That Thursday afternoon, Burke and Len had just gotten back from lunch. Burke had left Marti's salad and sandwich on her desk for her and had gone to tour the grounds while the excavating and paving crews were on their break. It was one of the few times the area was quiet enough for them to go over plans onsite and have a decent exchange of ideas.

Marti could barely hear the roar of one engine off in the distance. It was not unusual for a worker to stay on the site a few minutes after the others to finish up a phase of the work.

So far, there had been no rain to speak of. The contractor hired for the excavating was anxious to get as much work done as possible before the summer rains started.

She didn't even notice that the engine had stopped abruptly until the monitor of the field phone crackled.

"Len to base! We've got a cave-in, Marti!" Len's voice came, urgent and tight. "Call the excavation contractor and see if he can round up his men from wherever they're having their lunch."

Then Burke's voice broke in.

"Marti! We need the crane operator from the construction site at Building A to bring his crane back to the warehouse site. Then I want you to bring the van out here and set up a field office. So far, we've got two men involved but neither seems hurt. I'd like you to call an Emergency Medical Service to stand-by in case we need them, but there's no need for them to roll. Got all that, Marti?"

"Contractor. Crane. EMS. Field office. Anything else?" Marti asked, her throat already getting dry.

"You've got it, Marti. Standing by."

"Standing by," Len inserted.

Marti reached the office of the contractor much more easily than she reached the crew on Building A. By the time she'd called the EMS and started down the ramp to the van, she saw the crane boom being lowered into transport position.

Gritting her teeth, she started the van with the set of keys kept in the office. She followed the best part of the access road back to the warehouse site, now just a huge hole in the sand and clay.

Big Tilda, the largest piece of equipment on the site, was stranded at an odd pitch in the middle of the excavation. Her driver sat helplessly at the controls.

Another man must have been waiting to go to lunch with him and had tried to go to his aid when he saw the cave-in start. He was stranded in loose ground halfway between the embankment and the yellow mechanical monster.

Marti got as close as she dared with the van, already monitoring the field phone's speaker, mounted on the dash.

Not far away, Burke was motioning the crane into position with precise waves of his arm.

"Got the two-by-tens," Len's voice crackled over the speaker.

"Good. Any sign of the crew coming back?"

"No," Len responded.

"Marti? Did you get hold of their boss?"

"I sure did," she answered. "They'll probably be here in a few minutes."

"When they show up, tell them to get some cables on that thing so we can stabilize it before we try to get the driver off."

Marti did not know what was more horrifying to watch, the earth slowly disappearing under the earth-mover or Burke motioning for the crane operator to lower the big hook on the end on his cable for Burke to mount.

In a moment which was much too hair-raising for Marti to watch, yet too fascinating for her to ignore, the crane swung Burke over to Len's truck. Burke picked up a long thin plank of lumber, then continued to swing toward the man stranded between the bank and the widening hole.

Wisely, the man had lain flat on the ground, distributing his weight over as much area as possible.

Ever so carefully, Burke lowered the plank to him and he positioned it between himself and the bank, then got to his feet, as though he was riding a surf board.

Burke called something to the crane operator. He was returned to Len's truck for another plank, and the procedure was repeated.

Now the stranded man proceeded to move to the new plank and pick up the one behind to work his way toward solid ground.

Marti wiped sweat from her face with a towel Burke usually used to cover his steering wheel. She was glad Burke did not intend to make any more trips swinging on the end of the crane's line.

The excavating crew was returning in a cloud of dust. The foreman ignored her and went to Burke for his instructions.

Burke was temporarily on the ground, gesturing with his arms. Somehow he bumped his field phone and the switch went on.

"We'll need all three 'dozers on lines to stabilize Big Tilda," the foreman was saying. "But one of my guys left for a dentist appointment, and I was already a man short."

"We'll work something out," Burke grunted.

Another large chunk of earth slipped away from under the earth-mover.

The excavating crew helped their comrade his last few yards to the bank, someone running to fetch him a drink from the cask on the foreman's truck.

Burke motioned for the crane to lift him again and he swung over near the driver to ask him something.

"He needs fluids," Burke barked over the field phone. "Get him something substantial."

"I haven't touched my lunch, back in the office," Marti broke in. "He can have that."

"I'll get it after I get the cables," Len answered from God only knew where.

So they had to wait for cables, Marti thought, shifting uneasily in the seat of the van. Even with the windows open and the van positioned to catch the breeze, the noonday heat was stifling.

One of the men on the crew loped off toward a bulldozer, started it up then repeated the process with the other two machines. When the first one had warmed up sufficiently, he backed it up to the bank, lining it up with the rear of the earth-mover. While they waited for Len to bring the cables, the other two 'dozers were positioned on either side of the first.

When Len arrived with the cables, the men standing around sprung into action. Marti almost wished they hadn't, because what they were doing involved Burke taking the ends of the cables to attach them to the earth-mover.

As Burke started another precarious journey out to the center of the excavation-gone-mad, Marti bit her lower lip and prayed.

The cables were all joined to one hook, which needed only to be attached to the earth-mover, but somehow the process took an agonizingly long time.

At last Burke was hauled away from the mired machine. Just a short way from the bank of the pit, Burke's hold on the thick metal cable slipped. He let go of the line and kicked the hook away, falling from sight into the pit.

Marti's heart stopped beating. Oh, no, she thought. The terror she felt did not have any real expression. It was not based on consequences. She held her breath.

The men who had been standing at the edge of the pit scrambled after him, linking arms to help pull him to the bank. Dusty and feisty, he brushed himself off to carry on with the rescue.

By that time, the crew had loaded the lunch for the driver into a tool box and were preparing to send it out on an unaccompanied flight.

Burke strode purposefully over to the van, grime smearing his face and previously spotless knit shirt. Marti swung the door of the van open and was rewarded by a crosscurrent of breeze in the hot compartment.

Reaching into the van as he mounted the running board, Burke switched off the field phone. "We've got more here than what it looks like, Marti. You just saved that man's life."

"What do you mean?"

"Your lunch," Burke told her, his chest heaving with each breath. "He's a borderline diabetic and has never told his foreman about it. Not only was he getting dehydrated, he felt faint. Now, get on the cellular phone and tell the EMS to roll. Warn them about his condition. I'm hoping to get him off of there in a few minutes. Right now, we're all taking a breather while he gets some fluids."

There was a roar from the men ringing the site as the earth-mover heaved further onto its side.

Glancing quickly around to survey the site, Burke turned on the switch of the field phone. "We're going to need another line on this side to right that thing," he barked. "Any suggestions?"

"I've got the cable," Len came back.

"The only piece of machinery I have is Babycakes," the foreman yelled, "but I don't have a driver."

"It'll have to do," Burke said, and turned the field phone off again. "Marti, roll the EMS and stand by for your debut on the bulldozer."

Marti had already tapped out the 911 and had her finger poised over the send button. "Are you sure?"

"What choice do I have?" he asked, lowering himself to the ground.

"This is Tanglewood Development," Marti told the unit she reached. "We need you to roll a unit over here. The subject involved informs us he's a diabetic. We've given him some fluids and a little lunch, but he's been out in this sun all morning. So far, we don't think he's injured, but we are concerned."

"We've had our unit at your entrance for the last few minutes. And--they say they're rolling now, ma'am. They're on the way."

Marti realized the van was now in the way, so she moved it to solid ground in the shade of some scrub oaks. Her heart thudding with each step, she hurried back over the uneven ground to the little bulldozer as fast as she could, with the aid of her cane.

"Do you know how to work this?" the man who had started it asked.

"Belle gave me a lesson one day," she said, laying her cane on the floor of the cab. She hoped the bad memories she had of that afternoon wouldn't get into the way.

"Okay," he said, hoisting her into the seat. "Let me refresh your memory. You only need to go straight forward."

With work-roughed hands, he pointed out the controls. "Here's your motor speed, your decelerator and that's the brake. Piece of cake."

"Easy for you to say," Marti muttered, grimly.

Len came back to her when the other man had gone to mount one of the other bulldozers.

"I'll be your eyes," he offered. "You just handle the controls. All right, Burke's got the cable secured to the canopy. Wait until he's clear."

Marti flexed her hands on the control sticks in front of her and resisted the urge to look back over her shoulder at Burke. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the flashing lights of the rescue truck as it rolled cautiously onto the site.

"He's clear!" Len yelled and started his arm swinging forward. "Ease forward just a little--a little more--it's comin'. A little more. Hold! Hold it there just a moment. They'll see if they can get the driver off now."

Marti didn't want to look, but she watched as Burke swung out to the earth-mover once more, then landed carefully on its cab. He seemed to be talking things over with the driver at some length.

Marti could only guess at how Burke's calming manner was smoothing out any questions the driver had about how he was going to get out of his predicament.

At last, Burke slipped his foot into the hook at the end of the crane's steel line. He grasped the man around his chest and, embracing each other, they were raised from the earth-mover.

A deep-throated roar went up from the men standing at the edge of the pit as Burke and the driver moved closer to the bank and safety. The crane deposited them neatly a few yards from the rescue van.

The bulldozers at the other side of the pit began to move slowly to pull the earth-mover. Marti realized she had to turn her bulldozer and maintain pace with them in order to keep the canopy of the earth-mover from being damaged.

It took only a moment for her to think through and solve her problem, without the advice of Len. He had run off to see what Burke needed from him next.

At last the lead bulldozer halted and the others came to a stop. Marti shifted the machine into neutral and leaned back in the seat, sweaty and exhausted.

Everyone on the worksite seemed to be centering attention on the rescued driver and Burke.

Marti groped for her cane, then searched the area for it. Looking back over the ground the bulldozer had covered, she spotted it lying splintered and crushed into the tracks of the bulldozer. Shaking her head, she sighed and got to her feet, using the controls and the frame of the canopy for support.

She was tempted to jump down from the bulldozer to the ground, but it was a bit too much to expect from herself. So she turned and lowered herself first to the upper edge of the track, then to the frame and lastly to the ground.

The van seemed a long way away now, especially over the rough ground and without a cane to help her. Marti started in that direction, putting one foot ahead of the other in slow deliberate strides.

In a few yards, her thigh muscles began to protest, then the burning sensation spread to her lower legs.

Recognizing the pain from her days of running distances, she slowed her steps and concentrated on putting one foot ahead of the other. She had to watch the ground so that she would not trip in a rut and fall. Yet every few steps she looked up to be certain she was on course. She took physical inventory to monitor what was still working.

She didn't think she would ever make it to her objective. But with determination, she reached the van and stood gasping in its shade for a moment before getting in.

Hoisting herself into the drivers seat finally, Marti started the motor and immediately switched on the air conditioning. She mopped her face and arms with the towel as she waited for the cooler air to circulate.

Then she drove back to the office trailer.

There was no time to rest now. She had an afternoon report to fax to Joe, and this one was going to be a doosey!

Burke had long ago learned the wisdom of keeping a spare shirt or two in the bottom drawer of his desk. With gritty sand and clay digging into his pores, he wished he had a change of clothes and a towel to use the shower in the washroom adjoining his office. As it was, the shower stall was being used to store surveying equipment.

He did the best he could to clean up and then pulled on a blue chambray shirt which had seen better days. It was too tight in the shoulders to be buttoned more than the bottom three buttons.

He had not even gotten back to his swivel chair when his phone made its noise, not a ringing really, more like an enraged cricket.

"Hildebrand here," Burke said, sitting on the corner of his desk.

"Are you all right?" Joe Parmeter demanded.

"Ah! Marti's sent you her report already!"

"Are you all right?" Joe repeated.

"Fine!" Burke said with a laugh. "I was about to think this was going to be a boring job, Joe. It was going too smoothly."

Joe didn't seem to appreciate his attempt at wit. "How the heck could that happen? The ground soundings seemed to indicate that that land could support the warehouse."

"When were the soundings taken?" Burke asked.

Joe paused and Burke could hear him shuffling papers. "Less than a year ago," he said at last. "I'm going to have to look into this. We may have to take new soundings. I'll be down tomorrow."

"Fine."

"How's Marti?" Joe's voice sounded grave.

"I haven't had a chance to talk to her because she was busy when I came back into the office. She had to take command of a small bulldozer. She did a good job, too."

"And Len?"

"He's checking with the county engineer on some details."

"Good. I'll see you all tomorrow."

Burke replaced the receiver and sank into his chair just as Len Lonergan strode into the office and dumped his clipboard on the desk in front of him.

"We've got problems," Len told him, standing with his hands on his hips. "That sinkhole doesn't show any signs of stabilizing by itself. It just keeps getting bigger."

"Joe will be here tomorrow," Burke informed him, pushing his chair over to his drawingboard and shuffling through rolls of plans. "Now--if this hole is going to be here, can we move the retention pond here and put something else where the pond was supposed to be? Maybe not the warehouse, but--"

"You'd better come to a full stop," Len advised, making a move to take the plans away from him. "You spent two hours out there in the worst heat of the day. You can't expect to just dive into a major redrafting of the whole development without some rest. Besides, we're going to have to meet with Joe and the county engineer before anything is definite."

Burke made a face at him. "Yeah, maybe I am going on adrenaline," he confessed.

"It's not too early to call it quits on the day," Len said. "The excavating crew has shut down, and the builders on the office building can get along without us. I just took a look at Marti and she doesn't look good at all."

"God, that's right! She didn't have any lunch!"

"I have an idea. I'll drive you over to your place in the van and have Gloria come pick me up over there."

"We can order in pizza," Burke mused.

Marti was sitting at her desk staring into space when they went to the outer office.

"Come on, Marti," Burke said. "Let's go home."

"Huh?" she asked, looking up at him, clearly not comprehending.

"You need something to eat and a dip in the pool."

"Huh?" she repeated.

"Worse than I thought," Len muttered under his breath.

Alarmed, Burke reached for her wrist to check her pulse, then touched her cheek. "Come on, Marti. Where's your cane?"

Her hand made an indefinite gesture toward the work site and then shrugged.

"I think it slipped off the 'dozer and she ran over it," Len said. "Anyway, I saw it crushed into the dirt out there."

Burke pushed her chair back from her desk, saying to Len, "Get the lights. I'll carry her out to the van."

After putting Marti in the van, he started back into the office to get the site plans, then thought better of it. Nothing could be done until tomorrow, anyway. Fatigue was beginning to get to him, and a tired mind made poor decisions.

"Here, drink this," Burke ordered, plunking a glass of iced tea in front of Marti. "Do I have to hold it for you?"

"No," Marti said, but she made no move to pick up the glass. Somehow, her arm and hand and fingers just refused to respond to her commands.

She closed her eyes but all she could see was the image of Burke falling from the line of the crane and her heart stopped all over again. She opened her eyes with a gasp.

"Gloria will be over when she gets off work," Len was saying in a low voice as he hung up the kitchen phone.

"Good," Burke said, sinking to the chair at the kitchen table across from Marti. "Marti, drink that tea. You need it. Then we'll get you something to eat. Come on, honey. For once, just do what you're told."

Marti wanted to get angry with him, but she couldn't find the strength.

Burke pushed himself up from the table and rummaged through the pantry for a plastic soda straw and put it into her tea. "There!" he said. "Will that make it easier?"

Marti hated straws. They reminded her of the hospital, especially the jointed straws. But she drank some of the tea anyway. It was slow to revive her, but the cold fluid soothed her mouth and throat.

When she could bear to look at Burke, he appeared haggard and concerned about her, almost as though he were angry at her. He seemed to be waiting for something, waiting for her to do something, and for the life of her, she could not imagine what it was.

Finally, obviously dissatisfied with his vigil, he got to his feet. "I've got to take a swim or something. Len, I've got an extra pair of trunks--"

"You don't have to ask twice," Len said, then drained the last of his second glass of tea.

"Come on, then. Marti, will you be all right?"

No! she wanted to shout.! Don't leave the room! Don't go in the pool. I don't want you out of my sight! Never!

But at last she nodded and he turned and left the kitchen.

Time seemed to stand still while she listened to Burke and Len, their voices muffled, and then the scrape of the patio doors in Burke's room as they went out to the pool. She turned slightly on her chair so she could watch them out the long kitchen window, past the plants in the lanai.

Then the doorbell rang. Painfully, she got to her feet and carefully walked to the door.

Gloria, Len's girlfriend, stood there, a serious expression on her face. "Is this where the party is?" she asked, her voice far from boisterous.

Marti shrugged. "Len and Burke are swimming. We've had a hard day."

"I heard it on the news." Gloria said, coming into the house past Marti and kicking off her high-heeled shoes in the tiled entryway.

"I'm surprised--"

"Whenever you call in a rescue unit or fire truck, it's always a possible item for the newsmedia," she said. "Now, why are the guys so worried about you?"

"I guess it's because I'm not used to being in the sun for so long, and I gave my lunch to the man Burke rescued," Marti said.

"And you're stiff and sore from sitting in one place too long," Gloria surmised. "They probably want me to see that you get into the spa without falling on your nose."

"I could use it, yes."

"You know that I'm training as a physical therapist, don't you?" Gloria asked.

"I don't think we ever got around to discussing that."

"I imagine at this point you never want to see another one of us," she went on. "But just trust me--a little bit."

"I guess I'll have to," Marti sighed. "Come on, if I can find one of my old bikinis, you're welcome to it."

Gloria patted the oversized leather purse at her side. "I'm one step ahead of you, Marti. I never leave home without one."

"What do we want on the pizza?" Len called from the kitchen.

"Pepperoni!" Gloria called to him, massaging Marti's shoulders as Marti lay in the spa and stared up at the sky past the screening overhead.

"What else? Marti?" Burke asked. "Anything!"

"Peppers and mushrooms. I mean, I like them, if nobody else minds."

"What about olives?" Burke asked.

"Them, too," Marti said.

"Do you want anything special on it, Burke?" Len asked.

"They don't have crow," Burke said, sitting down on the edge of the spa and dropping the towel he had been drying himself with into his lap.

He picked up Marti's hand as it lay on the side of the spa and curled her fingers into his palm. "I hate to say it, Marti, but those few minutes it took you to get familiar with that 'dozer might have saved the excavators the top of that earth-mover, if not the whole thing. I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"Hey!" Gloria scolded him. "I just got Marti's shoulders halfway loosened up and she got all tense again."

"You win some and lose some," Burke observed.

"Well, this is hopeless!" Gloria said in a teasing voice. "Hey, do you have anything in the fridge to make a salad with?"

"There's plenty of stuff in there," Marti replied, turning so she could see Gloria. "Go ahead and help yourself. I'll be there in a minute."

"No, you just stay where you are," Gloria ordered.

Burke watched Gloria walk across the patio, then turned his attention back to Marti. "You never cease to amaze me," he said.

"Ha!" she laughed. "And now I'm paying for it."

"Does this tell you anything?" Burke asked. "About the way our--living arrangement should be? You can't live alone, Marti, without people to take care of you when you need it."

"Don't push your luck, Hildebrand," Marti threatened, snatching up her towel and getting to her feet, partly with his help.

And when she said the words, she knew she was covering something up. She wasn't saying what had to be said. She told herself this wasn't the time, or the place. She just could not blurt out what she had to say to Burke.

After all, it had taken him a couple hours to get around to apologizing to her for having the foresight to learn to operate a piece of excavating equipment against the time it proved necessary. She could take the time to pick and choose the words she had to tell him.

But when the words were said, would that bring them any closer to each other, or just closer to the obstacles that still stood in their way?

The house was awesomely quiet when Len and Gloria had left. Marti finished straightening up the kitchen over Burke's half-hearted protests. He seemed to know she wanted to be alone, doing something--anything--to pass the time.

Evenings were always hardest to endure.

Burke holed up in his study with the development plans, figuring out what had to be done in the next few days. She could read books or watch television, now that she had finished the little dolls for the group home's carnival.

But tonight Burke was sitting in the family room, staring into space, thinking thoughts she was not privy to.

Finished in the kitchen, she began to walk slowly toward her own parlor, determined to find some space and time in which to sort out her own feelings about what had happened that day.

"I should have gone out and gotten you another cane," Burke observed as she passed him. "It's too late now, isn't it?"

"I can take care of that tomorrow," she said.

"Oh. I guess you'd have to--measure it to yourself."

She nodded. "Good night."

"Are you going to bed so early?" His voice was distant, as though he was barely registering their conversation in his consciousness.

"Maybe I'll read for a while," she mused.

"Oh."

She decided on a magazine she'd gotten the week before and took it to her room, then got into her nightshirt and lay down on her bed.

It was getting to the time of year when bedcovers were unnecessary. Beyond her open window, Marti heard the breeze in the oak trees and the incessant crickets, occasionally punctuated by the call of a nightbird.

Lost in a magazine article, she was startled by the scraping of the door that led to the patio from her bathroom. As she gripped her magazine, she heard two footsteps in the bath, then the clicking of the lock.

A moment later, Burke appeared at the door of her room. "The door was unlocked," he explained. "I'm sorry if I startled you."

"Gloria must have--she wouldn't know--you want me to keep it locked--"

"Sure you don't need anything? Maybe a glass of tea?" Burke asked.

"I'm fine," Marti said, relaxing the hand that had crumpled her magazine.

"You can't be comfortable like that," Burke observed, looking down at her. "Do you sleep that way?"

"Well, I can't lie on my back," Marti explained patiently. "And for some reason, I can't sleep on my right side, either, or my hip gives me awful pain. So I sleep on my left side."

"You look uncomfortable."

"Before I go to sleep, I'll put a pillow behind me so I don't turn onto my back. Otherwise, I wake up screaming and can't turn myself back this way."

It was just a fact of life she'd dealt with lately. Why it should be of any interest to Burke, Marti could not guess.

"Could I sit down a minute?" Burke asked.

"Sure," Marti said.

She expected him to perch on the slipper chair, which wasn't good for much more than holding the clothes she laid out for herself in the morning. It was much too small and stiff to be sat on.

But Burke sat down beside her, being careful not to jar the bed.

"I--I have to say that I've realized I don't have to be so protective with you," he told her slowly. "I'm not thrilled with the idea of your moving out and getting your own place. But if you're still bound and determined to do it--" He shrugged his shoulders.

"But--Burke--I don't know how I could exist in a world that you weren't a part of--" Marti dredged the words from the depth of her soul, baring her emotions to sum up the effect of the afternoon's experience.

"We'd still be working together," Burke said.

She studied his face for a long moment. That was not what she wanted!

She wanted--what she had now--and maybe more. But she wasn't ready to tell him that. Even if she could not be everything he needed in a wife, she wanted him in her life forever.

She put the magazine aside.

"Oh, are you ready for lights out?" Burke asked.

"I guess so," Marti said.

"Sure you don't need anything?"

I need to take back very word I ever said that keeps distance between us, Marti thought. I need your arms around me--

"Nothing, thanks. Good night."

He stood up slowly and turned off the lamp on her nightstand. Then he paused there for a long moment.

Marti thought maybe, hoped, maybe that he would bend down and kiss her good night. But he was probably just waiting for his eyes to become accustomed to the darkness. Then he would pick out the light coming through her bath from the lighted patio to show him the way to the door.

Maybe tonight she could sleep with the light out. There was nothing to be afraid of anymore. Burke didn't even want to kiss her--

She closed her eyes, so tired she didn't open them again until the alarm rang the next morning.

Burke hadn't slept well. Instead of going for his morning swim, he decided to take a jog around the block.

The morning was thick with fog. Soon his T-shirt was stuck to him with his perspiration and the moisture which hung in the air. It weighed him down like the decision he was trying to make.

By the time he got back to the front door, he realized the decision had been made that night back in February when he had first heard Marti's voice. There was no turning back from the inevitability of it, only its implementation to be considered.

And it would work. He didn't even have to call Elizabeth McAffee to check his idea with her. He knew it would work. Now all he had to do was--the hard part.

He picked up the paper that had been tossed onto the flagstones of the front garden and pulled it from its plastic sleeve before letting himself into the house.

Marti looked up from the coffeepot she was taking from the coffee machine when he entered the kitchen. She looked a little dazed, as though he had caught her at something she should not have been doing.

"We ought to go out and do something tonight," Burke said. He tossed the paper down on the table and disposing of the plastic wrapper in the bag to be recycled. "It's Friday."

Marti nodded and poured a second mug of coffee.

"What would you like to do? See a movie?"

"Can't think that far ahead," Marti said. "I'm--exhausted, I guess."

"Why don't you go back to bed?" Burke asked. "We can't do anything this morning until we get together with Joe and the county engineer and whoever else knows anything about sinkholes. Besides, you have to go get a cane and the drug stores don't open till nine, do they?"

Marti tilted her head to one side. "The idea has a certain appeal," she admitted, but she sat down at the table and picked out the local news section.

As she shuffled through the newspaper, a tabloid section slithered across the table. Burke reached for it to keep it from falling to the floor. It was the entertainment section, and Burke had a sudden idea. Yes, as he leafed through the pages, a plan did form in his mind.

He looked across the table at Marti for a long moment, but she didn't seem to notice until she finished the section she was reading.

"Did you want this part of the paper?" she asked.

"Hmm? Oh, no. I was just thinking-- You take the 'Vette this morning. I have some errands of my own to do."

"Oh, all right," Marti said and reached for the comic page which was also the classified ads.

If his plan succeeded, she would give up looking for an apartment.

Joe Parmeter looked a bit worse for the trip from New Jersey on the red-eye and Burke had to chuckle to himself. It was divine retribution for the times Joe had sent him somewhere at some ungodly hour and expected him to be bright eyed and bushy-tailed.

"So, what's this about a sinkhole?" Joe asked.

"Well, we can't do much until we sit down with the county engineer," Burke informed him. "I must go check on Building A. Come along and we'll see how they're doing with the roof trusses. If that crane hadn't been there yesterday, I don't know what we'd have done."

Joe climbed into the van and put one elbow out the window, his fingers drumming restlessly on the roof. "Where's your Gal Friday?"

"I told Marti to come in late. She broke her cane on that little escapade yesterday and has to replace it."

The morning mists were being blown off the bare earth by the warm morning breeze and the sun was burning away the wisps of clouds. It was going to be a hot day, and there was so much to do.

Burke intercepted a scowling glance from Joe.

"What's wrong?" Burke asked him. "Did I do something wrong?"

"That depends," Joe said. "It's no secret you two are living together..."

"'Depends on how you look at it," Burke defended.

He was about to tell Joe it was none of his business. But Joe had been his mentor for eight years, his advisor in personal matters as well as professional, and he should not be insulted that way.

"She's a super person," Joe observed. "I don't like the idea of your taking unfair advantage of her."

"All right," Burke agreed, pulling the van to a stop close to the skeleton of Building A. "What is your policy on having a married couple working in the same office?"

"It's never come up before," Joe said, sliding out of the van and giving the door a good slam.

"I asked Marti to marry me and she turned me down, Joe," Burke told him in a low voice. He paused with his foot on the front bumper of the van and unrolled a sheaf of plans. "That was before yesterday. I think things have changed a little."

"So you're going to ask her again?"

Burke took a deep breath and looked up at the steel trusses forming the roofline of the one-floor office building. "It depends," Burke sighed. He settled his hard hat on his head and led Joe into the building.

He loved watching projects take shape, and this one was as exciting as any he had ever been involved with. He and Joe spent about twenty minutes looking over the construction and comparing the work in place to what was indicated on the plans. So far, there were no problems.

"I'm anxious to see how this place will look when it's finished," Joe voiced Burke's thoughts. "It's going to be the best advertisement for the rest of the project so it's going to have to make the right statement. The sooner it's done, the better."

"I'll push it as much as I can," Burke promised. "But I understand we're heading into the rainy season."

They drove around to the sinkhole and stood staring at it for a long time. An occasional clump of dirt fell into it, and water was beginning to claim the deepest part.

"It's going to be a lake," Joe sighed, and Burke made an agreeing sound.

"Lake Marti?" Joe asked.

Burke laughed. "We may as well call it that."

"We're just going to have to live with it," Joe said. "Make the most of it. Work it into the landscaping plan."

"Maybe a picnic area," Burke joked--but it sounded like a good idea.

Marti had difficulty getting out of the Corvette as she parked it in the shade beside the office trailer, and cursed herself for the decision she had made just hours ago.

Once she got her balance, though, she walked up the ramp and into the office with a feeling of accomplishment. If you made a decision like that, you had to stand by it, no matter what. It would get easier as time went on.

"Finally!" Len said, searching for something on her desk. "You're two hours late and the place falls apart."

"What's wrong?" Marti asked, feeling guilty.

"We need you to take notes," Len told her. "Joe and the county engineer and Burke and I--we're trying to redraft the plans and we're afraid we'll overlook something."

Marti dropped her purse into the bottom drawer of her desk and picked up a fresh legal pad from the next drawer on her way to Burke's office. "Does anyone need anything?" she asked.

"I already made the coffee," Len said.

"Oh, I do apologize for being late!" Marti teased.

"Where's your cane?" Burke demanded.

"I decided I don't need it," Marti told him, raising her chin.

His expression began to harden, but then he looked away for a moment, as though he was thinking better of what he was going to say. He moved a chair closer to his desk and motioned for her to sit down.

"Well," Joe said, taking charge, "I prefer to look at this sinkhole situation not as a disaster but as a challenge. Is there any reason, from the county's point of view, why we can't move our other office buildings and use it as the focal point of our landscaping? Can we put the warehouses and factories where the office buildings were to be?"

"I hesitate to answer that before we see some new soundings," the county engineer said. "But if we go by the old soundings and try to identify--"

Burke distracted Marti by touching her left hand as it supported her writing pad.

She looked up at him and was surprised that the touch was deliberate. Never before had he made such a gesture at work, having taken their early agreement very seriously.

She shot him a questioning look.

"I have a lot of errands to do after this meeting," he said. "Do you think you can cope?"

"Is one of them taking Joe back to the airport?"

"Probably."

She smiled and turned her attention back to their boss.

The van was already parked in the driveway when Marti got home late that afternoon. After the meeting in his office, Burke had taken Joe back to the airport. The he had spent the rest of the afternoon going over charts in the office of the county engineer. Or so she supposed-until she entered the house an noticed the bunch of roses and baby's breath in her mother's vase in the family room.

"What's this all about?" she asked in a loud, clear voice. She expected Burke to be in the study, working over plans and drawings.

"Marti? Is that you?" Burke called from his bedroom.

"Who else were you expecting?" she asked. She headed for the kitchen and a glass of iced tea that she had envisioned all the way home.

"Hurry up and get changed," he said. "....reservations ...six-thirty..."

"The only changing I'm going to do is into my swimsuit," she told him, pouring herself some tea.

"...dare! ...That blue thing and...flat white shoes!"

"Burke! You're not making any sense," Marti called back. "Will you come here and tell me what you're talking about?"

"....shaving."

"Then I'll come there."

"No! ...naked!"

Marti put down the glass of tea before she spilled it and laughed.

"Burke, this is the dumbest conversation we've ever had!"

She heard water running in his sink and then an abrupt silence. "I'll just hit the high spots, then," he shouted back with precise diction. "Reservations. Six-thirty. Blue dress. White low shoes. What more do you have to know?"

"Get back to the naked part," Marti mumbled to herself and started slowly toward her bedroom.

Going without a cane was not all that great of an idea, she reassessed after a day of having to watch every step she took.

She was tired and she desperately wanted to soak in the spa for at least half and hour. But Burke was obviously in a hurry to get somewhere. It probably had to do with business.

That was it, she thought as she searched for a slip to wear under the blue dress that Burke had hung on the back of her closet door. Why he'd gone through her closet, she would never know. Her room was supposed to be off limits, last night notwithstanding.

Joe and Burke were in a mad rush to get the project back on schedule, and Burke had probably arranged a working dinner with the county engineer that evening. She would be along to take notes.

During her shower, Marti's mind was on business, particularly on the tree list. Her first opportunity to check off some of the hundreds of trees to be replaced would involve the landscaping and atrium of Building A. But it was an exciting prospect to have a lake to landscape.

Then her thoughts scattered to the disarray the masterplan for the Tanglewood development was in and she wondered if it was ever going to work out.

Marti studied her makeup in the mirror over her dressing table. She wished she knew where they were going, if she was wearing too much or too little for the situation. She was out of practice at doing a full job of eyeshadow and lip-liner, and there wasn't very much powder left in her compact. She would have to replace--

A soft knock at her door interrupted her thoughts and brought her heart to her throat. She reached out and opened the door without getting up from her dressing table.

"Good! You're ready," Burke said, coming into the room.

He was wearing a pale blue suit, impeccably pressed, with a light blue shirt and a slightly darker blue tie. She had never seen him look handsomer. His left hand was casually in his pocket, jangling his car keys impatiently.

"I still--have to--"

"You look fine," he said. "Come on."

She wanted him to be stunned, to be dazzled as she was at seeing him in something nicer than a knit shirt and slacks. But then, this was just--business.

She dumped her makeup into a white clutch purse she'd dug out of a bottom drawer and was about to follow him out to the car. But he held back, turning off the lamp on her dressing table and following her, his hand almost imperceptibly touching her arm.

When they reached the car, Burke helped Marti in as he almost always did, then waved to an neighbor who was getting out of his own car across the street.

"I didn't know Mr. Hempstead was a minister," Marti said, turning to see who Burke was waving at and noticing the man's gray suit and Roman collar.

"Retired," Burke said, easing himself into his seat. "Does the occasional funeral or wedding."

"Hmm!"

"He's my running buddy, when I don't swim in the morning." Burke started the motor and backed the car out of the drive. "I found out something interesting today."

He seemed to be waiting for a response from her, but about the most she could manage was "oh?"

"It's very easy to get married in Florida. No blood tests, no waiting period. All you need is about fifty-two dollars and it's happily-ever-after. A notary can say the words. All it takes is about three minutes. Of course, you know, because you're a notary. But I didn't know all that."

"So?"

"I just thought it was interesting," Burke said lightly. "One of those trivial pieces you pick up--like the capital of North Dakota."

Then Burke looked at his watch. "Unless we get stuck in traffic, we have plenty of time," he said.

If Marti hadn't known Burke better, she'd have thought he was nervous. She vowed not to make herself any more apprehensive than she was by asking him any questions.

The wisdom of that, however, seemed out the window when he pulled into a parking place near the Columbia Restaurant in Old Hyde Park Village. It was not the type of place, she thought, for a business dinner, but who was she to decide?

But instead of guiding her toward the restaurant, Burke firmly took her hand and led her toward the dock on the Hillsborough River where it met the bay.

"Good, we're right on time," Burke said.

"What on earth--" Marti demanded.

"Well, you liked the boat ride at EPCOT so well, I thought you'd like the gondola ride around the bay," Burke explained.

Marti shook her head and pushed a breeze-strewn lock of hair back into place. "Sorry, I'm just a little disoriented."

"My fault," Burke said. "I take the blame for any deception, misdirection, misconception-- Just jump in here and forgive me any time you want to--"

All Marti could do was giggle. "You're crazy, you know that?"

"Look, we've both got a lot of lost time to make up. You've been laid up for two years. I've been taking life too seriously forever," he admitted. "I thought our first real date should be special--and I thought a gondola ride would be perfect. And this was the only time I could get tonight. Come on. Let's just enjoy it."

He helped her into the gondola and sat down close beside her, his arm behind her shoulders as the authentically costumed gondolier pushed off into the open water.

Suddenly, it wasn't silly anymore. There was something about gliding over the surface of the water that smoothed out the internal rough spots of the last two days. They seemed detached from the rest of the world, and it was easy to overlook any of the blemishes the world possessed.

"I have a confession to make," Burke said, his voice soft against her hair.

"What?" Marti asked.

"I had a long talk with Elizabeth McAffee while we were at the carnival."

"So?"

"Well, I couldn't say what I'm going to say now without telling you that," Burke declared. "And if you think she overstepped her ethics, I'm sorry, but there were things I had to know. She--she said that when you came to her, your talk was interrupted by an emergency. She didn't have time to tell you everything you should know. She thought you were just asking for general knowledge, not that--we're--involved."

Marti turned to look up at him, and the seriousness in his clear blue eyes frightened her.

"She said it is possible for--for us to have-whatever you want our marriage to be. It will just take a little creativity--and I've got that figured out."

"But--" Marti tried to keep her voice low and steady. Even though the gondolier was a complete stranger, he didn't need to know anything about the most private part of their relationship. "What about--a child--?"

"It's possible," Burke said, matching her tone with a deep excitement of his own. "Elizabeth was about to explain to you that it isn't advisable right now. But in a few years, maybe one child. If you're willing to be confined to bed for four or five months--and let me take very good care of you. Marti, we could make a bargain."

"What kind of bargain?" Marti asked, interested in the way he held her close to him, the way his lips occasionally brushed her temple when he spoke.

"I will try just as hard as I can not to nag you or baby you for the next three or four years," he proposed, "if you'll let me spoil you rotten when and if you get pregnant. Until then, I take responsibility for your safety as best I can. But if you don't want to use a cane or if you want to go back to running 10 K's and marathons, I'll just grit my teeth and keep it to myself."

"You have been talking to Elizabeth, huh?" Marti said, surprised.

Burke nodded.

When he looked at her, she could see the love in his eyes. She knew he'd really have to love her very much to consider the bargain he was making.

"It won't be easy," Marti told him. "You're a man who wants to control everything, and I'm a woman who wants to control at least her own life."

"A little fireworks never hurt," Burke said. "At least, that's what I'm told."

"How long do I have to think this over?" Marti asked. The gondolier was turning the boat back toward where they had started from. "Till the end of this boat ride?"

"Oh, at least until dinner," Burke said. "I've got reservations at the Columbia."

"Maybe I should make you wait that long," Marti said.

When she lifted her head to laugh, he kissed her throat, and she turned to meet his kiss with her own lips.

"I love you, Marti," Burke whispered, holding her so close she was breathless.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and realized how useless it was to deny the timeless affection he had wakened in her. "I love you. Forever."

"Will you marry me?" he asked formally.

"Yes! Yes!"

It's all going to work out, she thought to herself. But how?

"I don't know if I can handle this," Burke said, taking Marti's arm as they walked from the car into the house that evening. "I've always left after I've kissed my date good-night."

Marti laughed and let her head rest against his shoulder as they reached the front door. "It's a little strange for me, too," she admitted.

"Do you mind if--well, with everything else that has to be done in the next few weeks--if we're going to get married in July, we're going to have to maintain our relationship very much as it is now, don't you think?" he asked as he unlocked the front door.

Marti frowned. "It's not that I don't believe in waiting until we're married--because, frankly, I do--"

"Practice saying those words," Burke teased.

"But--is it that--I'm--lacking somehow?"

"Heaven's no!" Burke said, dropping his keys into his pocket and taking out a quarter. "Heads, you get the phone first, tails, I do."

"Ah! You're already practicing!" Marti said as she switched on the foyer lights.

"It's heads," Burke said but didn't let her see the coin.

"Who should I call?" Marti asked.

"Katherine?" Burke suggested, heading for the kitchen.

Marti went into the family room and lowered herself to the corner of the couch by the telephone there.

"No, she thinks I should sort of forget about the group home for a while. After I'm adjusted to my new environment, I can come back if I regard it only as a charity I'm involved with." She shook her head. "What do you think?"

Burke handed her a can of soda. "Maybe she's right. Yes, she is right! It probably seems cold and heartless to your old friends at the group home and their parents and guardians. But you have a new life to explore and you need a totally new mindset as someone who is whole and well."

He sat down beside her and propped his feet up on the coffee table. "Call Carl," he suggested.

Marti pressed the numbers from memory.

"How do you do that?" he asked softly.

Marti shrugged and waited through two rings of the phone. She was ticking off reasons why she probably wouldn't get an answer when the receiver was lifted.

"Hello?"

"Carl? It's Marti."

"Oh! Marti. What's wrong?"

"Uh, nothing. God, you're a pessimist."

"Oh, I lost a big case this week," he said. "I'm just going over my notes and trying to find out where it went sour."

"On Friday night in New York, Carl? You need a hobby!"

Carl laughed. "I can say the same for you."

"Well, I sort of have a new one. Carl, I'm getting married."

"To the guy you're living with?"

"Who else?" Marti asked, then laughed.

"Well. You--uh--really are doing it for all the right reasons, not just what the neighbors think?"

"All the right reasons," Marti told him.

"He's not after your trust fund?"

"Carl, what a mind you have!"

"Let me talk to him--"

Marti made a face and handed the receiver to Burke.

Burke answered a few questions monosyllabically, told him the tentative date of the wedding and handed the phone back to her.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Two things come to mind," Carl said. "First, I have Grandmother Lundstrum's wedding gown from 1919. It's charming if you like candlelight satin and Alencon lace. If you're into mini skirts, it's not you, but you're welcome to have a look at it."

"It sounds--interesting."

"The other is--you should have some family there--"

"If you'd consider it, I love to have you give me away," Marti said. "I may need an arm to lean on."

"Yes, of course. Count on me," Carl said. "But that's not what I meant. I'm going to tell Peter about this, if it's all right with you. The way he acted about your accident made a rift between us. Short of using manacles and leg irons, I'd like to bring him to your wedding to heal the feelings we have all around."

"It might be too much to expect," Marti cautioned.

"No, it's about time." Carl sighed. "Don't think I'm not happy for you. This is the high point of my week, Marti. I wish you all sorts of happiness."

"Thank you, Carl. Hey, there'll be better days."

He laughed dryly. "There is one other matter. I just got your money for this quarter. I'll send your living expenses along to you. I see no reason to keep my hand on the control of it. You at least should have an opportunity to show me you can handle it. But I'd be happier if you'd invest at least part of this money against the time you might need it. Perhaps a mutual fund or tax-free municipal bonds--"

Marti listened attentively, then shook her head. "I rest my case, Carl. I just told you I'm marrying a man I love, and you talk mutual funds! Carl, what I think of as an investment right now and what you're thinking about are two different things. I've a feeling you take only cases you can win, invest only in blue chips, and suspect every woman is a fortune hunter. What am I going to do with you?"

"Walk down an aisle to your wedding," Carl said, in the first flash of wit from him she had ever experienced. "I'll take your criticism to heart. I'm happy for you."

When Marti had broken the connection, she handed the phone to Burke.

But he got to his feet, took off his jacket and folded it carefully over the back of an occasional chair, flexed his shoulders, cracked his knuckles and then sat down again.

"Are you really ready for this?" he asked.

"What's the matter?" Marti teased. "Did Carl scare you off?"

"No, but Mom might."

Marti giggled and snuggled under his protective arm.

"Mom? You still up?" Burke asked her when she answered.

"Sure!" she responded. "Did you want to talk to your father? He's sleeping because he's been working the last three days straight on this new obsession of his."

"Is he neglecting you?"

"Hey, when else can I get the time to read the latest best sellers? But you didn't call for book reviews, did you?"

"Well, no. I called to tell you Marti and I are getting married." The squeals from the other end almost broke his eardrum. "I take it you're happy, then?"

"Very! I'm so happy--" She put her hand over the receiver for a moment. "Your father woke up. Okay, give us the date---Yes, that sounds good. I don't know if anyone has anything scheduled then."

"You're planning on coming to the wedding then?" Burke teased.

"Oh, we'll all come, now that Walt has so much money."

He could imagine the by-play between his parents. "I don't think it's going to be a particularly big wedding, Mom," he said.

"That doesn't mean it can't be elegant. We'll be down a few days ahead of time to help get everything ready and--what? You're father says he's springing for the honeymoon. What? Oh, he says he'll get back to you. He's got a surprise in mind."

When Burke had hung up and put the phone back on the table, he noticed that Marti was tilting her neck first one way and then another. He motioned for her to turn away from him, and gently applied his fingertips to the nape of her neck in a slow circular pattern.

"How's that?" he asked.

"Wonderful. Thanks."

"You know what would be better?" he asked.

She shook her head.

He pulled her into his lap and kissed her throat.

"You're right," she giggled. "This is much better."

It had been hard work to make all the arrangements for the wedding. The whole enterprise rested on the completion of Building A and the atrium in time.

Joe Parmeter was not overjoyed that Burke and Marti would be taking two weeks for their honeymoon as the Tanglewood project moved into a new phase. But he did owe Burke a vacation. Len, of course, was fully capable of taking over and running things for a limited time.

Edna and Marti had been very pleased with the atrium as the landscapers had completed it. It's palms and ligustrum trees were underplanted with lush ferns and white-leaved Caladium, a choice Marti had made with the wedding in mind.

Grandmother Lundstrum's gown, a bit pretentious for the setting perhaps, was nonetheless pronounced perfect by the prospective mother-in-law. Well, the hem did need a bit of mending, but that only took an hour or so--longer for the chatting Marti and Edna did over it.

Burke and Walt were busy and secretive. Burke was working feverishly to get all the plans in order before he left for two weeks. Walt was busy at Burke's drafting table when Burke wasn't.

As guests began arriving in Tampa the Friday before the wedding, Marti set a buffet dinner on the patio and began to get acquainted, first with Burke's family, then with her own.

Once Marti was able to keep Burke's brother, sister, male cousin and female cousin, their spouses and offspring straight, she was confronted by answering the front door and meeting Carl and Peter, her half-brothers, and Peter's wife Gwen.

Why did I ever agree to this? she asked herself as she led them through the crowded family room to the buffet set up on the patio.

Burke appeared from nowhere, possessive and ready--Marti imagined--to referee. Marti looked from one tall, Nordic looking half-brother to the other, confused by their resemblance.

"'Beautiful place you have here, Hildebrand," Carl said, shaking Burke's hand. "I love what you've done with it. You have excellent taste in houses and women."

"Woman, singular," Burke corrected proudly, moving closer to Marti.

Peter seemed to be studying Marti for a longer time than she was comfortable with. "Is something the matter?" she asked him softly.

"No, nothing," Peter said, smiling apologetically. "Except that Carl is quite right that you don't deserve all the ill feelings I've held toward you over the years. He's been talking to me like a Dutch uncle for the last few weeks, and he's right." He extended his hand to Marti. "A new beginning?"

"It seems that's what's in the air," Marti told him, taking his hand.

"I was going to ask you if you need anything," Peter said. "I know about the trust fund and I see this lovely house and a man who has an honest look about him. I reckon that if you thought you needed anything more, you'd be less of a woman than Carl says you are."

Marti laughed and linked her arm through Burke's. "And you are absolutely right," she said. "The only gift you and Carl can give that means anything to me is your acceptance and your blessings. Burke has such a nice family, they have made me wistful for what I can claim as my own. Let's see if we can make a start of it from here."

"Agreed!" Carl said, embracing her with one arm and Peter with the other.

Burke slipped away from Marti's grasp. "I think there's a bottle of something bubbly in the refrigerator for this occasion. I'll be right back."

The party was winding down, in consumption of food, at least, when Marti went to the kitchen to check on a batch of iced tea she had set to brew a few minutes before.

"Could I have a few minutes of your time?" Carl asked, having followed her. "I'd like to talk to you and Burke if I may?"

His formal attitude seemed out of place, considering that he had actually unwound enough in the last few hours to laugh at a few jokes. But Marti was not unduly alarmed.

"Sure. I'll go find Burke," she replied, wiping her hands on a tea towel.

Burke was approaching the kitchen from his study, followed by his father and his cousin Preston.

"Marti, we need to talk--" Burke said, a deep frown on his face.

"Where have I heard that before?" Marti asked, rhetorically, motioning toward Carl.

"My father had Preston make up a prenuptial agreement," Burke told her.

Carl reached into the pocket of his jacket and produced an ominously thick envelope. "So did I," he declared.

"This is ridiculous!" Marti exclaimed, throwing the tea towel in the direction of the rack. "We don't need any such thing."

"Yes, you do," Carl said. "Your trust fund--"

"--And Burke's," Preston interrupted.

"I didn't know you had one," Marti challenged Burke.

"Neither did I," Burke responded.

"Shall we let them work it out?" Marti suggested.

"Excellent idea," Burke agreed. He reached into the upper cupboard for his favorite large tea glass. "Why don't you gentlemen go into my study and compare notes?"

Marti watched after Carl and Preston, who exchanged documents. Walt Hildebrand waited until Burke had poured himself some tea, refilled his own glass and followed the others into the study.

Burke put his arm around Marti and drew her close to him. She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed.

"It's been a lovely evening, until this," she observed.

"Take heart," Burke said, kissing the top of her head. "From what I've seen so far, the agreement Pret drew up isn't very complicated."

"You say that now! Wait until things go wrong."

"Nothing is going to go wrong," Burke promised her.

"I don't really trust Carl," Marti complained. "I really don't know him well enough."

"Let them slug it out, huh? We'll get this kitchen straightened up, then maybe everyone will clear out and we can use the spa." Burke opened the dishwasher and reached for a platter which had held cold cuts.

Marti sighed and nodded in agreement.

But before they could make their break for the spa, Carl and Preston returned, pens at the ready. They sat Marti and Burke down at the kitchen table and spread the documents in front of them.

"You'll see that we've each scratched out paragraphs which contradicted each other," Preston pointed out.

"Essentially, we prohibit one partner from access to the other's trust funds should the marriage break up," Carl explained.

"But we do provide for any offspring to be taken care of for as long as necessary."

"I don't like this," Marti stated flatly.

"You haven't even read it," Carl cautioned. "I have, and it's all right for you to sign--"

"That's not what I meant! I intended to ask you, after Burke and I were married, to allow him some voice in how the medical part of my trust fund was handled, particularly if there were an emergency and you weren't available to make a decision."

Carl looked first to Marti, then to Burke and nodded. "Wise," he said. "Preston?"

"Fine. We'll add a similar clause to our agreement that Marti is to have some control over a stated amount should there be an emergency."

"Anything else?" Carl asked Marti and Burke.

They looked at each other and shook their heads.

Walt Hildebrand grinned broadly and patted both lawyers on their jacketed shoulders. "Gentlemen, thank you. It's looks like there's going to be a wedding!"

When the prenuptial agreements lay signed on the table, Marti got up from her chair unsteadily, and Burke reached to take her arm.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"I wish it hadn't come to this," Marti told him. "We really didn't need pieces of paper to define our relationship, did we?"

"No. Ever since the day you helped save that earth-mover, I've trusted you implicitly. I'm sure, if the unthinkable happens, you'll be fair."

Marti studied his clear blue eyes and found no artifice or guile there. "I trust you, too. After all that I've been through, I realize that the hardest step I've taken is learning to trust someone again."

Burke dropped the room key onto the table beside the door and set Marti carefully down on her feet, waiting with his arm around her until he was sure she had her balance.

"Don't move!" he ordered.

"What's wrong?" Marti asked. "Is there a bug on me?"

"Nooo--" he said, a teasing light in his eyes. "I just want to remember this moment. You're the most beautiful bride I have ever seen. In all modesty I think we had the most perfect wedding I've ever been to. The atrium is absolutely splendid for a wedding. Joe could make some money renting it out."

Marti laughed and gathered her skirt up so she could move around to inspect the elegant bridal suite of the Harbor Island Hotel.

"You invited more people to the wedding than you said you were going to."

"I got to thinking about Bunni and Carolyn and Lisa--and it just grew."

"And the reception downstairs--"

"Dad's idea. He said he thoroughly expects this to be the only time I ever get married so he might as well make it special," Burke laughed, reaching into the inside pocket of his formal jacket. "I think it's time to tell you the other surprise. Two tickets for the cruise that leaves tomorrow noon for Mexico--Cancun, Cozumel--and then Key West."

"Oh, my gosh," Marti said, staring at the tickets.

"And in Dad's usual style," Burke pointed to the notation, "first class cabin all the way. No bunks, no twin beds."

Marti laughed. "You're mother must be used to his generosity by now, but I'm not."

"The way he works, he ignores Mom for days at a time, and when he comes to, he's so ashamed of himself, he thinks up special things to do--and always in the middle of it all, he thinks of a new solution to his latest project," Burke explained. "Promise me that if I ever act like that, you'll remind me to make restitution."

"I'll start making a list," Marti promised in a mock-threatening tone. "I would like to see--Oslo-maybe Paris--"

She took a step toward the window of the parlor to watch the sunset and wavered on her feet. Burke reached out and caught her, clasping her to his chest for a long moment.

"You're tired," he said. "Maybe you ought to--"

Marti nodded. "Will you help me with this gown? I'm sure Grandmother Lundstrom probably had six bridesmaids to help her get in and out of this thing. But I'm going to have to make do with you."

"I'm glad you've finally decided I can do something for you--" Burke growled, then kissed the side of her neck.

Burke must have been dozing lightly, because the crack of lightning startled him. He was afraid it would rouse Marti, and he was sure she needed her rest.

He'd had a hard time convincing her that their lovemaking had satisfied him, but in fact he had been so afraid he would hurt her that the effort had exhausted him, too.

Now he carefully adjusted the sheet at her shoulder, remembering that she had complained the air conditioning was set higher than she was used to, then he got out of bed. If he was going to be awake, he'd best get up or his thrashing around would wake her.

A few large drops of rain spattered the window and he went to look out at the beginnings of the storm. Fascinated by the cloud-to-cloud flickering of lightning, he pulled one of the barrel chairs closer and settled into it, propping one foot on the other knee and slouching shamelessly.

Behind him, he heard Marti move slightly and hoped that she would not waken. A moment later a bolt of lightning flooded the room with a pink glow, followed almost immediately by its companion roar of thunder reverberating, making loose objects and coathangers rattle.

Marti gasped. "Burke?" she called softly, a thread of panic in her voice.

"It's all right," he said. "I'm over here, watching the storm."

He stood up and went back to her side of the bed, plucked away the pillow that she slept against, and lifted her into his arms. "It's going to get worse before it gets better," he told her. "We may as well watch it together."

"Burke! I can walk--"

"I know," he said, sitting down in the chair again with her on his lap.

"We have a bargain--"

Burke shrugged. "This is time out," he told her. "Watch the lightning."

"I can't watch if you're kissing me."

"Can you watch it if you kiss me?"

"Of course not!" she giggled.

He shrugged. "Then I guess I'll have to behave myself."

"That will be the day--or night!" she teased.

He traced the thin strap of her nightgown to where it joined the lace of the bodice. "Are you--all right, darling?" he asked.

"Of course," she said. "Don't be such a worrier."

There was something in her voice that reminded him of the first time he had heard it, calm, bright, friendly in the night when he was feeling so alone. It was ironic that she had more reason to feel alone than he did. Well, neither of them had the slightest reason to feel alone now, or ever again.

Writer Jane Bierce graduated from college, married and raised three children, published five books and a novella before she knew she was blind. After surgery to correct multiple vision problems, Ms. Bierce got back to work on her writing and entered the field of electronic publishing. "The Hardest Step" was inspired by her life in Florida, where she learned about the construction business through her husband's job. She even got up on a bulldozer to research this project, and hopes that other books dealing with challenged characters will follow.

Jane has been previously published in print by Harlequin, Silhouette and Zebra. Her book Black Tie Affair was the debut book of the Zebra Lucky-in-Love line in 1992. Her books have been translated into eight foreign languages, including Japanese and Russian.

In her spare time, Jane gardens, quilts and spoils her grandchildren. She now makes her home in Tennessee.