The smile warmed a bit, and her eyebrows lifted. “Did you come for something in particular?”
“Just being neighborly,” he said mildly. He glanced around, spotting a solid-looking chair in the nearest room, and hauled it over. Fiona wouldn’t be able to reach the ceiling from it, but he could.
He climbed onto the chair, reached up and eased the hatch back into place. It set off a puff of dust as it settled into its groove. He stepped back to the floor.
Fiona, apparently aware of how dirty she was, attempted to transfer the dust from her hands to her jeans, not looking at him. “Thank you.”
“Any time.”
That fierce independence of hers amused him, but it also made him wonder what was behind it. If she couldn’t accept a little nosy neighborliness, she’d never fit in here. He’d had to get used to that again when he came back.
She straightened. “I’m glad this isn’t an official call. As you can see, I’m rather busy just now.”
“Looking over your new purchase from top to bottom,” he agreed. The girls he’d grown up with had had plenty of spirit, giving as good as they got, but Fiona was different. Defensive, almost, and the cop part of his mind wondered what she had to be defensive about.
“It’s a beautiful house, really. It’s just been neglected.” Her smile flickered, and he thought her pride of ownership was getting the better of her wariness with him. “Once I have the renovations done, you won’t know it’s the same place.”
“What do you have in mind to do?” He was happy to keep her talking about the house, because it seemed to put her at ease. Since she was moving in, she was part of his responsibility, and he liked to stay on friendly terms with folks.
“My living quarters will be up here.” She gestured. “At first I thought I’d have to install a kitchen on this floor, but there’s actually a back staircase that leads down to the current kitchen, so I can just use that.”
“A remnant from the days when people had servants, I guess. What happens downstairs?”
“The old parlor will make a perfect waiting room.” She started down the steps, gesturing as she talked, and he followed. “The other rooms will have to be partitioned to make an exam room and an office, maybe space for classes. The birthing clinic where I worked in San Francisco ran a lot of childbirth classes, but I don’t know how much demand there will be here.”
He shrugged, coming down the last step to stand beside her in the hall. “You may be surprised. Plenty of women among the Plain People prefer home births and might enjoy the classes. You should be able to build a good practice, if you stay.”
“If?” Her eyebrows shot up at his words. “I’m not going to all this trouble with the intent of leaving. Why would you say that?”
He shrugged. “You wouldn’t wonder if you knew how this state has been losing medical personnel to other places. We’ve seen too much coming and going, mostly going, to take anything for granted. Folks just start to rely on someone and then find they’ve moved on to greener pastures.”
Especially city-bred people like you, he thought but didn’t say.
“I’m not going anywhere.” She stroked the intricate carving of the newel post. “This place is going to be my home.”
Her voice actually trembled with emotion on the last word, touching him, making him want to know what lay behind that emotion, but he didn’t figure he had the right.
He was here because it was his duty to protect and serve all the residents of his township, he reminded himself. Not because he had a personal interest in a woman like Fiona Flanagan, with her quick tongue and urban manners.
“Well, if that’s what you plan to do with the house, I guess you’re going to need someone to do the carpentry work, won’t you?”
She nodded. “Is there any chance you might be able to recommend someone?”
“There are a couple of possibilities among the Amish carpenters, it being fall and the harvest is in. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Amish,” she repeated, and he couldn’t tell what emotion tightened her face for an instant.
“They’re good carpenters, and this is an Amish community. I’d think you’d want an introduction to them.”
“Yes, of course, that would be perfect.” Whatever the emotion had been, it was gone. “Do you think they’d be able to start soon?”
She looked up at him with such appeal that for a moment he’d do most anything to keep that hope shining in her eyes.
“I’ll see if I can get hold of Mose Stetler. Maybe he can come over today or tomorrow.”
“Thank you so much.” All her wariness was washed away by enthusiasm. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” He took a reluctant step toward the door. “I’ll see what I can do.”
And while he was at it, he’d best give himself a good talking to. Fiona’s blend of urban sophistication and innocent enthusiasm was a heady mixture, but he couldn’t afford to be intrigued by a woman like her. If he ever decided to risk himself on love again, it would be with a nice, ordinary woman who understood the balancing act between two worlds that he maintained every day of his life.
By midafternoon, Fiona had finished cleaning the room intended for her bedroom and even hung some clothes in the closet. It wasn’t going to take much more than elbow grease and a little furniture to make her upstairs apartment livable. Now, if Ted came through on his promise to contact the carpenters, she could actually have an opening day in sight.
She’d already gone through the arduous process necessary to get her certification in order, and she’d contacted several obstetricians and the hospital in Suffolk, as well as a birthing center in the city that could use her services on a part-time basis until she got her practice on its feet. Now all that remained was to complete the office and find some clients.
Nolie, who knew the area well, had advised her to build word of mouth by meeting as many people as possible, and she might as well start on that today. After a shower and a change of clothes, she went outside, hesitating for a moment on the porch. She’d much rather be judged on her professional expertise than her personality, but if she planned to build her own practice, this had to be done.
Taking a deep breath and straightening her jacket, she headed for the general store. She’d already noticed how busy it was, and since it was right next door, it was a logical place to start.
The sign on the front door read Ruth Moser, Proprietor. Maybe Ruth would be the friendly type of neighbor who’d let her post her business card where people would see it. Another deep breath was necessary, and then she opened the door and stepped inside.
The store was bigger than she’d thought from the outside—extending back into almost cavernous depths where aisles were stocked with what she supposed were farming supplies, as well as hardware and tools she couldn’t begin to identify. The front part of the store carried groceries, and through an archway she glimpsed what must have been the tourist section—quilts, rag rugs, cloth dolls with blank faces—all
