The fact that Mary Perkins hadn’t used this room much herself explained the sunny energy Clara felt in here. She’d love to spread the aura to the rest of the house.

“As promised, I brought you tea.” She pulled the canister of tea leaves from a shopping bag. “And I labeled how much to use and how long to let it steep.” She reached into the bag once more, removing one of her favorite items. “And this is an easy-to-use individual tea maker.”

The young woman’s eyes opened wide. “Clara, this is amazing. Thank you! How much do I owe you for all this?”

Clara waved away the question. “This is a gift. My idea, my pleasure.” Before Lauren could argue, Clara stood. “Let me show you how it works.”

Lauren hesitated, uncomfortable accepting gifts. She finally relented. “Thank you. I’ll heat some hot water.” She checked the kettle on the stove and turned on one burner while Clara got to work, measuring tea leaves.

“I’ll make one cup for you and one for me. Where is Jason? I think he can use some of this, as well.”

The temperature changed in the room. Warm to chilly, Clara thought, certain she hadn’t imagined the drop.

“He should be here soon.” Lauren turned her back and pulled two mugs from a cabinet.

“Problems between you two?” Clara asked, deciding she couldn’t help if she didn’t pry at least a little.

“Fundamental disagreement is more like it.” Lauren leaned against the counter, hands braced on either side.

She carried her burdens like heavy baggage, Clara thought sadly. “No two families are alike. At their core, all people are different.” She offered the only words of wisdom she could.

“Especially our two families.”

The teakettle signaled the water had boiled and Clara took control, preparing two cups and setting them down on the table.

Clara lowered herself into a chair across from Lauren, whose tension hadn’t eased. “Relationships aren’t simple. They take work.”

“What Jason and I have isn’t a relationship,” she said without looking up.

In an attempt to soften the words to come, Clara placed her hand over Lauren’s. “Who are you lying to? Me or yourself?”

Lauren shook her head, no anger showing in her expression. “I’m not lying, just facing reality.”

A reality that could be changed, if the young woman wanted to make the effort. “Take a sip of tea. It will help you relax,” Clara urged, nodding at the mug.

Lauren took a long sip of tea and a genuine smile eased over her face. “This is delicious.”

“Thank you. Now let me ask you something. What about the power of positive thinking?”

Skepticism crossed Lauren’s face. “What about it?” she asked warily.

“I believe it’s life changing. Life affirming. Look what it did for Edward and me.” Clara’s belief was born of experience. All she could do was impart her wisdom and hope Lauren understood.

POSITIVE THINKING, Lauren thought. The concept wasn’t a new one. It had brought her to the precipice of something big in her career. But reality dictated there were too many burdens for it to succeed between Lauren Perkins and Jason Corwin.

But Clara’s excitement was tangible and Lauren looked up, really seeing the other woman for the first time. Her eyes sparkled. Her cheeks flushed pink. And her skin glowed.

Lauren had been so preoccupied with her own problems she hadn’t noticed the changes in the other woman.

“What’s going on?” Lauren wasn’t just curious-she genuinely liked Clara and cared about her.

“Edward asked me on a date!” Clara exclaimed, her joy obvious.

Lauren smiled. “That’s great news! It’s a huge step for him, isn’t it?” She vividly recalled the distraught man Jason had led to the car after Edward had discovered a Perkins and a Corwin were working together. The same man who’d hidden in his house for years, driven away from human contact by fear of the curse her ancestors had placed.

Clara held Lauren’s gaze as she spoke. “His medications are finally working. He’s seeing the world more clearly and it’s a beautiful thing! I waited years to see this happen.”

Lauren’s heart filled. “I’m so happy for you, Clara. I understand how long it’s been and what a difficult road.”

“But I never gave up on him. I never lost hope even when we were apart. I just waited for a sign that the time was right for us.” Clara wrapped her hand around the warm mug.

Lauren took another sip of the tea. As Clara said, the brew was working to relax her. “I’m not trying to burst your bubble or be a downer, but even hope has its limitations. I don’t mean for you and Edward, but for others.”

Clara shook her head. “Only if you allow it to.” She reached for the Crescent Moon shopping bag. “I have a few more items for you. There are candles to put around the house and a dream catcher to place over your bed. And this is something new.” She handed Lauren what looked like a sterno log.

“What is it?”

“It’s for the fireplace. When burned, it releases positive energy into the room. Used in this house, it will be cleansing,” Clara explained.

Lauren didn’t know how much she believed Clara’s claims, but a little good energy certainly couldn’t hurt. “Thank you. I’ll give it a try.”

The older woman nodded. “While you’re at it, try thinking more positively about your own life. About Jason and the things you want. Whatever you put out in the universe, you will get back.” Clara rose from her seat. “And now I have to get back to the shop.”

Lauren smiled. “Thanks for everything, and I’m so glad we had time to talk.” She hugged the other woman, grateful for her thoughtfulness, generosity and time. She’d try to hold on to a more positive outlook-and hoped Jason would do the same.

WHEN JASON ARRIVED at Lauren’s, she was busy in the parlor, a room he’d already completed work in. He assumed her choice was intended to send him a message. She didn’t want to deal with him at all.

Tough.

He walked into the room filled with wall-to-wall bookshelves. Lauren was packing old hard-covers into a box, pausing every so often to study the covers or contents.

He cleared his throat.

She jumped, startled. “Jason!” Before she had a chance to think, a clear welcome lit her gaze, but just as quickly her eyes turned wary. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“You were wrapped up in those books.”

She nodded. “I’m trying to decide which books the library could use and which to give away to Goodwill. Sharon is coming over later to help me. So what’s on your agenda today?”

Businesslike. And yet her tone was light. He had the sense she was as unsure of where things stood between them as he was. He’d just have to wing it and see what happened.

“Until the adjuster comes, we’ll keep to the room-by-room schedule we set up.” He stepped farther inside. “So how come you’re not doing the same? I thought you’d be working with me in the living room.”

“Since finding the diary, I’m curious about what else is hidden in this house. I thought maybe there’d be another one buried in here.”

He wanted to believe her, but she slid her gaze from his too quickly. He wasn’t buying her story for a minute. “You can’t avoid me by switching rooms.”

“I’m not lying,” she said through clenched teeth.

Maybe she was telling the truth. But since changing their routine coincided with her decision he should sleep at home, he doubted it. Not that there was anything he could do about it.

“I have some news you’re going to want to hear.” He changed the subject.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned. She’d accurately judged his somber tone.

“Let’s sit.” He gestured to one of the wing chairs.

He thought she’d argue. Instead she walked over and sat down, crossing her long legs in front of her, waiting for him to join her.

He chose the closest chair and settled in. “Mike called. His check on Brody Pittman turned up some interesting results.”

Her attention caught and she leaned closer, resting her elbows on the arm of the chair.

There was no easy way to break the news so he dove right in. “Brody Pittman’s last job was at the Bricksville Correctional Institution, working on the new wing.”

Surprise then disbelief colored her expression but she remained silent, obviously digesting the information and trying to decide how to react.

“I’m sorry,” he said when the quiet became overwhelming.

“Why? Because our plumber also worked at the prison?”

He didn’t think she’d be deliberately dense, yet he also knew she was too smart not to have covered all possibilities.

He struggled to control his growing frustration. “The new wing is right next to the psychiatric hospital where your sister is.” Instead of connecting the dots, he highlighted the important points, hoping she’d draw the correct conclusion.

“So? My sister isn’t responsive. Brody couldn’t have run into her. And even if he did, what motivation could that possibly give him for tampering with the electrical system in this house?” she asked.

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” he admitted. But not for lack of trying. The connection was clear. Just not the motive.

“I thought so,” she said, her voice all too satisfied. “So all you’ve got is distrust of my sister because her last name is Perkins. Isn’t that perfect?” She turned her back, staring out the window.

He set his jaw. “Lauren?”

“Yes?” Her hands were clenched tight.

“I’m not having this argument again.” He refused to give her the satisfaction. “I have work to do. You know where to find me if you decide to be rational. Not just about the obvious, but about us.” With that, he rose and walked out of the room, leaving her to stew in silence.

He hoped.

SO MUCH FOR POSITIVE thinking and keeping an open mind. Lauren blew out an exasperated breath. How had she lost control of her life so quickly?

When she’d sold her designs to Galliano, she’d known she’d be taking a break from work until after the Paris shows. The timing had been perfect, since she’d needed to fix and sell this house. She just hadn’t counted on Jason Corwin blowing into her life and digging at old wounds. Some he’d caused when they were young and others her parents and sister had inflicted. When she’d approached him at the festival, she’d been thinking about fun, not feelings. Who knew he could still affect her so deeply?

She admitted to herself that she’d baited him into saying those things about her sister the other day, grasping at any excuse to throw him out before he could abandon her. She’d acted in anger, forgetting that his leaving meant she’d be living with the mice infestation without Jason’s comforting body beside her at night.

Somehow she’d managed to get some sleep and walk around the house, proving to herself she was braver than she’d realized. But her insides still churned at the thought of the little visitors and Trouble didn’t do nearly enough to catch them. Still, she’d proved she could manage, if not conquer, that particular fear.

Then Clara had challenged her to think positively. To put her deepest wishes into the universe and hope they came back to her. So she’d greeted Jason without harboring anger from their visit to her sister. And what had she received in return?

He basically accused her of lying about her motives for working in this room and then he dropped the bomb about Brody Pittman being at the prison. How could that be anything but a coincidence? Day after day, her sister sat in bed or a chair and stared into space. How could she have any interaction with the man? And even if by some bizarre fluke they had met, what could that have to do with this house and the fire in the electrical system?

Lauren pressed her palms against her pounding head. She wasn’t looking for a fight with Jason, nor was she trying to be blind to her sister’s faults. She just looked at the facts, and for the life of her, Lauren couldn’t reach the same conclusions as Jason. He insisted on thinking the worst without proof.

They made love in such perfect unison, but when it came to the important things in life, they couldn’t even agree to disagree.

THOMAS SAT ACROSS from his brother Hank in a booth at the far end of a restaurant two towns over from Stewart-far enough away that there were no familiar faces. Thomas faced the back wall and slunk down in his seat, embarrassed he’d let Hank talk him into spying on Clara and Edward’s date.

“Here they come now.” Hank, who faced out, pulled his Red Sox baseball cap lower on his head and slipped on a pair of sunglasses.

“Like that’s going to help,” Thomas muttered. “It’s nighttime and you look like an ass.”

Hank snorted. “I’ll take another beer,” he said to a waitress passing by.