In My Dreams. Muriel Jensen

of comfortable chairs, craft tables to work on, a couple of televisions and earphones, and a small library in one corner?”

      “The real one is right across the street.”

      “True, but it might not have Crochet Monthly magazine and all the history books Vinny loves.”

      It always surprised him how well she knew her clients. And how much she cared.

      “I’d say if the inspection your attorney is arranging comes out well—” Jack turned slowly in a circle, looking the room over again “—this seems ideal for the seniors’ center.”

      Her smile widened further. “Great! That’s what I thought. Maybe you’ll want to bid on the work if we get to move in. We’ll have to repair, do the floors, put in new light fixtures, all kinds of stuff.”

      He nodded. He needed work.

      In the elevator on the way down, she seemed to lose some of her sparkle. “How was Ben this morning?” she asked.

      “Brokenhearted,” he replied truthfully.

      Arms folded, she leaned against the wall of the car. “He told you about it?”

      “Some. About children.”

      “You think that’s awful?”

      “Of course not. Misguided, maybe. But everybody has to do what works for them. It’s just hard to deal with when the same things don’t work for the person you love.”

      She smiled faintly as the doors parted. “Thank you for understanding,” she said.

      Their footsteps rang on the floor as they walked to the back door.