When they were alone again, Mark laced his fingers together, rested his hands on the table and tried to look professional...which wasn't an easy task, considering his resemblance to Pillsbury doughboy, Jane thought with secret amusement. "I've gone over all your records and everything seems to be in order," he told her. "I've worked up figures for your estimated quarterly tax payments—the first one's due next week, by the way. I have your paperwork in my briefcase here at my feet. I'll give it to you after we've had our lunch."

   She nodded. "I appreciate it, Mark. I was pretty sure everything was in order, but it's nice to have a professional opinion. It's too inconvenient for me to have an accountant in New York while I'm living in Honoria."

   He looked a bit smug. "Your accounts are relatively easy to manage, but I agree that you need a professional to keep an eye on them. You invested wisely while you were in New Yt. You shouldn't have to worry about retirement."

   She felt a surge of satisfaction at his words. He could have no idea, of course, how important it was for her to have a sense of security about money. She hadn't chosen a safe, predictable career path—acting was hardly s profession known for job security—but she lived frugally and worked steadily as a substitute teacher between acting jobs. As impractical as she was in some ways, Jane never fooled around when it came to money. She had no intention of ending up like her parents, a couple of aging alcoholics living hand-to-mouth on government checks.

   It had been Mark who suggested they have this meeting over lunch, telling her it was nice, casual way to start off their business relationship. Jane hadn't hesitated to accept, since she had few plans now that she was on summer break. Bea cause she knew he was in the middle of a divorce, she didn't ask about his wife but it wasn't difficult to get him talking about his two sons. She concentrated on her somewhat guilty enjoyment of fried catfish while Mark liberally sprinkled pepper squad on his greens and bragged about his boys.

   They were almost finished with their meal when Tyler entered the cafe with is father. They paused at the table, Colton speaking first. "Well, hello, Jane. Mark, how's it going?"

   "Pretty good, Colton. How about you?"

   "Oh, getting along."

   Jane glanced at Tyler and found him looking at her with a frown. He quickly smoothed the expression, but she wondered why he'd looked so disapproving. She couldn't imagine what she'd done to annoy him. She'd thought they'd parted on good terms.

   "Hello, Jane," he said with a formal nod of greeting. His tone was noticeably cooler when he added, "Mark."

   Mark's response could only be described as frigid. "Tyler."

   Surprised by the obvious antagonism between the two men, Jane speculated on what might have caused it. The Hamiltons were notorious for their local feuds, but, as far as she knew, there'd never been a problem between the Hamiltons and Mark's family. This must be something personal.

   "How are the children, Tyler?" She asked in an effort to ease the tension a bit.

   "They're fine. Thank you."

   "Have you found a new nanny yet?"

   "Yes. I have one in a trial basis now."

   "I hope she works out for you."

   "Thanks. Dad, wed better grab a table while there's one available. Cindy's been giving us the look."

   "The one that says 'Sit your butts down so I can do my job'?" Colton spoke from longtime experience with the no-nonsense waitress. "Guess we'd better cooperate. Good to see you, Jane. And you, too, Mark."

   "Enjoy you lunch," Mark replied politely, his smile forced.

   Tyler left with only a vague nod toward Jane.