First Impressions Read Free Page B

floor would be structured in two informal sections. The museum would be free, an inducement to lure people into the antique shop. Shane had enough from her family collection to begin stocking the museum and six rooms of antique furniture to sort and list. She would have to go to a few auctions and estate sales to increase her inventory, but she felt her inheritance and savings would hold her for a while.
    The house and land were hers free and clear, with only the yearly taxes to pay. Her car, for what it was worth, was paid for. Every spare penny could go into her projected business. She was going to be successful and independent—and the last was more important than the first.
    As she walked toward the house, Shane paused and glanced down the overgrown logging trail, which led to the Farley property. She was curious to see what this Vance Banning was doing with the old place. And, she admitted, she wanted to see him again when she was prepared.
    After all, they were going to be neighbors, she told herself as she hesitated. The least she could do was to introduce herself and start things off on the right foot. Shane set off into the woods.
    She knew the trees intimately. Since childhood she had raced or walked among them. Some had fallen and lay aging and rotting on the ground among layers of old leaves. Overhead, branches arched together to form an intermittent roof pierced by streams of morning sunlight. Confidently she followed the narrow, winding path. She was still yards from the house when she heard the muffled echo of hammering.
    Though it disturbed the stillness of the woods, Shane liked the sound. It meant work and progress. Quickening her pace, she headed toward it.
    She was still in the cover of the trees when she saw him. He stood on the newly built porch of the old Farley place, hammering the supports for the railing. He’d stripped off his shirt, and his brown skin glistened with a light film of sweat. The dark hair on his chest tapered down, then disappeared into the waistband of worn, snug jeans.
    As he lifted the heavy top rail into place, the muscles of his back and shoulders rippled. Totally intent on his work, Vance was unaware of the woman who stood at the edge of the woods and watched. For all his physical exertion, he was relaxed. There was no hardness around his mouth now or frost in his eyes.
    When she stepped into the clearing, Vance’s head shot up. His eyes instantly filled with annoyance and suspicion. Overlooking it, Shane went to him.
    “Hi.” Her quick friendly smile had her dimples flashing. “I’m Shane Abbott. I own the house at the other end of the path.”
    His brow lifted in acknowledgment as he watched her. What the hell does she want? he wondered, and set his hammer on the rail.
    Shane smiled again, then took a long, thorough look at the house. “You’ve got your work cut out for you,” she commented amiably, sticking her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Such a big place. They say it was beautiful once. I think there used to be a balcony around the second story.”
    She glanced up. “It’s a shame the fire did so much damage to the inside—and then all the years of neglect.” She looked at him then with dark, interested eyes. “Are you a carpenter?”
    Vance hesitated briefly, then shrugged. It was close to the truth. “Yes.”
    “That’s handy, then.” Shane accepted the answer, attributing his hesitation to embarrassment at being out of work. “After D.C. you must find the mountains a change.” His mobile brow lifted again and Shane grinned. “I’m sorry. It’s the curse of small towns. Word gets around quickly, especially when a flatlander moves in.”
    “Flatlander?” Vance leaned against the post of the railing.
    “You’re from the city, so that’s what you are.” She laughed, a quick bubbling sound. “If you stay for twenty years, you’ll still be a flatlander, and this will always be the old Farley place.”
    “It hardly matters what