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"It's Gavin who's the gardener in the house."

"Oh." Cilla shifted her gaze to her father. "Really?"

"I like playing in the dirt. Guess I never grew out of it."

"His grandfather was a farmer." Patty sent Gavin a quick beam. "So it came down through the blood."

Had she known that? Why hadn't she known that? "Here, in Virginia?"

Patty's eyes widened in surprise, then slid toward Gavin. "Ummm."

"I thought you knew-your grandmother bought my grandfather's farm."

"I- What? The Little Farm? That was yours?"

"It was never mine, sweetie. My grandfather sold it when I was just a boy. I do remember chasing chickens there, and getting scolded for it. My father didn't want to farm, and his brothers and sisters-those living at the time-had mostly scattered off. So, well, he sold it. Janet was here, filming on location. Barn Dance."

"I know that part of the story. She fell in love with the farm they used and bought it on the spot."

"More or less on the spot," Gavin said with a smile. "And Grandpa bought himself a Winnebago-I swear-and he and Grandma hit the road. Traveled all over hell and back again for the next six, seven years, till she had a stroke."

"It was McGowan land."

"Still is." Still smiling, Gavin sipped his tea. "Isn't it?"

"I think it's a lovely kind of circle." Patty reached out, patted her hand over Cilla's. "I remember how the lights would shine in that house when Janet Hardy was there. And how in the summer, if you drove by with the windows open, you could hear music, and maybe see women in beautiful clothes, and the most handsome men. Now and then, she'd come into town, or just drive around in her convertible. A picture she made."

Patty picked up the pitcher again, as if she had to keep her hands busy. "She stopped by our house once, when we had a litter of puppies for sale. Five dollars. Our collie had herself a liaison with a traveling salesman of indeterminate origin. She bought a puppy from us. Sat right down on the ground and let those pups jump and crawl all over her. And laughed and laughed. She had such a wonderful laugh.

"I'm sorry. I'm going on, aren't I?"

"No. I didn't know any of this. I don't know nearly enough. Was that the dog that..."

"It was. She called him Hero. Old Fred Bates found him wandering the road and loaded him in his pickup, took him back. He was the one who found her that morning. It was a sad day. But now you're here." Again, Patty laid a hand over Cilla's. "There'll be lights and music again."

"She bought the dog from you," Cilla murmured, "and the farm from your grandfather." She looked at Gavin. "I guess it's another circle. Maybe you could help me with the gardens."

"I'd like that."

"I hired a landscaper today, but I have to decide what I want put in. I've got a book on gardening in this zone, but I could use some direction."

"It's a deal. And I've got a couple of gardening books that might give you more ideas."

"A couple?"

Gavin grinned at his wife's rolling eyes. "A few more than a couple. Who'd you hire?"

"Morrow? Brian Morrow?"

"Good choice. He does good work, and he's reliable. Was a football star back in high school, and never pushed himself to be more than a dead average student. But he's built up a good business and reputation for himself."

"So I hear. I met another of your former students today. Ford Sawyer."

"Of course," Patty put in. "He lives right across the road."

"Clever boy, always was." Gavin nodded over his tea. "Tended to day-dream, but if you engaged his mind, he'd use it. He's done well for himself, too."

"Has he? How?"

"He writes graphic novels. Illustrates them, too, which isn't usual, I'm told. The Seeker? That's his. It's interesting work."

"The Seeker. Super-crime-fighter sort of thing?"

"Along those lines. A down-on-his-luck private investigator stumbles across a madman's plot to destroy the world's great art through the use of a molecular scrambler that renders them invisible. His hopes to stop them-and secure his own fame and fortune-result in the murder of his devoted girlfriend. He himself is left for dead, but he's also exposed to the scrambler."

"And is imbued with the power of invisibility," Cilla finished. "I've heard of this. A couple of the guys who worked on my flips were into graphic novels. God knows Steve was," she said, referring to her ex-husband. "They'd argue the Seeker versus the Dark Knight or