His face was in shadow; his jeans were stretched tight across his thighs. He was absolutely still except for his eyes, in which Erica saw a razor-sharp perception. He missed nothing. Kyle inhaled life, took everything in. Morgan picked up a single emotion at a time and lived it until the next one came along.

The differences between the two men had always intrigued her, yet Erica sighed, feeling a wave of fatigue as the hour grew late. She and Kyle had both been up since six. She moved down the three steps to settle on the couch with a cup of coffee, doubting that it would effectively keep her awake. Morgan smiled at her, immediately changing the conversation as he rose to offer her a glass of kirsch.

“I still haven’t figured out what you two are up to,” Morgan said to Kyle. “I knew you were coming back here after your father died and that it was going to take some time to take care of everything. I guess I just assumed that you meant to sell the place. Not…dig in here.”

A moment passed before Kyle answered. For the first time, it occurred to Erica that Morgan had always been the one who was quick to confide, that Kyle had always been the one to bolster his friend in a crisis instead of the other way around. “I always did swear I’d never come back here,” he admitted finally, leaning his head back. “But before my father died, I promised him… Hell, Shane, it doesn’t matter.” He hesitated, masking a sudden brooding look as he stood up and turned away to pour himself a drink. “We’re back here, indefinitely. That’s all.”

“But neither one of you can possibly want to settle in a town this small. I can’t imagine what Erica finds to do here. And, Kyle, I thought you never got on with your father. You used to talk about this woodworking business as if you thought it was the pits.”