You're just afraid – and you'll be just as much a chicken tomorrow! her conscience accused. You're too stupid to find a job to help Verne! You can't do anything without making a mess of it, just like your mother always said. Just look at what you did last night! She was right when she said you'd never be able to get along alone up north!

A sobering image of her gray-faced mother flashed across the already downhearted young wife's mind, so distracting her that she failed to hear the "Deja-Vu's" front door opening and an oddly accented man's voice calling out to her. When she felt an arm tugging at her red cardigan, she yelped and whirled around so quickly that she had to catch hold of the bannister to keep from toppling over. Then, blushing with embarrassment at her awkwardness, she turned to stare at the dark-haired, bare-chested young man in chopped-off blue jeans who had caught hold of her arm when she stumbled in her cumbersome shoes.

"Never did understand why you chicks want to wear those crazy shoes. Bloody dangerous," he remarked as casually as though they were old friends instead of complete strangers.

"I-I'm sorry… I guess y-you startled m-me," she stammered, annoyed at her own gauche behavior but feeling extremely disconcerted by the way the handsome man's eyes seemed to be undressing her right out there on the doorstep. Then, when he failed to release his hold on her arm, she mumbled, "Well, better be going. Th-thanks for c-catching me." With a self-conscious laugh she turned away from him and put one foot down on the step below, then stopped short as he tightened his grip on her sweatered arm.

"Hey, wait a minute," he smiled, "I don't get it. You come to my house and ring my doorbell, but the minute you see me you want to run away. Am I so awful as all that?"