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confusion of life? Houses were for living in, of course, and yet, when she thought of what would become of Crapemyrtle in the years ahead with the man who had bought it and the woman he was to marry in occupancy, a tightness grew in her chest that nothing could ease.
    Laura was startled from her reverie by the noise of a car engine. It was followed by the deeper rumble of a truck. The men had finished and were leaving. Reluctantly, she turned back toward the house.
    There was no one in the sitting room. Laura moved through it and out into the hallway toward the entrance. The glass panes of the sidelights that flanked the front door were coated with dust. She wiped a patch clear in order to see through the distorted, hand-blown glass. The truck belonging to one of the subcontractors was just turning out of the drive. It must have been the last to go, for the drive was empty except for the silver car belonging to Justin Roman.
    Hard on the realization, Laura frowned. The brown sedan Russ had been driving was also missing from the drive. He had gone without her.
    At a sound behind her, she swung around. Justin was coming down the hall from the rear of the house. In his hand he carried her canvas tote.
    “There you are,” he said. “We wondered where you had got off to. Russ looked for you to tell you he had to get back to the office, since our tour of inspection took longer than expected. He wasn’t sure whether you wanted to go with him or to stay on to take care of the job you had mentioned. I offered to run you home, so he left your bag.”
    “Thank you,” Laura said, reaching to take the tote from him. “I — I’m sorry to put you to so much trouble.”
    “No trouble at all. I still have a few things to see to, and to lock up. The drive will give us a chance to talk, to clear up a few matters at the same time.”
    “All right.” The deep timbre of his voice had been neutral, and yet Laura could not prevent the defensive feeling that rose inside her.
    “I’ll be with you in half an hour. Will that give you time enough?”
    His dark gaze was watchful. The sheepskin-lined jacket he wore made him seem broader and more powerful than he already was. Laura nodded. It was only as he turned and strode away that indignation stirred. He had arranged matters to suit himself and she had stood there and let him. She had little choice, of course; she could hardly have refused to discuss anything concerning the house with him, and it would have been foolish to decline the offer of a lift. She was even glad that she had been granted the time to get to the job she had come prepared to do. Still, she could have protested his high-handed manner, could have made her own position clear. With such thoughts running through her mind, she stood staring after him long after his footsteps had faded.
    The ceilings of the lower floor of Crapemyrtle were twenty feet high. Since this was two and one half times higher than normal, modern ceilings, it took a stepladder fourteen feet tall, and a great deal of courage, to come close to the plaster medallions that centered every room. Laura had arranged to have the stepladder delivered earlier in the week. It had been placed in the front parlor, but not set up. Now, by main strength and teeth-gritting effort, she jockeyed it into place in the middle of the room without scarring the floors. Standing it up, she opened it out and pushed it directly under the medallion.
    Overwarm from her exertions, she took off her coat and laid it to one side, then went to retrieve her camera, note pad, pen, and a carpenter’s folding ruler from her tote bag. With these in hand, she began the shaky climb up the tall ladder.
    Standing three steps down from the top of the ladder for balance and bracing meant that with her five feet and five inches of height she was still nearly three feet beneath the medallion. Even raising her arms as far as possible above her head, she could not touch it. It would have to do,