Brandon glanced back up into the tree, and strangely, he saw Marco just sitting there on a branch. Not a single muscle so much as twitched.

He was staring at Delilah.

For the span of a solid minute, Marco never moved. He held the chain saw in one hand and a nearby branch in the other and continued to look down at her. Totally unaware, Delilah held one of the flowers up to her nose and drew a deep breath.

And Marco couldn't take his eyes off her.

Hmm, Brandon thought. Isn't this interesting?

Eventually Marco turned back to his work, and a few minutes later, he came down out of the tree and started gathering up the branches to toss out at the street for the city to pick up.

"You stopped working up there for a minute," Brandon said.

Marco grabbed another branch. "Just taking a breather."

"Nah. I think you were watching Delilah."

Marco froze for a couple of seconds, then reached for another branch. "Delilah?"

"That woman next door you couldn't keep your eyes off of."

Brandon wouldn't have thought it possible, but that rugged face actually blushed.

"Delilah is a client of mine," Brandon said. "I'm been looking for the right man for her. Would you be interested in going over there to meet her?"

Marco whipped around. "No! I mean, I'm...you know. Working right now."

"You're the boss. You can give yourself a break, can't you?"

"No. I'm not interested in dating anyone."

"Yeah? You sure seemed interested in Delilah."

Marco didn't respond. He just started toward the gate with an armload of branches. Brandon grabbed a few himself and walked alongside him.

"So you're not attracted to her?"

"Nope."

"Hmm. I could have sworn-"

"I told you I'm not interested."

"She's smart. Personable. Owns her own house. Has a good job. I can show you her questionnaire if you're interested."

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Look at her," he said, still walking. "And then look at me. This isn't a face women flock to."

"I don't think she's going to get all that hung up on looks."

"Think again."

"But-"

"I know you've taken over your grandmother's business. But don't think you have to do anything for me. Your grandmother already tried. Once women saw my photo, she couldn't even get anyone to agree to a first date."

"Are you sure that's why?"

He heaved the branches into a pile at the curb. "Your grandmother was nice enough to say it wasn't. But I knew the truth, because it was nothing new. It's always been that way for me. Eventually I just told her to forget it. So that's what I want you to do. Forget it."

He started back toward the gate to gather more limbs, and Brandon followed. "Come on, Marco. Don't you want to meet someone?"

Marco spun around, then leaned in and spoke intensely. "Look, I know this is hard for a guy like you to understand. I'm sure women line up all over town just hoping you'll speak to them. So there's no way you could possibly understand how it feels to have every woman you meet look at you as if you're going to steal-"

"She's blind."

Marco stopped short. "What did you say?"

"Delilah. She was in an accident, and now she's totally blind."

Marco's brows drew together as if he couldn't quite reconcile that. "But just now...just now she was out on her patio. Clipping roses."

"She's not helpless."

"I-I didn't mean that. I just didn't think..." His voice faded away.

"When she lost her eyesight," Brandon went on, "she lost her fiance, too. Once he found out she was blind, he was out of there. So she's kinda gun-shy now, Marco. Same as you."

Marco glanced back toward the house next door, swallowing hard.

"So I guess you just ran out of excuses," Brandon said.

The jaw muscles of that craggy face tightened, and Brandon could tell he was thinking about it. But just as it looked as if he was going to agree at least to meet Delilah, he suddenly turned away.

"I'll get the rest of these limbs cleaned up," Marco said, starting for his truck again. "Then I need to get on to my next job."

Before Brandon could say anything else, Marco turned and headed for the backyard again, leaving him standing there in frustration. He didn't know how his grandmother had done this for thirty years. How had she dealt with people whose hearts had been broken too many times to try again?

Then he had an idea.

He figured most couples liked going the traditional route. Boy calls girl. But this time...this time he had the feeling that it was time to turn tradition on its ear.

As soon as Marco was gone, Brandon grabbed his phone and dialed Delilah's number.

Chapter 19.

As the workday wound down and Tony and Heather were leaving, they suggested everybody meet up at the bar that night for dinner, which was enthusiastically embraced by all. Alison saw them out the front door, then headed for the kitchen to see how her father and Bea were doing. As she approached it, she heard her father's voice.

"See? Now that's a damn fine paint job. I hope you've learned something today."

"Yep," Bea said. "I learned how easy it is to get a pompous know-it-all of a man to do my work for me."

"And I learned how much women need men no matter how much they say they don't."

Aaargh! He was at it again.

When Alison came into the room, Bea rolled her eyes. "Your father is hopeless. And you're such a nice girl. Who would have thought it?" She turned back to Charlie. "I suppose you'll be at McCaffrey's tonight just to annoy me?"

"It's the only reason I'm coming."

"Jesus," Bea muttered as she left the room. "The crap I have to put up with."

As soon as she was gone, Alison wheeled on her father. "Dad! You can't talk to Bea like that!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's rude! You told her she was painting wrong."

"That's because she was."

"But you can't tell her that!"

"I already did," Charlie said. "See you at the bar later, sweetie."

Alison dropped her head to her hands, hoping Bea wouldn't hold her father's behavior against her forever. He was like a time bomb. He sat there just ticking away softly until the moment he blew up right in your face.

As her father was leaving, Brandon came into the kitchen.

"One of these paint cans is still half full," Alison told him. "You can keep it for touchups."

"Thanks."

She turned and looked at the newly painted walls. "The color is pretty, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It looks nice."

"I'm getting ready to go, but before I leave...can I ask another favor?"

"Do I want to hear this?"

"Don't worry. It's not a big one. I saw an old wardrobe in one of the bedrooms upstairs. It was so gorgeous that I just had to open it up to see inside." She held up her palm. "No, I wasn't trying to be nosy. I just love old furniture."

"Your point?"

"I found some of the most beautiful vintage clothes inside. And I was wondering..."

"What?"

"Come upstairs. I'll show you."

He followed her up the stairs and into the bedroom. She opened the wardrobe with a flourish. "Look at these dresses. They're from the early nineteen hundreds, which means they were probably your great-grandmother's." She pulled out a blue empire dress and held it up. "This is my favorite. Isn't it pretty?"

Brandon shrugged. "It just looks like an old dress to me."

"No. It's way more than that. It's your family history."

"Uh...okay."

"Anyway, would you mind if I wore it on the day of the home tour?"

"You want to wear that? It smells like mothballs."

"It would have to be cleaned, but I can do that."

Brandon shrugged. "Sure. I don't care."

"If you don't mind me taking the dress..." Alison opened a lower drawer and pulled out a matching hat. She rested it carefully on her head and struck a pose. "How about a hat, too?"

"What's a dress without a hat? And the feathers are definitely you."

Alison pulled it off again. "This is going to be so much fun. I can't wait."

Then she looked again at the clothes in the wardrobe. "Brandon?"

"Yeah?"

"There are men's clothes in here, too. I don't suppose..."

"What?"

"Maybe on the day of the tour, you'd like to-"

"No! No. Absolutely not. Are you kidding me? I'm not wearing those clothes. I'd look like a total idiot."

"No! You'd look so handsome. Come on. We'd look like the lord and lady of the manor."

"I said no."