Greg was felled by her looks the moment she opened her door for their first meeting. Jen was younger than he’d imagined (his image of a piano tea...her didn’t allow him to picture her as less than fifty), in her early thirties, tall and thin with a welcoming smile, warm eyes and expressive features. It wasn’t quite love at first sight, because his chivalrous nature tethered him to respect her as a teacher, but every time he thought of her he couldn’t help but allow his mind to stray onto. ‘I hate to ask this,’ she began. ‘Do you think we can have that pile of fence moved? I saw it out there. It’s been that way, how long?’ ‘I’ll take care of it, I was thinking the same thing,’ he spoke too quickly. ‘I didn’t mean for you to do it.’ How could she make him understand that? ‘It’s such an eye sore and,’ she paused in thought, ‘such a reminder.’ ‘I was thinking the same thing,’ he repeated, ‘I’ll get rid of it.’ ‘How did that start? It’s been so long. What was it, 1977 or 78?’ ’77 I. More

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