Perhaps it was time to replace the big bike with something that made a little less noise and held a lot more stuff. He'd had the motorcycle for three years and he'd enjoyed it, but lately it was losing its appeal. As he stepped away from the bike, he eyed the small yellow truck that sat next to it—Kate's truck. He'd seen it often enough at Spider's Walk during the past few weeks and lately he'd begun to envy her the simple practicality of the vehicle. A motorcycle was severely limited when it came to hauling lumber. Momentarily shelving the issue of transportation, he walked across the small parking area and stepped onto the brick walkway. The building in front of him had changed since the last time he'd seen it. An old-fashioned wooden sign hung from the eaves. The Wisteria Place was painted across it in gracefully flowing, deep lavender script. Other than the sign, the building looked like the comfortably frumpy old farmhouse it had once been.
