I looked up from the pansies I was potting on the back patio. It was Sunday morning, and Callahan O’ Shea was back, standing in the kitchen at the sliding glass door. He’d gotten right to work this morning; Margaret was off for a run (she ran marathons, so there was no telling when she’d be back) so apparently Cal had no reason to hang around and flirt.“I need to move the bookcase in front of the window. Do you want to move your little…things?”“Sure,” I said, getting up and brushing off my hands.My “things” were mostly DVDs and collectibles. Wordlessly, I placed the items on the couch…a tobacco tin from the 1880s, a tiny cannon, a porcelain figure of Scarlett O’ Hara in her green velvet curtain dress and a framed Confederate dollar.“I guess you like the Civil War,” he commented as he glanced at the movie cases. Glory, Cold Mountain, The Red Badge of Courage, Shenandoah, North and South, The Outlaw Josey Wales, Gods and Generals, Gettysburg, and the Ken Burns documentary, special edition DVD, a Christmas gift from Natalie.“I’m a history teacher,”
