Fast Women

JENNIFER CRUSIE FAST WOMEN CONTENTS JEN-NI-FER CRU-SIE CON-TENTS Chap-ter One Chap-ter Two Chap-ter Three Chap-ter Fo-ur Chap-ter Fi-ve Chap-ter Six Chap-ter Se-ven Chap-ter Eight Chap-ter Ni-ne Chap-ter Ten Chap-ter Ele-ven Chap-ter Twel-ve Chap-ter Thir-te-en Chap-ter Fo-ur-te-en Chap-ter One Chap-ter Two Chap-ter Three Chap-ter Fo-ur Chap-ter Fi-ve Chap-ter Six Chap-ter Se-ven Chap-ter Eight Chap-ter Ni-ne Chap-ter Ten Chap-ter Ele-ven Chap-ter Twel-ve Chap-ter Thir-te-en Chap-ter Fo-ur-te-en 6/14/2008 Chapter One The man be-hind the clut-te-red desk lo-oked li-ke the de-vil, and Nell Dysart fi-gu-red that was par for her co-ur-se sin-ce she'd be-en go-ing to hell for a ye-ar and a half an-y-way. Me-eting Gab-ri-el McKen-na just me-ant she'd ar-ri-ved. "Yes, I think you bet-ter to lo-ok in-to that," he sa-id in-to the pho-ne with ba-rely dis-gu-ised im-pa-ti-en-ce, his sharp eyes te-leg-rap-hing his an-no-yan-ce. It was ru-de to talk on the pho-ne in front of her, but he didn't ha-ve a sec-re-tary to an-s-wer the pho-ne for him, and she was a job ap-pli-cant not a cli-ent, and he was a de-tec-ti-ve not an in-su-ran-ce sa-les-man, so may-be the re-gu-lar ru-les of so-ci-al in-ter-co-ur-se didn't apply. "I'll co-me up on Mon-day," he sa-id. "No, Tre-vor, wa-iting wo-uld not be bet-ter. I'll talk to all of you

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at ele-ven." He so-un-ded as if he we-re tal-king to a frac-ti-o-us un-c-le, not a cli-ent. The de-tec-ti-ve bu-si-ness must be a lot bet-ter than this pla-ce lo-oked if he co-uld dic-ta-te to cli-ents li-ke that, es-pe-ci-al-ly cli-ents na-med Tre-vor. The only Tre-vor Nell knew was her sis-ter-in-law's fat-her, and he was ric-her than God, so may-be Ga-be McKen-na was re-al-ly po-wer-ful and suc-ces-sful and just ne-eded so-me-body to ma-na-ge his of-fi-ce back in-to sha-pe. She co-uld do that. Nell lo-oked aro-und the shabby ro-om and tri-ed to be po-si-ti-ve, but the pla-ce was glo-omy in the Sep-tem-ber af-ter-no-on light, even glo-omi-er be-ca-use the an-ci-ent blinds on the equ-al-ly an-ci-ent big win-dows we-re pul-led down. The McKen-na Bu-il-ding sto-od on the cor-ner of two of the city's pret-ti-er tho-ro-ug-h-fa-res in Ger-man Vil-la-ge, a dis-t-rict whe-re pe-op-le pa-id big bucks to lo-ok out the-ir win-dows at his-to-ric Ohio brick stre-ets and ar-c-hi-tec-tu-re, but Gab-ri-el McKen-na pul-led his blinds, pro-bably so he co-uldn't see the mess in-si-de. The walls we-re co-ve-red with dusty fra-med black-and-whi-te pho-tos, the fur-ni-tu-re ne-eded to be cle-aned and wa-xed, and his desk ne-eded to be plo-wed. She'd ne-ver se-en so much gar-ba-ge on one sur-fa-ce in her li-fe, the Styro-fo-am cups alo-ne wo-uld"Yes," he sa-id, his vo-ice low and su-re. The light from his gre-en-sha-ded desk lamp threw sha-dows on his fa-ce, but with tho-se dark eyes clo-sed now, he didn't lo-ok ne-arly as sa-ta-nic. Mo-re li-ke yo-ur ave-ra-ge, dark-ha-ired, for-ty-so-met-hing bu-si-nes-sman in a stri-ped shirt and lo-ose-ned tie. Li-ke Tim. Nell sto-od up ab-ruptly and drop-ped her pur-se on the cha-ir. She went to the big win-dow to open the blinds and let in a lit-tle light. If she cle-aned the pla-ce up, he co-uld le-ave the blinds open to ma-ke a bet-ter im-p-res-si-on. Cli-ents li-ked do-ing bu-si-ness in the light, not in the pit of hell. She tug-ged on-ce on the cord and it stuck, so she tug-ged aga-in, har-der, and this ti-me it ca-me off in her hand. Oh, gre-at. She lo-oked back, but he was still on the pho-ne, his bro-ad sho-ul-ders hun-c-hed, so she sho-ved the cord on-to the win-dow-sill. It fell off on-to the har-d-wo-od flo-or, the plas-tic end ma-king a sharp, hol-low so-und as it hit, and she le-aned in-to the blind-co-ve-red win-dow to get it from be-hind the cha-ir that was in the way. It was just out of her fin-gers' re-ach, anot-her damn thing out of her re-ach, so she pres-sed har-der aga-inst the blinds, stret-c-hing to to-uch it with her fin-ger-tips. The win-dow crac-ked un-der her sho-ul-der. "I'll see you on Mon-day," he sa-id in-to the pho-ne, and she kic-ked the cord be-hind the ra-di-ator and went back to sit down be-fo-re he co-uld no-ti-ce that she was des-t-ro-ying his of-fi-ce aro-und him. Now she had to get the job so she co-uld co-ver the tracks of her van-da-lism. And be-si-des, the-re was that desk, so-me-body ne-eded to sa-ve this guy. And then the-re was her ne-ed for mo-ney to pay for rent and ot-her lu-xu-ri-es. So-me-body ne-eds to sa-ve me, she tho-ught. He hung up the pho-ne and tur-ned to her, lo-oking ti-red. "I apo-lo-gi-ze, Mrs. Dysart. You can see how much we ne-ed a sec-re-tary." Nell lo-oked at his desk and tho-ught, You ne-ed mo-re than a sec-re-tary, buddy, but she sa-id, "Per-fectly all right." She was go-ing to be che-er-ful and hel-p-ful if it kil-led her. He pic-ked up her re-su-me. "Why did you le-ave yo-ur last po-si-ti-on?" "My boss di-vor-ced me." "That wo-uld be a re-ason," he sa-id, and be-gan to re-ad. His pe-op-le skills ne-eded work, she tho-ught as she sta-red down at her sen-sib-le black pumps, plan-ted firmly on the an-ci-ent Ori-en-tal rug whe-re they co-uldn't walk her in-to tro-ub-le aga-in. Now if he'd be-en Tim, he'd ha-ve of-fe-red her sympathy, a Kle-enex, a sho-ul-der to cry on. He wo-uld ha-ve fol-lo-wed that up by sug-ges-ting the pur-c-ha-se of so-me in-su-ran-ce, but he wo-uld ha-ve be-en sympat-he-tic. The-re was a spot on the car-pet, and she rub-bed at it with the toe of her shoe, trying to blend it in. Spots ma-de a pla-ce lo-ok un-suc-ces-sful; it was the de-ta-ils that co-un-ted in an of-fi-ce en-vi-ron-ment. She rub-bed har-der, and the car-pet thre-ads par-ted, and the spot got big-ger; it

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wasn't a spot, she'd fo-und a ho-le and had ma-na-ged to shred it to do-ub-le its si-ze in un-der fif-te-en se-conds. She put her fo-ot over the ho-le and tho-ught, Ta-ke me, Jesus, ta-ke me now. "Why do you want to work for us?" he sa-id, and she smi-led at him, trying to lo-ok bright and eager, plus the afo-re-men-ti-oned che-er-ful and hel-p-ful, which was hard sin-ce she was mid-dle-aged and cranky. "I think it wo-uld be in-te-res-ting to work for a de-tec-ti-ve agency." I think I ne-ed a job so I can bold on-to my di-vor-ce set-tle-ment for my old age. "You'd be ama-zed how bo-ring it is," he sa-id. "You'll be do-ing mostly typing and fi-ling and an-s-we-ring pho-nes. You're over-qu-ali-fi-ed for this job." I'm al-so for-ty-two and unem-p-lo-yed, she tho-ught, but she sa-id brightly, "I'm re-ady for a chan-ge." He nod-ded, lo-oking as tho-ugh he wasn't bu-ying any of it, and she won-de-red if he was eno-ugh li-ke Tim that he'd rec-y-c-le her in twenty ye-ars, if af-ter the pas-sa-ge of ti-me he wo-uld lo-ok at her and say, "We've grown apart. I swe-ar I ha-ven't be-en in-ter-vi-ewing ot-her sec-re-ta-ri-es on the si-de, but now I ne-ed so-me-body new. So-me-body with re-al typing skills. So-me-body-" The arm of the cha-ir wob-bled un-der her hand, and she re-ali-zed she'd be-en pul-ling up on it. Re-lax. She sho-ved it back down aga-in, clam-ping her el-bow to her si-de to stop the cha-ir arm from mo-ving any mo-re, ke-eping her fo-ot on the spot on the rug. Just sit still, she told her-self. Be-hind her, the blind rus-t-led as it slip-ped a lit-tle. "You cer-ta-inly ha-ve the skills we ne-ed," McKen-na sa-id, and she for-ced a smi-le. "Ho-we-ver, our work he-re is highly con-fi-den-ti-al. We ha-ve a ru-le: We ne-ver talk abo-ut bu-si-ness out-si-de this of-fi-ce. Can you be dis-c-re-et?" "Cer-ta-inly," Nell sa-id, pres-sing har-der on the cha-ir arm as she tri-ed to ra-di-ate dis-c-re-ti-on. "You do un-der-s-tand that this is a tem-po-rary po-si-ti-on?" "Uh, yes," Nell li-ed, fe-eling sud-denly col-der. He-re was her new li-fe, just li-ke her old li-fe. She he-ard a fa-int crack from the di-rec-ti-on of the cha-ir arm and lo-ose-ned her grip a lit-tle. "O-ur re-cep-ti-onist is re-co-ve-ring from an ac-ci-dent and sho-uld be back in six we-eks," he was sa-ying. "So Oc-to-ber thir-te-enth-" "I'm his-tory," Nell fi-nis-hed. At le-ast he was let-ting her know ahe-ad of ti-me that the end was co-ming. She wo-uldn't get at-tac-hed. She wo-uldn't ha-ve a son with him. She wo-uldn't The cha-ir arm wob-bled aga-in, much lo-oser this ti-me, and he nod-ded. "If you want the job, it's yo-urs." The blind slip-ped aga-in, a rusty, sli-ding so-und. "I want the job," Nell sa-id. He fis-hed in his cen-ter desk dra-wer and han-ded her a key. "This will get you in-to the outer of-fi-ce on the days my par-t-ner, Ri-ley, or I ha-ven't ope-ned be-fo-re you get he-re." He sto-od and of-fe-red her his hand. "Wel-co-me to McKen-na In-ves-ti-ga-ti-ons, Mrs. Dysart. We'll see you Mon-day at ni-ne." Nell sto-od, too, re-le-asing the cha-ir arm gin-gerly in the ho-pe that it wo-uldn't fall to the flo-or. She re-ac-hed for his hand, stic-king hers out for-ce-ful-ly to show con-fi-den-ce and strength, and hit one of the Styro-fo-am cups. Cof-fee spre-ad over his pa-pers whi-le they both wat-c-hed, the-ir hands clas-ped over the car-na-ge. "My fa-ult," he sa-id, let-ting go of her to grab the cup. "I ne-ver re-mem-ber to throw the-se out." "Well, that's my job for the next six we-eks," she sa-id, perky as all hell. "Thank you so much, Mr. McKen-na." She ga-ve him one last in-sa-nely po-si-ti-ve smi-le and left the of-fi-ce be-fo-re an-y-t-hing el-se co-uld hap-pen. The last thing she saw as she clo-sed the he-avy do-or be-hind her was the blind slip-ping on-ce, bo-un-cing, and then cras-hing down, ex-po-sing the star-crac-ked win-dow, bril-li-ant in the la-te af-ter-no-on light. When Ele-anor Dysart was go-ne, Ga-be lo-oked at the bro-ken win-dow and sig-hed. He fo-und a

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bot-tle of Ba-yer in his mid-dle dra-wer and to-ok two of the as-pi-rin, was-hing them down with ho-urs-old cof-fee that had be-en aw-ful when it was hot, gri-ma-cing as so-me-body knoc-ked on his of-fi-ce do-or. His co-usin Ri-ley lo-omed blondly in the do-or-way, do-ing his usu-al im-p-res-si-on of a half-bright hal-f-back. "Who was the skinny red-he-ad who just left? Cu-te, but if we ta-ke her ca-se, we sho-uld fe-ed her." "Ele-anor Dysart," Ga-be sa-id. "She's fil-ling in for Lynnie. And she's stron-ger than she lo-oks." Ri-ley frow-ned at the win-dow as he sat down in the cha-ir Ele-anor Dysart had just va-ca-ted. "When'd the win-dow get bro-ken?" "Abo-ut fi-ve mi-nu-tes ago. And we're hi-ring her, even tho-ugh she's a win-dow bre-aker, be-ca-use she's qu-ali-fi-ed and be-ca-use Jack Dysart as-ked us to." Ri-ley lo-oked dis-gus-ted. "One of his ex-wi-ves we don't know abo-ut?" He le-aned on the cha-ir arm, and it crac-ked and bro-ke so that he had to catch him-self to ke-ep from fal-ling thro-ugh it. "What the hell?" "Sis-ter- in-law," Ga-be sa-id, sta-ring sadly at the cha-ir. "Di-vor-ced from his brot-her." "Tho-se Dysart boys are hell on wi-ves," Ri-ley sa-id, pic-king up the cha-ir arm from the flo-or. "I men-ti-oned to Jack that we ne-eded a temp and he sent her over. Be ni-ce to her. Ot-her pe-op-le ha-ven't be-en." Ga-be stas-hed his as-pi-rin back in the dra-wer and pic-ked up a cof-fee-so-aked pa-per. He used anot-her pa-per to blot the cof-fee off and held it out to Ri-ley. "You've got the Hot Lunch on Mon-day." Ri-ley ga-ve up on the cha-ir arm and drop-ped it on the flo-or to ta-ke the pa-per. "I ha-te cha-sing che-aters." Ga-be's he-adac-he fo-ught back aga-inst the as-pi-rin. "If re-la-ti-on-s-hip in-ves-ti-ga-ti-on bot-hers you, you might want to ret-hink yo-ur ca-re-er cho-ice." "It's the pe-op-le, not the job. Li-ke Jack Dysart. A law-yer who thinks adul-tery is a hobby, the-re's the bot-tom of the fo-od cha-in for you. What a lo-ser." That's not why you ha-te him, Ga-be tho-ught, but it was la-te on Fri-day af-ter-no-on, and he had no in-te-rest in pur-su-ing his co-usin's old grud-ges. "I ha-ve to see him and Tre-vor Ogil-vie on Mon-day. Both se-ni-or par-t-ners at on-ce." "Go-od for you. I ho-pe Jack's in tro-ub-le up to his neck." "They're be-ing blac-k-ma-iled." "Blac-k-ma-il?" Ri-ley sa-id, his vo-ice full of dis-be-li-ef. "Jack? The-re's stuff out the-re that's even wor-se than the stuff ever-y-body knows abo-ut him?" "Pos-sibly," Ga-be sa-id, thin-king abo-ut Jack and his to-tal dis-re-gard for the con-se-qu-en-ces of his ac-ti-ons. It was ama-zing what a han-d-so-me, char-ming, sel-fish, we-althy law-yer co-uld get away with. At le-ast, it was ama-zing what Jack got away with. "Jack thinks it's just a dis-g-run-t-led em-p-lo-yee trying to sca-re them. Tre-vor thinks it's a prank and if they wa-it a few we-eks-" Ri-ley snor-ted. "The-re's Tre-vor for you. A law-yer who's ma-de a for-tu-ne de-la-ying the ot-her si-de to de-ath. Which is still bet-ter that. Jack, the de-vi-o-us son of a bitch." Ga-be felt a spurt of ir-ri-ta-ti-on. "Oh, hell, Ri-ley, gi-ve the man so-me cre-dit, it's be-en fo-ur-te-en ye-ars and he's still mar-ri-ed to her. She crac-ked thirty a whi-le back and he stuck. He may even be fa-it-h-ful for all we know." Ri-ley scow-led at him. "I ha-ve no idea what you're tal-king abo-ut-" "Su-san-nah Cam-p-bell Dysart, the de-fi-ning mo-ment of yo-ur yo-uth." "- but if my cho-ice is bet-we-en the Hot Lunch and Jack Dysart," Ri-ley went on, "I'll ta-ke the Hot Lunch. I was go-ing to cam-pus on Mon-day an-y-way; it'll be on my way." Ga-be frow-ned at him. "I tho-ught you we-re wor-king a bac-k-g-ro-und check on Mon-day. What are you do-ing on cam-pus?" "Ha-ving lunch," Ri-ley sa-id, lo-oking in-no-cent. Ga-be's ir-ri-ta-ti-on grew. Ri-ley was thir-ty-fo-ur. Ma-tu-rity was long over-due. "You're da-ting a grad stu-dent now?"

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"J-uni-or," Ri-ley sa-id, wit-ho-ut gu-ilt. "Hor-ti-cul-tu-re ma-j-or. Knows ever-y-t-hing abo-ut plants. Did you re-ali-ze that the co-nef-lo-wer-" "So she's what, fif-te-en ye-ars yo-un-ger than you are?" "Thir-te-en," Ri-ley sa-id. "I'm bro-ade-ning my ho-ri-zons by le-ar-ning abo-ut the plant world. You, on the ot-her hand, are in such a de-ep rut you can't even see yo-ur ho-ri-zons. Co-me out with us, get ho-oked up-" "With an un-der-g-ra-du-ate." Ga-be sho-ok his he-ad, dis-gus-ted. "No. I'm cal-ling Chloe for din-ner to-night. I will be ho-oked up." Ri-ley sho-ok his he-ad, equ-al-ly dis-gus-ted. "Much as I li-ke Chloe, sle-eping with yo-ur ex-wi-fe is not go-ing to get you out of yo-ur rut." "Much as sle-eping with a col-le-ge juni-or will not help you ac-hi-eve adul-t-ho-od," Ga-be sa-id. "Fi-ne, be that way." Ri-ley sto-od up, af-fab-le as ever. "Gi-ve my best to Jack and the boys on Mon-day." He pic-ked up the bro-ken cha-ir and swit-c-hed it with the one by the win-dow and then left, and Ga-be be-gan to sort thro-ugh the rest of the splat-te-red pa-pers on his desk. As an af-ter-t-ho-ught, he pic-ked up the pho-ne and hit the spe-ed di-al for The Star-St-ruck Cup, his ex-wi-fe's te-as-hop. He co-uld ha-ve wal-ked thro-ugh the do-or that con-nec-ted the agency re-cep-ti-on ro-om to The Cup's sto-re-ro-om and tal-ked to his ex in the flesh, but he didn't want Chloe in the flesh at that mo-ment, he just wan-ted to ma-ke su-re he had ac-cess to her flesh la-ter. When Chloe an-s-we-red, her vo-ice bub-bling over the pho-ne, he sa-id, "It's me." "Go-od," she sa-id, so-me of the bub-ble go-ne. "Lis-ten, a wo-man was just in he-re bu-ying al-mond co-oki-es. Tall and thin. Fa-ded red ha-ir. Pretty eyes. Did she co-me from you?" "Yes, but she's not a cli-ent so you can skip the pep talk abo-ut how I ha-ve to sa-ve her. She's Lynnie's temp rep-la-ce-ment." "She has an in-te-res-ting lo-ok to her," Chloe sa-id. "I bet she's a Vir-go. Gi-ve me her birth da-te." "No. Din-ner at eight?" "Yes, ple-ase. We ne-ed to talk. Lu thinks may-be she'd rat-her bac-k-pack thro-ugh Euro-pe this fall." "Not a chan-ce. I pa-id her fir-st-qu-ar-ter tu-iti-on." "This is yo-ur da-ug-h-ter's li-fe, Ga-be." "No. She's only eig-h-te-en. That's too yo-ung for Euro-pe by her-self." "She's the sa-me age I was when I mar-ri-ed you," Chloe po-in-ted out. And lo-ok at the lo-usy de-ci-si-on you ma-de. "Chloe, she's go-ing to col-le-ge. If she ha-tes it af-ter the first qu-ar-ter, we'll talk." Chloe sig-hed. "All right. Now abo-ut this Vir-go-" "No," Ga-be sa-id and hung up, thin-king abo-ut his lo-vely blon-de da-ug-h-ter ma-king plans to bac-k-pack thro-ugh fa-ra-way co-un-t-ri-es fil-led with pre-da-tory men whi-le his lo-vely blon-de ex-wi-fe con-sul-ted the sa-me stars that had told her to di-vor-ce him. He re-ac-hed for the as-pi-rin aga-in and this ti-me he was-hed it down with the Glen-li-vet he kept stas-hed in his bot-tom dra-wer, just as his dad had be-fo-re him. He was go-ing to ha-ve to do so-met-hing abo-ut Chloe and Lu, not to men-ti-on Jack Dysart and Tre-vor Ogil-vie and wha-te-ver mess they'd got-ten them-sel-ves and the-ir law firm in-to this ti-me. The only che-er-ful thing in his fu-tu-re was that he'd be sle-eping with Chloe la-ter. That was al-ways ni-ce. Ni-ce? He stop-ped. Christ, what had hap-pe-ned to "hot"? It co-uldn't be Chloe, she was the sa-me as she'd al-ways be-en. So it's me, he tho-ught, lo-oking at the scotch bot-tle in one hand and the as-pi-rin bot-tle on the desk. I'm pla-yed out, rel-ying on bo-oze and drugs to get me thro-ugh the day. Of co-ur-se, it was Glen-li-vet and Ba-yer he was abu-sing, not Rip-ple and crack. His eye fell on the pho-tog-raph on the wall ac-ross from him: his dad and Tre-vor Ogil-vie, forty ye-ars be-fo-re, hands clas-ped on each ot-her's pin-s-t-ri-ped sho-ul-ders, grin-ning at the ca-me-ra, which they to-as-ted with glas-ses of scotch. A fi-ne old tra-di-ti-on, he tho-ught and re-mem-be-red his dad sa-ying, "Tre-vor's a gre-at guy, but wit-ho-ut me, he'd ig-no-re his prob-lems un-til they blew up in his fa-ce."

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You left me mo-re than half the agency, Pop. Not che-ered by this, Ga-be stas-hed both bot-tles in the desk and be-gan to sort thro-ugh the mess on his desk to find his no-tes. Damn go-od thing they had a sec-re-tary co-ming in on Mon-day. He ne-eded so-me-body who wo-uld fol-low or-ders and ma-ke his li-fe easi-er, the way Chloe had when she'd be-en his sec-re-tary. He shot an une-asy glan-ce at the bro-ken win-dow. He was pretty su-re Ele-anor Dysart was go-ing to ma-ke his li-fe easi-er. And if she didn't, he'd just fi-re her, even if she was the ex-sis-ter-in-law of the-ir big-gest cli-ent. If the-re was one thing he didn't ne-ed in his li-fe, it was mo-re pe-op-le ma-king him crazy. He was full up on tho-se al-re-ady. On the ot-her si-de of the vil-la-ge park, Nell sat at her lar-ge di-ning ro-om tab-le in her very small apar-t-ment and sa-id, "And then as I left, the blind fell down with this hu-ge crash and the-re was the bro-ken win-dow." She wat-c-hed stra-ig-ht-fa-ced as her sis-ter-in-law Su-ze Dysart hic-cup-ped with la-ug-h-ter, pla-ti-num be-a-uti-ful even whi-le gas-ping. "May-be he'll think it was so-me-body out-si-de who bro-ke it," Nell's ot-her sis-ter-in-law, Mar-gie, sa-id from be-si-de her, her pla-in lit-tle fa-ce as ho-pe-ful as al-ways over the cup of cof-fee Nell had just po-ured for her. "If you ne-ver tell him, may-be he'll ne-ver know." She to-ok a small sil-ver ther-mos out of her bag as she spo-ke and top-ped up her cup with the soy milk she car-ri-ed with her. "He's a de-tec-ti-ve," Nell sa-id. "I ho-pe to God he knows, or I'm wor-king for El-mer Fudd." "Oh, God, it's be-en too long sin-ce I la-ug-hed li-ke that." Su-ze to-ok a de-ep bre-ath. "What are you go-ing to do abo-ut the rug?" "May-be you can stick the ho-ley part un-der his desk." Mar-gie re-ac-hed for an al-mond co-okie. "If he ne-ver se-es it, may-be he'll ne-ver know." She bit in-to the co-okie and sa-id, "I lo-ve the-se, but the wo-man who ma-kes them is very stingy with the re-ci-pe." "If you co-uld ma-ke the co-oki-es, wo-uld you buy them from her?" Su-ze sa-id, and when Mar-gie sho-ok her he-ad, she sa-id, "Well, the-re you are." She tur-ned back to Nell and pus-hed the co-okie pla-te to-ward her. "Eat and tell us abo-ut it. What's the pla-ce li-ke? What's yo-ur new boss li-ke?" "He's a slob," Nell sa-id. "It's go-ing to ta-ke me the en-ti-re six we-eks just to cle-an off his desk." That was a go-od tho-ught, or-ga-ni-zing so-me-body's li-fe, get-ting back in char-ge of things. Ti-me to get mo-ving aga-in, she tho-ught and sat still. "O-uch." Mar-gie lo-oked un-der the tab-le. "What did I just kick? Why are the-re bo-xes un-der he-re?" "My chi-na," Nell sa-id. "You ha-ven't un-pac-ked yo-ur chi-na yet?" Mar-gie so-un-ded scan-da-li-zed. "She'll get to it." Su-ze sent an un-mis-ta-kab-le shut-up gla-re Mar-gie's way. Mar-gie, of co-ur-se, mis-sed it. "If she had her chi-na out, she co-uld lo-ok at it, and it wo-uld ma-ke her fe-el mo-re set-tled." "No, it wo-uldn't," Su-ze sa-id, still sta-ring at her with in-tent. "Mi-ne's out and it ma-kes me want to throw up, al-t-ho-ugh that may be be-ca-use I'm stuck with the butt-ugly Dysart Spo-de." "I lo-ve lo-oking at my dis-hes," Mar-gie sa-id sadly over her cof-fee, which was not news to the rest of the tab-le. Mar-gie had mo-re Fran-cis-can De-sert Ro-se ear-t-hen-wa-re than any ot-her wo-man on the pla-net. Su-ze fi-nal-ly ca-ught Mar-gie's eye, and Mar-gie stra-ig-h-te-ned, smi-ling. Nell wan-ted to say, "Lo-ok, guys, it's all right," but then she'd just ha-ve to co-pe with both of them re-as-su-ring her aga-in. "Well, I think it's won-der-ful," Mar-gie sa-id, fa-ux chip-per. "This new job and all. You've al-ways li-ked wor-king." She so-un-ded slightly be-mu-sed by that, as if it we-re a mystery to her. "I didn't li-ke wor-king," Nell sa-id. "I li-ked run-ning my own bu-si-ness." "Tim's bu-si-ness," Mar-gie sa-id. "We bu-ilt it to-get-her." "Then why do-es he ha-ve it now?" Mar-gie sa-id, and Nell wis-hed Su-ze wo-uld gla-re at Mar-gie aga-in. "Well, I'd li-ke wor-king," Su-ze rus-hed in. "I don't know what I want to do, but af-ter fo-ur-te-en

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ye-ars of col-le-ge, I must be qu-ali-fi-ed to do so-met-hing." Then get a job, Nell tho-ught, im-pa-ti-ent at he-aring Su-ze's la-ment aga-in, and then felt gu-ilty. Su-ze tal-ked abo-ut work and didn't do an-y-t-hing abo-ut it, but Nell hadn't do-ne an-y-t-hing, eit-her, un-til Jack had cal-led abo-ut the McKen-nas. Mar-gie was still ob-ses-sing abo-ut Tim. "Tell me you at le-ast got half of tho-se ugly glass awards he was so pro-ud of." Nell kept her tem-per. Snar-ling at Mar-gie was li-ke kic-king a puppy. "The Icic-les? No. I left them with the agency. It wo-uldn't ha-ve be-en fa-ir-" "Don't you ever get ti-red of be-ing fa-ir?" Su-ze sa-id. Yes, Nell tho-ught. "No," she sa-id. "And as for the new job, all I'm go-ing to do is an-s-wer pho-nes and type for six we-eks. It's not a ca-re-er. It's li-ke prac-ti-ce, just to get me star-ted aga-in." "It's a de-tec-ti-ve agency," Su-ze sa-id. "I tho-ught that wo-uld be ex-ci-ting. Sam Spa-de and Ef-fie Pe-ri-ne." She so-un-ded wis-t-ful. "Who?" Mar-gie sa-id. "A fa-mo-us de-tec-ti-ve and his sec-re-tary," Su-ze sa-id. "I stu-di-ed them in my film no-ir co-ur-se. I tho-ught Sam and Ef-fie had the best jobs. The clot-hes we-re go-od, too." She pus-hed the pla-te to-ward Nell. "Ha-ve a co-okie." Mar-gie re-fo-cu-sed on Nell. "Is yo-ur boss cu-te?" "No." Nell stir-red her cof-fee and tho-ught abo-ut Ga-be McKen-na. It was his eyes that had ma-de her ner-vo-us, she de-ci-ded. That and the she-er we-ight of his pre-sen-ce, the thre-at of po-ten-ti-al tem-per the-re. Not a man to mess with. "He's tall and so-lid-lo-oking, and he frowns a lot, and his eyes are dark so it's hard to re-ad him. He lo-oks…I don't know. An-no-yed. Sar-cas-tic." She re-mem-be-red him sit-ting be-hind his desk, ig-no-ring her. "Actu-al-ly, he lo-oks li-ke Tim." "That do-esn't so-und li-ke Tim," Mar-gie sa-id. "Tim's al-ways smi-ling and sa-ying ni-ce things." "Tim's al-ways trying to sell in-su-ran-ce," Su-ze sa-id. "But you're right, that do-esn't so-und li-ke Tim. Don't get them con-fu-sed. Tim is a lo-ser. The new guy might be go-od. An-y-body but Tim might be go-od." Nell sig-hed. "Lo-ok, he was very po-li-te, but that was it." "May-be he was fig-h-ting his at-trac-ti-on to you," Su-ze sa-id. "May-be he was dis-tant be-ca-use he didn't want to co-me on too strong but his he-art be-at fas-ter when he saw you." Mar-gie sho-ok her he-ad. "I don't think so. Nell isn't the type to dri-ve men crazy on first sight. Men do that for you be-ca-use you're yo-ung and be-a-uti-ful, so you think it's that way for ever-y-body." "I'm not that yo-ung," Su-ze sa-id. "He was not at-trac-ted to me," Nell sa-id firmly. "This is a job only." "All right," Mar-gie sa-id. "But you do ha-ve to start da-ting now. You sho-uld be mar-ri-ed aga-in." Ye-ah, be-ca-use that wor-ked out so well the last ti-me. "She's right," Su-ze sa-id. "You don't want to be alo-ne." She sa-id it as if it we-re a fa-te wor-se than de-ath. "Al-t-ho-ugh may-be not," Mar-gie sa-id, sta-ring off in-to spa-ce. "Co-me to think of it, it's the men who al-ways want to get mar-ri-ed. Lo-ok at Tim, mar-rying Whit-ney so so-on." Ouch, Nell tho-ught and saw Su-ze swing to-ward Mar-gie, re-ady to snarl. "And Bud-ge can't wa-it, he's dri-ving me crazy abo-ut set-ting a da-te." Mar-gie bit in-to her co-okie and che-wed, de-ep in tho-ught. "You know, he mo-ved in a month af-ter Ste-wart left, so I ne-ver had much of a chan-ce to lo-ok aro-und. The-re might be so-me-body bet-ter." Nell was so sur-p-ri-sed she al-most drop-ped her cof-fee cup. Su-ze put hers down in her sa-ucer with a lo-ud clink. "Ma-rj-orie Ogil-vie Dysart, I am as-to-nis-hed at you. That man's li-ved with you for se-ven ye-ars and you're thin-king abo-ut le-aving him?" "Well," Mar-gie be-gan. "Go for it," Su-ze sa-id. "Don't think twi-ce. If you ne-ed help mo-ving, I'm the-re." "Or may-be I'll get a job," Mar-gie went on. "If you li-ke yo-ur job, Nell, may-be I'll get one. Not at the

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agency, tho-ugh. Bud-ge says the McKen-nas de-al with too many low pe-op-le." "Re-al-ly?" Nell sa-id, not ca-ring. Mar-gie's Bud-ge lo-oked li-ke the Sta-Puf Mar-s-h-mal-low Man and tal-ked li-ke a Mo-ral Ma-j-ority le-ader. "I'm ama-zed Bud-ge lets you hang out with me, then." Mar-gie blin-ked at her. "You're not low. You're just dep-res-sed." Su-ze sho-ved the co-okie pla-te to-ward her to dis-t-ract her. "Nell is not dep-res-sed. And spe-aking of Bud-ge, if you're go-ing to stay with him, wo-uld you ple-ase tell him aga-in not to call me 'Su-zie.' I've re-min-ded him over and over and he still do-es it. One mo-re ti-me and I swe-ar to God, I'm go-ing to bre-ak his glas-ses." "I just won-der so-me-ti-mes," Mar-gie sa-id, not pa-ying at-ten-ti-on. "You know. Is this all the-re is?" Nell nod-ded. "I used to won-der, too. So-me-ti-mes I'd lo-ok aro-und the in-su-ran-ce agency and think, 'This is the rest of my li-fe?' Then it tur-ned out it wasn't. Trust me, Mar-gie, don't push yo-ur luck." "You didn't push yo-ur luck," Su-ze sa-id. "You mar-ri-ed the wrong guy." "No, I didn't," Nell sa-id. "He was the right guy for twen-ty-two ye-ars." She sta-red in-to her cof-fee cup. "It's not li-ke he che-ated-" "Oh, for he-aven's sa-ke," Su-ze sa-id. "If I he-ar one mo-re ti-me abo-ut how it's not Tim's fa-ult be-ca-use he didn't che-at be-fo-re he left you, I'm go-ing to throw so-met-hing. He left you alo-ne and hurt you so much you don't even eat any mo-re." She sta-red at the co-okie pla-te, vi-sibly up-set. "He's scum. I ha-te him. Find so-me-body new and start a new li-fe." I li-ked my old li-fe. Nell to-ok a de-ep bre-ath. "Lo-ok, can we wa-it to see if I sur-vi-ve wor-king for Gab-ri-el McKen-na for six we-eks be-fo-re I de-al with ot-her men?" "Okay, six we-eks, but then you da-te," Su-ze sa-id. "And you eat now." "I think we sho-uld un-pack yo-ur chi-na," Mar-gie sa-id. God, pre-ser-ve me from tho-se who lo-ve me, Nell tho-ught and drank the rest of her cof-fee. Fi-ve ho-urs la-ter, in his third-flo-or apar-t-ment abo-ve the agency, Ga-be wo-uld ha-ve tho-ught much the sa-me thing if he'd be-en thin-king at all. Af-ter the day he'd had, all he'd wan-ted was sex and si-len-ce, and now he was hal-f-way the-re, ma-king only a va-gue pre-ten-se of lis-te-ning to Chloe in bed be-si-de him. "I li-ked the way she lo-oked." Chloe was sa-ying. "And I chec-ked her birth da-te on the ap-pli-ca-ti-on, and she is a Vir-go, just li-ke I tho-ught. She's go-ing to be an ex-cel-lent sec-re-tary." "Hmmm." "So I think you sho-uld fi-re Lynnie and ma-ke this Ele-anor per-ma-nent," Chloe sa-id, her usu-al de-li-ca-tely sug-ges-ti-ve vo-ice blunt, and Ga-be wo-ke up a lit-tle. "Even be-fo-re I knew Lynnie was a Scor-pio, I didn't trust her. I know she's ef-fi-ci-ent, but she do-esn't ta-ke ca-re of an-y-body but her-self. That dark ha-ir. Ele-anor will be per-fect for you." Ga-be ig-no-red the dark ha-ir bit-trac-king down Chloe's free as-so-ci-ati-ons co-uld ta-ke ho-urs-to con-cen-t-ra-te on the im-por-tant po-int. "Chloe, I don't tell you how to run yo-ur bu-si-ness, so butt out of mi-ne." Anot-her tho-ught in-t-ru-ded. "How did you see that ap-pli-ca-ti-on?" "It was on yo-ur desk. I lo-oked af-ter you left. She has a Can-cer mo-on." "If that me-ans she has a ni-ce ass, you're right. Stay out of my of-fi-ce." Ga-be rol-led away in the for-lorn ho-pe she'd shut up. "I bet she was a re-al red-he-ad on-ce," Chloe sa-id. "The-re was fi-re the-re, I'd bet an-y-t-hing. But she's all fa-ded out now." She nud-ged him with her el-bow. "You co-uld do so-met-hing abo-ut that, put so-me of the fi-re back in-to her." "She's go-ing to an-s-wer the pho-ne," Ga-be sa-id in-to his pil-low. "Unless ATT in-f-la-mes her, she's out of luck." Chloe sat up and le-aned over his sho-ul-der, and he clo-sed his eyes in ple-asu-re at all that warm sof-t-ness pres-sed aga-inst his back. Then she sa-id, "Ga-be, I don't think we sho-uld see each ot-her an-y-mo-re." Ga-be tur-ned his he-ad to lo-ok up at her. The mo-on ca-me thro-ugh the skylight and bac-k-lit Chloe's short blon-de curls, ma-king her lo-ok an-ge-li-cal-ly lo-vely. Too bad she was in-sa-ne. "You

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li-ve next do-or. You work in the sa-me bu-il-ding I do. You sle-ep with me se-ve-ral ti-mes a we-ek. What's yo-ur plan, blin-d-folds?" "I'm se-ri-o-us, Ga-be. I think it's ti-me we bro-ke up." Ga-be tur-ned his back on her aga-in. "We did that al-re-ady. It was a suc-cess. Go to sle-ep." "You ne-ver lis-ten," Chloe sa-id, and Ga-be co-uld fe-el the bed bo-un-ce as she rol-led out of it. "Whe-re are you go-ing?" he sa-id to her, exas-pe-ra-ted, as she strug-gled in-to her clot-hes. "Ho-me," Chloe sa-id, and sin-ce that was just next do-or, Ga-be sa-id, "Fi-ne. See you to-mor-row." "Ga-be," Chloe sa-id a mi-nu-te la-ter, and Ga-be rol-led over to see her stan-ding at the fo-ot of his bed, bra-less in her mo-ons-and-stars T-shirt, her hands on her hips li-ke a par-ti-cu-larly de-man-ding child. When she didn't say an-y-t-hing, he prop-ped him-self up on his el-bows and sa-id with exag-ge-ra-ted pa-ti-en-ce, "What?" Chloe nod-ded. "Go-od, you're awa-ke. You and I ha-ve sta-yed to-get-her partly be-ca-use of Lu but mostly be-ca-use the-re wasn't an-y-body el-se we li-ked bet-ter. You're a very ni-ce man, but we're not right for each ot-her, and we owe it to our-sel-ves to find our so-ul ma-tes." "I lo-ve you," Ga-be sa-id. "If you we-ren't such a fuc-king wac-ko, I'd still be mar-ri-ed to you." "I lo-ve you, too, but this is not the gre-at lo-ve we both de-ser-ve. And so-me-day you're go-ing to lo-ok at me and say, 'Chloe, you we-re right."' "I'll say it now if you'll shut up and co-me back to bed." "I think this Ele-anor co-uld be the one for you. I spent two ho-urs on her ho-ros-co-pe, and I can't tell for su-re wit-ho-ut get-ting her ti-me of birth for her ri-sing sign, but I re-al-ly think she might be yo-ur match." Ga-be felt sud-denly cold. "Tell me you didn't tell her that." "Well, of co-ur-se not." Chloe so-un-ded exas-pe-ra-ted. "Lo-ok, I know how you ha-te chan-ge, so I'm set-ting us both free so you can start over with Ele-anor and I can find the man I was me-ant to be with." Ga-be sat up stra-ig-h-ter. "You're not se-ri-o-us abo-ut this." "Very," Chloe sa-id and blew him a kiss. "Go-od-bye, Gab-ri-el. I'll al-ways lo-ve you." "Wa-it a mi-nu-te." Ga-be rol-led to-ward the fo-ot of the bed to re-ach for her, but she fa-ded away in-to the dark, and a mo-ment la-ter he he-ard the do-or to his apar-t-ment clo-se with a fi-na-lity that was ra-re for Chloe. Ni-nety- ni-ne ti-mes out of a hun-d-red, Chloe did exactly what he told her to do. This was cle-arly the hun-d-redth. He fell back in-to bed and sta-red up at the skylight, dep-res-sed by the re-ali-za-ti-on that his ex-wi-fe had just dum-ped him aga-in. A sho-oting star tra-ced its way abo-ve the skylight, and he wat-c-hed it fa-de. We-ren't tho-se sup-po-sed to be go-od luck? Chloe wo-uld know, but she'd wal-ked out. His fu-tu-re now con-sis-ted of an en-d-less string of days spent co-ping with cli-ents li-ke Jack Dysart, ke-eping his da-ug-h-ter in col-le-ge, cha-sing down a se-ri-es of che-ating ma-tes, and wat-c-hing his temp sec-re-tary des-t-roy his of-fi-ce, all as a ce-li-ba-te. "I want my old li-fe back," he sa-id and rol-led over, pul-ling his pil-low over his he-ad to block out the stars that we-re res-pon-sib-le for his la-test di-sas-ter. Chapter Two When Ga-be ca-me dow-n-s-ta-irs at ni-ne on Mon-day, the outer of-fi-ce was empty. Not im-p-res-si-ve. He was in a bad mo-od, and now his new sec-re-tary was not the-re with a cup of cof-fee. Her ass was fi-red in six we-eks, that was for su-re. He tur-ned to-ward the cof-fe-ema-ker to ma-ke his own, and it wasn't the-re, eit-her. In fact the en-ti-re top of the old oak bo-ok-ca-se was em-p-ty-no den-ted cof-fee can, no stack of Styro-fo-am cups, no lit-tle red stir-rers, not-hing. "We've be-en rob-bed," he told Ri-ley who ca-me down from his se-cond-flo-or apar-t-ment a mo-ment la-ter. "So-me caf-fe-ine ad-dict has wi-ped us out." "It's not li-ke it was go-od cof-fee," Ri-ley sa-id. "Want me to go out-" He stop-ped as Ele-anor Dysart wal-ked by the big win-dow at the front of the of-fi-ce, car-rying a

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car-d-bo-ard box that lo-oked too he-avy for her thin arms. "I'm sorry," she sa-id as she ca-me in and set the box on her desk, her brown eyes ope-ned wi-de in apo-logy. "You we-re mis-sing a few things, so I went to get them." "Li-ke a cof-fe-ema-ker?" Ga-be sa-id. "That was not a cof-fe-ema-ker. That was an an-ti-que that sho-uld ha-ve be-en put down long ago." She un-pac-ked the box as she spo-ke, put-ting pa-per to-wels and spray cle-aner on the desk be-fo-re lif-ting out a gle-aming whi-te cof-fe-ema-ker. "You bo-ught a cof-fe-ema-ker?" Ga-be sa-id' "No, this is mi-ne. I bro-ught my cof-fee, too." She to-re a pa-per to-wel off the roll, pic-ked up the cle-an-ser, spra-yed the cof-fee shelf, and wi-ped it cle-an with one rut-h-less swi-pe, her hand a pa-le blur aga-inst the dark wo-od. "I'm go-ing to be drin-king it he-re for the next six we-eks an-y-way." She set up the cof-fe-ema-ker and ad-ded, "Also, yo-ur cof-fee was ter-rib-le." "Thank you," Ri-ley sa-id, cle-arly fas-ci-na-ted by the who-le pro-cess, which Ga-be co-uld un-der-s-tand. He'd ne-ver se-en an-y-body as gra-ce-ful-ly ef-fi-ci-ent as this wo-man. She'd pul-led out a small whi-te cof-fee grin-der, plug-ged it in, and po-ured be-ans in-to it from a shiny brown bag, and now she flip-ped the switch and went back to un-pac-king as the he-avy, swe-et smell of the be-ans fil-led the ro-om. "God, that smells go-od," Ri-ley sa-id. She was set-ting out chi-na cups in the-ir sa-ucers, her long pa-le hands al-most the sa-me co-lor as the cre-am chi-na. "How do you ta-ke yo-urs?" "Fo-ur cre-ams, two su-gars," Ri-ley sa-id, still mes-me-ri-zed by her. She stop-ped with a small wa-xed car-ton in her hand. "Re-al-ly?" "He's very yo-ung," Ga-be sa-id. "I ta-ke mi-ne black." "He's very bo-ring," Ri-ley sa-id. "Is that re-al cre-am?" "Yes," she sa-id. Ri-ley pe-ered in-to the box and pul-led out a bot-tle of glass cle-aner. "What's all this cle-aning stuff for?" "The of-fi-ce. You re-al-ly sho-uld hi-re a cle-aning ser-vi-ce." Ga-be frow-ned at her. "We ha-ve a cle-aning ser-vi-ce. They co-me on-ce a we-ek. Wed-nes-day nights." She sho-ok her he-ad. "This pla-ce hasn't be-en cle-aned in at le-ast a month. Lo-ok how thick the dust is on the win-dow-sill." The-re was a fa-int co-ating on ever-y-t-hing, Ga-be no-ti-ced. Ex-cept for the bo-ok-ca-se whe-re the new cof-fe-ema-ker per-ked che-er-ful-ly, the who-le of-fi-ce was full of dust and glo-om. "The num-ber for the cle-aning ser-vi-ce is in the Ro-lo-dex." Ga-be ope-ned the do-or to his of-fi-ce, es-ca-ping be-fo-re he went he-ad-first in-to the cof-fe-epot. He'd for-got-ten an-y-t-hing co-uld smell that go-od. "Ha-us-f-rau Help." "You're kid-ding," she sa-id, and he clo-sed the do-or be-hind him to shut her out. Thank God he had an of-fi-ce to es-ca-pe in-to. An of-fi-ce that lo-oked li-ke hell, he re-ali-zed when he was sit-ting at his desk in the un-b-lin-ded light from the bro-ken win-dow. The ro-om was lit-te-red with pa-pers, Styro-fo-am cups, bo-oks he'd pul-led off the shelf, and the ot-her ge-ne-ral rub-ble of his da-ily work. When had this pla-ce be-en cle-aned last? So-me of the mess lo-oked li-ke it da-ted back to his dad's day. His key-bo-ard was bu-ri-ed un-der mo-re pa-per, and the-re was dust on ever-y-t-hing, and sud-denly it mat-te-red. It was Ele-anor Dysart's fa-ult. He hadn't no-ti-ced any of this un-til she'd co-me in with her cof-fee and her chi-na and her Win-dex and torn down his blinds. He pic-ked the Styro-fo-am cups out of the mess and threw them away and went thro-ugh the pa-pers, pit-c-hing no-tes he'd al-re-ady de-alt with and put-ting let-ters that the Dysart wo-man wo-uld ha-ve to fi-le in a se-pa-ra-te stack. That wo-uld slow her down. He'd just tur-ned on the com-pu-ter when she ca-me in, be-aring a chi-na cup and sa-ucer and a de-ter-mi-ned ex-p-res-si-on that sat stran-gely on her fi-nely drawn fa-ce. Ga-be tho-ught of his fat-her, three she-ets to the wind, re-ci-ting Ro-et-h-ke to

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pla-ca-te his fu-ri-o-us mot-her: I knew a wo-man, lo-vely in her bo-nes. Ele-anor Dysart was too thin and too pa-le, but she was lo-vely in her bo-nes. "I cal-led yo-ur cle-aners," she sa-id, set-ting the cup down. "They ha-ven't be-en he-re in six we-eks be-ca-use they ha-ven't be-en pa-id." Ga-be frow-ned at her and for-got his fat-her. "Of co-ur-se they ha-ve. I sig-ned the checks." "Not for July and August, ac-cor-ding to the-ir bo-ok-ke-eper. If you'll tell me whe-re you ke-ep the can-ce-led checks, I'll fax them over." "Re-cep-ti-on desk, bot-tom rig-ht-hand dra-wer," Ga-be sa-id auto-ma-ti-cal-ly as he hit the key-bo-ard to open the of-fi-ce bo-ok-ke-eping prog-ram. He did a se-arch for "Ha-us-f-rau." Eight en-t-ri-es ca-me up for 2000, in-c-lu-ding two for July and August. "The-re," he told her, and she ca-me aro-und be-hind him. "That's Qu-ic-ken, right?" she sa-id. "Is that on the com-pu-ter on my desk? Go-od, I'll ta-ke ca-re of it. Thanks." "For what?" Ga-be sa-id, but she was he-ading for the do-or, a wo-man on a mis-si-on. When she was go-ne, he sat back and pic-ked up the cof-fee cup. It was a sturdy but gra-ce-ful pi-ece of chi-na, cre-am co-lo-red with a blue han-d-le, and it felt go-od in his hand, a lu-xury af-ter the flywe-ight Styro-fo-am he'd be-en drin-king from for ye-ars. He to-ok a sip and clo-sed his eyes be-ca-use it was so rich, spe-eding caf-fe-ine in-to his system whi-le as-sa-ul-ting every sen-se he had. When he lo-oked aga-in, the-re we-re blue dots on the in-si-de, ap-pe-aring as the cof-fee le-vel drop-ped. It was ab-surd and char-ming and com-p-le-tely un-li-ke the ten-se wo-man vib-ra-ting out-si-de his do-or. May-be he'd mi-sj-ud-ged her. May-be she was ner-vo-us be-ca-use it was her first day. He didn't ca-re, as long as she kept the cof-fee co-ming. Fif-te-en mi-nu-tes la-ter, he went out to the re-cep-ti-on ro-om for a re-fill and fo-und her with a frown on her fa-ce. He pic-ked up the cof-fee ca-ra-fe and sa-id, "You okay?" as he po-ured. "I'm fi-ne," she sa-id. "You ha-ve a prob-lem. Lo-ok at this." She had eight checks spre-ad out be-fo-re her. "The-se are all from Ha-us-f-rau," she told him. "He-re are the en-dor-se-ments from Janu-ary thro-ugh June." Ga-be shrug-ged as he lo-oked as six smud-ged stam-ped en-dor-se-ments. "Okay." She po-in-ted to the last two checks. "The-se are the en-dor-se-ments from July and August." The checks we-re en-dor-sed in blue, lo-opy han-d-w-ri-ting. "That's Lynnie's wri-ting." "It ap-pe-ars she tur-ned to em-bez-zle-ment in her last two months with you." "She was only with us for six we-eks," Ga-be sa-id and tho-ught, Damn go-od thing, too. "Gi-ve Ha-us-f-rau so-me story abo-ut ad-mi-nis-t-ra-ti-ve scre-wups. I'll han-d-le the rest." He to-ok his cof-fee back to his of-fi-ce, thin-king of Lynnie, black-ha-ired and lo-vely, ma-king lo-usy cof-fee and em-bez-zling the cle-aning mo-ney, and now sit-ting at ho-me re-co-ve-ring from her spra-ined back with a tho-usand dol-lars and, he ho-ped, a sen-se of im-pen-ding do-om. He to-ok anot-her sip of cof-fee and felt slightly bet-ter un-til anot-her tho-ught hit. He was go-ing to ha-ve to hi-re Ele-anor Dysart per-ma-nently. For a mo-ment, he tho-ught abo-ut ke-eping Lynnie-so she sto-le mo-ney, she was che-er-ful and pretty and re-la-xed and ef-fi-ci-ent-and then he ga-ve up and re-sig-ned him-self to a ten-se re-cep-ti-on ro-om fil-led with the smell of gre-at cof-fee. An ho-ur la-ter, Ri-ley knoc-ked on Ga-be's he-avy of-fi-ce do-or and ca-me in. "I fi-nis-hed most of the bac-k-g-ro-und check," he sa-id as he lo-un-ged in-to the cha-ir ac-ross from Ga-be's desk. "I'll go see the last guy and then I'll ru-in the rest of my day with the Hot Lunch." He duc-ked his blond he-ad to lo-ok at Ga-be. "What are you pis-sed abo-ut?" "Many things," Ga-be sa-id. "Nell?" "Who?" "O-ur sec-re-tary," Ri-ley sa-id. "I sa-id, 'I'm Ri-ley.' She sa-id, 'I'm Nell.' I think she's do-ing a pretty

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go-od job." "She se-du-ced you with her cof-fee," Ga-be sa-id. "And you ha-ve no idea what a go-od job she's do-ing. She was only he-re an ho-ur be-fo-re she na-iled Lynnie for em-bez-zling the cle-aning mo-ney." "You're kid-ding." Ri-ley la-ug-hed out lo-ud. "Well, that's Lynnie all over." "Sin-ce when?" Ga-be scow-led at his par-t-ner. "If you knew she was bent-" "Oh, hell, Ga-be, it was in her eyes. Not that she'd em-bez-zle," he ad-ded has-tily as Ga-be's scowl de-epe-ned. "That she'd che-at. Lynnie was not a wo-man you'd le-ave alo-ne for a we-ekend." "Or with a chec-k-bo-ok, evi-dently," Ga-be sa-id. "Well, that part I didn't re-ali-ze," Ri-ley sa-id. "Altho-ugh she was in-to lu-xury. Her fur-ni-tu-re was all ren-ted, but ever-y-t-hing el-se in her dup-lex was first class with a la-bel on it, right down to the she-ets…" His vo-ice tra-iled off as Ga-be sho-ok his he-ad. "We ha-ve three ru-les at McKen-na In-ves-ti-ga-ti-ons," he sa-id, re-ci-ting his fat-her's words. "We don't talk abo-ut the cli-ents. We don't bre-ak the law. And-" "We don't fuck the help," Ri-ley fi-nis-hed. "It was just on-ce. We we-re do-ing a de-coy job, and I to-ok her ho-me, and she in-vi-ted me in and jum-ped me. I got the dis-tinct im-p-res-si-on she was just do-ing it for prac-ti-ce." "Do-es it ever oc-cur to you not to sle-ep with wo-men?" "No," Ri-ley sa-id. "Well, try to res-t-ra-in yo-ur-self aro-und the new sec-re-tary. She has eno-ugh prob-lems." Ga-be tho-ught abo-ut her tight, frow-ning fa-ce. "And now she's sha-ring them with me." "If you're that un-hap-py, fi-re her, but do not get my mot-her back from Flo-ri-da." "God, no." Ga-be sa-id, pic-tu-ring his aunt be-hind the re-cep-ti-on desk aga-in. He lo-ved her du-ti-ful-ly, but duty only went so far. She'd be-en a lo-usy sec-re-tary for ten ye-ars, and a wor-se mot-her for lon-ger. "Get Chloe back. She's ti-red of sel-ling tea, an-y-way. She as-ked me if I knew an-y-body who'd li-ke to run The Cup for her." "Gre-at." Chloe and the stars. "I mar-ri-ed an idi-ot." "No, you didn't," Ri-ley sa-id. "She's just wi-red dif-fe-rent from most. What's go-ing on?" "She dum-ped me," Ga-be sa-id, and de-ci-ded not to men-ti-on that she'd do-ne it in fa-vor of Ele-anor Dysart. Ri-ley wo-uld ha-ve a fi-eld day with that one. "Now see, that's what I ha-te abo-ut wo-men," Ri-ley sa-id. "They di-vor-ce you, and then ten ye-ars la-ter, right out of now-he-re, they stop ha-ving sex with you. She ha-ve a re-ason?" "The stars told her to." "Well, then, you're scre-wed," Ri-ley sa-id che-er-ful-ly. "Or in this ca-se, not." "Thank you," Ga-be sa-id. "Go away." His new sec-re-tary knoc-ked on the do-or and ca-me in. "I fi-xed it with the cle-aners," she sa-id. "Thank you." "Now, abo-ut yo-ur bu-si-ness cards. The-re's a no-te in the fi-le from Lynnie that says it's ti-me to re-or-der." She was frow-ning, as if this we-re a ma-j-or prob-lem. Ga-be shrug-ged. "Re-or-der." "The sa-me cards?" "Yes, the sa-me cards." "Be-ca-use, whi-le they are lo-vely, of co-ur-se, they co-uld be bet-ter-" "The sa-me cards, Mrs. Dysart," Ga-be sa-id. She lo-oked as if she wan-ted to say so-met-hing el-se, then she lif-ted her po-in-ted chin, to-ok a de-ep bre-ath and sa-id, "Fi-ne," and went out, win-cing as the of-fi-ce do-or cre-aked be-hind her. It had pro-bably cre-aked for ye-ars, but Ga-be hadn't no-ti-ced un-til Ele-anor Dysart sho-wed up and star-ted win-cing. "I don't think she li-kes our bu-si-ness cards," Ri-ley sa-id. "I don't ca-re," Ga-be sa-id. "I ha-ve to go see her brot-he-rin-law and then de-al with Lynnie. I am not

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scre-wing with per-fectly go-od bu-si-ness cards on top of that. And you've got the Hot Lunch. Go act li-ke a de-tec-ti-ve so I can get so-me work do-ne." "May-be Nell co-uld do it," Ri-ley sa-id. "You we-re tra-ining Lynnie. Nell-" "She'd stick out a mi-le. Pe-op-le wo-uld stop by, trying to fe-ed her." "J-ust be-ca-use you li-ke yo-ur wo-men up-hol-s-te-red do-esn't me-an ever-y-body do-es. You ha-ve to bro-aden yo-ur tas-tes. Which in yo-ur ca-se wo-uld me-an an-y-body be-si-des Chloe. You know, she did you a fa-vor by dum-ping you-" "And God knows I'm gra-te-ful," Ga-be sa-id. "Now I ha-ve to work, and so do you. Go away." "Fi-ne," Ri-ley sa-id. "Re-sist chan-ge. It'll get you an-y-way." Fi-ve mi-nu-tes af-ter Ri-ley had go-ne, Ele-anor Dysart knoc-ked and ca-me in, cre-aking the do-or aga-in, and Ga-be clo-sed his eyes and tho-ught, The hell with her bo-nes. She's go-ing to dri-ve me crazy. "Yes?" "Abo-ut the-se bu-si-ness cards-" "No." Ga-be sho-ved him-self back from his desk. "We're not chan-ging the bu-si-ness cards. My fat-her pic-ked tho-se out." He shrug-ged his su-it jac-ket on. "I am now le-aving. I will be at Ogil-vie and Dysart and I won't be back un-til well af-ter lunch." He de-to-ured aro-und her to the do-or, ad-ding, "Just an-s-wer the pho-ne, Mrs. Dysart. Don't chan-ge an-y-t-hing. Don't ca-use tro-ub-le." "Yes, Mr. McKen-na," she sa-id, and he lo-oked back to see if she was moc-king him. She was stan-ding in the do-or-way, lo-oking down at his bu-si-ness card with a po-tent mix-tu-re of dis-p-le-asu-re and frus-t-ra-ti-on on her fa-ce. He didn't ca-re. His bu-si-ness card was sta-ying the way it was. She lo-oked up and ca-ught him wat-c-hing her. "Anything el-se?" she as-ked him, her vo-ice po-li-te and pro-fes-si-onal. At le-ast she was obe-di-ent. That was so-met-hing. "Go-od cof-fee," Ga-be sa-id and clo-sed the stre-et do-or be-hind him. Nell went back to her desk and sat down, dis-li-king Ga-be McKen-na in-ten-sely. She wat-c-hed him thro-ugh the big pla-te-glass win-dow as he put on sun-g-las-ses and got in-to a vin-ta-ge black sports car. He lo-oked the epi-to-me of ret-ro co-ol-big guy, sharp su-it, dark glas-ses, snazzy car-as he pul-led out in-to the stre-et and dro-ve away. Well, lo-oks co-uld be de-ce-iving. Af-ter all, he'd hi-red a sec-re-tary who'd em-bez-zled a tho-usand dol-lars and left the pla-ce lo-oking li-ke a hel-lho-le. How smart co-uld he be? And then he'd dis-mis-sed her with tho-se dark eyes as if she we-re just…a sec-re-tary. Well, the bell with you, Mr. McKen-na. Frus-t-ra-ted be-yond me-asu-re, Nell pic-ked up her pa-per to-wels and spray cle-aner and at-tac-ked the re-cep-ti-on ro-om, gra-te-ful that his go-od-lo-oking yo-un-ger par-t-ner wasn't as an-no-ying as he was. She wasn't im-p-res-sed with Ri-ley's in-tel-lect or energy so far, but he was big, blond, and blue-eyed, so at le-ast he was fun to lo-ok at. An ho-ur la-ter, the pho-ne still hadn't rung, but the ro-om was cle-an, right down to the big win-dow in front that sa-id in an-ci-ent, worn gold let-te-ring, MCKEN-NA IN-VES-TI-GA-TI-ONS: DIS-C-RE-ET AN-S-WERS TO DIF-FI-CULT QU-ES-TI-ONS. Nell had scrub-bed it with en-t-hu-si-asm un-til she re-ali-zed that she was ta-king so-me of the fla-king pa-int off and slo-wed down. Not that it wo-uld ha-ve hurt if she'd ta-ken it all off; the let-te-ring must ha-ve be-en on the-re for fifty ye-ars or at le-ast as long as they'd had tho-se ugly bu-si-ness cards. When she went back in-si-de, the win-dow let in eno-ugh light that the de-fi-ci-en-ci-es in the rest of the de-cor we-re pla-in. Nell's desk was a scar-red mess, the co-uch whe-re cli-ents pre-su-mably wa-ited was a brown plas-tic-up-hol-s-te-red nig-h-t-ma-re on its last spindly mo-tel-Me-di-ter-ra-ne-an legs, and the Ori-en-tal rug on the flo-or was so thre-ad-ba-re it was tran-s-pa-rent in pla-ces. The bo-ok-ca-ses and wo-od fi-ling ca-bi-nets we-re go-od qu-ality and had pro-bably be-en ori-gi-nal to the of-fi-ce, but the mid-dle ca-bi-net had an un-for-tu-na-te black sta-tu-et-te of a bird per-c-hed on it, bro-oding over the pla-ce li-ke so-met-hing out of Poe. She ga-ve one des-pa-iring tho-ught to the of-fi-ce she'd lost in the di-vor-ce-the pa-le gold walls and gold-fra-med prints, the light wo-od desks and soft gray co-uc-hes-and then she sank back in-to the bat-te-red wo-od swi-vel cha-ir-her cha-ir at the in-su-ran-ce agency had be-en er-go-no-mic-and tho-ught, At le-ast it's

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only for six we-eks. Except may-be it wasn't. She stra-ig-h-te-ned slowly. He was go-ing to ha-ve to fi-re Lynnie. Which me-ant she might end up per-ma-nently em-p-lo-yed he-re. She lo-oked aro-und the of-fi-ce aga-in. If she we-re per-ma-nent, she co-uld ma-ke so-me chan-ges. Li-ke get the pla-ce pa-in-ted. And lo-se the co-uch and the bird. And Her eyes fell on the bu-si-ness card on her desk. "McKen-na In-ves-ti-ga-ti-ons" it re-ad in pla-in black sans-se-rif type on pla-in whi-te card. It lo-oked li-ke so-met-hing so-me-body had do-ne with a kid's prin-ting set. But the boss didn't want them chan-ged. He didn't want an-y-t-hing chan-ged, the dummy. She went back to the com-pu-ter, won-de-ring if he was go-ing to do an-y-t-hing abo-ut Lynnie or if that wo-uld be too much chan-ge, too. He hadn't even told her to check the rest of the fi-nan-ces. Nell stop-ped typing and ope-ned the dra-wer that held the can-ce-led checks. The-re was a gray me-tal box tuc-ked in be-hind the check fol-ders, and she pul-led it out and ope-ned it to find a stack of pa-pers, each mar-ked "Petty Cash" fol-lo-wed by a dol-lar amo-unt. They we-re all sig-ned "Ri-ley McKen-na" in wri-ting that wan-ted to be spiky but kept ro-un-ding off at the end. Nell le-afed thro-ugh the re-ports she was typing un-til she fo-und one Ri-ley had sig-ned in a strong, dark, jag-ged scrawl. Not-hing ro-und an-y-w-he-re, much li-ke Ri-ley. She went back to the petty cash slips and to-ta-led them: $1,675. You had to ad-mi-re Lynnie; the wo-man was tho-ro-ugh. She spent the next ho-ur com-pi-ling a stack of for-ged checks. The bre-adth of Lynnie's per-fidy was as-to-un-ding; she'd ma-na-ged to che-at the McKen-nas and the-ir cre-di-tors out of al-most fi-ve tho-usand dol-lars. Just ma-king go-od on the for-ged en-dor-se-ment checks was go-ing to cost the agency over three tho-usand. If Ga-be McKen-na didn't go af-ter this wo-man So-me-body tri-ed to open the he-avy stre-et do-or, and the glass in it rat-tled. Nell jam-med the slips back in-to the cash box as a sharp-fa-ced red-he-ad pop-ped the do-or open and ca-me in frow-ning, dres-sed in a go-od bu-si-ness su-it and we-aring even bet-ter sho-es. Mo-ney, Nell tho-ught, sho-ving ever-y-t-hing back in the bot-tom dra-wer. "Can I help you?" she sa-id, smi-ling her best we're-the-pe-op-le-you-ne-ed smi-le. "I want to see so-me-body who can han-d-le a sen-si-ti-ve mat-ter," the wo-man sa-id. "I can ma-ke an ap-po-in-t-ment for you," Nell sa-id brightly. "Unfor-tu-na-tely both our-" Our what? What the hell did they call them-sel-ves? De-tec-ti-ves? Ope-ra-ti-ves? "-par-t-ners are out. They co-uld see you on-" She tur-ned to the an-ti-que com-pu-ter on her desk as she spo-ke and ope-ned the fi-le la-be-led "Appo-in-t-ments." It was blank. They we-re both out on jobs right now and the damn pa-ge was blank. Who ran this pla-ce, an-y-way? "If I co-uld ha-ve yo-ur num-ber," Nell fi-nis-hed, even mo-re brightly, "I'll call you when they get in and set up an ap-po-in-t-ment." "It's sort of an emer-gency." The wo-man lo-oked do-ub-t-ful-ly at the co-uch and then sat gin-gerly on the ed-ge of it. "I'm get-ting a di-vor-ce, and my hus-band is mis-t-re-ating my dog." "What?" Nell le-aned for-ward, pro-pel-led by out-ra-ge. "That's ter-rib-le. Call Ani-mal Con-t-rol and get-" "It's not li-ke that." The wo-man le-aned for-ward, too, and Nell held her bre-ath that the co-uch wo-uldn't tip or bre-ak or just gi-ve up and fold. "He yells at her all the ti-me and she's very ner-vo-us an-y-way, she's a dac-h-s-hund, a lon-g-ha-ir, and I'm af-ra-id she's go-ing to ha-ve a ner-vo-us bre-ak-down." Nell pic-tu-red a lon-g-ha-ired dac-h-s-hund ha-ving a psycho-tic epi-so-de. Just li-ke a man to pick on so-met-hing that co-uldn't fight back. "Ha-ve you tri-ed Ani-mal Con-t-rol-" "He's not hit-ting her. The-re aren't any marks. He just yells all the ti-me, and she's a mess." The wo-man le-aned clo-ser. "Her eyes are just tor-tu-red, she's so un-hap-py. So I want you to res-cue her. Get her away from that bas-tard be-fo-re he kills her. He lets her out every night at ele-ven. So-me-body co-uld ta-ke her then. It wo-uld be easy in the dark." Nell tri-ed to ima-gi-ne Gab-ri-el McKen-na res-cu-ing a dac-h-s-hund. Not li-kely. Ri-ley might, tho-ugh. He lo-oked as tho-ugh he'd be up for an-y-t-hing. "Let me ta-ke yo-ur na-me and num-ber," she told the wo-man. "One of our par-t-ners might be ab-le

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to help." And if they wo-uldn't, may-be she wo-uld. May-be she'd just go out the-re and res-cue the po-or trap-ped dog from the man who'd pro-mi-sed to ta-ke ca-re of it and then just chan-ged his mind. She tri-ed to pic-tu-re her-self cre-eping in-to so-me-body's bac-k-yard to ste-al a dog. It didn't se-em li-ke so-met-hing she'd do. "I'll ha-ve Ri-ley call you," she sa-id when she'd ta-ken down the wo-man's na-me-De-bo-rah Far-n-s-wor-th-her ex-pen-si-ve Dub-lin ad-dress, and her dog-abu-sing hus-band's even mo-re ex-pen-si-ve New Al-bany ad-dress. "Thank you," De-bo-rah Far-n-s-worth sa-id, cas-ting one last du-bi-o-us glan-ce aro-und the of-fi-ce be-fo-re she left. "You've be-en very hel-p-ful." Got-ta get this of-fi-ce fi-xed. Nell fo-und 3-in-1 oil in the bat-h-ro-om and oiled the front do-or, ho-ping to stop it from stic-king, and then did the par-t-ners' of-fi-ce do-ors, too, be-ca-use the cre-aks we-re dri-ving her crazy. Then to dis-t-ract her-self from the neg-lect and the dog, she went in-to Ga-be McKen-na's of-fi-ce and be-gan to cle-an, dus-ting off the black-and-whi-te pho-tos on the walls and wi-ping down dark wo-od and old le-at-her un-til the pla-ce gle-amed from the po-wer of her frus-t-ra-ti-on. She no-ti-ced an odd stri-ped pat-tern to the dust on the bo-ok-ca-ses, as if so-me-body had pul-led bo-oks off so-me of the shel-ves and then sho-ved them back aga-in. May-be Ga-be McKen-na had lost so-met-hing and had go-ne lo-oking for it be-hind his bo-oks. God knew, he co-uld ha-ve lost damn ne-ar an-y-t-hing in that mess. Ne-ar the wall on the last bo-ok-ca-se, she fo-und an old cas-set-te pla-yer and pun-c-hed Play to he-ar what he lis-te-ned to. Bo-uncy horns bla-red out fol-lo-wed by an easy, de-ep vo-ice sin-ging, "You're no-body till so-me-body lo-ves you." She hit Stop and pop-ped the cas-set-te out. De-an Mar-tin. That fi-gu-red. That might al-so ex-p-la-in why his of-fi-ce lo-oked li-ke a set for the Rat Pack. The-re was even a blue pin-s-t-ri-ped jac-ket han-ging on a brass co-at rack that al-so held a slo-uch hat co-ve-red in dust. She dus-ted off the hat and sho-ok out the co-at with an angry snap and then put them both back whe-re they'd be-en. She he-ard so-me-body call out, "Hel-lo?" and went back to her desk to find the lit-tle blon-de from the te-as-hop stan-ding the-re. "I'm sorry," Nell sa-id. "I didn't he-ar you co-me in. The do-or usu-al-ly rat-tles-" "Dif-fe-rent do-or." The blon-de jer-ked her thumb over her sho-ul-der. "That do-or le-ads in-to my sto-re-ro-om. I'm Chloe. I run The Star-St-ruck Cup. So I was won-de-ring. You se-em very ef-fi-ci-ent." "Thank you," Nell sa-id, not qu-ite fol-lo-wing. "Do you know an-y-body who'd li-ke to run The Cup for a whi-le? Un-til Chris-t-mas? We're only open in the af-ter-no-ons, so it's not hard." "Oh," Nell sa-id, ta-ken aback. "Well…" Su-ze wan-ted a job, but Jack wo-uld talk her out of it the way he had a hun-d-red ti-mes be-fo-re. And Mar-gie…"Would the per-son who ran the shop for you get yo-ur co-okie re-ci-pe, too?" Chloe lo-oked sur-p-ri-sed. "She'd ha-ve to, wo-uldn't she? To ma-ke the co-oki-es?" "I might know so-me-body," Nell sa-id. "She's not re-al-ly the bu-si-ness type, but she'd pro-bably lo-ve to run a te-as-hop in the af-ter-no-ons. You su-re abo-ut this?" "I just de-ci-ded to-day," Chloe sa-id. "Re-al-ly, when all the signs say it's ti-me for a chan-ge, the-re's no po-int in wa-iting, is the-re?" "Uh, no," Nell sa-id. "Do you know what ti-me of day you we-re born?" "No," Nell sa-id. "It do-esn't re-al-ly mat-ter. Vir-gos han-d-le ever-y-t-hing be-a-uti-ful-ly." Chloe smi-led. "What sign is yo-ur fri-end?" "My fri-end? Oh, Mar-gie. Uh, Feb-ru-ary 27. I don't know-" "Pis-ces. Not as go-od." She frow-ned. "Of co-ur-se, I'm a Pis-ces and I'm do-ing okay. Ha-ve her call me."

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"Right," Nell sa-id. "What-" The do-or-bell clin-ked from the depths of the te-as-hop, sig-na-ling a cus-to-mer, and Chloe tur-ned back to the sto-re-ro-om do-or. "Chloe?" Nell sa-id, on an im-pul-se. "Is the-re a re-ason ever-y-t-hing he-re lo-oks li-ke so-met-hing from a De-an Mar-tin mo-vie?" "Ga-be's dad," Chloe sa-id from the do-or-way. "Pat-rick ra-ised both Ga-be and Ri-ley. They ha-ve fat-her is-su-es. Un-re-sol-ved." "It's a lit-tle…o-ut-da-ted." Chloe snor-ted. "Are you kid-ding? Ga-be's still dri-ving his dad's car." "That car's from the fif-ti-es?" Nell sa-id, dum-b-fo-un-ded. "No, from the se-ven-ti-es. Of co-ur-se, it's a Por-s-c-he, but still." "So-me-body ne-eds to bring this guy in-to the twen-ty-first cen-tury," Nell sa-id, and Chloe be-amed at her. "The stars ne-ver lie," she sa-id and went back in-to the sto-re-ro-om. "Oh- kay," Nell sa-id, not fol-lo-wing, and cal-led Mar-gie, get-ting her mac-hi-ne. "I think I can get you that co-okie re-ci-pe," she told the mac-hi-ne, "but you're go-ing to ha-ve to work for it. Gi-ve me a call." Then she hung up and went to fi-nish her cle-aning. Ri-ley's much smal-ler of-fi-ce had the sa-me le-at-her fur-ni-tu-re, but the re-sem-b-lan-ce stop-ped the-re. His desk was empty ex-cept for his com-pu-ter and a plas-tic Wi-le E. Co-yo-te mug full of pens, his bo-ok-s-helf held com-pu-ter ma-nu-als and de-tec-ti-ve no-vels next to the sa-me di-rec-to-ri-es she'd fo-und in the big of-fi-ce, and his wall had two hu-ge fra-med mo-vie pos-ters fe-atu-ring a scow-ling Hum-p-h-rey Bo-gart in The Mal-te-se Fal-con and a sultry Mar-le-ne Di-et-rich in The Blue An-gel. That was li-ke Ri-ley, ro-man-tic and big-ger than li-fe. Ga-be McKen-na ob-vi-o-usly ran a bu-si-ness whi-le his par-t-ner pla-yed the ga-me. She cle-aned Ri-ley's of-fi-ce, no-ti-cing the sa-me dust pat-terns on his bo-ok-ca-ses, and then she went in-to the grimy gre-en bat-h-ro-om to wash the cof-fee cups and sa-ucers she'd col-lec-ted, ha-ting the crac-ked li-no-le-um and dingy plas-ter. A go-od co-at of pa-int wo-uld do won-ders, but Ga-be McKen-na's fat-her had pro-bably pic-ked out the co-lor whi-le lis-te-ning to "In the Misty Mo-on-light" in 1955. Ho-nestly. She was-hed the cups and then, with a last im-p-rom-p-tu swi-pe at the age-spec-k-led mir-ror, she ca-ught a glim-p-se of her-self that fro-ze her in pla-ce. She lo-oked li-ke de-ath. Her ha-ir was dull and so was her skin, but mo-re than that, she was dull, her che-ek-bo-nes prot-ru-ding li-ke el-bows, her mo-uth tight and thin. She drop-ped the pa-per to-wel in the sink and le-aned clo-ser, hor-ri-fi-ed at her-self. How had this hap-pe-ned, how co-uld she lo-ok this bad? It must be the light, hor-rib-le flu-ores-cent light bo-un-cing off ugly gre-en walls, no-body co-uld lo-ok go-od in this light… It wasn't the light. She re-ali-zed now why her son Jase was so sad and ca-re-ful when he hug-ged her go-od-bye, and why Su-ze and Mar-gie kept do-ing the-ir che-er-le-ading ro-uti-ne. She must ha-ve lo-oked li-ke a cor-p-se for the past ye-ar and a half, must ha-ve sat li-ke a ghost in ot-her pe-op-le's li-ves. She'd lo-oked in the fa-mi-li-ar mir-rors in her apar-t-ment a mil-li-on ti-mes sin-ce the di-vor-ce to comb her ha-ir and brush her te-eth, but she hadn't lo-oked at her-self on-ce un-til now. I ha-ve to eat, she tho-ught. I ha-ve to get so-me we-ight back on. And do so-met-hing abo-ut my skin. And my ha-ir. AndShe he-ard the front do-or rat-tle and tho-ught, La-ter. I'll do all of that la-ter. My God. Dri-ving a vin-ta-ge sports car thro-ugh a be-a-uti-ful city on a Sep-tem-ber mor-ning wo-uld che-er an-y-body up, and Ga-be was no ex-cep-ti-on. Un-for-tu-na-tely, fif-te-en mi-nu-tes of lis-te-ning to Tre-vor Ogil-vie, Jack Dysart, and the he-ad of the-ir ac-co-un-ting de-par-t-ment, Bud-ge Jen-kins, pretty much to-ok him back to gro-und ze-ro. "She cal-led, she ac-cu-sed you of adul-tery and em-bez-zle-ment, you re-fu-sed to pay, and not-hing's hap-pe-ned," he sum-med up for them. "What exactly is it you want me to do?"

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"Catch her," Bud-ge sa-id, lo-oking li-ke the Pil-lsbury Do-ug-h-boy on a hot pla-te as he cast a si-de-long glan-ce at Jack. "Well, let's not be hasty," Tre-vor sa-id, lo-oking li-ke an ex-pen-si-ve li-qu-or ad in Mo-dern Ma-tu-rity. "If this we-re yo-ur prob-lem, what wo-uld you do?" Jack sa-id, lo-oking li-ke a very we-althy Mar-l-bo-ro Man who'd just got-ten his first sub-s-c-rip-ti-on to Mo-dern Ma-tu-rity. "Hit star six-ty-ni-ne," Ga-be sa-id. "Fa-iling that, I'd try to think who dis-li-ked me eno-ugh to blac-k-ma-il me." "Every bu-si-ness has dis-g-run-t-led em-p-lo-ye-es," Tre-vor sa-id. "An-y-body re-cog-ni-ze the vo-ice?" Ga-be sa-id. "No," Tre-vor sa-id be-fo-re an-yo-ne el-se co-uld an-s-wer. "We ha-ve many dis-g-run-t-led em-p-lo-ye-es." "You might want to work on that," Ga-be sa-id. "Has an-y-t-hing hap-pe-ned la-tely that might le-ad to a newly dis-g-run-t-led em-p-lo-yee?" "What are you tal-king abo-ut?" Bud-ge sa-id. "He wants to know if we've pis-sed off an-y-body in par-ti-cu-lar la-tely," Jack sa-id. "No. We've won ca-ses, of co-ur-se, which al-ways le-aves so-me pe-op-le un-hap-py, but not-hing stands out. We ha-ven't fi-red an-y-body." "How abo-ut the ac-cu-sa-ti-ons she ma-de?" Ga-be sa-id. "I'm in-sis-ting on an out-si-de audit," Bud-ge sa-id, ex-pan-ding with out-ra-ge. "We're not go-ing to pay for an audit," Jack sa-id ti-redly. "No-body thinks you're em-bez-zling. I'm not che-ating on Su-ze. Tre-vor says he's not che-ating on Aud-rey. It's a nu-isan-ce scam." "It's out-ra-ge-o-us," Tre-vor sa-id auto-ma-ti-cal-ly. "But she hasn't cal-led back. I think if we wa-it-" Jack clo-sed his eyes. "Whe-re did she want you to le-ave the mo-ney?" Ga-be sa-id. "She sa-id she'd call back and tell me," Tre-vor sa-id qu-ickly. "In a day, when I had it." Jack shot Tre-vor a glan-ce and sa-id, "That's right." No, it isn't, Ga-be tho-ught. "What abo-ut you, Bud-ge?" "I hung up on her be-fo-re she got that far," Bud-ge sa-id. "She ac-cu-sed me of ste-aling." "That's what blac-k-ma-ilers do," Ga-be sa-id. "Accu-se pe-op-le. Okay, as this stands, the-re's not much I can do. If you want to bring in the po-li-ce, they can check the pho-ne re-cords, but I'm gu-es-sing she cal-led from a pub-lic pho-ne and not her li-ving ro-om." "No po-li-ce," Jack sa-id. "This is a joke." "I don't think it's a joke," Bud-ge sa-id. "I think-" "Bud-ge," Jack sa-id. "We all think it's a joke." He sa-id it with eno-ugh in-tent that Bud-ge shut up. "Thanks for co-ming out, Ga-be. Sorry we was-ted yo-ur ti-me." "Al-ways a ple-asu-re," Ga-be sa-id, which wasn't true. OD was ra-rely a ple-asu-re, but it was al-ways pro-fi-tab-le. He sto-od and sa-id, "Let me know if an-y-t-hing el-se hap-pens." "Cer-ta-inly," Tre-vor sa-id, but his fa-ce sa-id, Ab-so-lu-tely not. "Won-der-ful se-e-ing you all aga-in," Ga-be sa-id and left, won-de-ring what the hell was go-ing on but not ca-ring much. Back at the agency, Ri-ley slam-med the do-or, threw a fi-le fol-der on Nell's desk, and sa-id, "I do not li-ke that wo-man." "What wo-man?" Nell pul-led the fi-le over and sat down at her desk to re-ad the la-bel, trying to get her ba-lan-ce back af-ter the mir-ror. "The Hot Lunch," she re-ad. "What is this?" "One of our re-gu-lars." Ri-ley drop-ped on-to the co-uch and ma-de it cre-ak in an-gu-ish. "The cli-ent has a wi-fe who ta-kes a new lo-ver a co-up-le of ti-mes a ye-ar. She al-ways me-ets him at the Hyatt on Mon-days and Wed-nes-days at no-on, so we call her the Hot Lunch." Nell lo-oked at the fol-der, con-fu-sed. "And she's be-en do-ing this how long?" "Abo-ut fi-ve ye-ars." Ri-ley stret-c-hed his legs out and put his hands be-hind his he-ad, still scow-ling.

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"And I'm sick of it." "You're sick of it?" Nell ope-ned the fol-der. "How's the cli-ent fe-el abo-ut it?" "All he wants is the re-ports." Ri-ley clo-sed his eyes. "It's a far-ce. She knows both of us, so it's not exactly a co-vert ope-ra-ti-on. To-day she wa-ved at me on her way to the ele-va-tor." "At le-ast she has a sen-se of hu-mor." Nell scan-ned the re-port and shrug-ged. "So you did the job. What's the prob-lem?" "I fe-el li-ke a ma-ri-tal aid." Ri-ley shif-ted on the co-uch, and it cre-aked aga-in. "My gu-ess is, we de-li-ver the re-port to the cli-ent, he shows it to her, they fight, and they ha-ve hot ma-ke-up sex for a whi-le. Then it starts to ta-per off, and he calls us and says, 'I think my wi-fe is ha-ving an af-fa-ir.' No shit, Sher-lock." He sig-hed. "That is not a mar-ri-age." "Are you mar-ri-ed?" Nell as-ked, sur-p-ri-sed. "No," Ri-ley sa-id. "But I know what a mar-ri-age is." "And that wo-uld be…" "Com-mit-ment for li-fe with no whi-ning," Ri-ley sa-id. "Which is why I'm not mar-ri-ed. I'm mo-re of a li-ve-in-the-mo-ment kind of guy. Can you type that re-port for me?" "Su-re," Nell sa-id. "Can I ha-ve yo-ur da-te-bo-ok so I can log yo-ur ap-po-in-t-ments in-to the com-pu-ter?" When Ri-ley nod-ded, she sa-id, "Okay, then, one mo-re thing. When was the last ti-me you to-ok mo-ney from the petty cash?" Ri-ley shrug-ged. "Whe-ne-ver it says I did. Last month so-me-ti-me. Why?" Nell to-ok out the cash box and han-ded him the slips. He shuf-fled thro-ugh them, frow-ning. "The-se aren't mi-ne." "I know. My the-ory is that Lynnie sig-ned them for you." Ri-ley whis-t-led. "How much did she get?" "With the ot-her checks, over fi-ve tho-usand dol-lars." "And Ga-be says to for-get it and swal-low the loss." Ri-ley tos-sed the slips back in the box. "You know, on-ce he'd ha-ve go-ne af-ter her just for the exer-ci-se. Now he's prac-ti-cal." "What hap-pe-ned that he chan-ged?" "His dad di-ed, we in-he-ri-ted the agency, and he got way too se-ri-o-us. He'd al-re-ady star-ted to slow down be-ca-use of Chloe and Lu, and be-ca-use Pat-rick was the world's worst ma-na-ger, but that was the last straw." Nell frow-ned, trying to ke-ep up. "Chloe and Lu?" "Wi-fe and da-ug-h-ter. He was re-al-ly so-met-hing on-ce. He was li-ke Nick Char-les." "Who's Nick Char-les?" "No-body re-ads an-y-mo-re." Ri-ley po-in-ted at the black bird on the bo-ok-ca-se. "Do you know what that is?" "Poe's ra-ven," Nell gu-es-sed. " 'Ne-ver-mo-re."' "And you work in a de-tec-ti-ve of-fi-ce." Ri-ley sig-hed and slo-uc-hed to-ward his own of-fi-ce. "You don't know li-te-ra-tu-re, and Ga-be's gi-ven up the cha-se. All I can say is, I ho-pe I ne-ver get that old." "We're not that old," Nell sa-id to his back, but he shut his of-fi-ce do-or be-hind him be-fo-re she co-uld fi-nish the sen-ten-ce. "Hey!" she sa-id, and when, he didn't open the do-or aga-in, she buz-zed his of-fi-ce and told him abo-ut the Far-n-s-worth ca-se, omit-ting the part abo-ut ste-aling the dog. Let the cli-ent tell him. Then she sat back and pro-ces-sed the new in-for-ma-ti-on. So Ga-be McKen-na was mar-ri-ed to Chloe. She tri-ed to ima-gi-ne them to-get-her, but it was too ab-surd, li-ke Sa-tan with a Po-wer-puff Girl. And they had a da-ug-h-ter. How co-uld you mix tho-se two sets of DNA? She and Tim had be-en per-fect for each ot-her, had ma-de a per-fect son, and the-ir mar-ri-age was over; McKen-na and Chloe we-re at op-po-si-te ends of the hu-man spec-t-rum and they we-re still to-get-her. Mar-ri-age was a mystery, that was all the-re was to it. She pic-ked up the Hot Lunch no-tes that Ri-ley had writ-ten abo-ut a wo-man na-med Gi-na Tag-gart who got away with adul-tery on a re-gu-lar ba-sis. That was the prob-lem with the world. Pe-op-le did

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stuff they knew was wrong be-ca-use they knew they co-uld get away with it and ot-her pe-op-le didn't stop them. The Hot Lunch che-ated, and Lynnie sto-le, and that guy in New Al-bany tor-men-ted a dog, and Tim dum-ped her and left her lo-oking li-ke she was a mil-li-on ye-ars old-her he-art clut-c-hed at the me-mory of the mir-ror-and no-body pa-id. Ex-cept she co-uldn't be mad at Tim, he'd pla-yed fa-ir, it was her fa-ult she lo-oked li-ke hell, she co-uldn't be mad. Sit-ting the-re in the dim of-fi-ce, she re-ali-zed that she wan-ted to be mad, wan-ted to say, "No, you can't just chan-ge yo-ur mind af-ter twen-ty-two ye-ars of mar-ri-age, you spag-het-ti-spi-ned we-asel." But that wo-uldn't ha-ve be-en pro-duc-ti-ve, it wo-uld ma-ke things mo-re dif-fi-cult for ever-y-body, it wo-uld do no-body any go-od at all. Ima-gi-ne if she'd scre-amed at Tim when he'd sa-id he was le-aving; the-ir di-vor-ce wo-uld ha-ve be-en hell in-s-te-ad of ci-vi-li-zed and fa-ir. Ima-gi-ne if she'd scre-amed and thrown things; they'd ne-ver ha-ve be-en ab-le to ma-in-ta-in the fri-endly re-la-ti-on-s-hip they had now. Ima-gi-ne if she'd scre-amed and thrown things and grab-bed him by the"Nell." Ri-ley sa-id and she swung aro-und in her cha-ir to fa-ce his of-fi-ce do-or-way. "Yes. What?" She frow-ned at him. "Don't yell. Why didn't you buzz me?" "I did. I'm le-aving. Back aro-und fi-ve." "Okay," Nell sa-id, and then she frow-ned, tran-s-fer-ring her frus-t-ra-ti-on with Tim and Lynnie to him. "Expla-in this to me. You guys do bac-k-g-ro-und checks all the ti-me. Why didn't you do one on Lynnie?" "We did, or at le-ast my mot-her did when she hi-red her. She had gre-at re-fe-ren-ces." Ri-ley drop-ped his da-te-bo-ok on her desk. "Ogil-vie and Dysart, sa-me as you. She was only sup-po-sed to be he-re for a month un-til Mom got back. That's why the ap-po-in-t-ments ha-ve ne-ver be-en in the com-pu-ter. My mot-her do-esn't li-ke com-pu-ters." "That ex-p-la-ins a lot," Nell sa-id. "So yo-ur mot-her qu-it?" "She de-ci-ded to ta-ke a two-we-ek trip to Flo-ri-da in the mid-dle of July, hi-red Lynnie, and then when she got down the-re, de-ci-ded to stay. That's when we ma-de Lynnie per-ma-nent. The-re wasn't any re-ason not to trust her." "I sup-po-se," Nell sa-id. "It just ma-kes me mad that she got in he-re." "Ye-ah, I can see you're frot-hing," Ri-ley sa-id. "I'm a qu-i-et kind of per-son," Nell sa-id. "I do a sub-t-le mad." "Kind of ta-kes the fun out of it, do-esn't it?" He he-aded for the do-or, and then stop-ped. "Did you get lunch? I can co-ver the pho-nes for a whi-le if you want to go out." "I'm not hungry," Nell sa-id. "Okay. If Ga-be asks, I'm out wor-king on the Qu-ar-terly Re-port." "The what?" "Tre-vor Ogil-vie," Ri-ley sa-id, from the do-or-way. "Of the in-fa-mo-us Ogil-vie and Dysart, At-tor-neys at Law. He hi-res us to check on his da-ug-h-ter every three months to see what she's do-ing." Nell ga-ped at him. "He hi-res you to check on Mar-gie?" "No, we check on Oli-via, the twen-ty-one-ye-ar-old. Mar-gie is the ol-der da-ug-h-ter, right? By the first wi-fe? Mar-gie evi-dently ma-kes no wa-ves." "I for-got abo-ut Oli-via," Nell sa-id, re-mem-be-ring Mar-gie's spo-iled lit-tle step-sis-ter. "I don't think she and Mar-gie talk much." She sat back. "So Tre-vor hi-res you to fol-low Oli-via?" Ri-ley nod-ded. "It's his idea of pa-ren-ting, and it's a mi-rac-le he sur-vi-ves the re-ports. Oli-via has a very go-od ti-me. Oh, and be-fo-re I for-get, we are not res-cu-ing Su-gar-Pie." "Who?" "Su-gar-Pie, yo-ur abu-sed dog," Ri-ley tur-ned back to the do-or-way. "Ru-le num-ber two: We do not bre-ak the law." "The-re are two ru-les?" Nell as-ked, but the of-fi-ce do-or slam-med be-fo-re she fi-nis-hed her sen-ten-ce. "You know, it's ru-de to do that," she sa-id and then pic-ked up Ri-ley's da-te-bo-ok to en-ter it in-to the com-pu-ter, trying not to think abo-ut the dog and the Hot Lunch and ever-y-t-hing

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el-se that ne-eded to be fi-xed- in the world. Chapter Three "You've got to ad-mit, the pla-ce is cle-aner," Ri-ley sa-id when he ca-me in-to Ga-be's of-fi-ce the next mor-ning to find him scow-ling at his desk. "So cle-an I can't find an-y-t-hing." Ga-be shuf-fled thro-ugh the pa-pers on his desk. "She stac-ked things." "That's a wo-man for you." Ri-ley sat down ac-ross from him and stret-c-hed out his legs. "Lo-ok on the bright si-de. She's con-cen-t-ra-ting on the bat-h-ro-om now. That can only be go-od." "She'll find so-me way to ma-ke it ru-in my day." "You know, we're go-ing to ha-ve to ma-ke her per-ma-nent." "Oh, God." Ga-be knew he was right, but he didn't want to dwell on it. "So what hap-pe-ned yes-ter-day?" "I did the Hot Lunch. Gi-na's che-ating. What a sur-p-ri-se." "An-y-body we know?" Ri-ley sho-ok his he-ad. "Ne-ver saw him be-fo-re. He was we-aring a re-al-ly ugly tie and lo-oking at Gi-na li-ke she was the best thing that ever hap-pe-ned to him. If only he knew. She wa-ved and sa-id to gi-ve you her best." Ga-be sho-ok his he-ad. "And pe-op-le think de-tec-ti-ve work is ex-ci-ting." "What hap-pe-ned at OD?" Ga-be told him. "J-ack's che-ating aga-in?" Ri-ley sa-id. "He ne-ver le-arns." "That's it, ke-ep an open mind." Ga-be sig-hed. "I don't think any of them are gu-ilty. But I do think Tre-vor li-ed abo-ut the ac-cu-sa-ti-ons she ma-de. I find it hard to be-li-eve that he's pla-ying aro-und." "True," Ri-ley sa-id. "It's not li-ke Tre-vor to work with his hands." "And I know he li-ed to me abo-ut how she wan-ted him to get the mo-ney to her." Ga-be le-aned back. "I think he went to me-et her." "And Jack knows?" "May-be. Bud-ge Jen-kins cal-led me first. Then I got a fol-low-up call from Jack that pla-yed down the who-le thing, told me not to start in-ves-ti-ga-ting un-til we'd tal-ked. And then I got a call from Tre-vor trying to can-cel the me-eting." He sho-ok his he-ad. "You ha-ve to won-der what wo-uld hap-pen if Bud-ge met a prob-lem he co-uldn't tat-tle on, Jack met one he co-uldn't sol-ve with fast talk and charm, and Tre-vor met one he co-uldn't de-lay out of exis-ten-ce." "So Tre-vor and Jack are hi-ding so-met-hing and they ha-ven't clu-ed Bud-ge in." Ri-ley tho-ught abo-ut it and grin-ned. "I'd ha-te to be Bud-ge right abo-ut now." Ga-be nod-ded. "I ha-ve this ugly fe-eling that the way to find out who's blac-k-ma-iling the cli-ents is to in-ves-ti-ga-te the cli-ents." "Let me do the easy one," Ri-ley sa-id, stan-ding up. "I'll find out if Jack's che-ating." Ga-be sho-ok his he-ad. "We're not go-ing to in-ves-ti-ga-te it. They don't want us to, and we don't ha-ve the ti-me." "I might do it just for the hell of it," Ri-ley sa-id. "It wo-uldn't be just for the hell of it," Ga-be sa-id. "It'd be to na-il Jack Dysart. I can't be-li-eve you're still hos-ti-le abo-ut that wo-man af-ter fo-ur-te-en ye-ars." "What wo-man?" Ri-ley sa-id and went out, pas-sing Nell on her way in. "I ne-ed yo-ur ap-po-in-t-ment bo-ok," she sa-id to Ga-be briskly. "Why?" he sa-id, fe-eling the ne-ed to an-noy her. "Be-ca-use yo-ur ap-po-in-t-ments are not in the com-pu-ter, and I ne-ed to put them in." "Fi-ne." Ga-be han-ded over his da-te-bo-ok. "Thank you." She to-ok it and tur-ned back to the do-or. "Mrs. Dysart," he sa-id, ha-ting what he had to say next. "Yes?" she sa-id, pa-ti-ently.

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"Wo-uld you li-ke a per-ma-nent job?" She sur-p-ri-sed him by pa-using for a mi-nu-te. "Wo-uld I get to fix yo-ur bu-si-ness cards?" "No." She sig-hed. "Yes, I'd li-ke a per-ma-nent job." "You're hi-red," he sa-id. "Don't chan-ge an-y-t-hing." She shot him a lo-ok that was com-p-le-tely un-re-adab-le and left. "Yes, she's go-ing to be a gre-at help," he sa-id to the empty ro-om and tur-ned back to his ne-atly stac-ked desk to get so-me work do-ne. An ho-ur la-ter, with both par-t-ners go-ne and the bat-h-ro-om still to be cle-aned, Nell be-gan to en-ter Ga-be's ap-po-in-t-ments in-to the agency's an-ti-que com-pu-ter system. Af-ter typing in his fu-tu-re wor-k-lo-ad, Nell went back thro-ugh the bo-ok for the past ye-ar and re-ali-zed she'd mi-sj-ud-ged him. He might be a con-t-rol-ling fi-end, but he was a har-d-wor-king con-t-rol-ling fi-end. No won-der he hadn't ca-ught Lynnie em-bez-zling; he'd ba-rely had ti-me to catch his bre-ath. A sig-ni-fi-cant amo-unt of the work he'd do-ne was bac-k-g-ro-und checks for Ogil-vie and Dysart, and Nell stop-ped long eno-ugh to flip thro-ugh Ri-ley's past ap-po-in-t-ments, too. Even mo-re OD, clo-se to a qu-ar-ter of the-ir bu-si-ness. The do-or rat-tled, and she lo-oked up from her com-pu-ter scre-en to see her han-d-so-me son co-me in with a pa-per bag in one hand and a drink in the ot-her. "Lunch," Jase sa-id, hit-ting her with the ir-re-sis-tib-le smi-le that had be-en get-ting him out of tro-ub-le for twen-ty-one ye-ars. "Also I wan-ted to check out yo-ur new salt mi-ne." Nell smi-led back in spi-te of her-self. He was such an all-Ame-ri-can boy, tall and sturdy and open. "You lo-ok won-der-ful." "You ha-ve to say that, you're my mot-her." He put the bag and the drink on the desk and kis-sed her che-ek "Aunt Su-ze says you're sup-po-sed to eat, so eat. I don't want her on my ca-se." Nell ig-no-red the bag and pic-ked up the drink. "What's in he-re?" "Cho-co-la-te mil-k-s-ha-ke. She sa-id to get high-ca-lo-rie." He lo-oked aro-und the re-cep-ti-on ro-om. "So you've be-en he-re a day and a half and it still lo-oks li-ke this? What ha-ve you be-en do-ing with yo-ur ti-me?" "Get-ting to know my boss," Nell sa-id as Jase sat on the co-uch, the spindly legs cre-aking un-der his we-ight. "He's tricky. I may ha-ve to sne-ak so-me things past him." She ope-ned the bag and tri-ed not to re-co-il at the smell of the hot gre-ase. You lo-ok li-ke hell, she told her-self. Eat. She to-ok out a french fry. "So what's new? How's Bet-hany?" "I wo-uldn't know. Ha-ven't se-en her in a co-up-le of we-eks." "Aga-in?" Nell put the french fry back. "Jase, that's yo-ur fo-urth girl this ye-ar." "Hey, you don't want me get-ting too se-ri-o-us too yo-ung, do you?" "No," Nell sa-id. "But-" "Then be gra-te-ful I play the fi-eld. That way when I'm re-ady to set-tle down, I'll set-tle down. No che-ating." Jase fal-te-red a lit-tle. "I me-an, the-re's no po-int in get-ting se-ri-o-us now, two mo-re ye-ars of un-der-g-rad to go, and who knows what af-ter that. I don't even know what I want to be when I grow up." He smi-led at her aga-in, as sunny and as gu-ile-less as when he was six. "I lo-ve you," Nell sa-id. "I know," Jase sa-id. "You ha-ve to. You're my mom. It's part of the de-al. Now eat so-met-hing." "I am." Nell re-ac-hed in the bag for the french fri-es. "See?" She che-wed a fry, trying not to gag at the tas-te of the gre-ase. "Altho-ugh I ha-ve to ad-mit I'm not a big french fry fan." "You used to be," Jase sa-id. "You used to po-ur vi-ne-gar over them li-ke Gran-d-ma did, re-mem-ber? One of the best smells I know is vi-ne-gar and hot oil be-ca-use of you two." "Well, at le-ast I ga-ve you so-me go-od me-mo-ri-es," Nell sa-id. "You ga-ve me a bo-at-lo-ad." Jase sto-od up and le-aned ac-ross the desk to kiss her aga-in. "I ha-ve to go. Pro-mi-se me you'll eat that." "I'll gi-ve it my best shot," Nell sa-id. When he was go-ne, she dum-ped the bag in the trash and went back to the com-pu-ter and Ga-be's

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da-te-bo-ok. It re-al-ly was ama-zing the amo-unt of work the man did. Ima-gi-ne what he co-uld ac-com-p-lish on-ce she'd or-ga-ni-zed him. She be-gan to type aga-in, ke-ying in words whi-le she tho-ught abo-ut all the things she co-uld do to fix McKen-na In-ves-ti-ga-ti-ons. On Wed-nes-day, Nell got to the agency at ni-ne sharp, but Ga-be wasn't the-re. She was sur-p-ri-sed to fe-el va-gu-ely let down, as if she'd bra-ced her-self for not-hing. It was li-ke pus-hing hard on a do-or that ope-ned easily; she felt stu-pid and clumsy, all at on-ce. She ma-de cof-fee and po-ured Ri-ley a cup and to-ok it in to him, and then she went in-to the bat-h-ro-om to start on the fi-nal fron-ti-er. "What are you do-ing?" Ri-ley cal-led when he ca-me out of his of-fi-ce half an ho-ur la-ter to gi-ve her his empty cup. "Cle-aning yo-ur bat-h-ro-om," Nell sa-id, drying her hands on a pa-per to-wel as she ca-me out to find him sta-ring at the fo-ur whi-te gar-ba-ge bags she'd ma-na-ged to fill so far. "You won't let me do an-y-t-hing el-se right now, and you ha-ve dirt in the-re from the Cold War." Ri-ley frow-ned. "What did you want to do in-s-te-ad?" "Fix the bu-si-ness cards. Re-pa-int the win-dow. Rep-la-ce the co-uch," Nell sa-id, her vo-ice get-ting grim. "Spe-ak sharply to Lynnie. But the boss says no." She lo-oked up at him. "You're a par-t-ner in this pla-ce. Gi-ve me per-mis-si-on to do what I want." It so-un-ded li-ke an or-der so she ad-ded, "Ple-ase." "Cross Ga-be?" Ri-ley sho-ok his he-ad. "No." Nell tur-ned back to the bat-h-ro-om. "Fi-ne, then go out and do so-met-hing so I can type the re-port." "We ne-ver talk an-y-mo-re," Ri-ley sa-id, but he sa-id it on his way out. One ho-ur, three shel-ves, and two pho-ne mes-sa-ges la-ter, the do-or rat-tled ope-ned, and Nell ca-me out of the bat-h-ro-om, ex-pec-ting Ga-be. A very yo-ung blon-de ca-me in, all but bo-un-cing on her he-els as she pus-hed the stub-born do-or shut with her tight lit-tle body. She be-amed at Nell, and Nell smi-led back, hel-p-less not to. "You must be Nell," the blon-de sa-id. "My mom told me abo-ut you. I'm Lu." She held out her hand, and when Nell to-ok it, her han-d-s-ha-ke was firm, al-most pa-in-ful. Li-ke Ga-be's, Nell tho-ught. She had his smart, dark eyes, too, which con-t-ras-ted with her blon-de, che-er-ful open-ness. Odd but at-trac-ti-ve, Nell tho-ught. "Very ni-ce to me-et you." "My mom thinks you're the best." Lu stuck her hands in the back poc-kets of her je-ans, cle-arly pre-pa-red to ma-ke her own jud-g-ment. "She's a ni-ce wo-man," Nell sa-id. "Ni-ce isn't ever-y-t-hing," Lu sa-id. "She's a Pis-ces. They ne-ver get what they want. Es-pe-ci-al-ly when they're mar-ri-ed to Ta-uru-ses." She shot a dis-gus-ted lo-ok at her fat-her's of-fi-ce do-or. "You're not a Pis-ces," Nell sa-id. "I'm a Cap-ri-corn," Lu sa-id. "We get ever-y-t-hing we want." She jer-ked her he-ad at Ga-be's do-or. "Is my dad in?" "No-pe," Nell sa-id. "He's out ha-ras-sing the gu-ilty." "May-be that'll put him in a bet-ter mo-od." Lu pul-led her hands out of her poc-kets and plop-ped down on the co-uch, ever-y-t-hing she had bo-un-cing with her. As part of her mi-rac-le, the co-uch held. "He's be-ing im-pos-sib-le abo-ut this Euro-pe thing." "E-uro-pe thing?" "I want to go to Fran-ce next month," Lu sa-id. "Get a Eura-il pass, see the world. He wants me to go to OSU. He's pa-id the tu-iti-on, which he fe-els is sig-ni-fi-cant." "I've pa-id tu-iti-on," Nell sa-id. "It is sig-ni-fi-cant." "Yes, but I don't want to go," Lu sa-id. "It's my li-fe. I didn't ask him to pay tu-iti-on." "You pro-bably didn't ha-ve to," Nell sa-id. "Yo-ur dad stri-kes me as so-me-body who ta-kes ca-re of his own." "Exactly. That's pretty go-od for only kno-wing him three days."

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"It's be-en an in-ten-se three days." "That's what my mom sa-id." Lu stu-di-ed her, nar-ro-wing her dark eyes un-til she lo-oked un-com-for-tably li-ke Ga-be. "Mom says you're go-ing to run the pla-ce. She can't get my dad to do an-y-t-hing. I me-an, she di-vor-ced him and they sta-yed to-get-her." "They're di-vor-ced?" Nell sa-id. "Hard to tell, isn't it? He bo-ught the ho-use next do-or for her so she'd stay, and she did." Lu sho-ok her he-ad. "I think that's why my mom's de-ci-ded to go to Fran-ce with me, al-t-ho-ugh she's not the-re yet. If Dad do-esn't want her to go, she won't go." She set her jaw. "I'm go-ing." She cast a ca-re-ful lo-ok at Ga-be's do-or. "I think." The do-or rat-tled aga-in. "Hel-lo, tro-ub-le," Ri-ley sa-id as he ca-me in, smac-king Lu on the top of the he-ad with the fol-der he was car-rying. "Stop ma-king yo-ur dad crazy. He's ta-king it out on me." "It's go-od for you," Lu sa-id cri-ti-cal-ly. "You get things too easy." Ri-ley de-to-ured aro-und her to drop the fol-der on Nell's desk. "Ever-y-t-hing you've ever wan-ted," he told her. "Last part of a bac-k-g-ro-und check. Type away." He lo-oked back at Lu. "Wo-uld it kill you to spend a co-up-le months in col-le-ge and ma-ke yo-ur old man happy?" "It is not my mis-si-on in li-fe to ma-ke my fat-her happy," Lu sa-id airily. "I must fol-low my bliss." She ca-me back to earth. "Tell me you lo-ve me." "I lo-ve you," Ri-ley sa-id. "Now get out. This is a pla-ce of bu-si-ness." "You know, if you ha-ve to tell pe-op-le it's a pla-ce of bu-si-ness, it kind of lo-ses its im-pact," Nell sa-id. Ri-ley grin-ned down at her. "And that's eno-ugh lip from the help." Nell smi-led back and then ca-ught Lu's ex-p-res-si-on. "Hel-lo," Lu sa-id. "Not hel-lo," Ri-ley sa-id. "Go-od-bye. I tho-ught I threw you out of he-re." "J-ust when it was get-ting in-te-res-ting," Lu sa-id and left, yan-king on the do-or to get it clo-sed. "That's an ama-zing child," Nell sa-id. "You ha-ve no idea. She's had Ga-be and Chloe whip-ped sin-ce birth. So-me guy is go-ing to ha-ve his hands full with that one." Ri-ley lo-oked in-to the bat-h-ro-om. "I can't be-li-eve you're still do-ing that. Go to lunch." "One mo-re shelf and I'm do-ne," Nell sa-id and went in to fi-nish. The bat-h-ro-om was bet-ter, but it still ne-eded to be pa-in-ted. May-be she co-uld do that when they we-ren't lo-oking, sin-ce she was per-ma-nent now. She clim-bed up on the to-ilet tank, ba-lan-cing her-self with one hand on the wall, and be-gan to ta-ke old bo-xes and bot-tles down from the top shelf, drop-ping them in-to the trash can be-low and lis-te-ning to them smash with sa-tis-fac-ti-on. Then she re-ac-hed for the last box. It was pus-hed in-to the far-t-hest cor-ner and she had to pry it for-ward with her fin-ger-na-ils, but she fi-nal-ly got it to the ed-ge of the shelf. It was small, abo-ut fo-ur by fi-ve in-c-hes, co-ve-red in che-ap red-to-oled le-at-her. She clim-bed down from the to-ilet to lo-ok at it in the light, brus-hing off the dust to see the pic-tu-re on top, an en-g-ra-ving of so-me kind of imp or de-vil. She he-ard the stre-et do-or slam, he-ard Ri-ley say he'd fi-nis-hed the bac-k-g-ro-und check, he-ard Ga-be an-s-wer him, and lo-oked at the box aga-in. If the-re was tro-ub-le in the-re, Ga-be was go-ing to bla-me her. She to-ok a de-ep bre-ath and ope-ned the box, but the only thing in-si-de was a car tit-le, its yel-low pa-per blen-ding with the yel-low felt li-ning of the box. This can-not pos-sibly up-set him, she tho-ught and went out to gi-ve it to him. "This Jack Dysart thing," Ri-ley sa-id as he fol-lo-wed Ga-be in-to the of-fi-ce. j"The-re is no Jack Dysart thing." Ga-be to-ok off his ac-ket and sat down at his desk. "We ha-ve re-al work to do." He was abo-ut to go on, but his new sec-re-tary knoc-ked and ca-me in, slen-der in her gray su-it, pa-le aga-inst the dark wo-od of the do-or. "I fo-und this," she sa-id and bro-ught a small red box to the desk. "It was on the top shelf in the bat-h-ro-om, and the-re's not-hing much in it, just a car tit-le, but I tho-ught-" "A tit-le?" Ga-be ope-ned the box and to-ok out the pa-per. It was a tit-le tran-s-fer to Pat-rick

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McKen-na for a 1977 Por-s-c-he 911 Car-re-ra, da-ted May 27, 1978, and sig-ned by Tre-vor Ogil-vie. He lo-oked at it clo-ser. Tre-vor had sold the car to his dad for one dol-lar. He felt his skin go co-ol. His dad had put the box on the top shelf of the bat-h-ro-om in 1978 whe-re it wasn't li-kely to be fo-und by an-y-body wor-king for him, cer-ta-inly not by his twen-ty-one-ye-ar-old son or ele-ven-ye-ar-old nep-hew who might con-ce-ivably ask how he'd got-ten such a co-ol car for a buck. What the hell had his dad do-ne for Tre-vor in 1978 that was worth a 1977 Por-s-c-he? "What?" Ri-ley sa-id. Ga-be pus-hed the box ac-ross the desk to him and wat-c-hed Ri-ley's usu-al go-od hu-mor fa-de from his fa-ce as he re-ad the pa-per. "Is that what you we-re lo-oking for?" Nell sa-id, and Ga-be frow-ned at her. Jesus, it was li-ke wor-king with Chloe aga-in. No tra-in of tho-ught at all, just ran-dom sta-ti-ons. "What are you tal-king abo-ut?" he as-ked pa-ti-ently, and he must ha-ve be-en too pa-ti-ent be-ca-use she frow-ned back at him. "I was cle-aning yo-ur shel-ves," she sa-id, "and I no-ti-ced pat-terns in the dust that lo-oked li-ke so-me-body had be-en pul-ling bo-oks out. So I fi-gu-red you we-re lo-oking for so-met-hing." "No," Ga-be sa-id and lo-oked at Ri-ley. "Not me," Ri-ley sa-id. "But it was af-ter the cle-aners stop-ped co-ming. Lynne?" Ga-be sho-ok his he-ad. "If she fo-und the box, why not just ta-ke it?" He frow-ned at the box. "Actu-al-ly, why lo-ok for this at all?" He pic-ked it up aga-in. It was small, but the-re was plenty of ro-om in-si-de for so-met-hing be-si-des a tit-le. "Unless she to-ok what she wan-ted." So-met-hing el-se abo-ut his dad and Tre-vor… Ri-ley was frow-ning. "Ye-ah, but what the hell co-uld she want-" "Thank you, Mrs. Dysart, you've be-en a gre-at help," Ga-be sa-id, and Nell to-ok a step back, lo-oking as tho-ugh she'd be-en slap-ped. "All right," she sa-id. "Lis-ten, abo-ut the sign on the win-dow-" "What?" Ga-be frow-ned at her, im-pa-ti-ent for her to be go-ne. "What sign?" "McKen-na In-ves-ti-ga-ti-ons. It's fla-ked com-p-le-tely off in pla-ces. I was thin-king we co-uld re-de-sign-" "No, Mrs. Dysart. The win-dow stays the way it has al-ways be-en." He lo-oked at the box and tho-ught, Al-t-ho-ugh I may not know much abo-ut the way things ha-ve al-ways be-en. "Then co-uld I talk you in-to a new co-uch be-fo-re the old one col-lap-ses?" she sa-id, and he lo-oked up, star-t-led by the ed-ge in her vo-ice. Her eyes held a gle-am that sa-id she was rep-res-sing things best left un-sa-id and the-re was ac-tu-al-ly so-me co-lor in her che-eks. Well, the hell with her, he had re-al prob-lems. "We don't get that many drop-ins," he told her. "The co-uch stays." She sto-od the-re for a mo-ment, and then she sa-id, "Yo-ur front do-or sticks, too," and left. That is one angry wo-man, he tho-ught, and lo-oked at the box aga-in. Hell. Ri-ley to-ok a de-ep bre-ath. "So what did Pat-rick do for Tre-vor that he co-uldn't put on the bo-oks?" "He-re's anot-her qu-es-ti-on," Ga-be sa-id. "How big a co-in-ci-den-ce is it that we find a box with Tre-vor's na-me in it at ro-ughly the sa-me ti-me a wo-man starts blac-k-ma-iling him, which is al-so ro-ughly the sa-me ti-me that Lynne calls in sick?" Ri-ley sat very still, lo-oking at the pos-si-bi-lity from all si-des whi-le Ga-be wa-ited. "May-be," he sa-id fi-nal-ly. "It's su-re not out of cha-rac-ter for her." He lo-oked up at Ga-be, frow-ning. "Do-esn't ex-p-la-in Jack and Bud-ge." "J-ack, may-be," Ga-be sa-id. "He was a par-t-ner in'78." He pul-led the box back and clo-sed it so he wo-uldn't ha-ve to lo-ok at the damn tit-le tran-s-fer, and the de-vil le-ered up at him. "My dad lo-ved that car. The last fight he had with my mot-her was over that car." "You lo-ve that car," Ri-ley sa-id. "May-be this is a sign that it's ti-me for a new one." "The-re are no signs," Ga-be sa-id. "Stop tal-king to Chloe."

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"Well, the-re are clu-es," Ri-ley sa-id. "I don't know abo-ut this one, tho-ugh. If it was Lynne, how the hell did she know the box was he-re?" "May-be she didn't," Ga-be sa-id. "May-be she was just sno-oping aro-und and fo-und it and to-ok what she wan-ted and then put it back." He sho-ok his he-ad. "No, that ma-kes no sen-se. She was lo-oking for so-met-hing." He sto-od up and pic-ked up his jac-ket. "You may now in-ves-ti-ga-te Jack Dysart at will." "What are you go-ing to do?" Ri-ley sa-id. "Find Lynnie," Ga-be sa-id grimly. "And then I'm go-ing to talk to Tre-vor." He lo-oked aro-und the of-fi-ce and saw his dad ever-y-w-he-re. "Abo-ut the go-od old days." Nell wat-c-hed Ga-be le-ave and grit-ted her te-eth. She'd ne-ver be-en evic-ted from an-y-p-la-ce as fast as he'd thrown her out of that of-fi-ce. And she co-uld ha-ve hel-ped, if he'd just"Back la-ter," Ri-ley sa-id, co-ming out of his of-fi-ce and he-ading for the stre-et do-or. "Much la-ter." Well, the hell with you guys, Nell tho-ught and went back in-to the bat-h-ro-om to wi-pe down the last shelf. She was just fi-nis-hing when she he-ard the stre-et do-or rat-tle and pop open. "Nell?" she he-ard Su-ze call, and she sa-id, "Just a mi-nu-te," and clim-bed down from the to-ilet, the last of the cle-aning do-ne. It wasn't very sa-tis-f-ying. When she ca-me out in-to the of-fi-ce, Su-ze sa-id, "We ha-ve to talk to you," and Nell lo-oked be-yond her to see Mar-gie's te-ar-s-ta-ined fa-ce. "What's wrong?" Nell went to Mar-gie. "What hap-pe-ned? Did Bud-ge do so-met-hing? Is it abo-ut the te-as-hop? Be-ca-use you don't ha-ve to-" "Oh, Nell!" Mar-gie threw her arms aro-und her. "What?" Nell lo-oked over the top of Mar-gie's curly he-ad to Su-ze, who lo-oked equ-al-ly mi-se-rab-le, al-t-ho-ugh her mi-sery was mi-xed with ra-ge. "Did Jack do so-met-hing? What's go-ing on?" "Mar-gie tal-ked to Bud-ge last night," Su-ze sa-id grimly. "She sug-ges-ted that sin-ce she was get-ting a job li-ke you, may-be they sho-uldn't get mar-ri-ed." "I told him that mar-ri-age wasn't an an-s-wer," Mar-gie sa-id wetly in-to Nell's sho-ul-der. "I told him you'd had a go-od mar-ri-age and it just en-ded for no re-ason, so I didn't see why we'd be any luc-ki-er, and that's why I ne-eded a job." "You sho-uldn't do that to Bud-ge," Nell sa-id, pat-ting her sho-ul-der. "You pro-bably sho-uldn't marry him, eit-her-" "That's not the prob-lem." Su-ze swal-lo-wed. "Bud-ge told her yo-ur mar-ri-age didn't just end." "What?" Nell sa-id, go-ing sud-denly cold. "Tim was se-e-ing Whit-ney all along," Mar-gie sa-id, pul-ling her fa-ce out of Nell's sho-ul-der. "Way be-fo-re he left you. He was che-ating the who-le ti-me." I knew that, Nell tho-ught, and then the of-fi-ce swo-oped aro-und her and her kne-es buc-k-led and light ex-p-lo-ded in her he-ad li-ke stars. Chapter Four Nell felt Su-ze grab her be-fo-re she hit the flo-or, easing her down to sit on the Ori-en-tal rug. We sho-uld rep-la-ce this rug, Nell tho-ught. It ma-kes the pla-ce lo-ok ratty. She star-ted to fall bac-k-ward, but Su-ze held her and sho-ok her. "No, you don't," she sa-id. "Stay with us." "He che-ated," Nell sa-id, and sa-ying it ma-de her want to throw up. "I ho-pe he di-es," Su-ze sa-id, still hol-ding on-to her. "Are you okay? You lo-ok aw-ful." She ho-oked her hands un-der Nell's arms and ha-uled her on-to the ric-kety brown co-uch. "Put yo-ur he-ad bet-we-en yo-ur legs." Nell obe-di-ently drop-ped her he-ad bet-we-en her kne-es. He che-ated. He ma-de a fo-ol of me. "Did you know?" "No," Su-ze sa-id. "I swe-ar, I wo-uld ha-ve told you. But it ne-ver ma-de any sen-se that he'd fall out

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of lo-ve with you. You ga-ve him ever-y-t-hing. I co-uldn't be-li-eve he'd ha-ve the guts to le-ave you to do ever-y-t-hing for him-self. He's such a to-ad, and that kind ne-ver le-aves wit-ho-ut bac-kup." "I'm so sorry," Mar-gie sa-id. Nell to-ok a co-up-le of de-ep bre-aths to get so-me ox-y-gen back to her bra-in. Tim had che-ated. She'd be-en fa-ir and prac-ti-cal and adult, and he'd che-ated. He'd che-ated twi-ce, first when he slept with Whit-ney and then when he'd told her the-re wasn't an-y-body el-se. The se-cond bet-ra-yal was wor-se. That was the lie that he'd used to swin-d-le her out of her an-ger. He'd ta-ken her job and her ho-use and half her chi-na, and he'd bro-ken her li-fe, and then he'd li-ed so she co-uldn't even kill him for do-ing it. The bas-tard. Nell sat up stra-ight, ra-ge ma-king her blo-od thick. "I ha-te him." "Well, it's abo-ut ti-me," Su-ze sa-id. "What are we go-ing to do abo-ut it?" I'm go-ing to scre-am. "I ha-ve to go," Nell sa-id, pus-hing her-self up from the co-uch, and Mar-gie mo-ved out of her way as she he-aded for the do-or. Ga-be spent a frus-t-ra-ting ho-ur get-ting now-he-re, so when he got back to the agency and Nell was go-ne, he was not amu-sed. What the hell? he tho-ught and grab-bed the pho-ne when it rang. It was a cli-ent from out of town and he sat down at Nell's desk and to-ok down the de-ta-ils with the gold pen that lay pre-ci-sely to the right of her no-te-pad. Ever-y-t-hing on the desk was pre-ci-se, right down to the ex-pen-si-vely gold-fra-med pho-to of Nell and a much yo-un-ger man who lo-oked eno-ugh li-ke her to be her son. The boy was go-od-lo-oking, and Nell was flus-hed and happy and he-althy. What hap-pe-ned to her sin-ce then? he tho-ught as he hung up and then for-got abo-ut her as the pho-ne rang "What did you find out?" Ri-ley sa-id, when he an-s-we-red. "Not much. Lynnie wasn't ho-me and her lan-d-lady was wat-c-hing from next do-or so I co-uldn't go in on my own. And Tre-vor was not a help." "He ne-ver is," Ri-ley sa-id. "The qu-es-ti-on is, was he not a help be-ca-use he was clu-eless, or was he not a help be-ca-use he was stal-ling?" "Stal-ling," Ga-be sa-id. "He co-uldn't re-mem-ber sig-ning over the car." "He for-got a Por-s-c-he?" "His po-si-ti-on is that he co-uldn't pos-sibly re-mem-ber it af-ter twen-ty-th-ree ye-ars." "His po-si-ti-on is fla-wed," Ri-ley sa-id. "Is Nell the-re?" "No," Ga-be sa-id lo-oking aro-und. "Which is why I'm an-s-we-ring the pho-ne." "Well, when you find her, get her to dig out the '78 fi-les," Ri-ley sa-id. "I know this is so-met-hing Pat-rick was co-ve-ring up, but the-re might be so-met-hing in the-re, and if the-re is, she'll find it. That wo-man can find an-y-t-hing." "If she ever co-mes back. She left so-me of her things, so I sup-po-se we'll see her aga-in when the mo-od stri-kes her." "Will you get off her ca-se?" Ri-ley sa-id. "She's pro-bably at lunch, for Christ's sa-ke. You're de-ve-lo-ping a fi-xa-ti-on he-re." "Spe-aking of fi-xa-ti-ons, how's jack?" "I'm just get-ting star-ted," Ri-ley sa-id, his vo-ice thick with an-ti-ci-pa-ti-on. Ga-be sig-hed. "So am I. Oh, and be-fo-re I for-get, you ha-ve a de-coy for to-night. Can you get yo-ur hort ma-j-or to help?" "She has a pa-per due," Ri-ley sa-id, and Ga-be tho-ught, This is what you get for da-ting in-fants. "I'll get so-me-body," Ga-be sa-id and went to find Chloe in the te-aro-om. She was ope-ning the oven be-hind the co-un-ter. "Can you do a de-coy to-night?" "No." Chloe sa-id. "I ha-te tho-se things. They mess with my kar-ma." "Right." Ga-be sa-id. "Ha-ve you se-en our new sec-re-tary?" "Nell? No." She pul-led a co-okie she-et out and then nud-ged him out of her way with her hip to put it on the gra-ni-te co-un-ter. "She didn't se-em li-ke the type to ta-ke a long lunch," Ga-be sa-id. "She do-esn't se-em li-ke the type to ta-ke lunch at all," Chloe sa-id ir-ri-tably, sho-ving a swe-aty curl out of her eye. "Not that you'd no-ti-ce."

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"What did I do now?" Ga-be sa-id. Chloe sho-ok her he-ad and wa-ved him away, but he sta-yed. "Chloe, do you re-mem-ber much abo-ut my dad?" She stop-ped, her ir-ri-ta-ti-on eva-po-ra-ting. "Pat-rick? Su-re. He was go-od to me. And he was crazy abo-ut Lu, re-mem-ber? I ha-ted it that he di-ed so so-on af-ter she was born. He lo-ved her so much." "Ye-ah," Ga-be sa-id, trying not to re-mem-ber. "Do you think he was bent?" Chloe put the spa-tu-la down. "Li-ke a cro-ok?" She he-si-ta-ted, and Ga-be tho-ught, Oh, hell. He'd be-en ho-ping she'd say, "No, ab-so-lu-tely not, are you crazy?" "Mo-re than you," she sa-id fi-nal-ly. "Me?" Ga-be lo-oked at her, dum-b-fo-un-ded. "You think I'm bent?" "I think you do what you ne-ed to when you ne-ed to. I don't think you've ne-eded to do an-y-t-hing par-ti-cu-larly shady for a long whi-le, but I think you're ca-pab-le of it. I think you're ca-pab-le of al-most an-y-t-hing if the mo-ti-va-ti-on is right." "J-esus," Ga-be sa-id. "Yo-ur dad was, too," Chloe sa-id. "Except I think he li-ked mo-ney a lot mo-re than you do. I think he li-ked wo-men mo-re than you do." "Hey," Ga-be sa-id, in-sul-ted. "Well, you've be-en fa-it-h-ful to me and you're not even par-ti-cu-larly in-te-res-ted in me," Chloe sa-id. "Yo-ur dad wo-uld ha-ve che-ated on me on the ho-ney-mo-on." "We didn't ha-ve a ho-ney-mo-on," Ga-be sa-id. "God, I lo-ve this con-ver-sa-ti-on. So I'm cro-oked and un-der-se-xed?" "I didn't say un-der-se-xed," Chloe sa-id. "I sa-id that wasn't a mo-ti-va-ti-on for you. What's go-ing on?" Ga-be felt the glo-om clo-se back over him aga-in. "I think my dad may ha-ve do-ne so-met-hing re-al-ly wrong. So-met-hing he didn't want me to know." "Wow." Chloe le-aned aga-inst the co-un-ter. "He told you ever-y-t-hing. It must be pretty bad." "It's so-met-hing to do with the car." "Re-al-ly." Chloe til-ted her he-ad at him. "So-met-hing to do with yo-ur mom?" "My mot-her?" Ga-be frow-ned at her. "I don't-" "You al-ways sa-id she left be-ca-use of the car," Chloe sa-id. "I ne-ver knew her, but I know you, and you don't get wha-te-ver mo-rals you ha-ve from yo-ur dad. So may-be he did so-met-hing re-al-ly bad, and that's why she left and not be-ca-use of the car." "She left be-ca-use he tre-ated her li-ke hell," Ga-be sa-id. "She left a lot of ti-mes be-ca-use he tre-ated her li-ke hell," Chloe sa-id. "The car was the ti-me she didn't co-me back." "May-be she just got fed up," Ga-be sa-id. "He did a lot of che-ating and yel-ling." "He sho-uldn't ha-ve be-en mar-ri-ed." Chloe pic-ked up her spa-tu-la aga-in. "And from what he told me, she did things to get even with him and that ma-de it wor-se. Mar-ri-age can be so aw-ful." "Thank you," Ga-be sa-id. Chloe be-gan to ta-ke the co-oki-es off the she-et, and Ga-be in-ha-led the al-mond scent and tho-ught, That's al-ways go-ing to re-mind me of her. "Well, it's a gam-b-le," Chloe sa-id, as he pic-ked up a co-okie. "For wo-men, an-y-way. Men can al-ways start over aga-in. The va-lue of the ma-le is ba-sed on mo-ney. The va-lue of the fe-ma-le is ba-sed on yo-uth and be-a-uty. Men can al-ways get mo-re mo-ney, but wo-men can't get back tho-se ye-ars when they're go-ne. That's why they ta-ke men to the cle-aners in a di-vor-ce." "Che-ap talk," Ga-be sa-id aro-und a bi-te of co-okie. "You wo-uldn't even ta-ke ali-mony." "I wan-ted to be in-de-pen-dent," Chloe sa-id. "But I wan-ted Lu to grow up with you, too. I knew what you we-re do-ing when you bo-ught the ho-use next do-or for us, but it was so go-od for Lu. And then you ga-ve me this pla-ce to run, and that was fun, too. But I sho-uld ha-ve sa-id no. I sho-uld ha-ve go-ne." The reg-ret in her vo-ice hurt. "If you want to go," he sa-id, "go. I'll ta-ke ca-re of Lu. You're still

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yo-ung. Clo-se this pla-ce and go." Chloe slap-ped down the spa-tu-la, and he step-ped back in sur-p-ri-se. "See? That's why you're such a son of a bitch. If you'd throw a fit, if you'd che-at, if you'd act li-ke yo-ur dad, I co-uld walk out and be free, but you're al-ways so damn de-cent abo-ut ever-y-t-hing and you ma-ke it so hard-" She bro-ke off. "Hey." Ga-be put his arms aro-und her. "I can be lo-usy. Let's talk abo-ut as-t-ro-logy." "I ha-ve to go away," Chloe sa-id in-to his chest. "Just for a lit-tle whi-le." "I've got you co-ve-red," Ga-be sa-id, his che-ek aga-inst her ha-ir. "How much mo-ney do you ne-ed?" She pul-led away and smac-ked him on the chest. "Stop it. I ha-ve to do this on my own." "Okay." Ga-be let go of her and to-ok anot-her bi-te of co-okie. "Do you ha-ve any mo-ney?" "Yes," Chloe sa-id. "I know this pla-ce do-esn't lo-ok li-ke it right now, but it's be-en do-ing pretty go-od." "Okay," Ga-be sa-id. "Are you go-ing to get mad if I tell you to call if you ne-ed an-y-t-hing?" "Yes," Chloe sa-id. "But I'll call an-y-way." She lo-oked so swe-et stan-ding the-re, flus-hed from the he-at of the oven and from her own frus-t-ra-ti-on, and he knew it re-al-ly was over, he'd known it for days, may-be lon-ger than that. He bent and kis-sed her one last ti-me, softly, and she put her hand on his che-ek and sa-id, "I re-al-ly do lo-ve you." "I lo-ve you, too," Ga-be sa-id. "Just do me a fa-vor and ma-ke su-re the guy who rep-la-ces me de-ser-ves you. I su-re as hell didn't." "You're do-ing it aga-in," Chloe sa-id. "Just stop it. Act li-ke yo-ur dad for on-ce." "As-t-ro-logy is crap," Ga-be sa-id, and she smi-led and sho-ok her he-ad. "Tell me that when I co-me back and you're madly in lo-ve with Nell," she sa-id. "God for-bid," Ga-be sa-id and went back to his of-fi-ce. When Nell had slam-med open the do-or to the in-su-ran-ce agency an ho-ur ear-li-er, her old as-sis-tant Peggy had sa-id, "Nell!" so-un-ding pat-he-ti-cal-ly gra-te-ful to see her, but Nell had kept right on go-ing and ban-ged open Tim's of-fi-ce do-or wit-ho-ut knoc-king. "Nell!" Tim lo-oked up, as han-d-so-me as ever, and got to his fe-et. "How ni-ce-" "You li-ed to me," Nell sa-id thro-ugh her te-eth, and his smi-le va-nis-hed. "You che-ated on me." Tim's sur-p-ri-se shif-ted to ca-uti-o-us sympathy. "I'm sorry, Nell. I was ho-ping you'd ne-ver find out." "I bet you we-re, you son of a bitch," Nell sa-id, and Tim jer-ked his he-ad back. "It wasn't li-ke that," he sa-id, lo-oking wo-un-ded. "I didn't want to hurt you. And I didn't re-al-ly lie. Our mar-ri-age had be-en de-ad for ye-ars." "Had it? Well, gee, then why we we-re still sle-eping to-get-her and run-ning a bu-si-ness and-" "Be-ca-use I didn't re-ali-ze it." Tim sat on the cor-ner of his desk, pro-fes-si-onal, adult, calm, and un-der-s-tan-ding in a shirt anot-her wo-man had pic-ked out. "It wasn't un-til I met Whit-ney that I re-ali-zed the-re was mo-re to li-fe than in-su-ran-ce and…" He spre-ad his hands, hel-p-les-sly. "…I had to fol-low my he-art." He smi-led at her sadly. "The he-art has its re-asons." Nell lo-oked aro-und for so-met-hing to throw, so-met-hing to hit him with, so-met-hing that wo-uld jolt him out of this calm, let's-all-be-adults hypoc-risy and in-to so-met-hing a lit-tle mo-re sa-tis-f-ying. Li-ke na-ked ter-ror. "Don't ta-ke it per-so-nal-ly, it didn't ha-ve an-y-t-hing to do with you," Tim sa-id, and Nell saw the Icic-les li-ned up be-hind him-fo-ur-te-en awards for best Ohio agent of the ye-ar-and felt sud-denly, in-sa-nely calm. "Well, don't ta-ke this per-so-nal-ly, eit-her, swe-etie," she sa-id and wal-ked be-hind him whi-le he slid off the cor-ner of the desk to get out of her way. She pic-ked up the first of the crystal sta-tu-es and smas-hed it on the desk whe-re he'd be-en sit-ting. It splin-te-red in-to shards, al-most ex-p-lo-ding on im-pact, ma-king a hu-ge go-uge in the ma-ho-gany, and she tho-ught, Yes, as Tim yel-led, "No!" "I've just re-ali-zed that you are a com-p-le-tely wor-t-h-less hu-man be-ing," Nell sa-id, pic-king up

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anot-her Icic-le. "I spent a ye-ar and a half in pur-ga-tory be-ca-use you're such a lying co-ward that you didn't even ha-ve the de-cency to tell me the truth." "Nell," Tim sa-id, bac-king up, war-ning in his vo-ice. "Be fa-ir. You al-ways told Jase when he was lit-tle that fe-elings are fe-elings and you ha-ve to pay at-ten-ti-on to them." "That's true, and right now I'm fe-eling a lit-tle angry." Nell ra-ised the crystal over her he-ad and smas-hed it in-to a tho-usand jag-ged pi-eces as Tim scram-b-led aro-und her to grab up as many Icic-les as he co-uld. Peggy ca-me to the do-or and sa-id, "What-" as Nell pic-ked up an Icic-le he'd mis-sed. Peggy stop-ped, her eyes wi-de. Nell ig-no-red her to fo-cus on Tim. "Altho-ugh ac-tu-al-ly, if I was fol-lo-wing my he-art, I'd bury one of the-se suc-kers in yo-ur sple-en." Tim to-ok a le-ap back as she smas-hed the third crystal, smac-king it aga-inst his desk so hard that the pi-eces flew ac-ross the ro-om. "Oh, my," Peggy sa-id as Nell pic-ked up anot-her one. "Okay, that was dan-ge-ro-us." Tim drew him-self up, his arms full of Icic-les. "If you'll just calm down-" "This one's for Jase," Nell sa-id, bran-dis-hing the fo-urth crystal at him. "Be-ca-use I think he knows the truth, which me-ans you for-ced my son to lie to me." This one she threw all her body we-ight be-hind, and it splin-te-red with so much for-ce that one of the shards ri-coc-he-ted in-to the win-dow be-hind her and crac-ked it. "Nell!" Tim yel-led. "Stop it!" What she ne-eded was a rhythm. She grab-bed and smas-hed a fifth one, swin-ging it li-ke a ten-nis rac-ket ser-ved at the flo-or. The ten-nis ser-ve smash felt go-od, tra-ve-ling up her arms, ma-king her mus-c-les sing. That was what she ne-eded, go-od pa-cing and a smo-oth de-li-very. "God-damn it, I li-ed for you!" Tim sa-id, trying to pick up anot-her crystal even tho-ugh his arms we-re full. "You li-ed"-she grab-bed the next crystal, swung it, and smas-hed it on the desk-"be-ca-use you're a che-ating-" swing and smash "co-wardly-" swing and smash-"s-pi-ne-less"-swing and smash-"s-limy"-swing and smash-"son of a bitch who didn't want to ta-ke the res-pon-si-bi-lity for wrec-king his mar-ri-age." She stop-ped to catch her bre-ath and be-ca-use the-re we-ren't any mo-re Icic-les on the shelf; Tim was hol-ding the last fo-ur in his arms, his eyes def-ying her to ta-ke them. Nell put her chin down. "Gi-ve me tho-se." "No." Tim sto-od stern and tall. "Abso-lu-tely not. You sho-uld see yo-ur-self, you lo-ok crazy." "Gi-ve me tho-se," Nell sa-id qu-i-etly, "or I will ta-ke them from you and be-at you to de-ath with them." Tim gaw-ked at her, and Nell re-ac-hed out and wren-c-hed one from his arms and swung it in-to the desk, fe-eling stron-ger with each ex-p-lo-si-on. "This is crazy." Tim tri-ed to scram-b-le aro-und her, and she grab-bed anot-her Icic-le, trip-ping him as he went, and smas-hed it on the desk be-fo-re tur-ning to sco-op up one he'd drop-ped as he'd stag-ge-red over her fo-ot. She smas-hed that one, too, and then ad-van-ced on him for the last one, lus-ting af-ter it mo-re than she'd ever lus-ted af-ter him. "I ne-ed that," she sa-id. "Gi-ve it to me." "Stop it," he sa-id, clut-c-hing his last Icic-le to his shirt. "For he-aven's sa-ke, lo-ok at this mess." "You think this is a mess?" Nell sa-id. "Ha-ve you se-en our fa-mily la-tely? Ha-ve you chec-ked out our bu-si-ness? You smas-hed ever-y-t-hing we'd bu-ilt, ever-y-t-hing we wor-ked for, be-ca-use you wan-ted to screw a si-ze six. This"-she ges-tu-red to the glass-st-rewn of-fi-ce-"is not-hing in com-pa-ri-son." Altho-ugh now that she lo-oked aro-und, the pla-ce was a pretty sig-ni-fi-cant mess. His desk was des-t-ro-yed. The win-dow was crac-ked. The gray car-pet was full of crus-hed glass. She'd do-ne so-me go-od work he-re. "The-re's no ne-ed to be nasty." Tim's an-ger ma-de him flush. "Whit-ney we-ars a two. And I li-ed for

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you and Jase," he sa-id, bac-king to-ward the do-or. "I didn't want you to be hurt." Nell stop-ped, dum-b-fo-un-ded, bre-at-h-less with dis-be-li-ef. "You didn't want me to be hurt? You spend twen-ty-two ye-ars li-ving with me, wor-king with me, ha-ving a fa-mily with me, not a clo-ud in the sky, not a hint that an-y-t-hing is wrong, and then on Chris-t-mas you le-ave me, no ex-p-la-na-ti-on, the world sud-denly ma-kes no sen-se, and you think that won't hurt?" "It wasn't yo-ur fa-ult," Tim sa-id, ta-king a step for-ward. "I know it wasn't my fa-ult. " "It wasn't be-ca-use you we-ren't at-trac-ti-ve or yo-ung or un-der-s-tan-ding," Tim went on. "I didn't ca-re abo-ut that." "I'm go-ing to kill you," Nell sa-id. "If I'd sa-id, 'The-re's anot-her wo-man,' you'd ha-ve tho-ught it was be-ca-use you we-ren't go-od eno-ugh." "No, I wo-uldn't ha-ve," Nell sa-id. "I'd ha-ve tho-ught you we-re an uni-ma-gi-na-ti-ve son of a bitch ha-ving a mid-li-fe cri-sis." "But it wasn't abo-ut you," Tim sa-id ear-nestly. "I just fell in lo-ve. It had not-hing to do with you." "So it's all abo-ut you," Nell sa-id. "I'm just an in-no-cent bystan-der." "Yes!" Tim sa-id, re-li-eved that she un-der-s-to-od. "It wo-uld ha-ve do-ne you no go-od to know abo-ut Whit-ney, it wo-uld only ha-ve ca-used you pa-in. I did it for you." "We-re you al-ways this much of a we-asel?" Nell sa-id. "Be-ca-use I ho-nest to God can't re-mem-ber." "Nell, I know it's a shock, but re-al-ly, ever-y-t-hing's fi-ne. You're do-ing gre-at, Jase is do-ing gre-at, I'm happy." He spre-ad his arms to show for-gi-ve-ness, the last Icic-le in one hand. "'Co-ur-se, I'm go-ing to ha-ve to rep-la-ce a lot of Icic-les he-re." Nell loc-ked her eyes on the last Icic-le and went af-ter it, ig-no-ring the crunch of the glass un-der her fe-et. "Gi-ve me that." Tim sho-ved the Icic-le at Peggy who was still stan-ding fro-zen by the do-or. "Qu-ick!" he sa-id. "She's lost her mind. Go lock that up." Peggy to-ok the last Icic-le and lo-oked at Nell, ca-ught, and Nell stop-ped, equ-al-ly ca-ught, this ti-me by re-ality. She lo-oked aro-und the of-fi-ce and felt li-ke hell, not be-ca-use she'd des-t-ro-yed it, but be-ca-use des-t-ro-ying it hadn't hel-ped. All she'd do-ne was lo-wer her-self to his le-vel. Now Peggy tho-ught they we-re both scum. Tim nod-ded, stem and in con-t-rol, the Fa-ce of Re-ason in a mint-gre-en shirt and co-or-di-na-ted tie. "I'm so di-sap-po-in-ted in you, Nell. And I know Peggy must be, too." "Not re-al-ly," Peggy sa-id and han-ded the last Icic-le to Nell. "I qu-it." She left as Tim sa-id, "Peggy!" "You are such a lo-ser," Nell sa-id, hol-ding the last Icic-le. "And I will ne-ver ha-ve to sa-ve you aga-in." With one fi-nal swing, stra-ight from the sho-ul-der, she smas-hed the last Icic-le-flin-c-hing as a pi-ece of it flew up and ca-ught her on the che-ek-and with it the last of her li-fe with Tim. "You ne-ver sa-ved me," Tim sa-id, any pre-ten-se of fri-en-d-s-hip go-ne. "I was the bra-ins in the bu-si-ness. You we-re just the sec-re-tary." "You can ke-ep tel-ling yo-ur-self that," Nell sa-id, "but it's not go-ing to help." He sto-od be-hind the mu-ti-la-ted desk and lo-oked at her as if he ha-ted her, and she sa-id, "Go-od. Now you know how I fe-el." Then she wal-ked out of her old of-fi-ce and her old li-fe, com-p-le-tely at a loss abo-ut what to do next. Nell tri-ed to stay angry on her way to the McKen-nas, ab-sen-t-min-dedly wi-ping blo-od from the cut on her che-ek, but it didn't work. Back in the of-fi-ce, she sat be-hind her desk and felt the ice cre-ep in-to her ve-ins. She wasn't al-lo-wed to fix this pla-ce, wasn't al-lo-wed to get the mo-ney back from Lynnie, wasn't even al-lo-wed to go res-cue that po-or dog in New Al-bany. Every ti-me she tri-ed to get up to spe-ed, so-me man slo-wed her down. She tri-ed to be angry abo-ut that, but mostly she just felt ti-red. And she'd lost Peggy's job for her, too. She cal-led the of-fi-ce and got Peggy as she was

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le-aving. "I'm so sorry," Nell told her. "Don't qu-it be-ca-use of me." "I'm not," Peggy sa-id. "I don't want to work he-re an-y-mo-re. Ever sin-ce Whit-ney to-ok over yo-ur job, she's dri-ving me crazy. She do-esn't know what she's do-ing be-ca-use she's just star-ting, and she ma-kes mis-ta-kes and then gets mad at me if I fix them wit-ho-ut chec-king with her, and then she gets even mad-der if I don't fix them. I can't win.". "I know how that fe-els," Nell sa-id. "Are you go-ing to be okay?" "I'm go-ing to be fi-ne," Peggy sa-id. "Tim's go-ing to ha-ve prob-lems, tho-ugh." "Go-od," Nell sa-id, but when she'd hung up, she slum-ped in her cha-ir aga-in. She tri-ed to con-cen-t-ra-te on her work, but when Ga-be ca-me out of his of-fi-ce a few mi-nu-tes la-ter, she was sta-ring ho-pe-les-sly in-to spa-ce. He star-ted to say so-met-hing and then stop-ped to sta-re at her. "What hap-pe-ned to yo-ur che-ek?" Nell to-uc-hed the cut. My old li-fe hap-pe-ned to it. "Flying glass." "Oh, hell, stay the-re," Ga-be sa-id, his vo-ice exas-pe-ra-ted as usu-al. He went in-to the bat-h-ro-om and ca-me out with a damp pa-per to-wel and the first aid kit. "Re-al-ly, it's okay." Nell rol-led away from the desk a lit-tle. "I'm fi-ne." "You're ble-eding all over the of-fi-ce." He ho-oked his fo-ot aro-und the bot-tom of her cha-ir and pul-led her back. "Sit still. This is the clo-sest we've got to me-di-cal be-ne-fits, so ta-ke ad-van-ta-ge of it." He dab-bed the cut cle-an and then smo-ot-hed an-ti-bi-otic cre-am on her che-ek-bo-ne, his fin-gers sur-p-ri-singly gen-t-le even whi-le he scow-led at her, so she sat qu-i-etly whi-le he cut a tiny but-terfly ban-da-ge to hold the cut clo-sed, and tri-ed not to enj-oy be-ing ta-ken ca-re of sin-ce it was su-re to be a fle-eting mo-ment. She wat-c-hed his eyes whi-le he wor-ked, in-tent on her, and when he was fi-nis-hed, he glan-ced at her and the glan-ce ca-ught. She stop-ped bre-at-hing for a mi-nu-te be-ca-use he was so clo-se, and he fro-ze, too, and then he sa-id, "You're do-ne," and sat back. "Now, whe-re the hell did you find flying glass?" "You don't want to know." Nell to-uc-hed the but-terfly. "Ye-ah, I do. Am I mis-sing anot-her win-dow?" "No," Nell sa-id and flus-hed. He sat wat-c-hing her, wa-iting for so-met-hing, and she fi-nal-ly spo-ke just to fill the si-len-ce. "Thank you for the first aid. I owe you." "Go-od." He sto-od up. "We're col-lec-ting. We ne-ed you to work to-night." "To-night?" Nell shrug-ged as he to-ok the first aid kit back in-to the bat-h-ro-om. "Okay. Tell me what it is and I'll do it now." "Not sec-re-ta-ri-al," he sa-id as he ca-me out aga-in. "Ri-ley will pick you up at ni-ne. Lo-se the ban-da-ge by then." "Ni-ne to-night?" Nell sa-id. "What is this?" "De-coy work. You sit down in a bar next to a guy to see if he picks you up." He tur-ned back to-ward his of-fi-ce. "Wa-it a mi-nu-te. So-me guy is go-ing to pro-po-si-ti-on me?" She tho-ught of her-self in the mir-ror that day, lo-oking li-ke she'd be-en de-ad for months. "I think you've got the wrong kind of wo-man he-re." Ga-be sho-ok his he-ad. "Men in ho-tel bars are not that picky-" "O-uch," Nell sa-id. "Sorry. Didn't me-an it that way. You're a very at-trac-ti-ve wo-man." He se-emed mar-gi-nal-ly sin-ce-re, but she'd se-en her-self in that mir-ror. On the ot-her hand, she didn't ha-ve an-y-t-hing bet-ter to do with her eve-ning, ex-cept dis-cuss her day with Su-ze. "I'll do it," Nell sa-id. When Nell re-tur-ned Ga-be's da-te-bo-ok an ho-ur la-ter, she still lo-oked flus-hed and stormy and even mo-re un-s-tab-le than usu-al with that cut on her che-ek, all of which was oddly at-trac-ti-ve. Of co-ur-se, he'd al-ways had a we-ak-ness for the odd and un-s-tab-le. Lo-ok at Chloe.

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He sto-od up. "Let me show you our fre-ezer." "Yo-ur fre-ezer?" she sa-id, but she fol-lo-wed him thro-ugh the outer of-fi-ce and in-to Chloe's sto-re-ro-om whe-re he un-loc-ked the do-or to the big walk-in fre-ezer. "This is whe-re we ke-ep our back fi-les," he sa-id, hol-ding the do-or open for her. "Why?" she sa-id, pe-ering in. "Be-ca-use it locks," Ga-be sa-id. "And be-ca-use Chloe only uses the front part." "Why do-es she ha-ve a fre-ezer at all?" Nell sa-id. "The pla-ce used to be a res-ta-urant. We use what we ha-ve." He flip-ped on the light and step-ped in-si-de and she fol-lo-wed him in. "So-mew-he-re in he-re is at le-ast one fi-le box mar-ked '1978,' pos-sibly two. Find them and go thro-ugh them and pull out ever-y-t-hing that has Tre-vor Ogil-vie's or Jack Dysart's na-me on it." "All right," Nell sa-id, lo-oking aro-und. "I can't get loc-ked in he-re by ac-ci-dent, can I?" "No. It's not an auto-ma-tic latch." "And how many ye-ars of fi-les do you ha-ve in he-re?" "Twenty or thirty. The rest are in the ba-se-ment." "You ha-ve a ba-se-ment, too." She so-un-ded dep-res-sed by that. "Okay, 1978. I'll find it." He tur-ned to go and she sa-id, "Are you ever go-ing to tell me what's go-ing on?" "Su-re," Ga-be sa-id as he step-ped out of the fre-ezer. "Abo-ut the ti-me I let you re-de-sign the bu-si-ness cards and re-pa-int the win-dow." Se-ar-c-hing thro-ugh fi-le bo-xes didn't do much to oc-cupy Nell's mind, so she wor-ri-ed abo-ut the night to co-me; by fi-ve, she'd fo-und at le-ast two do-zen fi-les with Tre-vor's or Jack's na-me on them, and she was sick to her sto-mach with pre-per-for-man-ce sta-ge fright. So on her way ho-me, she stop-ped at Su-ze's and sa-id, "I ne-ed a ma-ke-over," and when she ope-ned the do-or to Ri-ley fo-ur ho-urs la-ter, he was ap-prop-ri-ately spe-ec-h-less at the sight of her. "I had so-me work do-ne," she sa-id as she wa-ved him in-to her apar-t-ment. "It shows." Ri-ley til-ted his he-ad and sur-ve-yed her. "Red-he-ad, huh? It su-its you." "You don't think it's too bright?" Nell went back to the mir-ror. She co-uldn't get over it her-self. With vi-vid co-lor in her ha-ir and so-me ma-ke-up, she lo-oked se-mi-ali-ve aga-in. "I tho-ught it was too much, but Ste-ven sa-id this wo-uld lo-ok na-tu-ral." "Who's Ste-ven?" "Su-ze's ha-ir-d-res-ser. By the park. He's a ge-ni-us." "He cer-ta-inly is," Ri-ley sa-id. "Ever-y-t-hing lo-oks na-tu-ral." Nell tur-ned back to see him lo-oking at her dress, an elec-t-ric blue ban-da-ge that wrap-ped aro-und her li-ke a se-cond skin. "It's Su-ze's," she sa-id, and when he sa-id, "What's Su-ze's?" she re-ali-zed he was lo-oking at her body, not the out-fit. "The dress. My best fri-end, Su-ze, ga-ve it to me." "Su-ze has go-od tas-te," Ri-ley sa-id. "Jesus." "So all I ha-ve to do is be ni-ce, right?" "In that dress, you don't even ha-ve to be ni-ce," Ri-ley sa-id. "And now we ha-ve a prob-lem." "What?" Nell tug-ged at the dress. "Too tight?" "For me, no. For the bug, yes." He held up a tiny ta-pe re-cor-der. "You ne-ed to put this so-mew-he-re whe-re it can't be se-en." He sho-ok his he-ad at her. "I can see ever-y-t-hing." "No, you can't." Nell held out her hand. "This is Su-ze's push-up bra that's at le-ast a cup si-ze too big for me. The-re's ro-om in he-re for an en-ti-re ste-reo system." "Ima-gi-ne my di-sap-po-in-t-ment," Ri-ley sa-id and han-ded over the re-cor-der mi-ke. She ma-na-ged to wed-ge the re-cor-der in-to Su-ze's bra, but that was the only thing she was re-li-eved abo-ut as she went in-to the ele-gant ho-tel bar half an ho-ur la-ter and cros-sed the ro-om to the man Ri-ley had po-in-ted out to her from the do-or-way. "Scotch and so-da," she told the bar-ten-der, and then she lo-oked aro-und the mir-ro-red bar be-fo-re glan-cing at the man next to her. He was an or-di-nary-lo-oking guy in a ni-ce-lo-oking su-it, and he was wat-c-hing her. Or, at le-ast, he was wat-c-hing Su-ze's bra and Ste-ven's ha-ir.

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"Hi." She smi-led and tur-ned back to her scotch and star-t-led her-self with her red-he-aded ref-lec-ti-on in the mir-ror. It had be-en a long ti-me sin-ce she'd lo-oked this go-od. She wet her lips and smi-led aga-in in-to the mir-ror, in-to her own eyes in-s-te-ad of so-me-body el-se's, flir-ting with her-self as she drank her scotch. Ac-tu-al-ly, she'd ne-ver lo-oked this go-od. If she put back on so-me of that we-ight The guy ca-ught her eye in the mir-ror. "Hi," he sa-id and held out his hand. "I'm Ben." "Hi, Ben," she sa-id, ta-king it. "I'm Nell." And I'm hot. Sort of. "What's a ni-ce lady li-ke you do-ing in a pla-ce li-ke this?" "Get-ting a drink." Her pul-se was po-un-ding. It was a mi-rac-le he co-uldn't fe-el the throb thro-ugh her palm. "You?" "Get-ting drunk," he sa-id. "I'm in town on bu-si-ness, and it's bo-ring as hell. You he-re on bu-si-ness?" "Yes," Nell sa-id, ta-king back her hand as the bar-ten-der put a se-cond drink on the bar for her. "My job is de-fi-ni-tely res-pon-sib-le for this." "Well, he-re's to yo-ur job," Ben sa-id, ra-ising his glass. "It's cer-ta-inly ma-king my night bet-ter." He was ni-ce, Nell dis-co-ve-red as he bo-ught her drinks and lis-te-ned to her. Tim hadn't lis-te-ned to her sin-ce she'd sa-id, "I do." "I li-ke you," she told Ben over her third drink, and then she re-mem-be-red that he was mar-ri-ed. He smi-led back at her. "I li-ke you, too." He lo-oked aro-und the bar and ad-ded, "But this pla-ce is no-isy, and I want to talk so-me mo-re." He lo-oked de-ep in-to her eyes. "How abo-ut co-ming up to my ro-om whe-re it's qu-i-eter?" Was the who-le world full of stra-ying men? How did an-y-body stay mar-ri-ed? "I'm sorry," Ben sa-id in-to her si-len-ce. "I sho-uldn't ha-ve as-ked." "No, it's okay," Nell sa-id. "I'm just get-ting over my di-vor-ce, so I'm a lit-tle shaky on this stuff." He smi-led at her, swe-et if you didn't know he was a che-ating scum. "I pro-mi-se to go slow," he sa-id and to-uc-hed her sho-ul-der lightly, and to her sur-p-ri-se, Nell flus-hed. It had be-en just a lit-tle blip in her pul-se, but it was the-re, and it ma-de her re-ali-ze the-re hadn't be-en any blip for a long ti-me. She lo-oked down at her-self, wrap-ped in Su-ze's blue Lycra, and re-ali-zed she'd be-co-me dis-con-nec-ted from her body. No hun-ger, no lust, she wasn't even su-re she co-uld fe-el pa-in. The cut on her che-ek hadn't hurt at all, now that she tho-ught abo-ut it. May-be she was de-ad and she was just too damn dumb to lie down. "Nell?" Ben sa-id. "I'm sorry, I-" "Yes," she sa-id to him, sud-denly des-pe-ra-te to fe-el so-met-hing. She didn't want to die wit-ho-ut ha-ving slept with an-y-body but Tim. She didn't want to die at all, she wan-ted to fe-el ali-ve aga-in. Ben was a che-at, he didn't co-unt, he was from out of town, she'd ne-ver ha-ve to fa-ce him aga-in. Pro-ve to me I'm still ali-ve. "Yes," she sa-id. "I'd lo-ve to co-me to yo-ur ro-om with you." "I'm glad," he sa-id. "You're so-me-body I want to get to know bet-ter." You don't want to know me, she wan-ted to say. Just ha-ve sex with me, and then I'll rat you out to yo-ur wi-fe. They ca-ught the ele-va-tor as pe-op-le we-re get-ting off, and Nell sto-od be-si-de him, vib-ra-ting with ten-si-on. This was the right thing to do. She ne-eded so-met-hing to bre-ak thro-ugh the ice that held her still, so-met-hing to start her mo-ving aga-in. The ele-va-tor do-ors ope-ned, and Ben held them apart for her. She went down the hall with him and wa-ited whi-le he un-loc-ked his do-or. "In you go," he sa-id che-er-ful-ly, and in she went, trying not to hyper-ven-ti-la-te. He to-ok off his co-at and threw it over a bro-ca-de cha-ir, lo-oking li-ke every guy she'd ever known in a shirt and tie. May-be I sho-uld try da-ting bi-kers, she tho-ught. "How abo-ut a drink?" Ben sa-id, and she put her hand on his arm and sa-id, "No. Thanks." She step-ped clo-ser so he co-uld kiss her, and he step-ped clo-ser, too, smel-ling of whis-key, which wasn't un-p-le-asant, and fe-eling warm un-der her hands when she put them on his arms, which al-so

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wasn't un-p-le-asant. She had a fe-eling she sho-uld be get-ting mo-re than "not un-p-le-asant," but she'd be-en de-ad a long ti-me, so she didn't want to ask for too much. And when he kis-sed her, a per-fectly go-od kiss, that wasn't un-p-le-asant, eit-her. Then he slid his hands down her back on-to her re-ar end, and she didn't fe-el a thing, not a trem-b-le, not a shud-der. And for the first ti-me she re-ali-zed that co-uld be a prob-lem; un-less he tra-ve-led with KY, the-re was no way she was go-ing to be ab-le to ha-ve sex with him. Not to men-ti-on when he pe-eled off her bra, he was go-ing to find the mic-rop-ho-ne. He kis-sed her aga-in whi-le she tri-ed to fi-gu-re out what to do. May-be if she So-me-body knoc-ked on the do-or, and Ben whis-pe-red, "Sorry," and went to an-s-wer it. "I think you ha-ve my wi-fe in he-re," Ri-ley sa-id, and Nell tho-ught, Oh, thank God. "Yo-ur wi-fe?" Ben sa-id, and Nell went to the do-or, trying not to smi-le in re-li-ef. "Hi, ho-ney," she sa-id brightly. "Ho-ney?" Ben sa-id. "I tho-ught you we-re di-vor-ced." "Not qu-ite," Ri-ley sa-id thro-ugh his te-eth, gla-ring at her. "She mis-ses on the de-ta-ils so-me-ti-mes." "Re-al-ly sorry abo-ut this," she sa-id to Ben as she slip-ped past him. He lo-oked at her the sa-me way Ri-ley had. Well, she co-uldn't bla-me him, she'd li-ed to him. Altho-ugh he had de-fi-ni-tely li-ed to her. "I re-al-ly am sorry," she sa-id, tur-ning back at the do-or. "I think it's in-de-fen-sib-le to lie to a pros-pec-ti-ve lo-ver abo-ut yo-ur ma-ri-tal sta-tus. Don't you?" The last thing she saw as Ri-ley pul-led her away was Ben flus-hing, whet-her in ra-ge or em-bar-ras-sment, she co-uldn't tell. It re-al-ly didn't mat-ter. Ri-ley was se-et-hingly qu-i-et all the way down High Stre-et, wa-iting un-til they we-re back in Nell's apar-t-ment, and she'd tur-ned to him and sa-id, "Okay, so I pro-bably sho-uldn't ha-ve do-ne that," be-fo-re he snar-led, "Pro-bably?" and la-un-c-hed in-to a ti-ra-de on her cri-mi-nal neg-li-gen-ce in not fol-lo-wing or-ders that co-uld ha-ve led to gri-evo-us con-se-qu-en-ces. "What are you trying to do?" he yel-led at her fi-nal-ly. "Turn Ga-be and me in-to pimps?" "I think you're exag-ge-ra-ting." Nell felt clo-se to te-ars. She hadn't wept for months, not sin-ce Tim had dum-ped her. She tri-ed to lis-ten to Ri-ley's ac-cu-sa-ti-ons, tri-ed to go-ad her-self in-to sob-bing, but it wasn't go-ing to hap-pen. She co-uld smash of-fi-ces and dye her ha-ir and pick up men all she wan-ted, but she was ne-ver go-ing to fe-el an-y-t-hing aga-in. Dep-res-sed be-yond me-asu-re, she left Ri-ley in mid-sen-ten-ce and went in-to her li-ving ro-om and sat down on her day-bed in the dark, still not crying. She hadn't even bo-ught the day-bed her-self, Su-ze had. She was a ghost in her own li-fe. After a mi-nu-te, Ri-ley ca-me in and sat down be-si-de her. "I'm fi-nis-hed yel-ling," he sa-id in a nor-mal vo-ice. "What the hell is wrong with you?" "I can't fe-el an-y-t-hing," Nell sa-id. "I ha-ven't felt an-y-t-hing fo-re-ver. I for-get to eat be-ca-use I ne-ver get hungry an-y-mo-re. I find out my hus-band li-ed to me and che-ated on me and I wreck his of-fi-ce-" "What?" Ri-ley sa-id, alarm in his vo-ice. "- and by fi-ve, I'm back to numb. I end up in a to-tal stran-ger's ho-tel ro-om, and he kis-ses me and I fe-el not-hing. Ab-so-lu-tely not-hing. Not even re-vul-si-on or fe-ar." She lo-oked at him and sa-id, "I'm de-ad. And I don't think I'm co-ming back. That man was kis-sing me and I felt not-hing." "He was al-so a to-tal stran-ger who was che-ating on his wi-fe," Ri-ley po-in-ted out. "I don't think tho-se are big turn-ons for you." "Not-hing is a big turn-on for me," Nell sa-id. "I'm stuck in the 'off' po-si-ti-on, and I think it's fo-re-ver." She drew a long, shud-de-ring bre-ath. "I tho-ught may-be chan-ging the way I lo-ok wo-uld do it, but it's all on the out-si-de. I'm still gray in-si-de. And I can't bre-ak out of it." Her vo-ice ro-se up to a cry at the end, an ugly, fin-ger-na-il-down-a-blac-k-bo-ard scre-ech, and she ex-pec-ted Ri-ley to pull away, but he put his arm aro-und her in-s-te-ad, so-lid and strong. "You are over-d-ra-ma-ti-zing this," he sa-id. She pul-led back, in-sul-ted. "Lis-ten, you," she sa-id, and he le-aned for-ward and kis-sed her.

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Chapter Five She grab-bed at him, first in sur-p-ri-se, and then be-ca-use he felt go-od, hot on her mo-uth, so-lid un-der her hands. "What was that?" "You think too much." Ri-ley let his fin-gers sli-de down her neck and ma-de her shi-ver. "See? Not de-ad." "Hey, I ha-ve re-al tro-ub-les," Nell sa-id, trying to get her in-dig-na-ti-on back, but he drew his fin-gers over her bre-ast, and she lost her pla-ce in the con-ver-sa-ti-on. "You ha-ve no tro-ub-les," Ri-ley sa-id. "You got di-vor-ced from a guy who didn't de-ser-ve you, you ha-ve fri-ends who are so wor-ri-ed abo-ut you they got you a gre-at job, and to-night you ha-ve me. I see no prob-lems he-re." "Well, I- " He kis-sed her aga-in, this ti-me full out gro-ping her whi-le he did, and the pres-su-re of his hand felt so fi-ne on her bre-ast that she le-aned in-to him whi-le she kis-sed him back, wan-ting him to push aga-inst her, to strug-gle with her, to ma-ke her fe-el so-met-hing aga-in. "See?" he whis-pe-red aga-inst her mo-uth. "You we-re just with the wrong guy." "Oh, and you're the right guy?" she sa-id and sur-p-ri-sed her-self by la-ug-hing. "For to-night, I'm the right guy." Ri-ley slid his thumb in-to her nec-k-li-ne. "You're de-fi-ni-tely at the dis-po-sab-le lo-ver sta-ge," he sa-id and kis-sed her neck. "The-re's a dis-po-sab-le lo-ver sta-ge?" Nell sa-id, but he was le-aning in-to her, and she smi-led in-to his mo-uth as he kis-sed her aga-in. "I don't be-li-eve this," she sa-id when she pul-led away. "I'm re-al-ly dep-res-sed-" "No, you're not. You're mad as hell." He ran his fin-gers lightly down the back of her dress. "You just think dep-res-sed is mo-re lad-y-li-ke. Ti-me to blow off so-me ste-am. Whe-re's the zip-per to this thing?" "I am not ha-ving sex with you," Nell sa-id, mo-ving away, but not too far. The kis-sing part was che-ering her up too much for her to kick him out just yet. "It wo-uld be un-p-ro-fes-si-onal." "Oh, and you've be-en such a pro to-night." Ri-ley pul-led her to-ward him gently so he co-uld lo-ok over her sho-ul-der. "The-re is no zip-per on this dress." "It's Lycra," Nell sa-id. "It pulls on. With a gre-at de-al of ef-fort." "Go-od thing I'm a strong guy," Ri-ley sa-id, re-ac-hing for the hem. "No-pe." Nell pus-hed his hand away. "I'm not ha-ving sex with you. You're an in-fant." "An ol-der wo-man," Ri-ley sa-id. "Go-od. Te-ach me ever-y-t-hing you know." He pul-led her to him aga-in, and she put her arms aro-und him and kis-sed him back be-ca-use he was re-al-ly go-od at it, and he fell slowly back on-to the day-bed with her on top of him. "I'm a be-gin-ner at this," he sa-id, "so you'll ha-ve to tell me ever-y-t-hing I'm do-ing wrong." He slip-ped his hand bet-we-en her legs and she sa-id, "Well, that for star-ters." "Too so-on?" His hand slid away and she felt va-gu-ely di-sap-po-in-ted. "We'll start at the top and work down, then," he sa-id and kis-sed her aga-in when she ope-ned her mo-uth to pro-test, to-uc-hing her ton-gue with his. As so-on as this kiss is do-ne, she tho-ught, but when the kiss was do-ne, she was pres-sed aga-inst him, thin-king, Nec-king do-esn't co-unt, es-pe-ci-al-ly when you're with so-me-body who do-es it this well, and ten mi-nu-tes la-ter, when he'd ma-na-ged to pry the Lycra abo-ve her hips, she de-ci-ded pet-ting didn't co-unt, eit-her. And shortly af-ter that, she wasn't thin-king at all, just re-ac-ting to his mo-uth and his hands, fe-eling her-self grow hot-ter the mo-re he to-uc-hed her, wan-ting his hands to be ro-ugh in-s-te-ad of gen-t-le, but wil-ling to ta-ke gen-t-le if that was all she co-uld get. When her dress and his shirt we-re off, he drew his fin-gers up her sto-mach and she shi-ve-red aga-inst him as he sa-id, "It's a re-al sha-me the way you can't fe-el an-y-t-hing." "Don't glo-at," she sa-id and pres-sed clo-ser to him, trying to ab-sorb his he-at.

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"Not-hing to glo-at abo-ut," he sa-id. "Yet." Then he be-gan to kiss his way down her body, easing her un-der-pants off with one hand. Nell sa-id, "Uh, wa-it a mi-nu-te," and he sa-id, "No," in-to her belly but-ton and kept on go-ing. And ten mi-nu-tes la-ter, every ner-ve in Nell's body tha-wed and ca-me scre-aming back to li-fe. "Now I'm go-ing to glo-at," Ri-ley sa-id, and then, whi-le Nell tri-ed to catch her bre-ath, he sho-ved off his pants. I re-al-ly sho-uldn't be do-ing this, she tho-ught, but he rol-led so she was on top of him, kis-sing her softly, and she clung to him whi-le he slid hard up in-to her. And then to her ama-ze-ment and re-li-ef, he roc-ked her back to anot-her short, sharp ex-p-lo-si-on, cle-aring out her ve-ins and her bra-in with che-er-ful-ly gen-t-le ef-fi-ci-ency. "You do that re-al-ly well," Nell sa-id when she had her bre-ath back and they we-re apart aga-in. She felt we-irdly go-od, as if she'd just had an out-of-body ex-pe-ri-en-ce, sort of de-tac-hed but ple-ased. "I prac-ti-ce." Ri-ley kis-sed her on the fo-re-he-ad, a brot-herly kiss that was al-so we-ird, con-si-de-ring they we-re both na-ked and he'd just got-ten rid of a con-dom. "You okay?" "Yes," Nell sa-id, not su-re. Her body felt won-der-ful, but her mind was fog-ging up aga-in, trying to match pas-si-on and Ri-ley with an-y-t-hing in her pre-vi-o-us exis-ten-ce and get-ting now-he-re. Well, that was go-od. She was trying to start a new li-fe. Ex-cept that now that the rol-ling aro-und was over, she didn't fe-el much dif-fe-rent. Cold and em-bar-ras-sed, but not dif-fe-rent. She felt aro-und for her che-nil-le throw, and Ri-ley rol-led away from her on the day-bed and sto-od up "Lo-oking for this?" he sa-id, and flip-ped the throw over her. "Thank you." She strug-gled to sit up, trying not to lo-ok at the lar-ge na-ked man in her apar-t-ment, and he dres-sed whi-le she non-c-ha-lantly didn't watch. "Uh, Ri-ley," she sa-id, when he was but-to-ning his shirt. "I think-" "Well, stop it," he sa-id, sto-oping to kiss her aga-in. "Get so-me sle-ep, kid, and start aga-in to-mor-row. You'll be up to spe-ed in no ti-me." He was go-ne be-fo-re she co-uld fi-gu-re out a go-od an-s-wer, so she lay back in her bed, the soft che-nil-le aro-und her, and lis-te-ned to her body. Her mind might be fog-ged, but her body was pretty cle-ar. Go-od things had hap-pe-ned. "What the hell," she sa-id and, for the first ti-me sin-ce the di-vor-ce no-ti-ced that the-re wasn't an-y-body the-re to he-ar her. May-be it was ti-me to re-le-arn pla-ying well with ot-hers. Not that she didn't al-re-ady ha-ve Su-ze and Mar-gie Su-ze and Mar-gie. They'd die when they fo-und out what she'd do-ne. Nell la-ug-hed out lo-ud, sur-p-ri-sing her-self aga-in, and then cur-led up aga-in to fall as-le-ep, mar-gi-nal-ly che-ered by li-fe in ge-ne-ral. Nell smi-led as in-no-cently as pos-sib-le at Ga-be when he ca-me down to the of-fi-ce the next mor-ning, but he stop-ped and sta-red at her an-y-way. "What?" she sa-id, gu-ilt ma-king her cranky. "Yo-ur ha-ir lo-oks go-od," he sa-id. She to-uc-hed it, sur-p-ri-sed. Right, she'd dyed her ha-ir red. "Thank you." "Any par-ti-cu-lar re-ason you chan-ged it?" "No," Nell li-ed, and he sto-od the-re, tall and un-fat-ho-mab-le, sta-ring at her with tho-se eyes un-til she sa-id, "Re-al-ly. No re-ason. I me-an, the-re was that thing last night, the de-coy thing-" Ga-be nod-ded. "- and Ri-ley sa-id I sho-uld lo-ok hot-" She flus-hed be-ca-use it so-un-ded stu-pid and be-ca-use sa-ying "Ri-ley" re-min-ded her of how re-al-ly stu-pid she'd be-en. "-and it was ti-me, I me-an, I was lo-oking pretty gray-" He nod-ded aga-in, pa-ti-ent, which ma-de her tem-per fla-re. "- and this is re-al-ly no-ne of yo-ur bu-si-ness," she fi-nis-hed, stic-king her chin out. "I know," he sa-id. "Anything el-se you want to tell me?" "I don't want to tell you an-y-t-hing at all," Nell sa-id and tur-ned back to the com-pu-ter, ig-no-ring him un-til he sa-id, "Thanks for ma-king cof-fee. You can start on the ba-se-ment to-day," and went

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in-to his of-fi-ce. A mi-nu-te la-ter, Ri-ley ca-me down from his apar-t-ment. "Lo-ok," Nell sa-id. "Abo-ut last night-" "It was fun, you ap-pre-ci-ate it, you're fe-eling much bet-ter, but you don't want to do it aga-in." Ri-ley pic-ked up his cup and sa-ucer from the shelf and po-ured his own cof-fee. Actu-al-ly, I'm not fe-eling that much bet-ter, Nell tho-ught, chec-king to ma-ke su-re Ga-be's do-or was clo-sed all the way. "Right. How did you know?" "I told. you, you're in the dis-po-sab-le lo-ver sta-ge. The last thing you want is a re-la-ti-on-s-hip, but you do want to know you're still fun-c-ti-oning. Hap-pens to pe-op-le all the ti-me af-ter a di-vor-ce." He to-ok a sip and sa-id, "This is re-al-ly go-od cof-fee." "Thank you." Nell sat back in her cha-ir. "For ever-y-t-hing." "Oh, my ple-asu-re." Ri-ley grin-ned at her. "Just pro-mi-se me next ti-me you won't go up-s-ta-irs with the guy." "I'm not go-ing up-s-ta-irs with an-y-body," Nell sa-id firmly. "I'm not do-ing that aga-in." "Pro-bably a go-od idea. Got any fri-ends who'd li-ke to flirt for mo-ney?" "Yes," Nell sa-id. "But her hus-band wo-uld ha-ve a fit, so pro-bably not." Ga-be ca-me out of his of-fi-ce. "The-re was not-hing in the '78 fi-les," he told Ri-ley. "So Nell's go-ing to start on the ba-se-ment. If you've got so-me ti-me, help her." "You bet," Ri-ley sa-id, not lo-oking at Nell. "Well, I got-ta go do the re-port from last night." He eva-po-ra-ted in-to his of-fi-ce, and Ga-be tur-ned to lo-ok at Nell. "What's with him?" "La-te night last night," Nell sa-id, ke-eping her eyes on the pa-pers on her desk. "You know, the de-coy thing." "Right. How'd that go?" Ne-il han-ded him the ta-pe wit-ho-ut lo-oking at him. "Gu-ilty as sin. Got it right he-re." "Gre-at," Ga-be sa-id, not ta-king it. "Ma-ke a copy for the fi-les, get the pic-tu-res prin-ted, and Fe-dEx the ori-gi-nals to the cli-ent with Ri-ley's re-port." "Right." "You go-ing to tell me what's go-ing on?" "No." "I will find out even-tu-al-ly. I'm a de-tec-ti-ve." "No." "Okay," Ga-be sa-id, "the ba-se-ment is yo-urs," and went back in-to his of-fi-ce. Oh, ye-ah, she co-uld see her-self ex-p-la-ining this one. "I was trying to jump-start my li-fe so I slept with Ri-ley, but it didn't work, and I'm a lit-tle dep-res-sed, but I'm still in the-re fig-h-ting. Any ide-as?" No. Okay, ma-li-ci-o-us des-t-ruc-ti-on of pro-perty hadn't hel-ped and ne-it-her had me-anin-g-less sex, even tho-ugh both had be-en che-ering in the short term. May-be she was too in-ner di-rec-ted. May-be she sho-uld try to help ot-hers. The-re was a dog in New Al-bany… She got up and went in-to Ga-be's of-fi-ce. "Lis-ten, this wo-man ca-me in on Mon-day and she had this dog prob-lem." Ga-be nod-ded. "I think we sho-uld do so-met-hing abo-ut it." "No," Ga-be sa-id and went back to the pa-pers on his desk. "You can't just say no," Nell sa-id, wan-ting to smack him. "Su-re I can. I own this pla-ce." He was ig-no-ring her, dis-mis-sing her, and she felt her blo-od ri-se. "You co-uld do it to-night. Just go right in the-re and grab it and the ow-ner wo-uld ne-ver find out." "No."

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Nell pres-sed her lips to-get-her. "It wo-uld be the right thing to do." "It wo-uld be bre-aking the law." "It wo-uld still be the right thing to do." Ga-be lo-oked up at her, his brows drawn to-get-her. "Do you want me to physi-cal-ly re-mo-ve you from this of-fi-ce?" Nell met his dark, dark eyes and, to her im-men-se sur-p-ri-se, felt a shi-ver go thro-ugh her. Yes. Then she step-ped back. One night with Ri-ley and she was lo-oking for it ever-y-w-he-re. Ho-nestly. "No, sir." "Then le-ave un-der yo-ur own po-wer," Ga-be sa-id. Nell ga-ve up and left, con-s-ci-o-us he was wat-c-hing her as she went. She clo-sed the do-or be-hind her and went back to her desk to pick up the pho-ne. "I ne-ed so-me help to-night at ten," Nell sa-id when Su-ze an-s-we-red. "Su-re," Su-ze sa-id. "What are we do-ing?" Nell lo-oked over her sho-ul-der to ma-ke su-re Ga-be wasn't stan-ding in his do-or-way. "We're kid-nap-ping a dog," she whis-pe-red. "We-ar black." Ga-be dis-t-rac-ted him-self with agency bu-si-ness and id-le spe-cu-la-ti-on abo-ut Nell's next mo-ve in the fight for the dog un-til she ca-me in la-ter that af-ter-no-on, hol-ding a lar-ge gre-en led-ger, and sa-id, "I may ha-ve fo-und so-met-hing in the ba-se-ment, but I'm not su-re." Ga-be lo-oked at her, still im-ma-cu-la-te in her pa-le gray su-it. "In the ba-se-ment. How do you stay so cle-an?" "It's a gift." Nell put the led-ger down on his desk. "I ha-ve a qu-es-ti-on first. The fi-les from '78 show a bre-ak abo-ut hal-f-way thro-ugh. The first fi-ve months are re-al-ly well or-ga-ni-zed, and then ever-y-t-hing go-es to hell. Did you shift sec-re-ta-ri-es?" "Yes," Ga-be sa-id. "Bad de-ci-si-on," Nell sa-id. "You sho-uld ha-ve kept the first one be-ca-use the fi-les are gar-ba-ge af-ter that." "The first one was my mot-her," Ga-be sa-id. "She left." "Oh." Nell stra-ig-h-te-ned a lit-tle. "Sorry. Well, the go-od news is that she didn't le-ave un-til June of that ye-ar, so if you're lo-oking for so-met-hing be-fo-re or aro-und the twen-ty-se-venth of May, it's easi-er." Ga-be pul-led the led-ger to-ward him and ope-ned it to the pla-ce she'd mar-ked with a slip of pa-per. "What's this?" "Fi-nan-ci-al led-ger from 1978. That's the only Ogil-vie entry that do-esn't match so-met-hing in the fi-les," Nell sa-id. "But then it wo-uldn't. It's for flo-wers." "Flo-wers?" Ga-be sa-id, run-ning his fin-gers down the pa-ge. "For a fu-ne-ral," Nell sa-id, just as Ga-be fo-und it: Flo-wers, Ogil-vie fu-ne-ral, writ-ten in his mot-her's strong, dark hand. A fu-ne-ral. "Who di-ed?" Ga-be sa-id, trying to stay calm. "We'll ha-ve to check the new-s-pa-per fi-les-" "May-be not," Nell sa-id, sit-ting down ac-ross from him. "I think I know." He lo-oked up at her and she swal-lo-wed. "Okay, I'm not su-re, I'll ha-ve to check," she sa-id. "But that wo-uld ha-ve be-en a ye-ar af-ter I mar-ri-ed Tim." Twen-ty- two ye-ars ago, he tho-ught auto-ma-ti-cal-ly. She must ha-ve be-en as yo-ung as Chloe. "And Tim's brot-her, Ste-wart," Nell went on, "had mar-ri-ed Mar-gie Ogil-vie that spring. And shortly af-ter that, Mar-gie's mot-her di-ed. He-le-na." "Tre-vor's wi-fe," Ga-be sa-id and sat back. "Oli-via is twen-ty-two. He-le-na di-ed in chil-d-birth?" Nell sho-ok her he-ad. "Mar-gie's pa-rents we-re get-ting a di-vor-ce. And then her mot-her di-ed, and Mar-gie's dad mar-ri-ed aga-in, fast, and Oli-via was born al-most right away. I know Mar-gie was re-al-ly up-set, but she ne-ver sa-id an-y-t-hing abo-ut it and I ne-ver as-ked. We we-ren't clo-se then." "How did He-le-na die?" Ga-be sa-id, pra-ying it was so-met-hing stra-ig-h-t-for-ward, in a hos-pi-tal,

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with a lot of doc-tors aro-und. "She shot her-self," Nell sa-id, and Ga-be tho-ught, Oh, Christ, this is go-ing to be bad. "I'm not su-re abo-ut the de-ta-ils," Nell went on, spe-eding up, "except that Mar-gie was the-re and it was aw-ful." "Mar-gie saw her sho-ot her-self?" Ga-be sa-id, ho-pe ri-sing. "No," Nell sa-id. "I think she was in the next ro-om. But she was the-re, and she fo-und her mom. It must ha-ve be-en ter-rib-le." "Yes it must ha-ve be-en," Ga-be sa-id auto-ma-ti-cal-ly, sit-ting back. Ri-ley knoc-ked and ca-me in, and Ga-be pus-hed the led-ger to-ward him. "Did you see this?" Nell sto-od up. "I'll le-ave you alo-ne," she sa-id and left be-fo-re Ga-be co-uld say an-y-t-hing. "What's with her?" he sa-id to Ri-ley. "She pro-bably didn't want to get thrown out aga-in," Ri-ley sa-id, ta-king the led-ger. "What's this?" Ga-be fil-led him in, and when he was do-ne, Ri-ley lo-oked as lo-usy as he felt. "You think yo-ur dad hel-ped Tre-vor co-ver up a mur-der?" "I think we'd bet-ter start lo-oking in-to the su-ici-de," Ga-be sa-id. "I'm go-ing to call Jack Dysart and see if this is what the blac-k-ma-iler re-al-ly hit Tre-vor for. You get the po-li-ce re-port on He-le-na's su-ici-de." Ri-ley lo-oked at the clock. "To-mor-row. It's too la-te to-day. What abo-ut Lynnie? You think she has so-met-hing that pins this on Tre-vor?" "I don't know. I stop-ped by to-day and the lan-d-lady was the-re aga-in. I think she li-ves in the ot-her half of the dup-lex, and I think she do-esn't ha-ve much to do. I'm go-ing to ha-ve to sta-ke out the pla-ce to-night. Which re-minds me, what hap-pe-ned with Nell last night? If we're go-ing to be su-ed for so-met-hing, I want to know." "She…mi-sun-der-s-to-od," Ri-ley sa-id. Ga-be clo-sed his eyes. "How badly did she mi-sun-der-s-tand?" "She went up-s-ta-irs with him. I got her out be-fo-re an-y-t-hing hap-pe-ned." "This wo-man has no bra-ins," Ga-be sa-id. "Why the hell-" "She has bra-ins," Ri-ley sa-id. "You gi-ve up on wo-men too fast. She's a gre-at sec-re-tary and a ni-ce per-son." "I'm glad you li-ke her. You've got her aga-in to-night." "Oh, no, I don't. I ha-ve a da-te." Ri-ley lo-oked at his watch. "Yo-ur turn." "No-pe," Ga-be sa-id. "I'm stal-king Lynnie." "So can't this thing with Nell wa-it?" Ga-be stu-di-ed him. "Is the-re a re-ason you don't want to see Nell to-night?" "No," Ri-ley sa-id. "Ho-we-ver, the-re is a re-ason I want to see the hort ma-j-or." "I see. No, it can't wa-it. She's go-ing to kid-nap that dog in New Al-bany." "You're kid-ding." "No." "You don't know that for su-re," Ri-ley sa-id. "I got twenty says she go-es for it." Ri-ley con-si-de-red it. "No bet. I'll watch her." He put the led-ger back on Ga-be's desk. "Su-ici-de, huh?" "We cer-ta-inly ho-pe so," Ga-be sa-id and pic-ked up the pho-ne. When Su-ze held the do-or to her yel-low Be-et-le open for Mar-gie that night at ten, Mar-gie sa-id, "So what are we do-ing?" "Ste-aling a dog," Su-ze sa-id, tug-ging up on her low-cut tank top, the only pi-ece of black clot-hing she ow-ned. Jack li-ked co-lor. "Okay," Mar-gie sa-id and clim-bed in-to the bac-k-se-at, hol-ding the skirt of her black hal-ter dress aro-und her. "When we get do-ne, can we go un-pack Nell's chi-na?" "Did you miss the ste-aling-the-dog part?" Nell sa-id from the front pas-sen-ger se-at as Su-ze slid in-to the dri-ver's se-at. "I don't ca-re," Mar-gie sa-id. "I just wan-ted out of the ho-use. Bud-ge is mad at you. He says you

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sho-uldn't be drag-ging me out this la-te at night." "Sorry," Nell sa-id, and Su-ze tho-ught, Bud-ge ne-eds a hobby. Be-si-des Mar-gie. "Dog ste-aling," Mar-gie sa-id. "You ha-ve such an in-te-res-ting job." Su-ze he-aded for the hig-h-way, not at all su-re this was a go-od idea. On the ot-her hand, a dog was be-ing abu-sed, and she was aga-inst that. And sin-ce she'd got-ten mar-ri-ed the day af-ter she'd gra-du-ated from high scho-ol, she'd ne-ver got-ten to pull any col-le-ge pranks. No tip-ping cows, no ste-aling mas-cots, no put-ting Vol-k-s-wa-gens in dorm ro-oms. This was as clo-se as she'd ever co-me to yo-ut-h-ful in-dis-c-re-ti-on and she sho-uld be enj-oying it. The prob-lem was, the-re might be an age li-mit on pranks. She was thir-ty-two. "You're not yo-ung an-y-mo-re, ba-be," Jack kept sa-ying. "Get used to it." "Why is that guy do-ing that?" Mar-gie sa-id, and Su-ze lo-oked in her re-ar-vi-ew mir-ror and saw a non-des-c-ript gray se-dan be-hind them flas-hing its lights. Su-ze slo-wed and the car pul-led up be-si-de them. Nell le-aned over her to lo-ok. "Oh, no. Pull over." "I don't think so," Su-ze sa-id. "On a dark ro-ad and we don't know who he is? I don't want to be to-mor-row's he-ad-li-ne in the Dis-patch." "I know who he is," Nell sa-id. "Pull over." Su-ze pul-led to the si-de of the ro-ad and par-ked, and the ot-her car pul-led in front of her. "Who is he?" Nell sho-ok her he-ad and rol-led down her win-dow, and Su-ze squ-in-ted out the front. Who-ever he was, he was big. Hul-king even. "You su-re abo-ut this?" she sa-id to Nell, but then the guy re-ac-hed the car and bent down to lo-ok in Nell's win-dow. Su-ze co-uldn't see him cle-arly in the dark, but she got an im-p-res-si-on of a lot of jaw ma-de lar-ger by a lot of frown. "You are dumb as a rock," he sa-id to Nell. "I am out for a dri-ve with my fri-ends," Nell sa-id po-li-tely. "You are not in-vi-ted." The guy lo-oked past Nell and saw Su-ze and lo-oked stun-ned for a mi-nu-te, and then he scow-led, not the re-ac-ti-on Su-ze was used to from men. Usu-al-ly they lo-oked stun-ned and then smi-led. "You can go now," Nell sa-id. "You are out to ste-al a dog," the guy sa-id, tran-s-fer-ring his di-sap-pro-val back to Nell. "That is il-le-gal. Turn aro-und now or I'll call the cops." "You wo-uldn't re-al-ly, wo-uld you?" Nell sa-id, and the guy sig-hed. "The-re's a Chi-li's out on 161, right be-fo-re you ma-ke the turn in-to this pla-ce. Go the-re. I will fol-low you. If you ta-ke any fancy turns, I'm hit-ting 911 on the cell pho-ne. And yes, I re-al-ly will." "No, you won't," Nell sa-id, but she tur-ned to Su-ze and sa-id, "Dri-ve to Chi-li's, ple-ase." When they we-re back on the ro-ad, the gray se-dan fol-lo-wing them every inch of the way, Su-ze sa-id, "Gi-ve. Who is that?" "Ri-ley McKen-na," Nell sa-id. "One of the guys I work for." "He lo-oks fa-mi-li-ar," Mar-gie sa-id from the bac-k-se-at. "Ha-ve I se-en him be-fo-re? May-be he ca-me in-to Chloe's. I le-ar-ned how to do the cash re-gis-ter to-day." Su-ze ig-no-red her to con-cen-t-ra-te on the es-sen-ti-als. "Wo-uld he re-al-ly call the po-li-ce on you?" "No," Nell sa-id, "but he'd fol-low us and ma-ke it all im-pos-sib-le. So we're go-ing to ha-ve to con-vin-ce him to let us go." Su-ze shot her a glan-ce. "What do you ha-ve on this guy?" "Not-hing," Nell sa-id. "We're just go-ing to ap-pe-al to his bet-ter na-tu-re. I'm fa-irly su-re he has one." When Ri-ley fol-lo-wed them in-to Chi-li's, Su-ze got a bet-ter lo-ok at him. Tall, blond, and bro-ad, with pla-in, non-f-lashy Mid-wes-tern go-od lo-oks and eno-ugh jaw for two pe-op-le, he frow-ned with exas-pe-ra-ti-on and still drew glan-ces from the wo-men who pas-sed him co-ming in. He wasn't her type Jack was her type-but Su-ze co-uld un-der-s-tand the at-trac-ti-on. When they we-re sit-ting in a bo-oth, Ri-ley next to Mar-gie who lo-oked ple-ased to be the-re, he

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sa-id to Nell, "You are not go-ing to ste-al a dog," and Su-ze felt her tem-per spurt. "Su-re she is," she told him. "Who di-ed and ma-de you God?" "This is my sis-ter-in-law Su-ze," Nell sa-id, and Ri-ley nod-ded at her, not im-p-res-sed. That was ir-ri-ta-ting, too. "And this is my ot-her sis-ter-in-law, Mar-gie," Nell sa-id, and Ri-ley tur-ned to Mar-gie and smi-led down at her. What the hell? The world was get-ting stran-ge if Mar-gie was go-ing to get a job and all the men. "Very ni-ce to me-et you," Ri-ley sa-id to Mar-gie and tur-ned back to Nell. "Three ru-les and you want to bre-ak them all. Ga-be'll fi-re you, you know. He has no sen-se of hu-mor abo-ut this stuff." "Three ru-les?" Nell sa-id. "I tho-ught the-re we-re two, and I didn't tell them who the cli-ent was, and res-cu-ing an abu-sed dog sho-uld not be aga-inst the law, so I think I'm still in cle-ar." She lif-ted her chin at him as the wa-it-ress ca-me for the-ir drink or-der, and Su-ze tho-ught, Nell? When the wa-it-ress was go-ne, Nell ad-ded, "What's the third one? I don't want to trip over it by ac-ci-dent." She so-un-ded che-eky, al-most flir-ting with him, and Su-ze sat back to watch. "You al-re-ady trip-ped over it," Ri-ley sa-id. "And fell. Last night." Nell blus-hed. "Nell?" Mar-gie sa-id, and Nell's blush de-epe-ned whi-le Ri-ley grin-ned at her. My God, she slept with him, Su-ze tho-ught. Hal-le-lu-j-ah. "I'm li-king you mo-re," she told Ri-ley. "But we're still go-ing to res-cue that dog." "I don't want Nell to lo-se her job," Mar-gie sa-id, lo-oking at Ri-ley with he-ig-h-te-ned cu-ri-osity. "It's do-ing such go-od things for her." Ri-ley smi-led at Mar-gie, and Su-ze ca-ught the crac-k-le in his eyes and tho-ught, Whoa. No won-der Nell fell. I wo-uld ha-ve, too. Then she re-mem-be-red she was hap-pily mar-ri-ed. "The-re's no re-ason Ga-be has to know," Nell was sa-ying. "It has not-hing to do with him." "He tur-ned down the job," Ri-ley sa-id. "You're part of the firm, so he tur-ned it down for you, too." "No," Nell sa-id. "If I was part of the firm, you'd ha-ve new bu-si-ness cards." "Don't start with the bu-si-ness cards," Ri-ley sa-id. "This is abo-ut the dog you will not be ste-aling." He so-un-ded very su-re, which was very ir-ri-ta-ting. Su-ze cle-ared her thro-at, and he tur-ned to lo-ok at her, frow-ning aga-in. "I don't think you un-der-s-tand the si-tu-ati-on," she sa-id. The-re was no crac-k-le in his eyes at all as he tri-ed to sta-re her down, no-ne of the warmth she was used to when men lo-oked at her, and it threw her off a lit-tle. "You can stop us to-night, but we'll do it so-oner or la-ter. So you might as well help us to-night and get it over with so you can go back to wha-te-ver it is you usu-al-ly do with yo-ur eve-nings." She lo-oked at Nell to see if she'd blush aga-in, but she was nod-ding at Ri-ley. "This is true," she told him. "I'm go-ing to get that dog." "How long are you go-ing to be in-sa-ne?" Ri-ley sa-id to her. "Not that I don't ap-pre-ci-ate as-pects of it, but you're go-ing to get bur-ned he-re pretty so-on if you don't co-ol yo-ur jets. Yo-ur luck can't hold fo-re-ver." "I am not in-sa-ne," Nell sa-id. "I am rec-la-iming my li-fe." "And so-me-body el-se's dog," Ri-ley sa-id. "Yes." Ri-ley lo-oked aro-und the tab-le. "And this is yo-ur gang." He sho-ok his he-ad. "Three wo-men dres-sed in black on a re-si-den-ti-al cul-de-sac in New Al-bany. What we-re you go-ing to tell the cops when they pic-ked you up? You're the-ater ma-j-ors?" "The cops we-re not go-ing to co-me in-to it," Su-ze sa-id. "We we-re go-ing to mo-ve un-se-en thro-ugh the night." "In a yel-low Be-et-le," Ri-ley sa-id. "That thing glows in the dark. What we-re you thin-king of when you bo-ught it?" "I didn't know I was go-ing in-to a li-fe of cri-me," Su-ze sa-id. "You got a bet-ter idea?" "Ye-ah," Ri-ley sa-id. "Unfor-tu-na-tely, I do." He sig-na-led to the wa-it-ress, who ca-me over im-me-di-ately and to-ok his or-der for a ham-bur-ger to go. So-me-body sho-uld gi-ve this guy so-me gri-ef, Su-ze de-ci-ded. Wo-men we-re ma-king it en-ti-rely

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too easy for him. Nell was smi-ling at him, com-po-un-ding the prob-lem, al-t-ho-ugh it was lo-vely to see Nell smi-le aga-in. "I knew you'd help," she sa-id to him. "It's a go-od thing you're cu-te," he told Nell and her smi-le wi-de-ned, and Su-ze for-ga-ve him ever-y-t-hing. "I li-ke you," Mar-gie sa-id. "That's go-od," Ri-ley sa-id. "Be-ca-use you're sta-ying with me." Mar-gie be-amed at him, and Su-ze felt an-no-yed aga-in. Nell was cu-te and Mar-gie got in-vi-ted to stay, so what was she, chop-ped li-ver? "We'll use my car," Ri-ley sa-id. "That's a re-al-ly bo-ring car," Su-ze sa-id. "Only a guy with no ima-gi-na-ti-on wo-uld buy a gray car." Ri-ley sig-hed. "Think it thro-ugh. It'll co-me to you." He tur-ned back to Nell. "We'll drop you and the mo-uth one block from the ad-dress. If you're nab-bed, you'll call my cell pho-ne, and I will co-me and res-cue you if I can. If I can't, I'll ba-il you out." "Thank you," Nell sa-id. "Why can't Mar-gie co-me?" "Too many pe-op-le," Ri-ley sa-id. "It sho-uld be just you, but I'm not go-ing to be yap-ped at for the next half ho-ur, so the mo-uth go-es, too." "I do not yap," Su-ze sa-id. The wa-it-ress bro-ught the ham-bur-ger, and Ri-ley han-ded it to Nell. "Use that to lu-re the mutt. Ma-ke su-re you ta-ke its col-lar off be-fo-re you le-ave the yard. All the-se pla-ces ha-ve tho-se in-vi-sib-le fen-ces, and you don't want the dog yel-ping as you drag it thro-ugh an elec-t-ro-mag-ne-tic fi-eld." "What if it bi-tes her?" Mar-gie sa-id. "We don't know an-y-t-hing abo-ut this dog." "That's her prob-lem," Ri-ley sa-id. "I'm just trying to ke-ep her from get-ting ar-res-ted and fi-red." "He'd re-al-ly fi-re me?" Nell sa-id. "If you drag-ged the agency in-to this? Hell, yes, he wo-uld. So wo-uld I. We ha-ve a re-pu-ta-ti-on to pro-tect." "Hard to be-li-eve," Su-ze sa-id co-ol-ly and was re-war-ded when he flus-hed a lit-tle. "Don't ta-ke shots at the fa-mily bu-si-ness, lady," he sa-id to her. "How wo-uld Jack fe-el if you drag-ged the law firm in-to this?" Su-ze felt her-self grow red. "How do you know abo-ut Jack?" "I know ever-y-t-hing." His fa-ce sof-te-ned when he tur-ned to Nell. "You know, this is re-al-ly not a go-od idea." "I know," she sa-id. "But I ha-ve to. This is big-ger than the dog, al-t-ho-ugh the dog is eno-ugh." "Okay." Ri-ley sto-od up and nod-ded to-ward the par-king lot. "It's qu-ar-ter to ele-ven. If you're go-ing to do this, we go now." Nell sto-od up, too, and to-ok the ham-bur-ger. "I'm go-ing to do this." "Won-der-ful," Ri-ley sa-id and he-aded for the do-or. "What abo-ut the check?" Su-ze sa-id. "Pay it," he cal-led back. "This is yo-ur party." "I don't li-ke him," Su-ze sa-id to Mar-gie. Mar-gie slid out of the bo-oth. "Think of him as a growth ex-pe-ri-en-ce." "Oh, go-od, I've be-en wan-ting one of tho-se," Su-ze sa-id and tos-sed a twenty on the tab-le. It was too much, but she was in a hurry to ste-al a dog. Ri-ley drop-ped them at the cor-ner, and as Nell shut the do-or, she he-ard him say, "So tell me abo-ut yo-ur-self," to Mar-gie. She and Su-ze wal-ked ac-ross the lot li-nes un-til they fo-und the ad-dress. Her watch sa-id fi-ve till ele-ven when they duc-ked un-der the firs at the back of the dog's lot, and ten mi-nu-tes la-ter, the do-or to the hu-ge glass sun-ro-om at the back of the ho-use ope-ned, and a man sho-ved a shaggy, co-we-ring dac-h-s-hund out in-to the yard with his fo-ot. "Go on," he sa-id, so-un-ding bo-red. "Ma-ke it fast." He sto-od the-re in his ex-pen-si-ve lan-d-s-ca-ping with his arms fol-ded, and Nell whis-pe-red, "Oh, damn, he's go-ing to watch it." She grab-bed Su-ze's arm. "Go ring the front do-or-bell. Go." "I don't wan-na," Su-ze sa-id, but she ran off in-to the dark, lo-oking li-ke a ro-gue be-a-uty qu-e-en in

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her low-cut black tank top, and Nell ze-ro-ed in on the trem-b-ling dac-h-s-hund, now squ-at-ting not ten fe-et away from her, elon-ga-ted and frumpy. She un-w-rap-ped the ham-bur-ger and wa-ved it aro-und, ho-ping the dar-k-ness un-der the tre-es hid her from Far-n-s-worth, still stan-ding in the do-or-way. Whi-le she wat-c-hed him, he tur-ned to lo-ok back in-to the ho-use, and then he swo-re and went in-si-de. "C'mon, Su-gar-Pie," she co-o-ed softly in-to the dar-k-ness, wa-ving the ham-bur-ger in front of her. "C'me-re, baby." Su-gar-Pie fro-ze in mid-s-qu-at, her eyes sli-ding back and forth over her long nar-row no-se as if she we-re trying to de-ci-de bet-we-en the ho-use and Nell and wasn't li-king eit-her much. "C'me-re, swe-etie," Nell sa-id, trying to ke-ep the ed-ge out of her vo-ice, and Su-gar-Pie be-gan to cre-ep back to-ward the do-or. "No, no, no!" Nell swo-oped down on the dac-h-s-hund who squ-at-ted even clo-ser to the gro-und in ter-ror as Nell grab-bed her aro-und the mid-dle, both ends sag-ging as she pic-ked it up. "Shut up," she sa-id, ba-lan-cing the flop-ping ani-mal on her hip as she to-ok off, le-aping over hydran-gea and low box-wo-od to get to the dar-k-ness of the tre-es whi-le Su-gar-Pie squ-ir-med li-ke a stret-c-hed, gre-ased pig. The dog flin-c-hed when Nell das-hed ac-ross the lot li-ne-"Sor-ry, " she sa-id. "For-got abo-ut the col-lar"-and then it bo-un-ced on her hip, qu-ive-ring but si-lent, its back legs scrab-bling to find pur-c-ha-se on Nell's butt as she sped thro-ugh the dark bac-k-yards. She he-ard Far-n-s-worth yell, "Su-gar-Pie, you lit-tle bitch, whe-re are you?" be-hind her, and then she was out on-to the stre-et, chan-ging co-ur-se to get as far away as she co-uld, for-get-ting en-ti-rely whe-re she was sup-po-sed to me-et Ri-ley. Anypla-ce was bet-ter than he-re. When she was six blocks away, she stop-ped to catch her bre-ath and shif-ted Su-gar-Pie off her hip. "Sorry abo-ut that," she sa-id, and the dog lo-oked at her, its eyes pe-eled back, hu-ge as golf balls, shud-de-ring in her arms un-til it al-most vib-ra-ted free. "No, re-al-ly, it's okay." She bent down and put it on the smo-oth, whi-te si-de-walk un-der the stre-et-light, ke-eping one hand on its col-lar in ca-se it de-ci-ded to bolt. In-s-te-ad, Su-gar-Pie col-lap-sed, rol-ling over on her back to let her he-ad fall back aga-inst the si-de-walk, limp with fe-ar, gi-ving out a high-pit-c-hed mo-an that so-un-ded li-ke air es-ca-ping from a bal-lo-on. "Go-od gri-ef, don't do that," Nell sa-id, trying to prop up the dog's he-ad. If things got any wor-se, she was go-ing to ha-ve to gi-ve it mo-uth-to-mo-uth. She co-uld see her-self ex-p-la-ining to De-bo-rah Far-n-s-worth, "Well, the go-od news is, I got yo-ur dac-h-s-hund back. The bad news is, she fib-ril-la-ted on the si-de-walk." "Co-me on, Su-gar-Pie," she sa-id, lo-oking une-asily back over her sho-ul-der. "Pull yo-ur-self to-get-her. Be a wo-man." She pic-ked up the dog and crad-led it in her arms and be-gan to walk down the block to-ward the hig-h-way. "You'll be okay," she sa-id to the dog. "Re-al-ly, you just had to get away from that aw-ful man. We'll ha-ve you back to the lady who lo-ves you in no ti-me." Su-gar-Pie didn't se-em con-vin-ced, but now that they we-re mo-ving aga-in, she tu-ned her vib-ra-ting down to an in-ter-mit-tent shud-der. "I swe-ar," Nell sa-id, wal-king fas-ter, "you're lo-oking at a li-fe of ham-bur-ger and no yel-ling." She held the dac-h-s-hund clo-ser, and it sig-hed this ti-me and put its he-ad on her arm, and she stop-ped to lo-ok down in-to its eyes. "Hel-lo," she sa-id, and Su-gar-Pie sta-red back, pat-he-tic and wi-de-eyed in the glow from the stre-et-light, her eye-las-hes flut-te-ring li-ke a So-ut-hern bel-le con-f-ron-ted by a Yan-kee. "I swe-ar to you, ever-y-t-hing is go-ing to be all right." A car pul-led up be-si-de her and she le-aped in fe-ar, star-ting Su-gar-Pie's shud-der ref-lex aga-in, but it was only Ri-ley. She clim-bed in the bac-k-se-at next to Su-ze, and Ri-ley sa-id, "Oh, go-od, you got the dog," with no en-t-hu-si-asm what-so-ever and dro-ve them away from the sce-ne of the cri-me. "You we-re gre-at," she told Su-ze as she put the dog on the se-at. "No, she was not," Ri-ley sa-id, wat-c-hing them in the re-ar-vi-ew. "She ac-tu-al-ly tal-ked to this guy, and when he fi-les the po-li-ce re-port, he's go-ing to des-c-ri-be her, as-su-ming he ever lo-oked at her

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fa-ce." Su-ze tug-ged up on her tank top but it didn't do much go-od. "May-be he won't re-ali-ze she was in on it," Mar-gie sa-id. "May-be he'll ne-ver know." "He'll know," Ri-ley sa-id. "And he'll re-mem-ber her." "The-re are a lot of thir-ty-so-met-hing blon-des in this city," Su-ze sa-id. "Not li-ke you," Ri-ley sa-id. "You stick in a man's mind." Su-gar-Pie sat on the se-at bet-we-en them, sha-king li-ke a ma-ra-ca. "Co-uld you knock it off?" Nell sa-id. "You're sca-ring the dog." "I can re-la-te," Ri-ley sa-id. "You sca-re the hell out of me, too. From now on, you dog-nap alo-ne." Ga-be had al-re-ady left for his first ap-po-in-t-ment when Nell ar-ri-ved the next mor-ning at ni-ne-thirty, re-ady with an ex-p-la-na-ti-on for her la-te-ness that didn't in-vol-ve ta-king Su-gar-Pie over to Su-ze's and then ex-p-la-ining things to an angry Jack. That was just li-ke Ga-be. She'd go-ne to all the tro-ub-le of con-s-t-ruc-ting a go-od ex-p-la-na-ti-on and then he wasn't the-re to ap-pre-ci-ate it. "How's the dog?" Ri-ley sa-id when he ca-me out for his cof-fee, and Nell sa-id, "Su-ze has her," and di-aled Su-gar-Pie's mot-her to tell her the go-od news. "I can't ta-ke that dog," De-bo-rah Far-n-s-worth sa-id when Nell had ex-p-la-ined the si-tu-ati-on. "I think it's mar-ve-lo-us that you got her, but I can't ta-ke her. This is the first pla-ce he'd lo-ok." "But she's yo-ur dog," Nell sa-id, fe-eling the cold clutch of pa-nic in her sto-mach. "Don't you-" "To tell you the truth, I don't li-ke her much," De-bo-rah sa-id. "She was a cu-te puppy, but then she grew up and got sne-aky, and frankly, I'm just not a dog per-son. My hus-band was the one who wan-ted her." Nell clen-c-hed her jaw. "Then why-" "Be-ca-use he was yel-ling at her," De-bo-rah sa-id, her vo-ice rig-h-te-o-us. "And al-so, I didn't want the son of a bitch to ha-ve her. How much do I owe you?" "Not-hing," Nell sa-id, fa-cing ru-in. She hung up and tho-ught, I sto-le a dac-h-s-hund for not-hing. Anot-her grand ges-tu-re shot to hell. Plus now she had a dog to co-pe with. She tri-ed to com-fort her-self with the tho-ught that at le-ast Su-gar-Pie was una-bu-sed now, de-pen-ding on what Su-ze was do-ing to her, but the fact re-ma-ined, she had a hot dog on her hands. May-be she co-uld gi-ve it away. To so-me-body in anot-her sta-te. She went back to work, trying to ke-ep her mind off Su-gar-Pie, only sur-fa-cing two ho-urs la-ter when the pho-ne rang. It was the cle-aners, con-fir-ming that they'd be in the fol-lo-wing Wed-nes-day sin-ce they'd got-ten pay-ment for the pre-vi-o-us two months. "Thank you," Nell sa-id and apo-lo-gi-zed aga-in. "Admi-nis-t-ra-ti-ve mix-up." She hung up and tho-ught, Lynnie. Lynnie and De-bo-rah and Far-n-s-wor-th-the-dog-kic-ker and Tim…t-he world was full of sel-fish pe-op-le lying and che-ating and get-ting away with mur-der and let-ting ot-her pe-op-le cle-an up af-ter them. And ever-y-t-hing she'd do-ne to ma-ke things right had left her with not-hing but so-me va-gue gu-ilt over van-da-lism, a slight glow af-ter ir-res-pon-sib-le sex, and a tra-uma-ti-zed dac-h-s-hund she didn't want. If she went af-ter Lynnie, at le-ast she'd get the mo-ney back. She'd ha-ve so-met-hing con-c-re-te to show pe-op-le, to show Ga-be. She'd be do-ing so-met-hing use-ful aga-in, so-met-hing pro-fes-si-onal, so-met-hing that was part of ma-na-ging a bu-si-ness. After so-me tho-ught, she put the an-s-we-ring mac-hi-ne on and went out to vi-sit her pre-de-ces-sor. When Ga-be got back to the of-fi-ce, Nell wasn't the-re aga-in. He spa-red one tho-ught for what she co-uld pos-sibly be do-ing to com-p-li-ca-te his li-fe this ti-me and then went in-to his of-fi-ce, le-aving his do-or open in ca-se she ca-me in. She didn't, but the po-li-ce did. The do-or rat-tled and pop-ped, and when he went out to lo-ok, he saw a man and a wo-man in uni-form. Not an-y-body t, he knew. That damn lan-d-lady must ha-ve cal-led them, and now he was go-ing to ha-ve to co-me up with a go-od ex-cu-se for stal-king an ex-em-p-lo-yee. "We're lo-oking for Ele-anor Dysart," the wo-man sa-id, smi-ling at him whi-le her par-t-ner slo-uc-hed

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be-hind her. "Not he-re right now," Ga-be sa-id che-er-ful-ly. "Can I help?" "We'd li-ke to talk to her," the wo-man sa-id, just as che-er-ful-ly. "Do you know when she'll be back?" "I don't even know whe-re she is," Ga-be sa-id. "What did she do?" "That's- " "You're Ga-be McKen-na," the man sa-id. "Yes," Ga-be sa-id. "She van-da-li-zed her ex-hus-band's of-fi-ce," the man sa-id. "His new wi-fe swo-re out a war-rant." Jesus H. Christ, Ga-be tho-ught. I hi-red a ma-ni-ac. "Ni-ce, Barry," the wo-man sa-id, but she didn't se-em too up-set. They'd be-en par-t-ners for a whi-le, Ga-be re-ali-zed, and won-de-red what it wo-uld be li-ke to work with so-me-body you didn't want to stran-g-le half the ti-me. "She smas-hed a bunch of awards," Barry sa-id. "The hus-band didn't se-em too happy abo-ut the war-rant, but the new wi-fe…" He sho-ok his he-ad. "She's mad," the wo-man of-fi-cer sa-id. "I can ma-ke this go away," Ga-be sa-id. "Gi-ve me a co-up-le of ho-urs." "We wo-uld be gra-te-ful," Barry sa-id. "We wo-uld be sur-p-ri-sed," the wo-man sa-id. "The new wi-fe is not a cre-am puff." "Ne-it-her is the old wi-fe," Ga-be sa-id. "Gi-ve me un-til fi-ve." He went back in the of-fi-ce and cal-led Jack Dysart and got his ad-mi-nis-t-ra-ti-ve as-sis-tant, a smart, to-ugh wo-man na-med Eli-za-beth. "J-ack's not he-re," Eli-za-beth told him. "He got a call and left." "Tell me it was from his brot-her, Tim," Ga-be sa-id. "No," Eli-za-beth sa-id. "I can ha-ve him call you." "No," Ga-be sa-id. "Find him. Tell him his new sis-ter-in-law, wha-te-ver her na-me is-" "Whit-ney." "Tell him Whit-ney has sworn out a war-rant for Nell's ar-rest on van-da-lism char-ges." "Nell?" Eli-za-beth so-un-ded do-ub-t-ful. "That do-esn't so-und li-ke her." "That so-unds exactly li-ke her," Ga-be sa-id. "Tell Jack we're go-ing to ha-ve to le-an on Tim un-til he drops the char-ge." "God, yes," Eli-za-beth sa-id. "Jack will ha-ve a fit." "He li-kes Nell that much?" "Su-ze li-kes Nell that much," Eli-za-beth sa-id. "Jack will ha-ve Tim ar-res-ted if Su-ze is un-hap-py." "Tell him I'm on my way," Ga-be sa-id and hung up. In-te-res-ting day, he tho-ught and went out to OD to see what he co-uld do to sa-ve his sec-re-tary's butt be-fo-re he fi-red her. Nell knoc-ked on the do-or to the old brick dup-lex that mat-c-hed the ad-dress in Lynnie's fi-le, trying her best to lo-ok va-gue and un-t-h-re-ate-ning. When no one an-s-we-red, Nell lo-oked aro-und the nar-row porch and knoc-ked aga-in and then aga-in and yet aga-in, and fi-nal-ly a wo-man ca-me to the do-or, a pretty bru-net-te in her thir-ti-es spor-ting a low-cut red swe-ater. Nell sa-id, "Lynnie Ma-son?" and the bru-net-te sa-id, "I'm not bu-ying an-y-t-hing, thanks," and be-gan to clo-se the do-or. Nell put her fo-ot in the do-or, the way she'd se-en it do-ne in the mo-vi-es, and then stuck her sho-ul-der in the-re, too, for go-od me-asu-re. "I'm from the McKen-nas," she sa-id, smi-ling brightly. "We se-em to be mis-sing so-me funds. Tho-ught you might ha-ve them." "I ha-ve no idea what you're tal-king abo-ut," Lynnie sa-id. "But if you don't get out, I'll call the po-li-ce." "Go-od idea," Nell sa-id. "I'll wa-it he-re. That way I can show them the checks you for-ged when they get he-re." She pat-ted her bag which did not ha-ve the checks in it, and Lynnie tho-ught fast. Nell co-uld prac-ti-cal-ly see the whe-els tur-ning be-hind her eyes. "Lo-ok, I'll call Ga-be la-ter-" "No," Nell sa-id. "If Ga-be wan-ted to han-d-le this, he'd be he-re. He wants the mo-ney back, and he do-esn't par-ti-cu-larly want the po-li-ce in-vol-ved, but if it's a cho-ice of no mo-ney or the po-li-ce,

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he'll in-vi-te them right in. If you gi-ve me the mo-ney, no-body gets ar-res-ted. I think it's pretty sim-p-le, don't you?" Lynnie ope-ned the do-or. "Why don't you co-me in?" Her dup-lex was spar-sely fur-nis-hed with pla-in pi-eces that lo-oked tem-po-rary and a few per-so-nal pi-eces that lo-oked ex-pen-si-ve, but it al-so had har-d-wo-od flo-ors, and big old win-dows that let in lots of light, and spa-ce, lots of spa-ce, ro-om to mo-ve, and for a mi-nu-te, Nell en-vi-ed her. "The thing is," Lynnie sa-id, when they we-re sit-ting down, her vo-ice sof-ter, pret-ti-er wit-ho-ut the ed-ge, "I've be-en sick, and the-re we-re me-di-cal bills. I didn't me-an to hurt an-y-body, I just wan-ted to pay my bills." She lo-oked im-p-lo-ringly at Nell, her eyes hu-ge and be-se-ec-hing, and Nell tho-ught, If I we-re a guy, that might even work. The red swe-ater she was we-aring wo-uld ha-ve be-en par-ti-cu-larly ef-fec-ti-ve, and Nell wis-hed for a mi-nu-te she was the kind of wo-man who co-uld we-ar a tight, bright swe-ater in-s-te-ad of gray su-its. "You can un-der-s-tand that, can't you?" Lynnie sa-id. "A wo-man alo-ne?" I must re-al-ly lo-ok pat-he-tic, Nell tho-ught. She can tell I'm alo-ne. She ga-ve Lynnie a brisk smi-le. "Oh, su-re, but now that you're all bet-ter, we'd li-ke the mo-ney back." Lynnie sho-ok her he-ad, as if in dis-be-li-ef. "I can't be-li-eve that Ga-be wo-uld ca-re abo-ut a co-up-le hun-d-red dol-lars." "Fi-ve tho-usand eight hun-d-red and se-ven-ty-fi-ve," Nell enun-ci-ated cle-arly. "At le-ast, that's what we've fo-und so far. We'd li-ke it in cash." "That's im-pos-sib-le," Lynnie sa-id, wi-de-ning her eyes. "I co-uldn't pos-sibly ha-ve bor-ro-wed that much." "Cu-te," Nell sa-id. "Co-me ac-ross with the cash, or I'm cal-ling the cops." Lynnie lo-oked star-t-led for a na-no-se-cond, and then she smi-led at Nell, her lo-wer lip qu-ive-ring a lit-tle. "You don't lo-ok li-ke a cru-el per-son." "I've had a very ro-ugh we-ek," Nell sa-id. "For-get cru-el, I'm vi-ci-o-us." Lynnie met her eyes, and then she tran-s-for-med in front of Nell from a hel-p-less, soft girl in-to a to-ugh, ti-red wo-man. "You've had a ro-ugh we-ek." Lynnie la-ug-hed. "Don't get me star-ted." "Ye-ah, it must re-al-ly ta-ke a lot out of you, rip-ping off the in-no-cent," Nell sa-id. "What in-no-cent?" Lynnie sat back. "Ho-ney, the-re are no in-no-cent men. Just guys who ha-ven't be-en ca-ught." She lif-ted her chin and sa-id, "So I pay them back. I'm a one-wo-man jus-ti-ce squ-ad." "What did Ga-be ever do to you?" "Ga-be?" Lynnie shrug-ged. "Ga-be's okay. That my-way-or-the-hig-h-way bit got old fast, but he's ba-si-cal-ly all right." She had a po-int. Nell tri-ed to re-sist it be-ca-use she didn't want to bond with Lynnie. "That do-esn't jus-tify trying to des-t-roy his bu-si-ness." Lynnie lo-oked sur-p-ri-sed. "I wasn't trying to des-t-roy him." She le-aned for-ward. "Lo-ok, what did I ta-ke? The cle-aning mo-ney? I cle-aned." Not very well, Nell tho-ught, but Lynnie was on a roll. "I was un-der-pa-id in that job. Hell, I've be-en un-der-pa-id in every job I've ever had. If I was a guy, I wo-uldn't be just a sec-re-tary, I'd be an ad-mi-nis-t-ra-ti-ve as-sis-tant at twi-ce the sa-lary. I wor-ked for this guy on-ce who was a law-yer, and I did all his work. Every guy I've ever wor-ked for has be-en big on sac-ri-fi-ce and ser-vi-ce." Her mo-uth twis-ted. "My sac-ri-fi-ce and ser-vi-ce." "Well, then, go af-ter them," Nell sa-id, trying hard not to say damn right. "Lo-ok, tor-tu-re the bas-tards in yo-ur li-fe all you want, I'll stand on the si-de-li-nes and che-er. I even ha-ve a bas-tard of my own you can ha-ve. But I ne-ed Ga-be's mo-ney back. That wasn't fa-ir, he didn't de-ser-ve it." "They all de-ser-ve it. You we-re mar-ri-ed, right?" Lynnie sa-id, ze-ro-ing in on her. "You've got that I-used-to-be-mar-ri-ed lo-ok. How long? Twenty ye-ars?" "Twen-ty- two," Nell sa-id, fe-eling sick.

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"Let me gu-ess," Lynnie sa-id. "You wor-ked for him and bu-ilt a li-fe for him and in-ves-ted all yo-ur-self in him and sac-ri-fi-ced for a fu-tu-re when it wo-uld be yo-ur turn. Only he chan-ged his mind, and now you're wor-king for Ga-be. How are you do-ing fi-nan-ci-al-ly?" "I'm okay," Nell sa-id. "That's not the po-int-" "J-ust okay," Lynnie sa-id. "But he's do-ing bet-ter than that, isn't he? You're back at mi-ni-mum wa-ge, but yo-ur ex, he's still li-ving li-ke you used to, may-be bet-ter." "He's had to cut so-me cor-ners," Nell sa-id. "And he's got the fu-tu-re you bu-ilt for him, only it's with a new wo-man, pro-bably yo-un-ger," Lynnie went on, and Nell flin-c-hed. "Ho-ney, I've be-en the-re. It'd be dif-fe-rent if they let you go and sa-id, 'He-re, ta-ke back that gre-at skin you used to ha-ve, ta-ke back tho-se high bo-obs and that flat sto-mach and all that energy, you just start all over aga-in, ho-ney, we'll gi-ve you a se-cond chan-ce.' But they don't. You get ol-der and all yo-ur as-sets are spent, and they le-ave you bro-ken and the-re's not a damn thing you can do abo-ut it." Nell swal-lo-wed hard. "I'm not bro-ken. I don't ca-re. Just gi-ve me Ga-be's mo-ney and I'll go." Lynnie le-aned for-ward. "You don't ha-ve to be a vic-tim. You can get even. You can ma-ke them pay. You wo-uld not be-li-eve how go-od it fe-els to ma-ke them pay." "I don't want to ma-ke him pay," Nell li-ed. "I just want Ga-be's mo-ney back." "I co-uld help you," Lynnie sa-id. "You co-uld help me." She le-aned clo-ser, in-tent and sin-ce-re. "Yo-ur prob-lem is, you're af-ra-id to play dirty." She spre-ad her hands. "Why? They do. You ha-ve to che-at li-ke they do. Ta-ke them for ever-y-t-hing they've got and ke-ep mo-ving so they can't slow you down." "I'm mo-ving," Nell sa-id. I tras-hed his of-fi-ce. And a fat lot of go-od that had do-ne her. "And I know it's no go-od to just mo-ve aga-inst them. That's not get-ting me an-y-w-he-re. I ha-ve to mo-ve to-ward so-met-hing." "Exactly," Lynnie sa-id. "You are exactly right. That's what I'm do-ing." "By rip-ping off Ga-be?" Nell sho-ok her he-ad. "If exactly what you want is fi-ve tho-usand bucks, you don't want much." "I want it all," Lynnie sa-id. "Ga-be can spa-re what I to-ok. And the rest is co-ming from so-me-body who can spa-re a lot mo-re." She sat back. "I don't trust him, but I've got him. I ha-ve trus-ted eno-ugh men." She met Nell's eyes. "You know?" "Yes," Nell sa-id. "But I still want Ga-be's mo-ney back." Lynnie to-ok a de-ep bre-ath and sat back, de-fe-ated. "Okay. But first I ne-ed to call…my law-yer." She went to the pho-ne and di-aled, lo-oking back at Nell over her sho-ul-der. "It's me," she sa-id af-ter a mi-nu-te. "The-re's a wo-man he-re from the McKen-nas and she's ac-cu-sing me of ta-king so-me mo-ney. I was thin-king-" She stop-ped and flus-hed, gro-wing red-der as she lis-te-ned. "I stop-ped let-ting you tell me what to do a long ti-me ago. I'm not go-ing to hand over-" She stop-ped aga-in, and then she sa-id, "Six tho-usand dol-lars." She wa-ited aga-in, and evi-dently she li-ked what she he-ard this ti-me bet-ter be-ca-use she star-ted to nod and her vo-ice lig-h-te-ned and be-ca-me pretty aga-in. "All right, then. What?" She lo-oked aro-und the apar-t-ment and then sa-id, "Su-re, why not? As so-on as I get back. Whe-re? Fi-ne." She hung up and tur-ned back to Nell, smi-ling. "So. My law-yer ad-vi-ses me to gi-ve you the mo-ney." "Yo-ur law-yer's no dummy," Nell sa-id, stan-ding up. "But the mo-ney's not he-re. It's in the bank. So I'll go-" "We'll go," Nell sa-id, and Lynnie lost her smi-le for a mo-ment. "I'm not yo-ur enemy," Lynnie sa-id, ta-king a step clo-ser. "They are." "J-ust gi-ve me the mo-ney," Nell sa-id, trying not to lis-ten. Lynnie clo-sed in. "You know, if wo-men just wi-sed up and stuck to-get-her, they co-uldn't get away with this stuff." "So-me of them don't che-at," Nell sa-id. "Okay, Ga-be's a lit-tle con-t-rol-ling, but he do-esn't de-ser-ve to be rip-ped off for it."

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Lynnie clo-sed her eyes and sho-ok her he-ad. "So that's it. You've got it for him." "Got what?" Nell frow-ned at her and then un-der-s-to-od. "Oh. No, I just met him a we-ek ago." "It only ta-kes a mi-nu-te, ho-ney," Lynnie sa-id. "You've got yo-ur work cut out for you with that one. He'll use you wit-ho-ut even no-ti-cing he's do-ing it. Lo-ok at po-or dumb Chloe." "I just want the mo-ney back," Nell sa-id. "Ye-ah, I got that," Lynnie sa-id. "I'll just fol-low you in my car. "I wal-ked," Nell sa-id. "So I'll just ri-de with you. Fri-en-d-li-er that way." At the bank, a small branch of-fi-ce in the Vil-la-ge, Lynnie cas-hed a check and tur-ned the mo-ney over to Nell. "Thank you," Nell sa-id and tur-ned and wal-ked out of the bank, le-aving Lynnie as far be-hind as pos-sib-le-Get thee be-hind me, Sa-tan-but when she got out-si-de, Lynnie cal-led to her from the bank's con-c-re-te porch. "You've just ma-de a mis-ta-ke," Lynnie told her calmly, and Nell blin-ked at her. "Is that a thre-at?" "No," Lynnie sa-id. "You're fig-h-ting for the wrong si-de. You're to-ugh and you're smart and you're gi-ving it all to Ga-be. Didn't you just do that for yo-ur ex?" Nell swal-lo-wed. "This is dif-fe-rent." Lynnie sho-ok her he-ad. "It's the sa-me. Lis-ten, if you and I got to-get-her, we co-uld re-al-ly do so-me da-ma-ge." She smi-led at Nell, a smi-le that held mo-re rue than an-ger. "My prob-lem is that I've al-ways be-en go-od with mo-ney but not with plans. I've ne-eded so-me-body smart to han-d-le the de-ta-ils, you know? I tho-ught I fo-und so-me-body on-ce, but he to-ok off." Her fa-ce fell a lit-tle at the me-mory. "He sa-id he was go-ing to get a di-vor-ce and marry me, and I be-li-eved him. Ne-ver get in-vol-ved with yo-ur boss." "Tell me abo-ut it," Nell sa-id, thin-king of Tim. "Ga-be wo-uld be the worst," Lynnie went on, wat-c-hing her. "You just can't work with a man li-ke that, you can only work for him." She le-aned a lit-tle clo-ser to Nell. "But you co-uld work with me. You lo-ok li-ke you'd know how to plan, and I'd ne-ver che-at you." She wo-uldn't, Nell tho-ught and wal-ked back to her. "Lis-ten, I'm sorry men ha-ve be-en lo-usy to you. I re-al-ly am. I ho-pe you get what you want. Pre-fe-rably wit-ho-ut ma-iming so-me-body el-se, of co-ur-se, but I ho-pe you get it an-y-way." "The ma-iming is the best part." Lynnie le-aned on the wro-ug-ht-iron ba-lus-t-ra-de. "Lo-ok, I'm wor-king on this thing. You'd be all for it, this guy is such a user even I can't be-li-eve it. And I've got the go-ods on him, he's pa-ying, and we can get mo-re. He de-ser-ves ever-y-t-hing we co-uld do to him. We're tal-king jus-ti-ce with a pro-fit he-re." Lynnie smi-led at her, and Nell smi-led back. "But he's tricky. I co-uld use so-me bac-kup. How abo-ut it? You and me, pay-back ti-me, full spe-ed ahe-ad." For a mo-ment, Nell con-si-de-red it, the two of them wre-aking ven-ge-an-ce for all wo-man-kind, but it was a fan-tasy. "I can't do it, Lynnie," Nell sa-id. "I'm just not bu-ilt that way." She stuck out her hand, and af-ter a mo-ment, Lynnie to-ok it. "Best of luck, re-al-ly." Then she wal-ked out on-to the stre-et, not lo-oking back, and he-aded for the McKen-nas, full spe-ed ahe-ad on her own. Nell was in the of-fi-ce an ho-ur la-ter when Su-ze ca-me in car-rying a box of go-ur-met dog bis-cu-its and a wic-ker bas-ket that held a black short-ha-ired dac-h-s-hund in a red swe-ater. "You've got to ta-ke Su-gar-Pie," she sa-id to Nell. "Jack just cal-led and he wants to ha-ve lunch. Do you sup-po-se he he-ard abo-ut the dog-nap-ping? May-be that Far-n-s-worth guy re-cog-ni-zed me." "No," Nell sa-id, not su-re. "But gi-ve me the dog and go." She to-ok the bas-ket and eyed the dog. "What did you do to her?" "Clip and a dye job," Su-ze sa-id. "The clip didn't go too well, but the dye lo-oks gre-at. It's that gen-t-le, wash-out stuff, so I fi-gu-red it wo-uldn't hurt her, but I was-hed her twi-ce af-ter-ward with dog sham-poo to ma-ke su-re." Su-gar-Pie lo-oked up at Nell, her eyes as pi-ti-ful as ever over her still-brown no-se. "It's okay," Nell told her. "I ha-ve no sham-poo. Yo-ur was-hing days are over." She put the bas-ket un-der her desk

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whe-re it was hid-den from the do-or. On-ce the bas-ket was down, Su-gar-Pie sto-od up. She was we-aring a red swe-ater with a whi-te tur-t-le-neck col-lar and cuffs and a whi-te he-art cen-te-red on her back. "Cu-te swe-ater," Nell sa-id do-ub-t-ful-ly. "It's cas-h-me-re," Su-ze sa-id, pe-ering un-der the desk at the dog. "Not scratchy at all." "It's al-so Sep-tem-ber, not Janu-ary," Nell sa-id. "She ne-eds so-met-hing to co-ver up the bad clip," Su-ze sa-id. "That was the lig-h-test out-fit I co-uld find. I've got mo-re in the car so she can chan-ge out-fits." "Chan-ge out-fits," Nell sa-id. "You sho-uld see the le-at-her bom-ber jac-ket I bo-ught her," Su-ze sa-id. "Fle-ece li-ned. Co-me win-ter, she's go-ing to lo-ok very butch." Nell lo-oked back down at Su-gar-Pie. She lo-oked li-ke a mi-se-rab-le ano-re-xic che-er-le-ader. "Thank you," she sa-id to Su-ze. "That was very ni-ce of you." Su-ze put the box of go-ur-met dog bis-cu-its on the desk and then fa-ded to-ward the do-or. "She lo-ves tho-se bis-cu-its. Re-al-ly, she's so pat-he-tic that she's no tro-ub-le at all. It's just that Jack-" "I know, I know." Nell wa-ved her to-ward the do-or. "Go find out what he wants. We'll be he-re." When Su-ze was go-ne, Nell slid Su-gar-Pie's bas-ket far-t-her un-der her desk so she co-uld scratch her with her toe whi-le she wor-ked, and af-ter a co-up-le of mi-nu-tes of rhythmic scrat-c-hing, the dac-h-s-hund sig-hed and stop-ped trem-b-ling and be-gan to do-ze, and Nell be-gan to fe-el much bet-ter. Things we-re fi-nal-ly lo-oking up. When Su-ze got to OD, Jack was wa-iting for her out-si-de his of-fi-ce, vib-ra-ting with an-ger in front of a lot of mar-b-le and ex-pen-si-ve pa-ne-ling. "Hi, Eli-za-beth," Su-ze sa-id, smi-ling at his as-sis-tant, ke-eping Jack in her pe-rip-he-ral vi-si-on. "You're la-te," Jack sa-id, cut-ting short Eli-za-beth's gre-eting and ear-ning a sharp glan-ce from her in re-turn. "Co-me on." "I was drop-ping the dog off at Nell's," Su-ze sa-id as he hur-ri-ed her to-ward the ele-va-tor. "You told me you didn't want it alo-ne in the ho-use, so I to-ok it to her at work." "I don't want it in the ho-use at all," Jack sa-id. "It wo-uld ha-ve be-en ni-ce if you'd as-ked me be-fo-re you let yo-ur crazy fri-end bring it over, but you didn't think of that." "Nell's not crazy," Su-ze sa-id sharply. "The hell she isn't," Jack sa-id. "You wo-uldn't be-li-eve what she just pul-led. She's not part of the fa-mily an-y-mo-re. Go shop-ping with Whit-ney in-s-te-ad." "She's part of my fa-mily," Su-ze sa-id, but he ig-no-red her to slam his hand in-to the clo-sing ele-va-tor do-ors and pry them apart. They got on the ele-va-tor, ta-king the-ir pla-ce in the mid-dle as the three men al-re-ady the-re ma-de ro-om for them, smi-ling at Su-ze. "Hi, Su-zie," one of them sa-id, and she tur-ned aro-und to see Bud-ge's ro-und fa-ce be-aming at her. "He-ard you and Mar-gie and Nell are go-ing to the mo-vi-es to-night," he sa-id, cle-arly de-lig-h-ted to be chat-ting with the be-a-uti-ful wi-fe of a se-ni-or par-t-ner. "You ma-ke su-re Nell do-esn't ke-ep her out too la-te." "Oh- kay," she sa-id, thin-king, Call me Su-zie one mo-re ti-me and I'll ha-ve you fi-red. The do-ors ope-ned, and Jack to-ok her arm and hus-t-led her out to his BMW. By the ti-me he slam-med his do-or and put the keys in the ig-ni-ti-on, she was so mad that she re-ac-hed over and yan-ked them out aga-in, sur-p-ri-sed at her own te-me-rity. Jack lo-oked star-t-led. "What the hell do you think you're do-ing?" "Why are you be-ing such a jac-kass?" she sa-id, stan-ding up to him for the first ti-me in fo-ur-te-en ye-ars. "Don't use that to-ne with me," he sa-id. "Whe-re we-re you last night?" "I told you, ste-aling Su-gar-Pie in New Al-bany," Su-ze sa-id. "Whe-re'd you think I got her?" "I tho-ught you we-re tel-ling me the truth. God knows it was bi-zar-re eno-ugh." He gla-red at her and she gla-red back.

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"What is with you? If you ha-ve a prob-lem with the dog, it's over, Nell has it. If it's so-met-hing el-se, tell me abo-ut it and stop be-ing such a bas-tard." "All right, if that's what you want." Jack drew him-self up, pro-bably trying for dig-ni-fi-ed ra-ge and lo-oking li-ke a pe-tu-lant twel-ve-ye-ar-old in-s-te-ad. "You're ha-ving an af-fa-ir. Ad-mit it. You're che-ating on me." Su-ze ga-ped at him. "Ha-ve you lost yo-ur mind?" "Pe-te Sul-li-van saw you ha-ving din-ner with Ri-ley McKen-na." "I've ne-ver-" Su-ze stop-ped. "Last night? Nell, Mar-gie, and I went the-re to talk to him. We we-re in a di-ner for abo-ut half an ho-ur ar-gu-ing with him abo-ut Su-gar-Pie. I can't be-li-eve this. I was with Mar-gie and Nell, for he-aven's sa-ke." "They'd lie for you," Jack sa-id, so-me of his in-dig-na-ti-on go-ne. "Hell, Nell's ca-pab-le of an-y-t-hing." "Ye-ah, and then she got me the dog as a co-ver story. I didn't even know Ri-ley McKen-na un-til last night, and ha-ving met him, I don't want to know him any bet-ter. What is wrong with you?" Jack ex-ha-led and let his he-ad fall back aga-inst the he-ad-rest. "I'm ha-ving a bad we-ek." "And you tho-ught you'd sha-re it with me? Thanks a lot." Su-ze sho-ok her he-ad. "I can't be-li-eve you don't trust me. I'm not the one with the past he-re, buddy." "Hey," Jack sa-id. "Watch yo-ur to-ne. I ha-ve ne-ver che-ated on you." "Then why did you think I was?" Su-ze sa-id. "Pe-ter Sul-li-van is a hor-rib-le per-son, you know that, you know he just sa-id that to get at you, and you fell for it. I think you're pro-j-ec-ting. I think you want to che-at. I think-" "Wa-it a mi-nu-te," Jack sa-id, alar-med. "- you're ti-red of be-ing mar-ri-ed to a wo-man in her thir-ti-es and you want so-met-hing yo-un-ger-" "Su-ze, I lo-ve you," Jack sa-id, le-aning to-ward her now. "- and you fe-el gu-ilty abo-ut it, and that's why you don't want me to get a job-" He le-aned ac-ross her and kis-sed her, stop-ping her mo-uth and ma-king her re-ach for him, ever-y-t-hing so-lid in her world for as long as she co-uld re-mem-ber. "I will ne-ver che-at on you," he whis-pe-red, hol-ding her clo-se. "I lo-ve you. We're fo-re-ver." "How co-uld you think I wo-uld?" Su-ze sa-id, trying not to for-gi-ve him. "How co-uld you say tho-se hor-rib-le things?" "Su-ze, I'm fif-ty-fo-ur," Jack sa-id. "Ri-ley McKen-na's thirty. He's my worst nig-h-t-ma-re." "How do you even know him?" Su-ze sa-id, and Jack pul-led away a lit-tle. "They do a lot of work for us," he sa-id. "Lo-ok, I'm sorry. I he-ard you we-re the-re with him, and I lost it. I was stu-pid. Let me ma-ke it up to you." "All right." Su-ze han-ded him his keys back, wan-ting the who-le mess over. Jack put the key in the ig-ni-ti-on and star-ted the car, pat-ting her knee be-fo-re he pul-led out of the par-king lot, back to his old jovi-al self, al-most giddy with re-li-ef. "I can't be-li-eve you think I'd che-at," Jack sa-id, cut-ting off anot-her car as he pul-led out in-to the stre-et. "I'm ho-me every night. I gi-ve you ever-y-t-hing. What's with you ha-ving a tem-per all of a sud-den?" Just so-met-hing el-se you ga-ve me, she tho-ught and set-tled back in her se-at, not re-as-su-red at all. The of-fi-ce do-or rat-tled aga-in at one, and Nell lo-oked up, ex-pec-ting Ga-be and se-e-ing Jase. "Lunch," he sa-id, grin-ning at her, his dark eyes flas-hing. "Co-me on. My tre-at." "I'd pay," Nell sa-id. "But I can't go. I had to go out this mor-ning and now I'm swam-ped." Al-so I ha-ve a dog stas-hed un-der this desk. "Okay," Jase sa-id. "Tell me what you want and I'll bring it to you." "I'm not hungry," Nell sa-id. "I can-" The do-or rat-tled aga-in and pop-ped open and hit Jase in the back. "Hey," he sa-id, and then Lu po-ked her he-ad aro-und the do-or and sa-id, "Don't stand in front of the do-or, dummy." She coc-ked her he-ad up at him, re-al-ly lo-oking at him this ti-me, and then she smi-led. "Hel-lo." "Hel-lo," Jase sa-id, le-aning aro-und the do-or to-ward her, and Nell tho-ught, Uh-oh.

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"He was just le-aving," Nell sa-id. "No, I wasn't." Jase pul-led the do-or open wi-der. "Co-me on in. Tell us yo-ur tro-ub-les." "My dad is dri-ving me crazy," Lu sa-id. "What are you he-re for?" "My mot-her has to eat," Jase sa-id. Lu brig-h-te-ned. "You're Nell's son?" She lo-oked to-ward Nell and nod-ded. "Very ni-ce work." "This is my boss's da-ug-h-ter," Nell sa-id, trying to te-leg-raph her di-sap-pro-val. "I'm Lu," Lu sa-id, hol-ding out her hand. "I'm Jase," Jase sa-id, ta-king it and hol-ding on-to it. "I was go-ing to ta-ke my mot-her to lunch, but she can't go-" Nell pic-ked up her pur-se. "Su-re, I can." "- so I'm free," Jase sa-id. "How abo-ut you and me? I'll sol-ve yo-ur prob-lem with yo-ur fat-her." "You can do that?" Lu grin-ned. "Ha-ve you met my fat-her?" "No," Jase sa-id. "But I can do an-y-t-hing." He held the do-or open even wi-der. "Inclu-ding pay for lunch." "Co-ol." Lu wa-ved to Nell. "We'll bring you back so-met-hing. Don't tell Daddy I was he-re." "Not a prob-lem," Nell sa-id, but they we-re al-re-ady hal-f-way out the do-or. "J-ase!" Jase stuck his he-ad back thro-ugh the do-or-way. "She's my boss's da-ug-h-ter," Nell his-sed at him. "Do not do an-y-t-hing dep-ra-ved." "It's lunch," Jase sa-id. "I don't do dep-ra-ved un-til af-ter dark." "That's not funny," Nell sa-id, but he was go-ne. She tho-ught abo-ut whet-her to worry and de-ci-ded she had eno-ugh exis-ting prob-lems to think abo-ut wit-ho-ut ad-ding po-ten-ti-als to the list. And re-al-ly, she was do-ing go-od. The glow from this one wasn't fa-ding. She had over fi-ve tho-usand dol-lars to gi-ve to Ga-be. May-be he'd let her or-der new cards and re-pa-int the win-dow, may-be even buy a new co-uch now that she had the mo-ney. She just had to se-gue past his ir-ri-ta-ti-on at be-ing di-so-be-yed to get to the part whe-re he owed it to her toThe do-or to the of-fi-ce slam-med open, and Nell lo-oked up in-to Mr. Far-n-s-worth's ra-bid eyes. "I want to see yo-ur boss," he snar-led. Nell swal-lo-wed hard and sa-id, "He's not he-re," and scrat-c-hed Su-gar-Pie a lit-tle mo-re vi-go-ro-usly with her fo-ot un-der the desk. The dog had jer-ked awa-ke and was trem-b-ling aga-in, but then so was she. Mr. Far-n-s-worth had that ef-fect. "I don't be-li-eve you," he sa-id and went past her to wrench the do-or to Ga-be's of-fi-ce open. Thank God, he's not he-re, Nell tho-ught. Thank you, thank you, God. "Whe-re is he?" Far-n-s-worth sa-id, co-ming back to the front of the desk. "O-ut on bu-si-ness," Nell sa-id, trying to put so-me ed-ge to her vo-ice. "If the-re's not-hing I can help you with-" "You sto-le my dog," Far-n-s-worth sa-id. Nell lur-c-hed a lit-tle in her se-at, kic-king Su-gar-Pie. "I most cer-ta-inly did not." "Not you, per-so-nal-ly," Far-n-s-worth sa-id, an-no-yed. "This age I can as-su-re you-" Nell be-gan, and then Ga-be ban-ged the do-or open and ca-me in, ta-king off his sun-g-las-ses and lo-oking mad as hell, and she co-uldn't think of one thing to say to fix the si-tu-ati-on. "The-re you are!" Far-n-s-worth sa-id, ro-un-ding on him. "I'm su-ing you and this agency and-" "Who the hell are you?" Ga-be sa-id, cle-arly not in a mo-od to be su-ed. "I'm Mic-ha-el Far-n-s-worth, and you sto-le my dog." He fal-te-red a lit-tle bit at the end, pos-sibly re-ali-zing how ab-surd it so-un-ded, es-pe-ci-al-ly with Ga-be stan-ding the-re en-ra-ged in his well-cut su-it, lo-oking li-ke a pil-lar of the com-mu-nity with a gun per-mit. "I beg yo-ur par-don?" Ga-be sa-id, and the tem-pe-ra-tu-re in the ro-om drop-ped twenty deg-re-es. Don't ever let him talk to me li-ke that, Nell pra-yed, fa-irly cer-ta-in her turn was co-ming up shortly. "My wi-fe hi-red you to-" "This firm do-es not com-mit cri-mes," Ga-be sa-id, his vo-ice kni-fe-ed-ged. "We ha-ve be-en in

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bu-si-ness for over sixty ye-ars, and we ha-ve an im-pec-cab-le re-pu-ta-ti-on. Un-less you want a co-un-ter-su-it for slan-der, I sug-gest you res-ta-te yo-ur po-si-ti-on." "My dog is mis-sing," Far-n-s-worth sa-id, his blus-ter fa-ding. "I know my wi-fe ca-me he-re to hi-re you." "We do not dis-cuss our cli-en-te-le," Ga-be sa-id. "But I can as-su-re you, no one at this agency ac-cep-ted a com-mis-si-on that in-vol-ves bre-aking the law." "My wi-fe," Far-n-s-worth sa-id, fa-ding fast. "I know she's be-hind it." "Then go talk to her," Ga-be sa-id, cle-arly fi-nis-hed with the con-ver-sa-ti-on. "May-be I can hi-re you," Far-n-s-worth sa-id, and Nell tho-ught, That's all I ne-ed. Ga-be in-ves-ti-ga-ting me. "I ha-ve one clue," Far-n-s-worth went on. "A hot blon-de ca-me to the do-or to dis-t-ract me. It wasn't her in a wig," he ad-ded, jer-king his thumb at Nell. "This one was bu-ilt. She-" "Mr. Far-n-s-worth, not-hing in the world wo-uld in-du-ce me to ta-ke part in this mess," Ga-be sa-id. "Go to the po-li-ce. They can qu-es-ti-on yo-ur wi-fe and get to the bot-tom of it fas-ter than we can. And they'll do it for free. This is what you pay yo-ur ta-xes for." Far-n-s-worth nod-ded, and Nell nod-ded with him. Ga-be al-ways ma-de sen-se. Un-for-tu-na-tely, this ti-me he was sic-cing the po-li-ce on her, but still, he ma-de sen-se. She had to get the dog out of the co-untry. If only she knew so-me-body go-ing to Ca-na-da Far-n-s-worth went out, le-aving the do-or open, and Ga-be fol-lo-wed him to slam it shut. "Well," Nell sa-id, trying to so-und vir-tu-o-us when he'd tur-ned back to her. "What got in-to-" She stop-ped when she saw the lo-ok in his eye. "Whe-re," Ga-be sa-id, "is that god-damn dog?" Nell ga-ve a qu-ick tho-ught to bluf-fing and de-ci-ded aga-inst it. So-me-how he knew, and her only sal-va-ti-on was, go-ing to be to co-me cle-an. "She's un-der the desk," she sa-id, and then Ri-ley ca-me in from the stre-et and sa-id, "Who was the as-sho-le who just stor-med out of he-re?" "Back off," Ga-be sa-id, not ta-king his eyes off Nell. "I'll de-al with you la-ter." "What?" Ri-ley sa-id. "What did I do?" Nell pul-led Su-gar-Pie's bas-ket out and set it on the desk. "J-esus, you bro-ught it he-re?" Ri-ley sa-id. "What if the guy shows up lo-oking for it? He knows his wi-fe-" "That was him, le-aving," Ga-be sa-id, lo-oking at the dog with dis-tas-te. "What the hell is that?" "A for-mer brown long-ha-ired dac-h-s-hund," Nell sa-id. "Su-ze dis-gu-ised it." "Su-ze Dysart?" Ga-be sa-id. "That wo-uld be the hot blon-de." "Very hot," Ri-ley sa-id, and Ga-be gla-red at him. "Did it ever oc-cur to you to say no to the-se wo-men?" "He did," Nell sa-id. "But when we sa-id we'd do it an-y-way, he hel-ped so we wo-uldn't get in tro-ub-le." "What a guy." Ga-be lo-oked down at the dog aga-in and sho-ok his he-ad. "And I hi-red you. Whe-re we-re you this mor-ning?" "Right he-re?" Nell sa-id, trying to lo-ok in-no-cent. She co-uld gi-ve him the fi-ve tho-usand la-ter. Say on Mon-day. A ni-ce Mon-day in De-cem-ber. "Try aga-in," Ga-be sa-id dan-ge-ro-usly. "Okay." Nell pic-ked up Su-gar-Pie's bas-ket. May-be if he didn't ha-ve to lo-ok at the dog. "I was on an er-rand for the agency." "Do not do this agency any mo-re fa-vors," Ga-be sa-id. "Whe-re did you go? And if you bro-ke the law, you're fi-red. I'm not kid-ding." Nell's sto-mach went so-uth at the word "fi-red." "I went to Lynnie's. I got the mo-ney back." She put Su-gar-Pie back on the desk and to-ok the bank en-ve-lo-pe out of the dra-wer to hold out to him. "See? Over fi-ve tho-usand dol-lars. I col-lec-ted an agency debt."

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"I'll be dam-ned," Ri-ley sa-id. "Go-od for you." "No, not go-od for her," Ga-be sa-id sa-va-gely. "I very much want to talk to Lynnie, which may be a lit-tle har-der now that she knows we're on to her." Nell put the mo-ney on the desk. "I'm sorry I let her know we knew, but I got you the mo-ney back. I hel-ped." He didn't lo-ok im-p-res-sed. I'm fi-red, she tho-ught. "Okay, lis-ten," she sa-id, tal-king fas-ter than she ever had in her li-fe. "I know you're mad, but I still think I did the right thing. I think this is a gre-at agency, but it ne-eds so-me help with the of-fi-ce, and part of that is get-ting the fi-nan-ces back in sha-pe, and they're in a lot bet-ter sha-pe now be-ca-use of what I did, and I did not bre-ak the law, I didn't even bre-ak all the agency ru-les, and an-y-way the third one do-esn't co-unt be-ca-use I didn't know abo-ut it." She stop-ped as Ri-ley clo-sed his eyes, and Ga-be jer-ked his he-ad up. "I re-al-ly think this is a gre-at agency," she fi-nis-hed. "Thank you," Ga-be sa-id, his vo-ice grim-mer than she'd ever he-ard it. "I want to talk to you but I ha-ve to see Ri-ley first. We are go-ing in-to his of-fi-ce. When I co-me out, you will be he-re." "Cer-ta-inly," Nell sa-id, sit-ting down. He tur-ned to Ri-ley and po-in-ted to his of-fi-ce. "In the-re." "Don't ta-ke this out on me," Ri-ley sa-id. "You hi-red her." Ga-be slam-med the do-or to Ri-ley's of-fi-ce and sa-id, "He-re's so-me go-od news. Not only did our sec-re-tary ste-al that damn dog, she van-da-li-zed her hus-band's of-fi-ce. I just had to pull the cops off her. And Lynnie now has a pretty go-od ca-se for ex-tor-ti-on, so they may be back. She's out of con-t-rol and she has to go." "No," Ri-ley sa-id, and Ga-be stop-ped, sur-p-ri-sed. "Ye-ah, I'm sur-p-ri-sed, too," Ri-ley sa-id, sit-ting down be-hind his desk. "But I'm go-ing to fight you on this one. She's go-od. She's just ha-ving a hard ti-me right now. Gi-ve her anot-her chan-ce." "Why?" Ga-be sa-id. "So she can do so-met-hing el-se to des-t-roy this agency?" "She's not the thre-at to this agency," Ri-ley sa-id, "and you know it. You're not mad at Nell, you're mad at Pat-rick." Ga-be stop-ped, ca-ught, and then sa-id, "No, I'm pretty su-re I'm mad at Nell," but he sat down whi-le he sa-id it. "You think Pat-rick hel-ped Tre-vor co-ver up He-le-na's mur-der and you al-so think Lynnie fo-und so-met-hing he left be-hind that she's using to blac-k-ma-il Tre-vor and pos-sibly Jack and Bud-ge. And you can't do an-y-t-hing abo-ut it, so you're ta-king it out on Nell." "No." "She's do-ne mo-re for this of-fi-ce in one we-ek than my mot-her did in ten ye-ars," Ri-ley sa-id. "She works hard, she's ef-fi-ci-ent, and she de-ser-ves the job. She gets anot-her chan-ce." "One mo-re chan-ce co-uld bring us down," Ga-be sa-id. "Talk to her," Ri-ley sa-id. "Stop bos-sing her aro-und and ac-ting li-ke yo-ur dad. Ta-ke her to lunch and gi-ve her a chan-ce to ex-p-la-in. And if you co-me back and still want her go-ne, I'll ag-ree." Ga-be drew in a de-ep bre-ath. He was not pro-j-ec-ting his an-ger at Pat-rick on Nell, she was ear-ning it all in her own right. But Ri-ley was a go-od par-t-ner, and it wasn't a lot to ask. "All right," he sa-id, and sto-od up. "I don't think you're ne-ces-sa-rily wrong abo-ut Lynnie," Ri-ley sa-id. "I think she fo-und so-met-hing, and I think she's a go-od bet to blac-k-ma-il the OD three. You want me to go ro-ust her now? She might open the do-or for me. She has be-fo-re." "You and wo-men." Ga-be sho-ok his he-ad. "I can't be-li-eve you slept with Nell." "I can't be-li-eve it, eit-her," Ri-ley sa-id. "She kind of gets you when you're not ex-pec-ting it. Watch yo-ur-self at lunch." "Funny," Ga-be sa-id, and left. Nell was sit-ting obe-di-ently at her desk, pra-ying that when Ga-be ca-me out of Ri-ley's of-fi-ce he'd see that she'd do-ne the right thing and

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"Co-me with me," he sa-id to her as Ri-ley fol-lo-wed him in-to the outer of-fi-ce. "We're go-ing to lunch." He so-un-ded thre-ate-ning, so she pic-ked up her pur-se. "What abo-ut the mo-ney? And Su-gar-Pie?" "Ri-ley will ta-ke ca-re of the mo-ney and Su-gar-Pie." Ga-be po-in-ted to-ward the do-or. "Now." Ri-ley lo-oked at Nell with sympathy. "Sorry abo-ut that, kid." He stuck the bank en-ve-lo-pe un-der his arm, pic-ked up Su-gar-Pie's bas-ket, and went back in-to his of-fi-ce. Ga-be sto-od by the do-or, lo-oking li-ke Lu-ci-fer shortly af-ter the fall, and Nell felt the hand of do-om on her, all be-ca-use she'd do-ne the right thing, se-ve-ral ti-mes. It was so un-fa-ir. "If you're go-ing to fi-re me," Nell sa-id, stic-king her chin out, "just do it he-re. Get it over with." "I'm go-ing to fe-ed you," Ga-be sa-id. "Then we're go-ing to dis-cuss the depth of yo-ur un-der-s-tan-ding of the ru-les he-re, and then if that un-der-s-tan-ding is de-ep eno-ugh, I will not fi-re you and we'll co-me back he-re and you'll to do the of-fi-ce work we hi-red you for. If yo-ur un-der-s-tan-ding is in-suf-fi-ci-ent, ho-we-ver, you're go-ing to ne-ed mo-re co-pi-es of yo-ur re-su-me." Nell tri-ed to think of so-met-hing scat-hing to say, but if the-re was a chan-ce he wasn't go-ing to fi-re her, dis-c-re-ti-on was cle-arly the bet-ter part of her fi-nan-ci-al fu-tu-re. "Thank you," she sa-id and went past him and out the do-or. The two- block walk from the agency to the res-ta-urant was for-tu-na-tely short be-ca-use Ga-be was si-lent be-hind his dark glas-ses. "Ni-ce day, isn't it?" she sa-id on-ce, and he didn't an-s-wer, so she shut up and pic-ked up her pa-ce to ke-ep up with him. At the res-ta-urant, a lo-cal bar and grill cal-led the Syca-mo-re, they to-ok one of the small tab-les ne-ar the front, and Ga-be sat with his back to the light, le-aving her the vi-ew aro-und one of the big sta-ined-glass pa-nels that hung in the win-dows be-hind her. She twis-ted aro-und to lo-ok at the pla-ce-lots of dark wo-od and Tif-fany ce-iling lights and old ad-ver-ti-sing prints on the wal-ls-and then the wa-it-ress ca-me for the-ir drink or-der, and Ga-be sa-id, "I'll ha-ve a draft and a Re-uben." He lo-oked at Nell. "Order." The wa-it-ress lo-oked ta-ken aback. "Black cof-fee," Nell sa-id to her, smi-ling swe-etly. "She'll ha-ve an ome-let," Ga-be sa-id to the wa-it-ress. "Fo-ur eggs, plenty of ham and che-ese." "I don't want an ome-let," Nell sa-id. "I'm not-" "Do you re-al-ly want to ha-ve this ar-gu-ment with me right now?" Ga-be sa-id, and the wa-it-ress to-ok a step back. "I'll ha-ve a Ca-esar sa-lad," Nell sa-id. "Go-od." Ga-be lo-oked up at the wa-it-ress. "Put a do-ub-le or-der of gril-led chic-ken on it, and bring her a do-ub-le or-der of fri-es." "I don't want-" Nell be-gan. "I don't ca-re, " he sa-id, and Nell shut up un-til the wa-it-ress was go-ne. Then she sa-id, "You know, my lunch is no-ne of yo-ur bus-" "You- tras-hed yo-ur ex-hus-band's of-fi-ce. His new wi-fe swo-re out a war-rant for yo-ur ar-rest." "Oh, God," Nell sa-id, every ner-ve in her body tur-ning to ice. "When I hi-red you, you didn't ha-ve a pul-se," Ga-be sa-id. "Now you ha-ve a po-li-ce re-cord." "Oh, God." "What the hell did you do? She kept snar-ling so-met-hing abo-ut icic-les." "Awards," Nell sa-id fa-intly. "Ohio In-su-ran-ce Agent of the Ye-ar for the com-pany. I bro-ke them." "Ho-pe you enj-oyed it. Jack and I spent the mor-ning fi-xing that for you. He ar-gu-ed that sin-ce you still own half of the agency the war-rant was no go-od. Yo-ur ex-hus-band fi-nal-ly ga-ve in. The po-li-ce are no lon-ger lo-oking for you." "Thank you," Nell sa-id po-li-tely and be-gan to shred her pa-per nap-kin in her lap. "Then the-re was Wed-nes-day night when you tri-ed to sle-ep with a cli-ent's hus-band."

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"That was a mis-ta-ke," Nell sa-id. "I apo-lo-gi-ze." "And I gat-her you did sle-ep with Ri-ley." "Hey, I'm cle-ar on that," Nell sa-id, ral-lying a lit-tle. "You didn't tell me not to fuck the help." Ga-be lo-oked ta-ken aback. "I know I didn't. I didn't tell you be-ca-use I didn't think you wo-uld. Frankly, I didn't think you co-uld say 'fuck,' let alo-ne do it." The wa-it-ress put the-ir drinks in front of them and sa-id to Nell, "Yo-ur fo-od will be right out." She lo-oked con-cer-ned. "Thank you," Nell sa-id, trying to lo-ok una-bu-sed. When the wa-it-ress was go-ne, Ga-be sa-id, "Then yes-ter-day you tal-ked to so-me-one out-si-de the firm abo-ut a cli-ent, and last night you sto-le a dog. And this mor-ning you ex-tor-ted mo-ney from a for-mer em-p-lo-yee. All in all, you've had a full we-ek." "I did it for the firm," Nell sa-id vir-tu-o-usly. "You're out of con-t-rol," Ga-be sa-id, and la-un-c-hed in-to a lec-tu-re abo-ut va-lu-es and res-pon-si-bi-lity and the agency re-pu-ta-ti-on that las-ted un-til the wa-it-ress ca-me to the tab-le and star-ted un-lo-ading fo-od. Nell's sa-lad was enor-mo-us, brim-ming with chic-ken and ex-t-ra che-ese and cro-utons. Ga-be po-in-ted to it. "Eat." "I'm not go-ing to eat all of this," Nell sa-id. "Then we're go-ing to be he-re a long, long ti-me." Ga-be pic-ked up his san-d-wich. Nell stab-bed at her sa-lad and to-ok a bi-te. It was go-od, but who the hell did he think he was, an-y-way? She swal-lo-wed and sa-id, "Who do you think you are, an-y-way? What I eat is not yo-ur bu-si-ness." "Yes, it is," Ga-be sa-id, pic-king up a french fry. "You rep-re-sent my of-fi-ce." "So?" Ga-be po-in-ted at her sa-lad, and she stab-bed it aga-in. "So you lo-ok li-ke de-ath. If you don't put on so-me we-ight, cli-ents are go-ing to think I don't pay you eno-ugh." "You don't," Nell sa-id aro-und a mo-ut-h-ful of sa-lad. "And I lo-ok fi-ne." "You lo-ok li-ke hell," Ga-be sa-id. "Shut up and eat whi-le I ex-p-la-in the three ru-les to you." "I know the three ru-les," Nell sa-id, and Ga-be po-in-ted at her sa-lad aga-in. She tho-ught abo-ut ar-gu-ing, de-ci-ded it wo-uld be fas-ter if she just ate, and stab-bed the sa-lad aga-in. "The re-ason we do not talk out-si-de the of-fi-ce is that pe-op-le co-me to us with in-for-ma-ti-on that is con-fi-den-ti-al and they want it to stay that way." Nell swal-lo-wed. "I know that." "When you told Su-ze abo-ut the dog, you bro-ke that con-fi-den-ti-ality. Yo-ur fri-ends are not part of the of-fi-ce. If I can't trust you not to tell them, I can't trust you." Nell che-wed slo-wer. "You're right. I'm sorry." "I'm al-ways right." He wa-ited un-til she'd for-ked up mo-re sa-lad and then he sa-id, "Bre-aking the law is al-most as bad. We ha-ve a go-od re-la-ti-on-s-hip with the po-li-ce be-ca-use they know we're stra-ight. I do not want that go-od re-la-ti-on-s-hip je-opar-di-zed be-ca-use you think you're abo-ve the law." Nell swal-lo-wed her sa-lad. "I don't think I'm abo-ve the law. I'm sorry abo-ut the of-fi-ce, and I won't do that aga-in." "You al-so sto-le a dog. And you still think that was right." "You didn't ma-ke me gi-ve it back." "Shut up and eat," Ga-be sa-id, and then be-fo-re Nell co-uld fe-el smug, he ad-ded, "Which brings us to fuc-king the help." Nell slid down a lit-tle in her cha-ir and ate mo-re sa-lad. "I don't ca-re if you sle-ep with Ri-ley, that's yo-ur bu-si-ness," Ga-be sa-id, so-un-ding mad. "I'm not sle-eping with him," Nell sa-id has-tily, fe-eling gu-il-ti-er than ever. "Not an-y-mo-re. It was a short fling. One night. Re-al-ly." She smi-led at him, trying to lo-ok in-no-cent, and then pic-ked up the mug of be-er and drank. This wasn't one of the bet-ter lun-c-hes of her li-fe. The be-er felt go-od, tart

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and cold go-ing down, and she drank aga-in, fe-eling the al-co-hol ease in-to her bo-nes a lit-tle. Ga-be sig-na-led to the wa-it-ress. "And it was my fa-ult, not his," she told him, lic-king the fo-am off her lip. "I was be-ing pat-he-tic and he felt sorry for me." The wa-it-ress ca-me and Ga-be sa-id, "We'll ne-ed anot-her be-er." "What?" Nell sa-id and then lo-oked down at his be-er in her hand, half go-ne. "Oh, sorry." She tri-ed to push the mug back to him. "Ke-ep it," Ga-be sa-id. "It has ca-lo-ri-es. And it wasn't be-ca-use you we-re be-ing pat-he-tic. Ri-ley has no in-te-rest in wimpy wo-men." "I didn't say 'wimpy' " "E-at," Ga-be sa-id, and Nell went back to for-king sa-lad. When the wa-it-ress had bro-ught the se-cond be-er and go-ne, he sa-id, "Tho-se three ru-les are the-re be-ca-use of ex-pe-ri-en-ce, Nell." She lo-oked up at him, sur-p-ri-sed. He'd ne-ver cal-led her Nell be-fo-re. "They we-re my dad's ru-les, but he ma-de them for go-od re-ason," Ga-be sa-id. "They-" "What was the re-ason for the no-sex ru-le?" Nell sa-id, ho-ping to dis-t-ract him. "He mar-ri-ed his sec-re-tary. The ru-les-" "Yo-ur mot-her was his sec-re-tary?" Nell stop-ped che-wing. "Wa-it a mi-nu-te, wasn't Chloe yo-ur sec-re-tary?" "The ru-les-" Ga-be sa-id, and Nell wa-ved her fork at him and sa-id, "I've got it. I'll ne-ver bre-ak anot-her one, I swe-ar." When he lo-oked skep-ti-cal, she sa-id, "No, re-al-ly. I do un-der-s-tand. I li-ke this job and I want to ke-ep it. If an-y-t-hing li-ke the dog co-mes up aga-in, I'll bring it to you and then nag you un-til you do so-met-hing abo-ut it." "Oh, ye-ah, that'll be bet-ter," Ga-be sa-id, but he pic-ked up his be-er, so the yel-ling was pro-bably over. "Eat," he sa-id, and Nell stab-bed a pi-ece of chic-ken and ate, sur-p-ri-sed at her-self. It had be-en ye-ars sin-ce an-y-body had told her to do an-y-t-hing, yel-led at her abo-ut an-y-t-hing. May-be ne-ver. She and Tim had set-tled in-to a li-fe whe-re she'd run ever-y-t-hing and he'd go-ne with the flow. And then one day he'd fo-und so-me-body el-se, so-me-body who wo-uldn't run his li-fe so he co-uld ha-ve the il-lu-si-on he was in con-t-rol. Only now, from all re-ports, Whit-ney was run-ning his li-fe. Which must me-an Tim wan-ted a wo-man to boss him aro-und, he just didn't want to ad-mit he wan-ted a wo-man to boss him aro-und. He wan-ted to be Ga-be wit-ho-ut the res-pon-si-bi-lity. Her fork hit the bot-tom of her bowl and she lo-oked down. The sa-lad was go-ne. "Go-od." Ga-be sho-ved her french fry pla-te clo-ser. "Start on tho-se. And say so-met-hing. When you're not tal-king, you're thin-king, and when you think, my li-fe go-es to hell. Eat and tell me what hap-pe-ned with Lynnie." Nell to-ok a de-ep bre-ath. "Well, I went to her apar-t-ment and I told her that we we-re go-ing to the po-li-ce if she didn't gi-ve back the mo-ney. And then we tal-ked." "What did she say?" Nell clo-sed her eyes and put her-self back in Lynnie's li-ving ro-om. "She sa-id she'd be-en sick." She re-ci-ted the con-ver-sa-ti-on as best as she co-uld re-mem-ber, de-le-ting the part whe-re Lynnie had ac-cu-sed her of fal-ling for Ga-be. When she fi-nis-hed and ope-ned her eyes, he was re-gar-ding her tho-ug-h-t-ful-ly. "How much of that did you ma-ke up?" "No-ne of it," Nell sa-id, out-ra-ged. "I may ha-ve for-got-ten so-me of it, but ever-y-t-hing I told you hap-pe-ned." "Go-od me-mory. I'm 'my way or the hig-h-way,' huh?" "Oh, ye-ah," Nell sa-id and pic-ked up a fry. "Okay." Ga-be to-ok a fry, too. "What aren't you tel-ling me?" Nell tho-ught abo-ut sa-ying, "Not-hing," and then de-ci-ded that lying to Ga-be McKen-na was not a go-od idea. "She got per-so-nal. I don't want to talk abo-ut it."

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"The-re might be so-met-hing in it I can use." "No-pe " Ga-be dip-ped a fry in ket-c-hup and han-ded it to her. "Eat." "I li-ke vi-ne-gar bet-ter," she sa-id. He mo-ti-oned for the wa-it-ress and as-ked for vi-ne-gar and the check, and then he went back to his own lunch, de-ep in tho-ught. Nell re-la-xed, and when the vi-ne-gar ca-me, she sprin-k-led it on the se-cond or-der of fri-es, in-ha-ling the sharp, swe-et ci-der. He-aven. "So she was put-ting the screws to so-me-body," Ga-be sa-id. "I don't sup-po-se you got a na-me?" "I got exactly what I told you," Nell sa-id, and he nod-ded and fi-nis-hed his san-d-wich. When the wa-it-ress bro-ught the check, Ga-be lo-oked at it for a mi-nu-te be-fo-re put-ting a few bills on the tray. When she was go-ne, he sa-id, "How se-ri-o-us are you abo-ut this job?" Nell stop-ped che-wing. They we-re back to her. That co-uldn't be go-od. "Well…" How se-ri-o-us was she? She li-ked Ri-ley, and Ga-be was gro-wing on her. She'd felt go-od res-cu-ing Su-gar-Pie, go-od abo-ut get-ting the mo-ney back even tho-ugh she li-ked Lynnie. Even fin-ding out that night as a de-coy that Ben was a che-ater was so-met-hing; it wo-uld help his wi-fe out. Pe-op-le sho-uld know when they we-re be-ing li-ed to, it was wrong that they didn't know. You co-uldn't fix yo-ur li-fe if you didn't know what was wrong with it. "I'm very se-ri-o-us," she sa-id. "You ha-ve not de-mon-s-t-ra-ted that you're a go-od risk," he sa-id, not ac-cu-sing her. "I know," Nell sa-id. "I've had a very ro-ugh we-ek, but it was edu-ca-ti-onal, too. I'm go-ing to be all right now." "What hap-pe-ned?" Ga-be to-ok one of her fri-es and win-ced when he bit in-to it. "Vi-ne-gar," Nell sa-id. "What hap-pe-ned this we-ek? Pro-ve to me you're not in-sa-ne." Nell swal-lo-wed. "Okay." Whe-re did she start? "I've be-en di-vor-ced for a whi-le. Over a ye-ar." Ga-be nod-ded. "It was hard. My mar-ri-age and my job we-re pretty much the sa-me, so I lost ever-y-t-hing all at on-ce. I kept thin-king I was all right, but I wasn't. I me-an, he just left me, Chris-t-mas af-ter-no-on, just stop-ped right the-re, in the mid-dle of all the wrap-ping pa-per, and sa-id, 'I'm sorry, I don't lo-ve you an-y-mo-re,' and left me to cle-an up the rest of it. It didn't ma-ke sen-se. I co-uldn't ma-ke the world ma-ke sen-se if that hap-pe-ned." Ga-be nod-ded aga-in. "Why do you do that?" Nell sa-id. "Nod and not say an-y-t-hing. Tho-se si-len-ces are kil-lers." "If I say so-met-hing, you're not tal-king," Cu-be sa-id. "Tricky." "What hap-pe-ned?" "Well," Nell sa-id. "I tri-ed to co-pe and be un-der-s-tan-ding and fi-gu-re it out so it ma-de sen-se, and then he met Whit-ney and mar-ri-ed her and put her in my old job, and I en-ded up fal-ling as-le-ep a lot. And then Su-ze and Mar-gie fo-und out that he…" She put down the french fry she'd be-en hol-ding as she re-mem-be-red the way the world had roc-ked that day. Only two days ago. A li-fe-ti-me ago. "That the-re was anot-her wo-man af-ter all," Ga-be sa-id. "Whit-ney all along?" Nell stra-ig-h-te-ned. "How did you know?" "Lucky gu-ess. When did they tell you?" "Wed-nes-day," Nell sa-id. Ga-be nod-ded. "Which wo-uld ex-p-la-in go-ing up-s-ta-irs with the guy on the de-coy and sle-eping with Ri-ley and smas-hing yo-ur ex's of-fi-ce. I'm not su-re how you en-ded up with the dog and Lynnie-" "Pe-op-le kept do-ing lo-usy things and get-ting away with it," Nell sa-id. "I was mad." "You can't do that an-y-mo-re," Ga-be sa-id. "I know," Nell sa-id. "As part of this firm, yo-ur ac-ti-ons ref-lect on all of us." "I'm part of the firm?"

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"That de-pends." He lo-oked in-to her eyes, and she ga-zed back, trying to lo-ok ste-ady and trus-t-worthy. I want to be part of this, she tho-ught. Let me in. "I ha-ve an as-sig-n-ment for you," Ga-be sa-id. "You are har-d-wor-king and ef-fi-ci-ent and smart as hell, and I don't want to fi-re you. But you ha-ve to pro-mi-se to ke-ep yo-ur mo-uth shut and not aven-ge any wrongs you see. Can you do that?" Nell nod-ded. "This par-ti-cu-lar as-sig-n-ment is abo-ut so-me-one you know," Ga-be sa-id, "which is why you can help." "Will I ha-ve to bet-ray an-y-body?" Nell sa-id. "Be-ca-use I won't." Ga-be shrug-ged and pic-ked up anot-her fry. "De-pends on what you me-an by 'bet-ray.' I want the an-s-wers to so-me qu-es-ti-ons. I don't think the per-son you'll be as-king is gu-ilty." Nell swal-lo-wed. "I can pro-mi-se not to say an-y-t-hing to an-y-body abo-ut an-y-t-hing you tell me. I can't pro-mi-se an-y-t-hing el-se un-til you tell me what this is abo-ut." "Fa-ir eno-ugh," Ga-be sa-id. "So-me-body is blac-k-ma-iling pe-op-le at OD. Tre-vor Ogil-vie, Jack Dysart, and Bud-ge Jen-kins." "Oh." Nell felt re-li-eved. She didn't ca-re what hap-pe-ned to any of them. She pic-ked up anot-her french fry. "You think it's Lynnie?" "It's a gu-ess." "What is she ac-cu-sing them of?" "Bud-ge of em-bez-zling." Nell la-ug-hed out lo-ud. "Bud-ge? She do-esn't know him at all." "Re-al-ly?" Ga-be sa-id. "What wo-uld you ac-cu-se him of? If you wan-ted to sca-re him?" Nell le-aned back and lo-oked at the ce-iling as she tho-ught. Not-hing bot-he-red Bud-ge, ex-cept…"Something that wo-uld ta-ke Mar-gie from him," she sa-id. "He wor-s-hips the car-pet she walks on, has for ye-ars." "What wo-uld do that?" "If he bro-ke a pi-ece of her Fran-cis-can De-sert Ro-se ear-t-hen-wa-re," Nell sa-id, only half joking. "Mar-gie is pretty eas-y-go-ing. She put up with Ste-wart for fif-te-en ye-ars, and I'd ha-ve kil-led him on the ho-ney-mo-on." "Ste-wart," Ga-be sa-id. "Ste-wart Dysart," Nell sa-id. "Jack and Tim's brot-her. Jack's the ol-dest and the big suc-cess, and Tim's the baby and the swe-et one ever-y-body lo-ves, and Ste-wart wo-uld ha-ve be-en just pat-he-tic in the mid-dle ex-cept he was so ob-no-xi-o-us abo-ut ever-y-t-hing." He frow-ned at her. "Why do-es his na-me so-und fa-mi-li-ar? Did they di-vor-ce?" "No. He went so-uth with al-most a mil-li-on of OD as-sets se-ven ye-ars ago." "Got it," Ga-be sa-id, nod-ding. "OD hus-hed it up. Why didn't she di-vor-ce him?" "If she gets di-vor-ced," Nell sa-id, "she'll end up mar-rying Bud-ge, and she do-esn't want to marry Bud-ge." Ga-be lo-oked at her in dis-be-li-ef. "She can't say no?" "No," Nell sa-id. "Mar-gie can-not say no. But she can say, 'Not yet, I'm mar-ri-ed,' so she's co-ve-red. What did the blac-k-ma-iler ac-cu-se Jack of?" "Adul-tery. Tre-vor, too." "I don't think so," Nell sa-id. "Jack's ba-na-nas abo-ut Su-ze. Al-most to the po-int of pat-ho-logy. And Mar-gie's dad che-ated on-ce be-fo-re, but it was over twenty ye-ars ago, so I don't think that co-unts. Be-si-des, that en-ded so badly, so much scan-dal when her mot-her kil-led her-self, that I don't think he'd ta-ke the chan-ce aga-in." Ga-be nod-ded. "I ne-ed you to ask Mar-gie so-me qu-es-ti-ons abo-ut her mot-her." "Oh." Nell's go-od hu-mor fa-ded. "No." "So-me-body has to ask her," Ga-be sa-id, lo-oking the way he had the first day she'd met him, dark and hard. "You don't want it to be me."

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"Don't thre-aten me," Nell sa-id. "And don't thre-aten her. I don't even know what this is abo-ut, and you want me to go as-king hor-rib-le qu-es-ti-ons." "I told you what it's abo-ut," Ga-be sa-id with exag-ge-ra-ted pa-ti-en-ce. "Blac-k-ma-il." "What do-es Mar-gie's mot-her who di-ed over twenty ye-ars ago ha-ve to do with Mar-gie's dad be-ing blac-k-ma-iled now?" "You'll just ha-ve to trust me on that." "No, I won't," Nell sa-id. "Lo-ok, if I ha-ve to pro-mi-se to qu-es-ti-on Mar-gie or you'll fi-re me, I'm fi-red." Ga-be sig-hed and sto-od up. "Co-me on. It's ti-me to get back to work." Nell sto-od, too, and lo-oked down to ta-ke one last fry for the ro-ad. The-re we-ren't any. She'd eaten a hu-ge sa-lad and two or-ders of fri-es. "You re-ady?" Ga-be sa-id. "Am I fi-red?" "No," Ga-be sa-id. "I'm re-ady," Nell sa-id. "Still em-p-lo-yed?" Ri-ley sa-id to Nell when they got back to the of-fi-ce. "Of co-ur-se," Nell sa-id. "How's Su-gar-Pie?" At the so-und of her na-me, the dog crept out of Ri-ley's of-fi-ce, qu-ive-ring and lim-ping, a cas-h-me-re-clad bas-ket ca-se. "What did you do to her?" Nell sa-id, ap-pal-led. "Ab-so-lu-tely not-hing," Ri-ley sa-id. "I left her to go check on Lynnie, and when I got back, she was do-ing this. I ig-no-red her and she snap-ped out of it. She do-es it for the ef-fect." "She do-es not. She's be-en abu-sed." Nell cro-uc-hed down to gat-her Su-gar-Pie in-to her arms, but she mo-aned and rol-led over on the Ori-en-tal, her stubby lit-tle legs po-in-ting off to one si-de, lo-oking pat-he-tic in the-ir whi-te cuffs. "Su-gar-Pie? What's wrong?" "If this dog was hu-man, she'd be le-aping in front of bu-ses, cla-iming whip-lash." Ri-ley lo-oked down at her. "I won't play the sap for you, swe-et-he-art. But the red-he-ad will. Work it for all the dog bis-cu-its you can get." "That's not-" "Gi-ve her a dog bis-cu-it," Ri-ley sa-id. "Bis-cu-it?" Nell sa-id to the dog, and Su-gar-Pie rol-led her he-ad to lo-ok at her pi-ti-ful-ly. Nell re-ac-hed up to the desk and got a bis-cu-it. "He-re, baby. It's okay." Su-gar-Pie lo-oked at her for a long dra-ma-tic mo-ment. Then she to-ok the bis-cu-it ca-re-ful-ly in her mo-uth, lo-oked ye-ar-ningly up at Nell one last ti-me, and rol-led over and de-vo-ured it with sa-va-ge re-lish. "You sto-le an una-bu-sed dog," Ga-be sa-id. "He cal-led her a lit-tle bitch," Nell sa-id from the flo-or, in-dig-nant. "Well, tec-h-ni-cal-ly, she is," Ri-ley sa-id. "And she lo-oked aw-ful." Nell lo-oked down at Su-gar-Pie, now lic-king the rug to get the last of the bis-cu-it crumbs. "She was tra-uma-ti-zed." Su-gar-Pie lo-oked up at all of them, drop-ped her he-ad bet-we-en her sho-ul-ders, and mo-aned. "Now what?" Ga-be sa-id, and she flut-te-red her eye-las-hes at him, qu-ive-ring at his fe-et. "Mar-le-ne Di-et-rich used to do that eye-lash thing in the mo-vi-es, right be-fo-re she to-ok a guy for ever-y-t-hing he had," Ri-ley sa-id. "All this dog ne-eds is a gar-ter belt and a top hat." "You've be-en had, kid," Ga-be sa-id to Nell. "It's an oc-cu-pa-ti-onal ha-zard aro-und he-re. Ta-ke the dog back." He lo-oked down at Su-gar-Pie and ad-ded, "Pre-fe-rably in the de-ad of night." "That wo-uld be a go-od idea," Ri-ley sa-id. "Except she sha-ved it, dyed it black, and dres-sed it in Ralph La-uren. Its own mot-her wo-uldn't re-cog-ni-ze it now." "You sha-ved it?" Ga-be sig-hed. "Don't tell me why. Just get it out of he-re." "Be-fo-re I for-get," Ri-ley sa-id to Nell, "Su-ze Cam-p-bell cal-led. I told her the dog was fi-ne." He lo-oked down at Su-gar-Pie. "I li-ed, of co-ur-se."

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"Su-ze who?" Nell sa-id, sur-p-ri-sed. "Dysart," Ga-be sa-id, sho-oting an exas-pe-ra-ted lo-ok at Ri-ley, and went in-to his of-fi-ce. Su-gar-Pie pic-ked up her he-ad and lo-oked af-ter him with in-te-rest and then, evi-dently re-ali-zing all re-ma-ining eyes we-re on her, col-lap-sed aga-in. "How do you know Su-ze's ma-iden na-me?" Nell sa-id. "So Ga-be calls you 'kid' now, do-es he?" Ri-ley ra-ised his eyeb-rows at her. "What did you do, drug his be-er?" "We tal-ked," Nell sa-id, put-ting her chin in the air. "He saw the wis-dom of my ways." "He ma-de you pro-mi-se to chan-ge yo-ur ways or he'd sack you," Ri-ley sa-id. Nell drop-ped her chin. "That, too. So how do you know-" "Well, I, for one, am glad you're sta-ying," Ri-ley sa-id and Nell smi-led at him, fe-eling bet-ter than she had in months. On the rug at the-ir fe-et, suf-fe-ring de-eply from a lack of at-ten-ti-on, Su-gar-Pie mo-aned and flut-te-red her eye-las-hes at him over her long brown no-se. "Are you su-re she's not abu-sed?" Nell sa-id. "She acts so we-ird." "Bis-cu-it," Ri-ley sa-id to the dog, and the eye-lash flut-ter went in-to over-d-ri-ve. He ga-ve her a bis-cu-it and she rol-led over aga-in to hold it bet-we-en her paws as she crun-c-hed it in-to ob-li-vi-on. "I'm su-re." He pic-ked up the bis-cu-it box and sa-id, "Co-me on, Mar-le-ne. Back in-to hi-ding in ca-se so-me-body co-mes lo-oking for you, al-t-ho-ugh only God knows why an-y-body wo-uld." "Mar-le-ne?" Nell sa-id. "I'm not cal-ling an-y-t-hing Su-gar-Pie," Ri-ley sa-id. "That's ob-s-ce-ne." The dog ga-zed at them un-b-lin-king for a mo-ment and then rol-led to her fe-et, chec-ked the car-pet to ma-ke su-re the-re we-re no mis-sed crumbs, and trot-ted off in-to Ri-ley's of-fi-ce, slo-wing only to flut-ter her eye-las-hes at him as she went by. "I don't be-li-eve it," Nell sa-id. "I ha-ve this ef-fect on a lot of wo-men," Ri-ley sa-id. "Wa-it a mi-nu-te," Nell sa-id. "How do you know-" But Ri-ley had al-re-ady clo-sed his do-or. "Well, that's in-te-res-ting," Nell sa-id to no-body in par-ti-cu-lar and went back to work. Nell wal-ked to the gro-cery the next day be-ca-use it was Sa-tur-day, and she didn't want to talk to Su-ze. If she sta-yed in the apar-t-ment, Su-ze wo-uld co-me over, and she wasn't al-lo-wed to tell her an-y-t-hing, wasn't al-lo-wed to say, "How am I go-ing to ask Mar-gie abo-ut her mom?" co-uldn't even say, "Sho-uld I ask Mar-gie abo-ut her mom?" She lo-oked at the prob-lem from all pos-sib-le si-des as she cru-ised the ais-les at Big Be-ar, pic-king up yel-low pep-pers and fresh spi-nach and Yu-kon Gold po-ta-to-es and to-ma-to-es so ri-pe they glo-wed. The co-lors we-re ama-zing and she ad-ded mo-re, ve-ge-tab-le pas-ta and pa-pery gar-lic and red and whi-te and yel-low oni-ons. Sud-denly ever-y-t-hing lo-oked go-od, and she was star-ving. It was only when she got to the chec-ko-ut that she re-mem-be-red she was wal-king. All that co-lor tur-ned out to be he-avy, and two blocks from the sto-re, she had to put the bags down just to get her fin-gers out of the plas-tic lo-ops. Whi-le she wor-ked her fin-gers, she lo-oked aro-und. Li-ke most of the Ger-man Vil-la-ge stre-ets, it was crow-ded with tre-es and brick ho-uses with wro-ug-ht-iron fen-ces, but this one in par-ti-cu-lar lo-oked fa-mi-li-ar. When she got to the cor-ner she re-ali-zed why: It was the cross stre-et for the la-ne Lynnie li-ved on. She chec-ked to see if Lynnie was the-re and saw the do-or to her brick dup-lex stan-ding open and a stran-ge wo-man on the nar-row porch. Nell hef-ted her bags up aga-in and went to see what was go-ing on. Lynnie's apar-t-ment lo-oked empty. So-me of the fur-ni-tu-re was still the-re, but it was on its way out to a van that sa-id CPTYWI-DE REN-TAL on it. Nell mo-ved asi-de as a guy car-ri-ed out a cha-ir, and then she went up the steps to the wo-man on the porch, fe-eling oddly be-reft, as if a fri-end had mo-ved wit-ho-ut tel-ling her. "Hi," she sa-id and ges-tu-red to the open do-or. "Two bed-ro-oms, eight hun-d-red a month," the wo-man sa-id, and Nell re-ali-zed she was the wo-man from the ot-her si-de of the dup-lex. "You want to lo-ok at it?" "Yes," Nell sa-id, plan-ning on fin-ding out mo-re abo-ut Lynnie's whe-re-abo-uts, and fol-lo-wed her

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in-to the apar-t-ment, put-ting her bags on the flo-or to rest her fin-gers aga-in. The lan-d-lady, Do-ris, li-ved in the ot-her half of the dup-lex and didn't know an-y-t-hing abo-ut Lynnie ex-cept that she'd left a no-te on her scre-en do-or the night be-fo-re sa-ying she was le-aving and that Do-ris co-uld ke-ep the rest of the month's rent. Do-ris was not happy that Lynnie had skip-ped out on her le-ase, even un-hap-pi-er when the ren-tal com-pany had co-me and dis-rup-ted her chan-ce to sle-ep la-te on Sa-tur-day mor-ning, but, as she put it, she was not a glo-omy per-son. "I'm one of tho-se half-full-glass pe-op-le," she sa-id, lo-oking li-ke her best fri-end had just di-ed. "I just can't help lo-oking on the sunny si-de of things." Nell had nod-ded, not re-al-ly lis-te-ning on-ce she'd got-ten the full story on Lynnie be-ca-use the apar-t-ment had be-gun to ap-pe-al to her. It was a stan-dard dup-lex, li-ving ro-om and kit-c-hen dow-n-s-ta-irs and two bed-ro-oms up. But the li-ving ro-om was big eno-ugh to ta-ke her gran-d-mot-her's di-ning ro-om set, and the kit-c-hen had glass do-ors on the cup-bo-ards, and the bed-ro-oms we-re re-al bed-ro-oms with do-ors, and the bat-h-ro-om had black and whi-te ti-les from the for-ti-es. She lo-oked out the back do-or and saw a pos-ta-ge stamp of a yard with a fen-ce aro-und it. Mar-le-ne wo-uld lo-ve it. She lo-oked at the bags of fo-od on the li-ving ro-om flo-or, mo-re fo-od than she'd con-su-med in the en-ti-re pre-vi-o-us month, and she wan-ted to wash the ve-ge-tab-les in the old por-ce-la-in kit-c-hen sink and put her pla-tes in the glass-front ca-bi-nets, cut to-ma-to-es on the dra-in-bo-ard and eat po-ta-to-es and vi-ne-gar on the tiny porch whi-le she wat-c-hed the Vil-la-ge go by. She wan-ted to see things and tas-te things and fe-el things, and she wan-ted to do it he-re. "I ha-ve a dog," she sa-id. "Ni-ne hun-d-red," Do-ris sa-id. "Assu-ming you ma-ke the cre-dit check." "E-ight hun-d-red and I wri-te you a check for the first three months now." Nell sa-id. "You won't ha-ve to ad-ver-ti-se the apar-t-ment. You won't even ha-ve to cle-an it." "I don't know." Do-ris sa-id. "A dog." "She's a dac-h-s-hund, her na-me is Mar-le-ne, and she sle-eps a lot." Half an ho-ur la-ter, she ope-ned the do-or to her old apar-t-ment and fo-und Mar-le-ne sit-ting by the do-or, lo-oking as tho-ugh she'd be-en ma-ro-oned for days. "We ha-ve a new pla-ce," she told the dog. "Fen-ced-in bac-k-yard. Ro-oms to run thro-ugh. You're go-ing to lo-ve it." "I still don't un-der-s-tand why you want this pla-ce," Su-ze sa-id, stan-ding in the mid-dle of Nell's bo-xes the next day. "Be-ca-use I pic-ked it out, not you and Jack." Nell lo-oked aro-und the pla-ce as if it we-re a pa-la-ce. "Be-ca-use I'm fi-nal-ly do-ing things on my own." "Okay," Su-ze sa-id, fe-eling un-de-rap-pre-ci-ated. "Hey, I still lo-ve the day-bed you fo-und for me, and Mar-le-ne is ab-so-lu-tely crazy for yo-ur che-nil-le throw," Nell sa-id. "I can't get it away from her." Su-ze lo-oked at Mar-le-ne, lan-gu-is-hing on the day-bed on fo-ur hun-d-red dol-lars' worth of in-di-go che-nil-le. "That's go-od to know." "Can we ple-ase un-pack yo-ur chi-na now?" Mar-gie sa-id. Jase bac-ked in the front do-or car-rying one end of Nell's di-ning ro-om tab-le, and when the ot-her end ap-pe-ared, af-ter much ar-gu-ing and til-ting and gro-aning, it was held up by the girl he'd bro-ught with him in the ren-tal truck. He'd be-en yel-ling at her all af-ter-no-on to be ca-re-ful un-lo-ading bo-xes or she'd hurt her-self, to wa-it for him, to just wa-it a mi-nu-te with an-y-t-hing that was he-avy, whi-le she la-ug-hed at him and hef-ted things wit-ho-ut bre-aking a swe-at, and Su-ze had tho-ught, Was I ever that yo-ung? And then she re-mem-be-red: She'd be-en exactly that yo-ung when she'd got-ten mar-ri-ed. My God, she tho-ught, wat-c-hing them now, ar-gu-ing abo-ut whe-re to drop the tab-le. They're li-ke pup-pi-es. And that was me. "You okay, Aunt Su-ze?" Jase sa-id. Su-ze nod-ded. "Co-uldn't be bet-ter." "J-ust the clot-hes left," the blon-de sa-id.

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"Ye-ah, right, Lu," Jase sa-id. "Li-ke my mot-her do-esn't ha-ve a ton of tho-se." He pus-hed her gently out the do-or, la-ug-hing down at her, and she ma-de a fa-ce at him and pus-hed back. Mar-gie ga-zed aro-und the apar-t-ment. "Are you still go-ing to sle-ep on the day-bed now that you ha-ve a re-al bed-ro-om?" "No-pe," Nell sa-id. "I'm go-ing to get a re-al bed." The day-bed is a re-al bed, Su-ze tho-ught, but she sa-id, "If you want, you can ha-ve the bed in our se-cond gu-est ro-om. We ne-ver ha-ve se-cond gu-ests an-y-way." "Won-der-ful," Nell sa-id and went to tell Jase he had anot-her job. "I put so-me of my clot-hes in the truck for you, too," Su-ze sa-id when she got back, but Nell didn't he-ar; she was on her way to the kit-c-hen to open the an-ci-ent glass-front ca-bi-nets and to-uch the pa-nes as if they we-re so-met-hing won-der-ful. Su-ze went out to the truck to help with the last of the bo-xes. She put one fo-ot on the step at the back and then lo-oked up. Jase was kis-sing Lu in the back of the truck, his hands tight on her re-ar end. It wasn't a kid's kiss, and it to-ok Su-ze's bre-ath away. Jase sho-uldn't be old eno-ugh to kiss an-y-body li-ke that, but he was. He was three ye-ars ol-der than she'd be-en when she'd got-ten mar-ri-ed. "What hap-pe-ned to my clot-hes?" Nell cal-led from the porch, and Su-ze cal-led back lo-udly, "I'll get them," and ban-ged on the si-de of the truck and then kept her eyes aver-ted un-til she'd clim-bed in-si-de. Jase han-ded Lu a box and sa-id, "Work for yo-ur ke-ep," and she sa-id, "Li-ke you wo-uldn't ke-ep me an-y-way." She shot Su-ze a grin as she clim-bed out of the truck with the box, so su-re and happy and yo-ung that Su-ze felt the envy in her bo-nes. When Jase and Lu dro-ve the empty truck away to get Su-ze's se-cond gu-est bed, Su-ze went in-si-de and fo-und Mar-gie and Nell un-pac-king Nell's chi-na. Nell han-ded her a bub-ble-wrap-ped pi-ece, and Su-ze un-w-rap-ped it ca-re-ful-ly, trying not to be dep-res-sed by Jase and Lu. She sho-uld be happy for them. She was a hor-rib-le per-son. The last of the bub-ble wrap ca-me off, and Su-ze lo-oked at the te-apot in her hands, star-t-led out of her des-pa-ir. It was ro-und on the ed-ges and flat on both si-des, and it had a lan-d-s-ca-pe pa-in-ted on it, an eerie lit-tle sce-ne with a we-ird bub-ble-sha-ped tree and two sad lit-tle ho-uses, smo-ke cur-ling mo-ur-n-ful-ly up from the-ir po-in-ted chim-neys. The bot-tom of the te-apot was blue, a lit-tle stre-am bet-we-en two tall hills, se-pa-ra-ting the tree from the ho-uses fo-re-ver. "I tho-ught yo-ur stuff had flo-wers on it," Su-ze sa-id. "I've ne-ver se-en this be-fo-re." "It was on the top shelf," Nell sa-id. "I ne-ver used it." "Cro-cu-ses," Mar-gie sa-id, frow-ning in-to spa-ce. "That's what they we-re." She lo-oked at the three bo-xes mar-ked "Chi-na" and sa-id, "This can't be all of it." "This is my sha-re," Nell sa-id. "Tim got the rest in the di-vor-ce." "What?" Mar-gie's eyes grew wi-de. "He to-ok yo-ur chi-na?" "It's just dis-hes," Su-ze sa-id. "It's her chi-na," Mar-gie sa-id, and Su-ze re-mem-be-red Mar-gie's ten zil-li-on pi-eces of Fran-cis-can De-sert Ro-se and sa-id, "Right. Her chi-na." "And he got mo-re than half," Mar-gie sa-id. "You had shel-ves of it." Su-ze lo-oked down at the te-apot in her hand. "What is this stuff, an-y-way? I only re-mem-ber the flo-wers." "It's all Bri-tish Art De-co chi-na," Nell sa-id. "Art De-co?" Mar-gie sa-id. "From the twen-ti-es and thir-ti-es," Su-ze sa-id, still fas-ci-na-ted by the te-apot. "Very ge-omet-ric, bright co-lors, styli-zed de-signs." They lo-oked at her as if she'd sa-id so-met-hing stran-ge, and she sa-id, "Art His-tory 102. I know the in-t-ro-duc-tory stuff abo-ut ever-y-t-hing." Nell nod-ded. "It's from my mom's fa-mily in En-g-land. That te-apot is Cla-ri-ce Cliff, my se-cond fa-vo-ri-te pat-tern of hers. It's cal-led Sec-rets." "I don't un-der-s-tand why Tim got so much mo-re," Mar-gie sa-id. "The stuff I lo-ved best was the ex-pen-si-ve stuff," Nell sa-id. "Li-ke the Sec-rets tea set. It has thir-ty-fo-ur pi-eces and ap-pra-ised at se-ven tho-usand dol-lars."

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"Oh, my Lord," Mar-gie sa-id, ta-king a clo-ser lo-ok at the te-apot Su-ze was clut-c-hing. Su-ze held it out to Nell. "Ta-ke this, ple-ase." Nell to-ok it and put it in her chi-na hutch. "So did you get yo-ur mom's chi-na, Mar-gie?" she as-ked, and Su-ze lo-oked at her sharply. Nell had be-en the one to tell her fo-ur-te-en ye-ars ago that qu-es-ti-ons abo-ut Mar-gie's mom we-re off li-mits. "No," Mar-gie sa-id. "What's this?" She held up the te-apot she'd just un-pac-ked, a ro-und pe-ach-co-lo-red pot with whi-te cres-cents scrat-c-hed in it. "Su-sie Co-oper," Nell sa-id. "Not ne-arly as ex-pen-si-ve. That's part of her kes-t-ral li-ne. She ow-ned her own pot-tery works in the la-te 20s and was still de-sig-ning in the 80s." "She las-ted." Mar-gie nod-ded down at the Co-oper bowl in her hands. "Her pi-eces we-re the best de-sig-ned," Nell sa-id. "She even had her own pot-tery works. But Cla-ri-ce ma-de be-a-uti-ful things." Nell un-w-rap-ped anot-her bowl. "This is Stro-ud, my fa-vo-ri-te pat-tern. Just the gre-en band aro-und the out-si-de and the car-to-uc-he at the bot-tom." The bowl was cre-am with a wi-de gre-en band bi-sec-ted in the lo-wer left-hand cor-ner by a lit-tle squ-are with a lan-d-s-ca-pe in-si-de it-a fluffy clo-ud, an oran-ge-ro-ofed ho-use, a puffy gre-en tree, and two cur-ved hil-ls-a tiny per-fect world. A tiny per-fect world. That so-un-ded li-ke Nell, ar-ran-ging ever-y-t-hing in her li-fe and then ma-in-ta-ining it. If Nell co-uld, she'd ma-ke su-re the clo-uds in the sky lo-oked exactly li-ke that. Ne-at and comfy. Su-ze lo-oked back at the cre-amer. "And this one is cal-led Sec-rets." Nell sat back and nod-ded aga-in. "That was my mom's fa-vo-ri-te." She lo-oked at Mar-gie for a mi-nu-te and then went on. "I think it's auto-bi-og-rap-hi-cal. Ac-cor-ding to gos-sip, Cla-ri-ce was ha-ving an af-fa-ir with her boss, the guy who ow-ned the chi-na works." Mar-gie sat up stra-ig-h-ter, with a lit-tle gasp. "That's ter-rib-le. She must ha-ve be-en an aw-ful wo-man, ste-aling so-me-body el-se's hus-band." Su-ze tri-ed not to flinch. Even af-ter fo-ur-te-en ye-ars, it was a so-re po-int. "That's the worst thing a wo-man can do," Mar-gie sa-id, vi-sibly up-set. "That's un-for-gi-vab-le." "Mar-gie," Nell sa-id. "Ha-ve a he-art." Mar-gie lo-oked up. "Oh, not you, Su-ze." She frow-ned at Su-ze's cre-amer, and Su-ze han-ded it to Nell. "But that Sec-rets wo-man, well, re-al-ly. Just snag-ged her mar-ri-ed boss." She lo-oked down at her Su-sie Co-oper pla-te and sa-id, "Tell me Su-sie wasn't li-ke that." "Su-sie was lo-yal and prac-ti-cal to the end," Nell sa-id. "Mar-ri-ed with a son." "Go-od. A go-od wi-fe." Mar-gie han-ded Nell the bowl and be-gan to un-pack mo-re. Su-ze tho-ught, She ow-ned her own com-pany, too, and be-gan to dis-li-ke Su-sie in-ten-sely. She un-pac-ked a Sec-rets su-gar bowl, ca-re-ful not to scratch the bub-ble tree or the qu-i-et blue sea at the bot-tom. Po-or Cla-ri-ce. Lo-ving a mar-ri-ed man, wor-king for him every day, kno-wing they co-uldn't be to-get-her, pro-bably re-j-ec-ted by all the go-od wi-ves aro-und her, ne-ver ab-le to start her own com-pany be-ca-use she had to stay with the man she lo-ved. "What hap-pe-ned to Cla-ri-ce?" she sa-id, sta-ring at the two lo-nely ho-uses with gre-at sympathy. "When she was in her for-ti-es, her boss's wi-fe di-ed and he mar-ri-ed her and they li-ved hap-pily ever af-ter." In her for-ti-es. If that had be-en her, she'd be wa-iting anot-her ten ye-ars for Jack. Wo-uld she? Wo-uld she do it all over aga-in to-day? What kind of per-son wo-uld she ha-ve tur-ned out to be if she hadn't got-ten mar-ri-ed? Don't think abo-ut that. "Well, go-od for Cla-ri-ce," Su-ze sa-id and han-ded Nell the su-gar bowl. "Wa-it, I ha-ve fi-gu-ri-nes of them." She be-gan to ta-ke wrap-ped pi-eces from the box and put them on the flo-or un-til she fo-und what she was lo-oking for, han-ding them each a bub-ble-wrap-ped pac-ka-ge. "Who's this?" Su-ze sa-id, strip-ping the wrap off hers first, and Nell pe-ered at it and sa-id, "Su-sie Co-oper." Su-sie sat on a pi-ece of pot-tery with a flo-we-red pla-te be-hind her, lo-oking li-ke a stylish Mary Pop-pins in a con-ser-va-ti-ve ma-uve su-it, her kne-es de-mu-rely to-get-her, hol-ding a

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wi-de-brim-med hat on her he-ad. "Pretty," Mar-gie sa-id, un-w-rap-ping hers mo-re slowly. Prac-ti-cal, Su-ze tho-ught, with de-fi-ni-te dis-tas-te. "Oh," Mar-gie sa-id. Mar-gie's fi-gu-ri-ne sat on a pi-ece of pot-tery with a lan-d-s-ca-ped pla-te be-hind her, her an-k-les cros-sed and her low Vnec-ked gre-en flap-per dress pul-led abo-ve her kne-es. She lo-oked over her sho-ul-der with her back ar-c-hed and a glint in her eye. Su-ze smi-led. "Cla-ri-ce." "I don't want her. Let me see Su-sie," Mar-gie sa-id to Su-ze, and Su-ze tra-ded her, smi-ling down at sa-ucy Cla-ri-ce, the go-od-ti-me girl with the im-p-rac-ti-cal pot-tery and the mar-ri-ed lo-ver. May-be I sho-uld ha-ve sta-yed a lo-ver, she tho-ught. May-be she wasn't cut out to be the mar-ri-ed Su-sie she'd en-ded up as, may-be she'd be-en born to be a go-od-ti-me Cla-ri-ce. Of co-ur-se, it was too la-te now. She han-ded Cla-ri-ce to Nell and wat-c-hed her put the fi-gu-re in the hutch. "They all did re-al-ly well," Nell sa-id, stra-ig-h-te-ning Cla-ri-ce on the shelf. "They had work they lo-ved and they ex-cel-led at it." "Work," Su-ze sa-id and felt over-w-hel-mingly en-vi-o-us of Su-sie and Cla-ri-ce and the-ir pot-tery, and Mar-gie and her te-as-hop, and even Nell and her sec-re-tary job. May-be she co-uld ta-ke a pot-tery class. Or go to chef scho-ol. Jack wo-uld li-ke that. Except she was ti-red of scho-ol. She un-pac-ked so-me mo-re Sec-rets, trying not to think abo-ut what el-se she was ti-red of. She had a go-od li-fe. Ever-y-t-hing was fi-ne. "What's wrong?" Nell sa-id, and Su-ze tur-ned aro-und to tell her she was fi-ne and saw her lo-oking at Mar-gie. The pla-te in Mar-gie's hand had a pink ro-se pa-in-ted in the mid-dle of it. It was pretty, but Mar-gie was sta-ring at it as if it had skulls on it. "Mar-gie?" Su-ze sa-id. "My mom used to ha-ve chi-na li-ke this," she sa-id. "Not this pat-tern, but with ro-ses." Her mom. Su-ze lo-oked at Nell, who was lo-oking mi-se-rab-le. This is what you tri-ed to do be-fo-re, she tho-ught, get Mar-gie tal-king abo-ut her mom, and for the first ti-me ever, she was angry with Nell. "Do you want the pla-te?" Nell sa-id. "I don't ha-ve a set of it or an-y-t-hing. It's cal-led Pat-ri-cia Ro-se. It's one of Su-sie's." She kept tal-king, her eyes on Mar-gie's fa-ce, but Mar-gie's ex-p-res-si-on didn't chan-ge, and fi-nal-ly she sa-id, "What's wrong, Mar-gie?" "She was bre-aking them," Mar-gie sa-id fi-nal-ly. "They we-re my Gran-d-ma Ogil-vie's chi-na and re-al-ly ex-pen-si-ve, and she'd kept them for ye-ars and only used them on the ho-li-days and then my dad told her she was bo-ring and left, and the-re she was with all that chi-na." "Mar-gie?" Su-ze sa-id, put-ting out her hand. "And I ca-me ho-me one day to ma-ke su-re she was all right be-ca-use she'd be-en so qu-i-et sin-ce Daddy had left. And when I got the-re, she was dres-sed in her best clot-hes, we-aring her go-od jewelry, and bre-aking them with a ham-mer." "I fe-el that way abo-ut the Dysart Spo-de," Su-ze sa-id, trying to de-fu-se the ten-si-on. "I'd lo-ve to ta-ke a mal-let to that stuff." "I was sca-red, and Daddy cal-led and I told him he had to co-me right over, and he ar-gu-ed with me that I sho-uld ta-ke Mom to the hos-pi-tal, and whi-le I was tal-king to him, she went out to the ga-ra-ge and shot her-self," Mar-gie sa-id, still sta-ring at the pla-te. Su-ze went cold. "Oh, ho-ney," she sa-id and put her arms aro-und Mar-gie, hug-ging her soft lit-tle body to her, and Nell gently to-ok the pla-te from Mar-gie's hands and sa-id, "I'm so sorry, Mar-gie. I re-al-ly am." "I ga-ve the chi-na to my dad's new wi-fe," Mar-gie sa-id, her vo-ice muf-fled by Su-ze's sho-ul-der. "She re-al-ly ha-ted it, but she was stuck with it be-ca-use my dad tho-ught it was so ni-ce of me,

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wel-co-ming her to the fa-mily li-ke that. I wan-ted to throw up every ti-me I saw it." She to-ok a de-ep bre-ath. "I just ho-pe Oli-via in-he-rits it, that's what I ho-pe." Su-ze tig-h-te-ned her arms aro-und her. "Mar-gie- " Nell be-gan "I've be-en so sca-red for you," Mar-gie sa-id to her from Su-ze's arms. "She lo-oked just li-ke you did, li-ke she co-uldn't fi-gu-re out what had hap-pe-ned. And then you wo-uldn't un-pack yo-ur chi-na-" "It's al-most all un-pac-ked," Nell sa-id so-ot-hingly. "I'll do the rest of it, no, we'll do the rest of it la-ter. We'll do it to-get-her and no-ne of it will get smas-hed. I'm okay, Mar-gie. I wasn't, but I'm okay now. You wo-uldn't be-li-eve all the fo-od I've got in the ref-ri-ge-ra-tor, and I'm eating it, God, I can't stop eating, ever-y-t-hing tas-tes so go-od." Mar-gie snif-fed, and Su-ze sa-id, "Well, stop be-ca-use I cle-aned out my clo-sets and bro-ught you all kinds of clot-hes I can't get in-to an-y-mo-re. You're go-ing to lo-ok gre-at in bright blue." Mar-gie stra-ig-h-te-ned a lit-tle. "Nell in bright blue?" she sa-id do-ub-t-ful-ly, but she left the chi-na wit-ho-ut a bac-k-ward glan-ce to go up-s-ta-irs with Nell, and Su-ze to-ok the Pat-ri-cia Ro-se pla-te and hid it in the bot-tom cor-ner of the hutch, as far away from Mar-gie as she co-uld get it. A lit-tle la-ter, whi-le Mar-gie was frow-ning at her-self in a pink swe-ater in Nell's mir-ror, Su-ze fol-lo-wed Nell down to let in Jase and Lu with the se-cond gu-est bed. "I put the pla-te in the bot-tom of the hutch," Su-ze sa-id. "That was too fre-aky. She just lo-oked at that pink ro-se and went off." "Fre-aki-er than you think," Nell sa-id. "Ever won-der why Mar-gie has so much mid-p-ri-ced ear-t-hen-wa-re when she co-uld af-ford re-al chi-na?" "No," Su-ze sa-id. "I don't think abo-ut dis-hes much." "Think abo-ut it now," Nell sa-id. "Fran-cis-can De-sert Ro-se." "Ten mil-li-on pi-eces of it," Su-ze sa-id, hor-ri-fi-ed. "Oh, God. Sho-uld we say an-y-t-hing to Mar-gie?" "No, we sho-uld not," Nell sa-id. "I've be-co-me a big fan of co-ping stra-te-gi-es in the past eig-h-te-en months. Le-ave her to her ear-t-hen-wa-re." "I lo-ve this swe-ater," Mar-gie sa-id, co-ming down the sta-irs in one of Su-ze's pink swe-aters af-ter Jase and Lu had go-ne up with the bed fra-me. "Espe-ci-al-ly the co-lor. What are you go-ing to do with all the-se clot-hes? Yo-ur clo-sets are small." "I don't know," Nell sa-id, cle-arly gra-te-ful for the chan-ge of su-bj-ect. "Ta-ke the ones I want right now and put the rest in sto-ra-ge, I gu-ess." "In my ba-se-ment," Mar-gie sa-id. "Be-ca-use I li-ke trying on this stuff. In the su-its, I'm you, and in the swe-aters, I'm Su-ze." She so-un-ded wis-t-ful, so Su-ze sa-id, "Ta-ke my ex-t-ra stuff, too. Then we'll ha-ve a slum-ber party at yo-ur pla-ce and be each ot-her for a night." "Go-od idea, now how abo-ut cof-fee?" Nell sa-id, her vo-ice perky as all hell. Fe-eling gu-ilty, Su-ze tho-ught and for-ga-ve her. So-me-body knoc-ked on the do-or, and Su-ze went to get it as Mar-gie sa-id, "Yes, ple-ase. Whe-re's my pur-se? My ther-mos is in the-re." Soy milk, Su-ze tho-ught. Per-so-nal-ly, I co-uld use a Scotch. Then she ope-ned the do-or and saw Ri-ley McKen-na, big-ger and blon-der than she'd re-mem-be-red him, gaw-king at her in dis-be-li-ef, and tho-ught, Ma-ke that a do-ub-le. "You are kid-ding me," he sa-id. "How the hell did you get he-re?" "I dro-ve," Su-ze sa-id. "What's yo-ur prob-lem?" "An old fri-end used to li-ve he-re," he sa-id. "I stop-ped by to see if she was in." "If yo-ur old fri-end is Nell, she's un-pac-king." Su-ze step-ped back. "Co-me on in and say hi." "Nell ren-ted this pla-ce?" Ri-ley sho-ok his he-ad as he ca-me in. "So-me-body el-se li-ved he-re two days ago." "Well, pe-op-le chan-ge," Su-ze sa-id, and shut the do-or, wat-c-hing him na-vi-ga-te the bo-xes in the li-ving ro-om to get to Nell. From the back he lo-oked li-ke a blond Ro-bert Mit-c-hum. From the front,

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of co-ur-se, he was Bab-y-fa-ce Nel-son, but he lo-oked very no-ir from the back, bro-ad and hul-king and sort of me-na-cing. Not so-me-body you'd want to me-et in a dark al-ley. May-be. He sat and tal-ked and la-ug-hed with them, flir-ting with Nell and ma-king Mar-gie blush, and Su-ze felt al-most sorry for Bud-ge when he ca-me to ta-ke Mar-gie away. Bud-ge was warm to Su-ze, po-li-te to Ri-ley, and chilly to Nell who had cor-rup-ted Mar-gie by get-ting her the job at The Cup, but all the whi-le his eyes went from Mar-gie to Ri-ley and back aga-in, as if he knew that Ri-ley had mo-re than an ex-t-ra fi-ve in-c-hes in he-ight and ten fe-wer ye-ars on him. "We ha-ve to get you ho-me," he fi-nal-ly sa-id to Mar-gie, and they lo-aded the ex-t-ra bo-xes of clot-hes in Bud-ge's sta-ti-on wa-gon. Then Mar-gie left, lo-oking wis-t-ful-ly back over her sho-ul-der as Bud-ge held the do-or open for her, li-ke a fo-ot-man in-s-te-ad of a lo-ver. He's Pruf-rock, Su-ze tho-ught, af-ra-id to for-ce the mo-ment and his fu-tu-re be-ca-use he knew Mar-gie wo-uld say, "That's not what I want at all." La-ter that eve-ning, when Su-ze got ho-me, she told a sus-pi-ci-o-us Jack abo-ut the un-pac-king, abo-ut the tho-ro-ugh cle-aning that Nell was go-ing to gi-ve the pla-ce be-fo-re they met to un-pack the rest of her stuff on Tu-es-day, abo-ut Mar-gie and the pla-te, abo-ut Mar-le-ne on the che-nil-le throw, abo-ut the mar-ve-lo-us stir-fry Nell ma-de and then ate half of by her-self, but she didn't men-ti-on Ri-ley. Jack just didn't ap-pre-ci-ate no-ir the way she did. Whi-le Su-ze was gi-ving Jack the ab-rid-ged ver-si-on of the eve-ning, Mar-le-ne lo-un-ged at the fo-ot of Su-ze's se-cond gu-est bed, nes-t-led in Nell's che-nil-le throw, evi-dently re-co-ve-red from the mo-ve. "J-ust lo-ok at all this ro-om you ha-ve to run in," Nell sa-id, trying to dis-t-ract her-self from her gu-ilt over Mar-gie. Then she re-mem-be-red that Mar-le-ne didn't run. She sank back in-to her pil-lows and wat-c-hed the dog stretch and wrig-gle de-eper in-to the che-nil-le. Nell had got-ten used to thin-king of her as a small, badly ra-ised, ma-ni-pu-la-ti-ve child, but Mar-le-ne was an ani-mal, to-oth and claw down the-re in the che-nil-le, and her an-ces-tors had on-ce ro-amed free. May-be I sho-uld ta-ke her to the park, Nell tho-ught, let her re-dis-co-ver her wild si-de. Mar-le-ne ca-ught Nell wat-c-hing her and be-gan to flut-ter her eyes. Nell sho-ok her he-ad. The only pla-ce any an-ces-tor of Mar-le-ne's had ro-amed free was Can-yon Ranch. Mar-le-ne rol-led her he-ad back and mo-aned a lit-tle. "Bis-cu-it?" Nell sa-id flatly. Mar-le-ne mo-aned lo-uder. Nell got up and went down to the kit-c-hen, jum-ping a lit-tle when she he-ard a knock on the do-or. She stuck Mar-le-ne's bis-cu-it in her pa-j-ama poc-ket and went to lo-ok thro-ugh the la-ce cur-ta-in Su-ze had rig-ged up over the win-dow. Ga-be was stan-ding the-re, tall and dark in the night, and she felt a chill go down her spi-ne just lo-oking at him. As chills went, it was fa-irly warm. Don't be stu-pid, Nell, she told her-self and ope-ned the do-or. "Hi. You lost?" "Ho-use-war-ming gift," he sa-id, han-ding her a bot-tle of Glen-li-vet. "Ri-ley sa-id you'd ta-ken over this pla-ce." She sto-od back so he co-uld co-me in, be-la-tedly awa-re she was we-aring an-ci-ent flan-nel pa-j-amas co-ve-red with Eeyo-res that Jase had gi-ven her for Chris-t-mas when he was ten. "Cu-te pa-j-amas," he sa-id. "Had them long?" "I sup-po-se you want a drink of this," Nell sa-id and went to get glas-ses. "What I re-al-ly want is you tel-ling me Lynnie left a lot of stuff be-hind," Ga-be sa-id, fol-lo-wing her out to the kit-c-hen. "Ri-ley went thro-ugh her trash on Fri-day night and the-re wasn't a damn thing in it for us, and then to-day we find out she mo-ved. I think God owes me so-met-hing go-od on this ca-se." He stop-ped as she tur-ned aro-und with the glas-ses in her hands. "What?" she sa-id, trying to fat-hom the lo-ok on his fa-ce. He sho-ok his he-ad and to-ok one of the glas-ses, lo-oking go-od in the mid-dle of her kit-c-hen, li-ke he be-lon-ged the-re. May-be it was be-ca-use the dup-lex had a pe-ri-od lo-ok to it. The whi-te

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ca-bi-nets we-re for-ti-es, and so we-re the black and whi-te squ-ares of li-no-le-um, the sa-me pe-ri-od as Ga-be's of-fi-ce with all that World War II fur-ni-tu-re. He even lo-oked a lit-tle li-ke a for-ti-es mo-vie star, she tho-ught; he had that Wil-li-am Po-well thing go-ing for him, only tal-ler and bro-ader and ed-gi-er and wit-ho-ut the mus-tac-he. "So you didn't find an-y-t-hing he-re when you mo-ved in?" Ga-be sa-id, and she bro-ught her-self back to 2000. "I'm not in all the way yet," Nell sa-id. "But the-re wasn't an-y-t-hing in any of the dra-wers or cup-bo-ards we've ope-ned so far." Ga-be lif-ted his glass to her. "Che-ers." He drank so-me of his Scotch and then le-aned aga-inst the dra-in-bo-ard, smi-ling at her, and af-ter a mi-nu-te she sa-id, "Knock it off, I'm not fal-ling for that an-y-mo-re." "What?" "Tho-se long si-len-ces you lay on pe-op-le so they'll fill them and in-c-ri-mi-na-te them-sel-ves." Ga-be grin-ned at her. "Anything in par-ti-cu-lar you want to co-me cle-an abo-ut?" She tho-ught, Mar-gie, and felt li-ke hell aga-in. "Spill it," he sa-id. "I'm mad at you," she sa-id. "I as-ked Mar-gie abo-ut her mom to-day, and it was aw-ful. I won't do that aga-in." She went back in-to the li-ving ro-om to sit down on the day-bed and drink her Scotch. He fol-lo-wed her out and pul-led a cha-ir aro-und to fa-ce her. "Gi-ve it up." She told him ever-y-t-hing whi-le he drank his Scotch, and when she was fi-nis-hed, she sa-id, "I fe-el li-ke hell. You sho-uld ha-ve se-en the lo-ok on Su-ze's fa-ce when I as-ked Mar-gie abo-ut her mom's dis-hes." "He-le-na was dres-sed up and she had her go-od jewelry on," Ga-be sa-id. Nell nod-ded. "She re-al-ly did kill her-self." Ga-be sig-hed and sat back, and she scow-led at him. "You so-und re-li-eved." "I am. I was af-ra-id she'd be-en mur-de-red." "Mur-de-red?" Nell sa-id. "What's go-ing on?" "That car tit-le was da-ted two we-eks af-ter Mar-gie's mom di-ed. And the-re's no re-cord of any ca-se that my dad was wor-king on for Tre-vor at that ti-me, plus he wo-uld ha-ve bil-led him for an-y-t-hing stra-ight." "Oh," Nell sa-id. Ga-be nod-ded. "We still don't know why Tre-vor han-ded over the car, but at le-ast it wasn't to help him co-ver up a mur-der." Nell tho-ught abo-ut it. "And you think this is all con-nec-ted to the blac-k-ma-il at OD. And to Lynnie." "That's one gu-ess." Nell sig-hed. "I wo-uldn't ha-ve yo-ur job for an-y-t-hing. No won-der you've be-en in such a lo-usy mo-od all we-ek." "Hey," Ga-be sa-id. "I think I've be-en very open-min-ded, con-si-de-ring yo-ur track re-cord." "You've be-en a bas-tard," Nell sa-id. "But you're right, I de-ser-ved it." "No, you didn't. You're right. I've be-en in a lo-usy mo-od." "So what are you li-ke when you're not in a lo-usy mo-od?" Nell sa-id, set-tling back to sip her drink. "Pretty much the sa-me," Ga-be sa-id. "My way or the hig-h-way." "That stung, did it?" Nell sho-ok her he-ad, re-mem-be-ring. "She was so-met-hing el-se. You know, at the bank, when she of-fe-red me that par-t-ner-s-hip, I al-most wan-ted to ta-ke it. She was re-al-ly se-duc-ti-ve. She kept sa-ying if we wor-ked to-get-her we co-uld re-al-ly do so-me da-ma-ge." "You told me," Ga-be sa-id. "It was my le-ast fa-vo-ri-te part." "The thing is, I li-ked her," Nell sa-id, re-mem-be-ring Lynnie's sharp fa-ce and vib-ra-ting energy. "I knew I sho-uldn't, but I re-al-ly did. She was so ali-ve. She didn't let any guy get her down. I wan-ted to be li-ke her."

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"May I just say thank you for the rest of my gen-der for not jo-ining her? Talk abo-ut a nig-h-t-ma-re." He tos-sed back the rest of his Scotch as she frow-ned at him. "Oh, thank you very much. Co-uld you ple-ase re-mem-ber I'm on yo-ur si-de?" She lo-oked at him, squ-ared for bat-tle, and met his eyes. They we-ren't hos-ti-le. "I not only re-mem-ber," he sa-id, "I'm co-un-ting on it." After a long mo-ment du-ring which she tri-ed to re-mem-ber what they'd be-en tal-king abo-ut, he put his glass on the flo-or and sto-od, sa-ying, "I'm ke-eping you up." She fol-lo-wed him to the do-or, and he tur-ned back when she ope-ned it for him. "Just a sug-ges-ti-on, but you might not want to open the do-or to stran-gers in yo-ur pa-j-amas." "I knew it was you," Nell sa-id. "And the-se things co-ver ever-y-t-hing I've got. Big de-al." Ga-be sho-ok his he-ad and went out in-to the night, and Nell loc-ked the do-or be-hind him and went back up-s-ta-irs to crawl in-to bed with Mar-le-ne. Mar-le-ne lo-oked at her with uni-ma-gi-nab-le pa-in in her eyes. "Oh, right, I owe you a bis-cu-it." She fis-hed it out of her poc-ket and held it out to the dog. Mar-le-ne's eyes we-re half-lid-ded and she lo-oked as tho-ugh she we-re on her last bre-ath. "I'm sorry it to-ok so long," Nell sa-id, still hol-ding out the bis-cu-it. "The boss sho-wed up. Lo-oking pretty damn go-od, I might add. And he-re I am in old pa-j-amas. He com-p-la-ined. May-be I sho-uld get so-me new ones. Snaz-zi-er ones." Mar-le-ne's half lids be-gan to lo-ok mo-re li-ke con-tempt than de-ath. "You're right," Nell sa-id. "What are the chan-ces he'll ever stop by af-ter bed-ti-me aga-in?" She stret-c-hed far-t-her to gi-ve the dog the bis-cu-it, and Mar-le-ne tur-ned her he-ad away, over-co-me. "Ta-ke it or lo-se it," Nell sa-id, and Mar-le-ne to-ok it gently and lay on her back, sta-ring wo-eful-ly in-to spa-ce. "Chew," Nell sa-id, and Mar-le-ne ga-ve up and rol-led over and scar-fed the bis-cu-it down. Then she sig-hed and snug-gled down in-to the che-nil-le, and Nell sco-oted over and pat-ted the bed next to her. "Co-me he-re, baby." Mar-le-ne pic-ked up her long no-se, con-si-de-red the spot, and lay back down aga-in. "Oh, thanks," Nell sa-id, and pul-led the che-nil-le throw up far-t-her on the bed, next to her. Mar-le-ne sig-hed and stag-ge-red to her fe-et, drag-ging her long body up the bed to flop on top of the che-nil-le aga-inst Nell's sto-mach. "The-re," Nell sa-id, scrat-c-hing her be-hind the ear as she snug-gled down next to her. "Isn't that bet-ter?" Mar-le-ne yaw-ned, but she didn't flut-ter, so Nell to-ok it as as-sent. "We're pro-ud, in-de-pen-dent wo-men, Mar-le-ne," Nell sa-id, trying not to think of Ga-be stan-ding dan-ge-ro-us in the dark. "We don't ne-ed men." Mar-le-ne lo-oked at her with de-fi-ni-te con-tempt and then bu-ri-ed her fa-ce in the che-nil-le and went to sle-ep. Chapter Six "Thank you," Ga-be sa-id when Nell bro-ught in a pac-ka-ge the next mor-ning. She was we-aring a bright blue swe-ater and a short navy skirt, not-hing li-ke the slim gray su-its she'd be-en spor-ting sin-ce he'd hi-red her, and not much li-ke the tis-sue-thin flan-nel pa-j-amas she'd had on the night be-fo-re, eit-her. He was ne-ver go-ing to be ab-le to lo-ok at an Eeyo-re with in-no-cent eyes aga-in. And now the-re was this new out-fit to con-tend with: The blue swe-ater ma-de her ha-ir se-em even brig-h-ter, and the short skirt sho-wed a lot of her legs, which we-re ter-ri-fic. "A guy just drop-ped this off," Nell sa-id, and he stop-ped lo-oking at her legs to ta-ke the pac-ka-ge. "Tell Ri-ley this ca-me," he sa-id as he ope-ned it. "What is it?" "Po-li-ce re-port on He-le-na Ogil-vie's su-ici-de." "Oh," Nell sa-id and went to get Ri-ley. An ho-ur la-ter, he lo-oked at Ri-ley and sa-id, "It's not tight."

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Ri-ley ra-ised his eyeb-rows. "She got dres-sed up. Mar-gie was on the pho-ne with Tre-vor when she shot her-self. The gun had be-en in the ho-use for ye-ars. She left a no-te, for Christ's sa-ke." Ga-be sho-ok his he-ad, wan-ting it to be a su-ici-de and less su-re than ever be-fo-re. "I don't li-ke the co-in-ci-den-ce that Tre-vor was on the pho-ne when she pul-led the trig-ger. I don't li-ke any co-in-ci-den-ces, but that one in par-ti-cu-lar stinks." "Not ne-ces-sa-rily," Ri-ley sa-id. "Mar-gie was tel-ling him that He-le-na was ac-ting stran-gely. He told Mar-gie to ta-ke her to a hos-pi-tal. That's lo-gi-cal." "He ma-de the call," Ga-be sa-id. "At exactly the right ti-me." "May-be He-le-na he-ard them on the pho-ne and de-ci-ded she wasn't go-ing to a hos-pi-tal. May-be she fi-gu-red if Mar-gie was on the pho-ne, she'd ha-ve help when she he-ard the shot." Ga-be pul-led the pho-tos back from Ri-ley's si-de of the desk. They we-re hard to lo-ok at, not be-ca-use of any go-re, which was mi-ni-mal, but be-ca-use He-le-na Ogil-vie was so pat-he-tic, a small, chubby wo-man dres-sed in a go-od silk su-it who sho-uld ha-ve be-en at a gar-den show or a brid-ge ga-me and not spraw-led de-ad in her ga-ra-ge, her di-amond-en-c-rus-ted hands spla-yed on old oil spots. "I don't think the cop who did this re-port tho-ught it was a su-ici-de, eit-her," he sa-id. "Lo-ok at all the-se pho-tos. Lo-ok at all the in-ter-vi-ews he did. Jack Dysart, for Christ's sa-ke. He was lo-oking for so-met-hing." "And he didn't find it," Ri-ley sa-id. "I vo-te for su-ici-de." "I want a se-cond opi-ni-on," Ga-be sa-id and buz-zed Nell. "I'm not as-king Mar-gie an-y-t-hing el-se," she sa-id when she ca-me in. "Co-me he-re," Ga-be sa-id. "Lo-ok at this." Nell ca-me aro-und to his si-de of the desk and lo-oked over his sho-ul-der and to-ok a step back. "Oh, no." She tur-ned away, and he sa-id, "Stop be-ing such a baby." "Don't spring stuff li-ke that on me," Nell sa-id. "Warn me." "This is He-le-na Ogil-vie," Ga-be sa-id pa-ti-ently. "I gu-es-sed that," Nell sa-id. "The ho-le in her he-ad was a de-ad gi-ve-away." "She wro-te three su-ici-de no-tes, threw two in-to her was-te-bas-ket, got dres-sed in her best su-it, went dow-n-s-ta-irs, smas-hed so-me chi-na, tal-ked to her da-ug-h-ter, went out in-to her ga-ra-ge and shot her-self," Ga-be sa-id. "What's wrong with that story?" "I'd ne-ver kill myself if Jase was the-re," Nell sa-id promptly. "You don't do that to yo-ur kids." "Pe-op-le do," Ri-ley sa-id. "Plus, she was cle-arly nuts. That chi-na bit?" "No, I un-der-s-tand the chi-na bit," Nell sa-id. "That wasn't crazy. Get-ting dres-sed up so-unds crazy." "No," Ri-ley sa-id. "Su-ici-des li-ke to lo-ok ni-ce." "That's it?" Ga-be sa-id to Nell, fe-eling let down. "She wo-uldn't ha-ve kil-led her-self in front of Mar-gie? That's all you've got for me?" Nell lo-oked at him with exas-pe-ra-ti-on, which was un-der-s-tan-dab-le. "Lo-ok, I didn't even know this wo-man." She pus-hed the pho-tos away. "And I'm not go-ing to get to know her from the-se. From what I ha-ve gat-he-red, she wasn't very bright, but she was ni-ce, and she just co-uldn't co-pe af-ter Tre-vor left her, and I can un-der-s-tand that, too." She lo-oked back at the pho-tos, cle-arly mi-se-rab-le, and Ga-be felt a pang of gu-ilt. "Okay," he sa-id. "Sorry. You can go." He sho-ok his he-ad at Ri-ley. "So Tre-vor didn't gi-ve Dad the car to co-ver up a mur-der. We sho-uld ce-leb-ra-te." "I can see you're thril-led." Ri-ley le-aned for-ward and pic-ked up one of the pho-tos. "Okay, if you're that une-asy, let's do this aga-in. What in all of this mess do-esn't so-und right? No mat-ter how lo-ony." "Kil-ling her-self in the ga-ra-ge in a silk su-it?" Ga-be sa-id. "I can't get tho-se oil sta-ins on the ga-ra-ge flo-or out of my mind." He spre-ad the pho-tos out on the desk. "She co-uld ha-ve go-ne up-s-ta-irs and loc-ked her-self in the bat-h-ro-om. Why kill yo-ur-self in a ga-ra-ge?" "May-be she didn't want to get the bat-h-ro-om messy," Nell sa-id, win-cing as she lo-oked at the pho-tos. "May-be-"

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"You've got to do bet-ter than that," Ri-ley sa-id to Ga-be. "Su-ici-des do stran-ge things. Hell, she was sho-oting her-self in the he-ad. What did she ca-re if her su-it got dirty?" "It's such a cold pla-ce to kill yo-ur-self," Ga-be sa-id. '"And-" He stop-ped, awa-re that Nell was sta-ring at one =f the pic-tu-res, a clo-se-up of the entry wo-und. "Don't lo-ok t that one." He shif-ted the pic-tu-res, trying to find one From far-t-her away, but Nell pic-ked up the clo-se-up. "Whe-re are her ear-rings?" she sa-id. "What?" Ga-be to-ok the pho-to from her. "She's not we-aring ear-rings. If she was dres-sed up, she wo-uld ha-ve had ear-rings on." Nell swal-lo-wed. "Mar-gie sa-id her mom put on her best jewelry." "Di-amond rings," Ga-be sa-id. "She had them on both hands." He shuf-fled thro-ugh the pho-tos to find the ones of He-le-na's hands. "Three rings," he sa-id, sho-wing the pic-tu-res to Nell. "Her wed-ding and en-ga-ge-ment rings on her left hand, and this ring with di-amonds in a cir-c-le on it on her right." Nell sho-ok her he-ad. "Not eno-ugh. She'd ha-ve had ear-rings on." She shuf-fled thro-ugh the pho-tos un-til she fo-und one ta-ken from far-t-her away. "And I wo-uld bet the-re was a nec-k-la-ce, too, and may-be a bra-ce-let or a bro-och. The-re, see? She's we-aring a di-amond cir-c-le pin. But no ear-rings. She wo-uldn't ha-ve dres-sed up and not put ear-rings in." "That ring is we-ird," Ri-ley sa-id, and they both lo-oked at him, and he po-in-ted to the cir-c-le ring on He-le-na's right hand. "Well, lo-ok at it. It's not a nor-mal set-ting. It's a flat cir-c-le with di-amonds em-bed-ded in it, and the band do-esn't run un-der the cir-c-le. That's not so-met-hing every jewe-ler wo-uld carry." Ga-be le-aned for-ward to lo-ok at the pic-tu-re of He-le-na's right hand, and Nell le-aned to see, too, warm aga-inst his sho-ul-der. The ring was too small for He-le-na's pudgy fin-ger, and her flesh puf-fed up thro-ugh the cen-ter of the di-amond-en-c-rus-ted cir-c-le. "It's ugly," Nell sa-id. "Why wo-uld an-y-body de-sign a ring li-ke that? The cir-c-le pin, su-re, but a ring?" "Part of a set?" Ri-ley sa-id. "To match the pin?" "Ask Mar-gie," Ga-be sa-id to Nell. "No," Nell sa-id. "If that ring was part of a set, the-re are ot-her ways to find out. I'm not up-set-ting her aga-in." Ri-ley sa-id, "May-be she just for-got the ear-rings," but he didn't so-und su-re an-y-mo-re. "May-be." Ga-be ope-ned his desk dra-wer and pul-led out his pho-ne bo-ok. "Ta-ke that pic-tu-re of the ring and hit jewe-lers who ha-ve be-en in bu-si-ness sin-ce be-fo-re 1978," he told Ri-ley as he le-afed thro-ugh the whi-te pa-ges. "Talk to the ol-dest em-p-lo-yee. See if an-y-body re-cog-ni-zes it." He ran his fin-ger down the pa-ge and pic-ked up the pho-ne. "Who are you cal-ling?" Nell sa-id. "Ro-bert Po-well," Ga-be sa-id. "Who?" Ri-ley sa-id. "The cop on the ca-se." Ga-be sa-id, ges-tu-ring to the sig-na-tu-re at the bot-tom of the re-port. "I think we ne-ed to talk." An ho-ur la-ter, whi-le Nell was still trying to get rid of the me-mory of the pic-tu-res, Lu ca-me by the of-fi-ce. "He's in the-re," Nell sa-id. "Don't an-noy him, he's ha-ving a ro-ugh day." "I'm not go-ing to an-noy him," Lu sa-id. "I've de-ci-ded to stay and go to scho-ol." "Re-al-ly?" Nell sat back. "Well, we're all gra-te-ful. What chan-ged yo-ur mind?" "In a way, you did," Lu sa-id, smi-ling at her. "Thank you." "I did?" Lu ope-ned the do-or and went in, and Nell he-ard her say, "Go-od news, Daddy," be-fo-re she clo-sed the do-or. "I didn't do an-y-t-hing," she sa-id to the empty of-fi-ce. She'd met Lu three ti-mes, and she hadn't sa-id much of an-y-t-hing the se-cond or third ti-mes be-ca-use Jase "Oh, no." Don't let it be Jase. They'd da-te, and then Jase wo-uld bre-ak up with her be-ca-use he

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al-ways did, and Lu wo-uld be de-vas-ta-ted be-ca-use what girl wo-uldn't be de-vas-ta-ted at lo-sing Jase, and Ga-be wo-uld… She pic-ked up the pho-ne and di-aled Jase's apar-t-ment and got his mac-hi-ne. "This is yo-ur mot-her," she sa-id. "If you're da-ting Lu McKen-na, stop it right now. I'm not kid-ding." She star-ted to hang up, and then ad-ded, "I lo-ve you." Then she ban-ged the re-ce-iver down. Lu ca-me out of the of-fi-ce, smi-ling. She nod-ded at Nell and whis-pe-red, "He's re-al-ly happy. Ask him for so-met-hing." "Tell me this is not abo-ut Jase," Nell whis-pe-red back. Lu's smi-le wi-de-ned. "I don't ne-ed to go to Euro-pe. I ha-ve all the ex-ci-te-ment I ne-ed right he-re. Re-al-ly, you did an ex-cel-lent job ra-ising that man." "Boy," Nell sa-id. "He's a boy. You're chil-d-ren." Lu sho-ok her he-ad. "Pa-rents," she sa-id, and went out the do-or with a bac-k-ward wa-ve of her hand. "Oh, God," Nell sa-id. "What's wrong?" Ga-be sa-id, and Nell jum-ped a fo-ot in her cha-ir. "Don't do that," she sa-id, clut-c-hing the desk. "I just wan-ted to say thanks," he sa-id, lo-oking at her, mysti-fi-ed. "Lu sa-id you're res-pon-sib-le for her chan-ging her mind abo-ut Euro-pe." "Not true," Nell sa-id. "Abso-lu-tely not. I had not-hing to do with it." "Okay," Ga-be sa-id. "What's this abo-ut?" "Not-hing." Nell tur-ned back to her com-pu-ter. "I'm just typing he-re. Go back to work." "Lo-ok, I'm gra-te-ful you tal-ked Lu out of Euro-pe." "I didn't," Nell sa-id, ke-eping her back to him. "Not me. Go away now, I ha-ve to work." "So-oner or la-ter, you'll tell me," Ga-be sa-id. Over my son's de-ad body, Nell tho-ught. "Okay, fi-ne, be that way." He tur-ned to go back in-to his of-fi-ce. "Oh. I've got an ap-po-in-t-ment at ni-ne to-mor-row mor-ning with Ro-bert Po-well." "Got it," Nell sa-id, ope-ning the ap-po-in-t-ment fi-le. She con-cen-t-ra-ted on work the rest of the day, trying to ig-no-re Jase and He-le-na lur-king in the back of her mind. By the ti-me she got ho-me to Mar-le-ne, she was so un-set-tled that she sat on the day-bed with the dog in her lap and just cud-dled her un-til she felt bet-ter. Re-al-ly, she didn't see how pe-op-le got thro-ugh the day wit-ho-ut a dog. She spa-red one gu-ilty tho-ught to Far-n-s-worth, get-ting thro-ugh his days wit-ho-ut Mar-le-ne, and then de-ci-ded she was be-ing over-sen-si-ti-ve. He'd cal-led her a lit-tle bitch; cle-arly he didn't lo-ve her. Mar-le-ne mo-aned in Nell's lap, and Nell sa-id, "Ye-ah, that's the kind of day I had, too. Bis-cu-it?" A lit-tle la-ter when Nell was chop-ping pep-pers on her dra-in-bo-ard for din-ner and eating half of what she chop-ped, Jase cal-led. "I ha-ve this re-al-ly we-ird mes-sa-ge from you on my mac-hi-ne," he sa-id. "Are you on me-di-ca-ti-on or so-met-hing?" "No, but I will be if you don't stay away from Lu McKen-na," Nell sa-id. "I'm not kid-ding. Her fat-her is no-body to mess with. That man has guns re-gis-te-red in his na-me." "Mom," Jase sa-id. "Chill. This is bet-we-en me and Lu." "Un-til her fat-her finds out. Then it's you and the emer-gency ro-om." "Well, then, don't tell him," Jase sa-id, com-p-le-tely un-fa-zed. "You worry too much." "I ha-ve things to worry abo-ut," she told him, but when she'd hung up, she lo-oked aro-und her che-er-ful kit-c-hen and tho-ught, May-be not. May-be the bad ti-mes we-re over. She'd sur-vi-ved her first we-ek at work, she had a new pla-ce to li-ve, things co-uld only get bet-ter. May-be Lynnie was in a bet-ter pla-ce, too. May-be she'd blac-k-ma-iled Tre-vor Ogil-vie and was now li-ving the go-od li-fe. Nell had no reg-rets abo-ut Tre-vor Ogil-vie lo-sing mo-ney to Lynnie. He was the one who'd dri-ven Mar-gie's mot-her to su-ici-de. The hell with him. She and Mar-le-ne rec-li-ned on the day-bed and ate sa-lad and dog bis-cu-its, crun-c-hing to-get-her

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com-pa-ni-onably, and then they went up-s-ta-irs to Su-ze's bed, Nell car-rying Mar-le-ne's che-nil-le throw. She chan-ged in-to the pla-in blue silk pa-j-amas that Su-ze had gi-ven her for her bir-t-h-day"Whe-re's the black la-ce in my li-fe, Mar-le-ne, that's what I want to know"-and then clim-bed in-to bed and re-ad un-til they both fell as-le-ep. Nell wo-ke up se-ve-ral ho-urs la-ter to a pit-ch-black bed-ro-om and a stran-ge so-und in her bed. It to-ok her a mo-ment to fum-b-le thro-ugh her sle-ep and fi-gu-re out the no-ise, but then she wo-ke up com-p-le-tely. Mar-le-ne was grow-ling. It was a we-ird lit-tle growl, which was par for Mar-le-ne, a sort of whiny purr with me-na-ce, but the-re was not-hing we-ird abo-ut the way Mar-le-ne cro-uc-hed on the bed in the mo-on-light. It was the first ti-me Nell had se-en her lo-oking li-ke pu-re, unaf-fec-ted ca-ni-ne. "What?" she whis-pe-red to the dog, and Mar-le-ne cro-uc-hed lo-wer and grow-led de-eper. Nell sat very still and lis-te-ned and at last he-ard what Mar-le-ne had he-ard, a fa-int shuf-fle from the flo-or be-low, so fa-int she lis-te-ned lon-ger just to ma-ke su-re as her skin went cold. The-re was so-me-body dow-n-s-ta-irs, ope-ning dra-wers and clo-sing ca-bi-net do-ors. "Shhh," she sa-id to Mar-le-ne and eased up the pho-ne. She hit 911, win-cing at the to-nes in her ear, and when the dis-pat-c-her pic-ked up the pho-ne, she whis-pe-red, "The-re's so-me-body in my kit-c-hen." When she'd whis-pe-red ever-y-t-hing she knew in-to the pho-ne, the dis-pat-c-her told her to stay on the li-ne, and she sat in her wel-ter of co-vers, her hand on the still-ten-se Mar-le-ne, pra-ying who-ever it was wo-uld stay dow-n-s-ta-irs un-til the po-li-ce ca-me or he fo-und wha-te-ver he was lo-oking for She sat up a lit-tle stra-ig-h-ter. What was he lo-oking for? She didn't even ha-ve a TV or a ste-reo. Su-rely by now any bur-g-lar wo-uld ha-ve ta-ken one lo-ok at her de-arth of elec-t-ro-nics and de-ci-ded she was a bad risk. Un-less the bur-g-lar wasn't a bur-g-lar. Un-less… She dis-con-nec-ted from the 911 li-ne and pun-c-hed in the spe-ed-di-al co-de for the of-fi-ce. She was pretty su-re it was the sa-me pho-ne Ga-be had up-s-ta-irs. "What?" Ga-be sa-id on the third ring, so-un-ding half as-le-ep and mad as hell. "The-re's so-me-body he-re," she whis-pe-red in-to the pho-ne. "What?" he sa-id aga-in. "This is Nell," she whis-pe-red. "I know it's you," he snap-ped. "Why are you whis-pe-ring at three A.M.?" "The-re's so-me-body he-re. In the apar-t-ment. Dow-n-s-ta-irs." "J-esus, call 911." "I did," Nell sa-id, exas-pe-ra-ted. "Do you think I'm stu-pid? But I tho-ught sin-ce this was Lynnie's old pla-ce-" Mar-le-ne grow-led aga-in, and Nell stop-ped, put-ting her hand on Mar-le-ne to qu-i-et her so she co-uld lis-ten. So-me-body was on the sta-irs. "What's go-ing on?" Ga-be sa-id. "Damn it, Nell-" "I think he's co-ming up the sta-irs," she whis-pe-red, her vo-ice crac-king. "And I'm re-al-ly sca-red." "Turn the light on," Ga-be sa-id. "Do it now. Warn him you're awa-ke. Is yo-ur bed-ro-om do-or loc-ked?" "It do-esn't ha-ve a lock." "Sho-ve so-met-hing in front of it." "Right," Nell sa-id and put the pho-ne down to push off her co-vers. Her hands we-re sha-king, and as she kic-ked off the last of the blan-kets, she ca-ught her fo-ot in the Mar-le-ne's che-nil-le throw and trip-ped. Mar-le-ne went wild as the pho-ne slid off the bed with a clat-ter, and Nell tri-ed to catch her-self on the bed-si-de tab-le and fell aga-inst the do-or in-s-te-ad, smac-king her he-ad on the do-or-k-nob as she went down, he-aring so-me-body run down the sta-irs at full spe-ed as she fell. "Shhhh," she sa-id to Mar-le-ne who was now in full-fled-ged snarl, flin-ging her-self aga-inst the do-or and scrab-bling at it with her na-ils. Si-rens fil-led the air, and then lights swung ac-ross her wall from the

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stre-et be-low, and Nell he-ard her back do-or slam. She rub-bed her he-ad on-ce and then craw-led back ac-ross the flo-or to the pho-ne. "Ga-be? It's all right, I think. Ga-be?" But he was go-ne. "Thank you for ta-king twenty ye-ars off my li-fe," Ga-be sa-id an ho-ur la-ter when the po-li-ce had go-ne. He was sit-ting in Nell's li-ving ro-om on the day-bed, drin-king Glen-li-vet and trying to get his pul-se un-der a hun-d-red and twenty be-fo-re he yel-led at her for sca-ring the hell out of him. "I tho-ught you'd want to know," Nell sa-id. "Sin-ce it was Lynnie's pla-ce and all." "I'd want to know be-ca-use it's yo-ur pla-ce," Ga-be sa-id. She was in pa-j-amas ma-de of so-me kind of slip-pery bright blue stuff that slid all over her when she mo-ved and ma-de her red ha-ir lo-ok even wil-der, es-pe-ci-al-ly next to the Tec-h-ni-co-lor bump she was spor-ting on her fo-re-he-ad. She was com-p-le-tely un-con-cer-ned abo-ut her pa-j-amas, her bump, or the fact that she'd just had a ne-ar-ra-pe-or-de-ath ex-pe-ri-en-ce, and she sat next to him on the day-bed, pa-le and fi-ne-bo-ned and de-li-ca-te, de-vo-uring who-le-whe-at to-ast with pe-anut but-ter and jam with a sin-g-le-min-ded ap-pe-ti-te that was dis-con-cer-ting. Ga-be to-ok a pi-ece of ice out of his Glen-li-vet and han-ded it to her. "Put that on the lump on yo-ur fo-re-he-ad," he sa-id and drank the rest of the Scotch. She held the ice to her fo-re-he-ad, frow-ning as it be-gan to melt and the wa-ter ran down her arm. "Thank you for cal-ling 911 first," Ga-be sa-id, using a pil-low to mop off her arm. "I'm not stu-pid," Nell sa-id. "Ne-ver tho-ught you we-re," Ga-be sa-id. "Just nuts. Do you think it was Lynnie?" "I don't know," Nell sa-id, and then she tho-ught abo-ut it whi-le she che-wed to-ast, her fa-ce get-ting that in-ten-se lo-ok that usu-al-ly ma-de him ner-vo-us. "No. Who-ever it was sta-yed dow-n-s-ta-irs at first, and then ca-me up. So he was lo-oking for so-met-hing down the-re-" "- and didn't find it. Lynne wo-uld ha-ve known whe-re it was." Ga-be put his glass down. "Co-me on." "Whe-re?" Nell sa-id. "Yo-ur bed-ro-om," he sa-id. "Yo-ur tec-h-ni-que ne-eds work," Nell sa-id and ma-de him wa-it un-til she'd fi-nis-hed the last of her to-ast. He sto-od in-si-de the do-or-way and sta-red at the ro-om. The-re we-re clot-hes and bo-oks tos-sed ever-y-w-he-re, her qu-ilts we-re twis-ted in a he-ap on the mas-si-ve bed that al-most fil-led the ro-om, and in the mid-dle of it all, Mar-le-ne sat on the flo-or on a dark blue nub-by-lo-oking blan-ket and lo-oked ba-le-ful-ly at them. "Ni-ce," Ga-be sa-id, lo-oking aro-und the ro-om. "I'll lo-ok in the re-gis-ter gra-tes. You find the flo-or so we can tap the bo-ards." Two and a half ho-urs la-ter, Ga-be knew the up-s-ta-irs of Nell's apar-t-ment li-ke no ot-her pla-ce on earth, but they hadn't fo-und an-y-t-hing. Nell stret-c-hed in ex-ha-us-ti-on as she got up from the gu-est ro-om flo-or, her pa-j-amas do-ing in-te-res-ting things whi-le she mo-ved, and then she sa-id. "I'd lo-ve to stay and play with you, but I ha-ve to be at work in an ho-ur." "Me, too." Ga-be sat with his back aga-inst the wall, frow-ning at the empty ro-om. "Lucky for me I ha-ve a sec-re-tary who han-d-les the of-fi-ce if I'm la-te." "She might call in ti-red," Nell sa-id. "That might be a go-od idea," Ga-be sa-id. "Let's not le-ave this pla-ce empty un-til we've ta-ken it apart." "What did we just do?" Nell sa-id. "A qu-ick on-ce-over?" "Ri-ley might ha-ve so-me ide-as. He do-esn't miss much. And then the-re's the dow-n-s-ta-irs." He pus-hed him-self off the flo-or and went in-to her bed-ro-om and pic-ked up the pho-ne. He pun-c-hed the num-bers in and frow-ned at her when she ca-me in. She was even pa-ler than usu-al and the bump on her he-ad was tur-ning pur-p-le. "You lo-ok ter-rib-le." "Thank you." Nell sat down on the big bed and flop-ped back aga-inst the pil-lows. "The pa-j-amas are bet-ter than the Eeyo-res," he sa-id. "But yo-ur fo-re-he-ad is a mess." "I was inj-ured in the li-ne of duty," she sa-id, craw-ling un-der the qu-ilts. "I told you to ke-ep ice on that bump," Ga-be sa-id whi-le the pho-ne rang. "You sho-uld-"

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"What?" Ri-ley sa-id, grumpy and half as-le-ep. "It's me. Open the of-fi-ce to-day. Nell's not co-ming in." "I can be in the-re la-ter," Nell sa-id, fig-h-ting sle-ep. "I just-" "And can-cel wha-te-ver plans you ha-ve for to-night. Nell had a bre-ak-in last night and we ne-ed to se-arch this pla-ce." "A bre-ak- in?" Ri-ley sa-id, awa-ke now. "Is she all right?" "She's fi-ne. Just clumsy. All she ne-eds is so-me sle-ep and so-me ice," he sa-id, di-rec-ting the word to her, but she was as-le-ep, her fa-ce se-re-ne for the first ti-me sin-ce he'd met her. She lo-oked pa-le and fra-gi-le and fi-ne, li-ke the wo-man in the Ro-et-h-ke po-em, lo-vely in her bo-nes. "Ga-be?" Ri-ley sa-id. "I'll be in la-ter," he told Ri-ley. He hung up and pul-led her qu-ilt over her, ta-king ca-re not to wa-ke her. Mar-le-ne jum-ped up on the bed and then hung her he-ad over the ed-ge, mo-aning at the blue thing she'd be-en lying on. He pic-ked it up and tos-sed it at the fo-ot of the bed, and she promptly cur-led up on it and do-zed off. "Not much bot-hers you girls, do-es it?" he sa-id and to-ok one last lo-ok at Nell be-fo-re he went dow-n-s-ta-irs. The Po-well re-si-den-ce was a tidy bun-ga-low in Gran-d-vi-ew, a go-od ne-ig-h-bor-ho-od that wasn't ob-no-xi-o-us abo-ut it. Ga-be knoc-ked on the do-or and was sur-p-ri-sed when the man who ope-ned it was yo-un-ger than he was. "Ro-bert Po-well?" he sa-id. "That's my dad," the man sa-id, of-fe-ring his hand. "I'm Scott Po-well. You must be Ga-be McKen-na." He nod-ded to-ward the si-de of the ho-use. "My dad's had an apar-t-ment over the ga-ra-ge sin-ce he re-ti-red. This must be so-me gre-at old ca-se. He's re-al-ly jaz-zed to see you." His dad had a ter-ri-fic apar-t-ment over the ga-ra-ge, Ga-be saw when he went up the sta-irs. Big skylights, thick car-pet, com-for-tab-le fur-ni-tu-re, and eno-ugh elec-t-ro-nics to ri-val Ra-dio Shack. Scott was ob-vi-o-usly ma-king su-re Ro-bert had the best re-ti-re-ment pos-sib-le, and Ro-bert was just as ob-vi-o-usly enj-oying it. "So-me pla-ce, huh?" he sa-id, grin-ning at Ga-be from un-der griz-zled brows. He was bu-ilt li-ke a be-ar, an ol-der ver-si-on of the slim-mer Scott, and Ga-be re-la-xed a lit-tle, li-king them both. "Gre-at pla-ce," he sa-id, ta-king the se-at Ro-bert wa-ved him to. "Thanks for se-e-ing me." Ro-bert sho-ok his he-ad. "My ple-asu-re. You lo-oking in-to the Ogil-vie su-ici-de?" "Not of-fi-ci-al-ly," Ga-be sa-id. "I ha-ve a per-so-nal in-te-rest." Ro-bert nod-ded. "You re-la-ted to He-le-na?" "No," Ga-be sa-id, and to-ok a de-ep bre-ath. "Was it a su-ici-de?" "No," Ro-bert sa-id, and Ga-be sat back. "I'm not sa-ying she wasn't thin-king abo-ut it," Ro-bert went on. "I'm not sa-ying she might not ha-ve do-ne it an-y-way. But she didn't sho-ot her-self." "Why?" Ga-be sa-id. "She had pills," Ro-bert sa-id. "A lot of them. She'd be-en sa-ving them for al-most two months, tel-ling her doc-tor she ne-eded tranqs and sle-eping pills and fil-ling the pres-c-rip-ti-ons." "Not con-c-lu-si-ve," Scott sa-id from whe-re he le-aned aga-inst the wall. "My boy's on the for-ce, too," Ro-bert sa-id pro-udly, and Ga-be felt a throb of je-alo-usy that Scott still had his dad, had him li-ving clo-se, co-uld see him whe-ne-ver he wan-ted, watch the ga-me with him on the wi-de-sc-re-en TV, kick back with him and ha-ve a be-er. Ro-bert lo-oked up at Scott and sa-id, "The-re's mo-re, hot-s-hot." He lo-oked over at Ga-be. "She wro-te three su-ici-de no-tes, prac-ti-cing." "Two of them we-re in the was-te-bas-ket," Ga-be sa-id, re-mem-be-ring the po-li-ce re-port. "Ye-ah, but they we-re all drafts," Ro-bert sa-id. "They had words mar-ked out, smud-ges. And she had go-od sta-ti-onery on the desk in that ro-om. She hadn't writ-ten the fi-nal one yet." "Still not con-c-lu-si-ve," Scott sa-id, but he was lo-oking a lot mo-re in-te-res-ted. "Then the-re we-re her ear-rings," Ro-bert sa-id. "She was all dres-sed up, but she wasn't we-aring any."

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"We no-ti-ced that, too," Ga-be sa-id. "You didn't hap-pen to get a list of the pi-eces in the set, did you? Be-si-des the ring and the pin she was we-aring?" Ro-bert sho-ok his he-ad. "The da-ug-h-ter co-uldn't re-mem-ber all of them, and by the ti-me I'd tal-ked to her, her mot-her was bu-ri-ed we-aring them." "Bu-ri-ed in di-amonds?" Scott sa-id skep-ti-cal-ly. "Big di-amonds," Ro-bert sa-id. "Worth may-be a hun-d-red grand back then. Now…" He shrug-ged. "I did not be-li-eve the hus-band wo-uld put tho-se sto-nes six fo-ot un-der, but I wasn't abo-ut to dig her up to see. By the ti-me I ma-na-ged to get a des-c-rip-ti-on to get to paw-n-s-hops, a we-ek had pas-sed. No-body ever ca-me for-ward and sa-id they'd se-en them. Of co-ur-se, so-me of them wo-uldn't." "You think so-me-body kil-led her and to-ok the jewelry?" Ga-be sa-id. "You think it was a rob-bery?" "No," Ro-bert sa-id. "I think it was a mur-der, and who-ever did it grab-bed the di-amonds as an ex-t-ra. And then I think he was stuck with them be-ca-use they we-re so unu-su-al. All cir-c-les li-ke that? An-y-body wo-uld re-cog-ni-ze tho-se. Un-less he bro-ke the sto-nes out and sold them that way." Scott pic-ked up a di-ning ro-om cha-ir and swung it aro-und to strad-dle it. "Anybody ha-ve a mo-ti-ve?" "She was hol-ding her hus-band up on the di-vor-ce," Ro-bert sa-id. "The dumb bas-tard had a mis-t-ress with a baby on the way, and he wan-ted to marry her. But the wi-fe was hol-ding out for half of his half of his law firm. It wo-uld ha-ve ru-ined the pla-ce and, ac-cor-ding to ever-y-body I tal-ked to, she knew that and didn't ca-re." "So the hus-band," Scott sa-id. "Or the hus-band's par-t-ner," Ro-bert sa-id. "He didn't ha-ve an air-tight ali-bi, and he re-al-ly co-uldn't af-ford to lo-se any in-co-me. He was pa-ying ali-mony to one wi-fe and sup-por-ting an ex-pen-si-ve trophy, too. I tal-ked to her. Not a ni-ce wo-man." He lo-oked at Ga-be. "He still with her?" "J-ack?" Ga-be sho-ok his he-ad. "No. He di-vor-ced Vic-ki abo-ut eight ye-ars la-ter and mar-ri-ed anot-her trophy. He's still with that one." "So now he's pa-ying do-ub-le ali-mony." Ro-bert la-ug-hed. "Dumb bas-tard. He struck me as the type who fi-gu-red that if he wan-ted it, he sho-uld ha-ve it, damn the con-se-qu-en-ces. He was slick abo-ut it, but he had the lo-ok. You know?" Ga-be tho-ught abo-ut Jack. "I know. How abo-ut Tre-vor?" "Tre-vor?" Scott sa-id. "The hus-band," Ro-bert sa-id. "He was on the pho-ne with the da-ug-h-ter. We chec-ked, and he was stan-ding in his law of-fi-ce at the ti-me, sec-re-tary the-re and ever-y-t-hing." "Con-ve-ni-ent," Scott sa-id. "How abo-ut the da-ug-h-ter? Did she in-he-rit an-y-t-hing?" "A ni-ce chunk, not-hing spec-ta-cu-lar," Ro-bert sa-id. "But you can for-get her be-ing in on it. She was a swe-et lit-tle thing. She went to pi-eces when she fo-und her mot-her's body. They had her se-da-ted for a co-up-le of we-eks af-ter-ward, and when they fi-nal-ly to-ok her off the pills, she was still rocky. She didn't do it." "Did she know who did?" Ga-be sa-id. "If she did, she wasn't re-mem-be-ring it," Ro-bert sa-id. "I'd swe-ar she wasn't lying to me, but she wasn't the kind to fa-ce re-ality. At le-ast she wasn't then." Ga-be tho-ught of Mar-gie, pla-ying tea party at The Cup with Chloe. "She still isn't." "She still mar-ri-ed to that son of a bitch?" Ro-bert sa-id. "No," Ga-be sa-id, in-te-res-ted. "Ste-wart was a son of a bitch?" "Ar-ro-gant as-sho-le," Ro-bert sa-id. "Dum-ber than snot. If I co-uld ha-ve pin-ned it on so-me-body, I'd ha-ve pin-ned it on him, but I'd ne-ver ha-ve ma-de it stick. He co-uldn't ha-ve plan-ned a pic-nic, let alo-ne a mur-der." "So who did it?" "I don't know," Ro-bert sa-id. "The-re was not-hing the-re, I me-an, the-re we-re even pow-der

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tra-ces on her hand. My only re-al ho-pe was the di-amonds, and they ne-ver tur-ned up. So the da-ug-h-ter di-vor-ced the cre-ep, did she? Go-od. I li-ked her." "Mar-gie?" Ga-be sa-id. "No. He em-bez-zled clo-se to a mil-li-on from Ogil-vie and Dysart and left, se-ven ye-ars ago." "That dum-bass em-bez-zled?" Ro-bert sa-id. "I don't think so. He co-uldn't ha-ve em-bez-zled from his own chec-king ac-co-unt." "Re-al-ly?" Ga-be sa-id. "That's in-te-res-ting. Be-ca-use OD was su-re it was him." "Not un-less he had help," Ro-bert sa-id. "And he'd ha-ve ne-eded a lot of help. Did he ha-ve an ac-com-p-li-ce?" "Not that we know of," Ga-be sa-id. "OD didn't hi-re us for that one." "You lo-ok in-to it," Ro-bert sa-id. "The-re's gon-na be so-me-body el-se stan-ding be-hind him, tel-ling him what to do." He sat back. "So yo-ur in-te-rest is per-so-nal, huh?" Ga-be tho-ught abo-ut duc-king it, and then sa-id, "My dad was Tre-vor's best fri-end." Ro-bert nod-ded, wa-iting. "I think he knew so-met-hing," Ga-be sa-id. "But he di-ed in '82, so it's go-ne with him." "McKen-na," Ro-bert sa-id. "We didn't qu-es-ti-on an-y-body na-med McKen-na." "I think he might ha-ve be-en cal-led in af-ter the sho-oting," Ga-be sa-id. "I don't know." "May-be you don't want to know," Ro-bert sa-id. "He de-ser-ves bet-ter than that," Ga-be sa-id. "If you don't lo-ok, it's be-ca-use you think he's gu-ilty." "So-met-hing li-ke that," Ga-be sa-id and felt li-ke hell. When Ga-be had than-ked Ro-bert, Scott wal-ked him back to his car. "Lis-ten, if you ne-ed any help, gi-ve me a call." "Thanks," Ga-be sa-id, sur-p-ri-sed. "Hey, if so-met-hing tur-ned up abo-ut my old man, I'd want to know." Ga-be nod-ded back to-ward Ro-bert's apar-t-ment. "He's a gre-at guy." "The best." Scott sto-od back and ga-zed at the Por-s-c-he with envy. "Gre-at car. What ye-ar?" "1977," Ga-be sa-id, and wat-c-hed Scott's eyes nar-row a frac-ti-on. "Ye-ar be-fo-re the su-ici-de. Any con-nec-ti-on?" "Tre-vor sold it to my dad for a dol-lar two we-eks af-ter the sho-oting." Scott whis-t-led. "When'd you find that out?" "A we-ek ago." "Bad we-ek," Scott sa-id as Ga-be got in the car. "And it's not get-ting bet-ter," Ga-be sa-id. That eve-ning, Su-ze hel-ped Nell and Mar-gie fi-nish the un-pac-king, whi-le Ri-ley and Ga-be to-re apart the kit-c-hen. "So what are they lo-oking for aga-in?" Su-ze as-ked Nell. "They're not su-re," Nell sa-id, han-ding her anot-her pi-ece of bub-ble-wrap-ped chi-na to un-ta-pe. "They fi-gu-re they'll know it when they see it." "I think they're ex-ci-ting," Mar-gie sa-id. "De-tec-ti-ves." "Ha," Su-ze sa-id and un-w-rap-ped the chi-na, only to stop and sta-re. It was a small, ro-und whi-te chi-na cup, but it had fe-et, ho-nest-to-God pe-op-le fe-et with blue spot-ted socks and black sho-es. Mar-gie had anot-her, with black stri-ped socks and yel-low sho-es. "What is this stuff?" "Wal-king Wa-re," Nell sa-id. "No-velty chi-na from the se-ven-ti-es. I for-got I had it un-til we had ever-y-t-hing ap-pra-ised, but then when it ca-me ti-me to di-vi-de the chi-na, I co-uldn't part with it." "I've ne-ver se-en an-y-t-hing li-ke it," Mar-gie sa-id over Su-ze's sho-ul-der. "And I was aro-und in the se-ven-ti-es." "It's En-g-lish." Nell un-w-rap-ped anot-her pi-ece, a long-leg-ged su-gar bowl, the spindly legs cros-sed at the kne-es and the fe-et shod in hu-ge yel-low sho-es. "My mom was En-g-lish. We'd go over the-re to spend a co-up-le of we-eks every sum-mer. The-se ma-de me la-ugh, so my aunt and gran-d-mot-her star-ted sen-ding pi-eces to me for bir-t-h-days and Chris-t-ma-ses." Su-ze un-w-rap-ped anot-her lit-tle ro-und cup, this one with lon-ger legs, stret-c-hed out as if they we-re run-ning. "That's cal-led Run-ning Wa-re," Nell sa-id and then lo-oked up star-t-led when so-met-hing thud-ded

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in the kit-c-hen. "Whe-re's Mar-le-ne?" she sa-id, and Mar-le-ne pic-ked up her long, nar-row he-ad on the day-bed and lo-oked to see if fo-od was in-vol-ved. "Just chec-king, baby," Nell sa-id, and Mar-le-ne sig-hed and put her no-se in-to the che-nil-le aga-in. Su-ze put the run-ning cup on the flo-or be-si-de her. It lo-oked as tho-ugh it was co-ve-ring gro-und. "I lo-ve the-se. Do they all lo-ok li-ke this?" "Dif-fe-rent-co-lo-red sho-es and socks," Nell sa-id. "I think I'm go-ing to ha-ve to ke-ep them in the kit-c-hen, as-su-ming I still ha-ve a kit-c-hen when they're fi-nis-hed in the-re." She was un-pac-king a te-apot with stri-ped socks and black Mary Janes. "The hutch is full of Cla-ri-ce and Su-sie." "Do you ha-ve ro-om in the kit-c-hen?" Mar-gie sa-id. Nell frow-ned. "I don't know. May-be if I put up a shelf-" "Chloe has the most dar-ling shel-ves in The Cup," Mar-gie sa-id. "She ed-ged them with the plas-tic stuff that lo-oks li-ke croc-het…" Whi-le Mar-gie bur-b-led on abo-ut the te-as-hop, Su-ze un-pac-ked the rest of the pi-eces, mat-c-hing te-acups to te-apots and su-gar bowls and cre-amers. At the bot-tom of the box, Su-ze fo-und Nell's fa-mily pho-to al-bum and pas-sed it over to her, and Mar-gie to-ok it and be-gan to le-af thro-ugh it as Su-ze li-ned up the run-ning egg cups in a li-ne and la-ug-hed. The-re we-re ni-ne of them, so-me with stri-ped socks and so-me with chec-ked and so-me with dots, all run-ning hel-lbent for le-at-her so-mep-la-ce el-se. "I ha-ve to ha-ve co-pi-es ma-de of all tho-se pic-tu-res," Nell was sa-ying to Mar-gie. "Jase sho-uld ha-ve an al-bum, too." "Whe-re do you get the-se cups?" Su-ze sa-id, bre-aking in-to the con-ver-sa-ti-on. "I want so-me." "En-g-land," Nell sa-id. "Anti-que and se-con-d-hand sto-res mostly. Or e-Bay, the on-li-ne auc-ti-on si-te. They show up the-re pretty of-ten." "How much?" "Pla-in egg cups are abo-ut thirty or forty dol-lars," Nell sa-id. "The run-ning ones co-me a bit hig-her. May-be fifty." "Fifty dol-lars for an egg cup?" Mar-gie sa-id. "I want the-se in my chi-na ca-bi-net," Su-ze sa-id, tra-cing the fat, smo-oth ed-ge of the ne-arest cup. "It's full of butt-ugly Spo-de." "You can ha-ve them," Nell sa-id. "Early bir-t-h-day pre-sent." "No, they're too much," Su-ze sa-id, and tho-ught, If I got a job, I co-uld pay for them myself. In the kit-c-hen, so-met-hing el-se thud-ded. De-tec-ti-ve work. Nell had told her that the McKen-nas co-uld use her as a de-coy, but she'd known Jack wo-uld ha-ve a fit, so she'd sa-id no. But now the-re we-re the-se cups…"Can I buy the-se one at a ti-me? Pay for them as I go?" "Su-re," Nell sa-id, lo-oking a lit-tle ta-ken aback. "Or ta-ke them now and pay me la-ter." "No," Su-ze sa-id. "I want to earn them. One at a ti-me." "The Dysart Spo-de is be-a-uti-ful," Mar-gie sa-id, so-un-ding a lit-tle grumpy. "I don't see why-" "You want it?" Su-ze sa-id. "It's yo-urs." "I ha-ve my De-sert Ro-se," Mar-gie sa-id. "But that be-a-uti-ful blue-" "Ha-ve you ever lo-oked at tho-se pla-tes?" Su-ze pic-ked up the cup with the ma-uve sho-es, and her he-art be-at fas-ter. It had thin blue li-nes aro-und the top of the socks. It was go-ing to lo-ok gre-at run-ning amok among the Spo-de. "They're from a se-ri-es cal-led the Bri-tish Spor-ting Set, and the pic-tu-res on them are aw-ful. The-re's one cal-led 'De-ath of the Be-ar.'" "You're kid-ding," Nell sa-id. "I've be-en eating off it for ye-ars at ho-li-days, but I ne-ver lo-oked at it." "The-re's anot-her one cal-led 'Girl at the Well,' " Su-ze sa-id. "She lo-oks li-ke she's go-ing to throw her-self in. I get very dep-res-sed lo-oking at my chi-na." "The run-ning cups are yo-urs," Nell sa-id. Su-ze put the ma-uve cup down and felt im-me-asu-rably lig-h-ter. She was go-ing to ha-ve to get a job now. She had a fu-tu-re that didn't in-vol-ve go-ing to scho-ol and wa-iting for Jack to get ho-me. She was do-ing so-met-hing.

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"Thank you. I will." She to-ok a de-ep bre-ath. "So Mar-gie, how many days a we-ek is this shop open? Bud-ge is go-ing to go nuts wit-ho-ut you on the we-ekends." "J-ust on Sa-tur-days," Mar-gie sa-id, her fa-ce cle-aring. "And only in the af-ter-no-ons all we-ek. It's a dar-ling job…" Su-ze sta-red at the egg cups whi-le Mar-gie bur-b-led on. They stro-de ac-ross the flo-or, con-fi-dent and su-re. On the mo-ve. "You know, Mar-gie," Nell sa-id, and her vo-ice so-un-ded so odd that Su-ze lo-oked up to watch her. "If you ha-ve a pho-to al-bum, I co-uld ta-ke it in when I ta-ke this one in to get the dup-li-ca-tes. You, too, Su-ze. That way if an-y-t-hing hap-pe-ned, you'd ha-ve a spa-re." Su-ze sta-red at her, and Nell's eyes slid away. She put that al-bum in the bot-tom of the box on pur-po-se, Su-ze tho-ught. "Is it ex-pen-si-ve?" Mar-gie was sa-ying. "I'm sort of bro-ke. Bud-ge says I sho-uld dec-la-re Ste-wart de-ad and col-lect his in-su-ran-ce sin-ce Ste-wart spent all my in-he-ri-tan-ce, but that do-esn't se-em right. I'm not even su-re he's de-ad." Su-ze shif-ted her sur-p-ri-se from Nell to Mar-gie. "You ne-ed mo-ney?" "I don't ne-ed it," Mar-gie sa-id. "Yet. And he co-uld be de-ad. Of co-ur-se, he co-uld not be, too." "The pho-to pla-ce might gi-ve me a de-al if I to-ok two in," Nell sa-id, her vo-ice overly bright. "You co-uld pay me la-ter, li-ke Su-ze. It's no tro-ub-le." "Well, okay," Mar-gie sa-id. "It is a go-od idea. I'll bring it in to work to-mor-row." "Go-od," Nell sa-id, her vo-ice so chirpy it bro-ke. Su-ze tri-ed to catch her eye aga-in, and Nell sa-id, "We sho-uld ha-ve cof-fee," and sto-od up. Su-ze sto-od up to fol-low her, but then Ga-be ca-me out of the kit-c-hen, and she pul-led him asi-de. "Lis-ten," she sa-id as he lo-oked at her, star-t-led. "Nell sa-id on-ce that you might ne-ed so-me help on yo-ur de-coy work. Is the job still open?" "Su-re," he sa-id, a lit-tle wary. "We've got one Thur-s-day night." "Whe-re and when?" Su-ze sa-id. "I'll be the-re." Nell kept an eye on Ga-be and Su-ze from the kit-c-hen do-or-way. If she knew Ga-be, he was pum-ping her for so-met-hing. "Hey," she cal-led out to him and he-ard Su-ze say, "Thank you," be-fo-re Ga-be ca-me over to her, and she drew him in-to the kit-c-hen. "What are you to tal-king to Su-ze abo-ut?" "She was tal-king to me," Ga-be sa-id. "She wants to do de-coy work." "What?" Ri-ley sa-id, from be-hind them. "J-ack's not go-ing to be happy," Nell sa-id. Ga-be shrug-ged. "That's Su-ze's prob-lem." "And mi-ne," Ri-ley sa-id. "I do most of the damn de-coys. Why-" "Ig-no-re him," Ga-be told Nell. "He's frus-t-ra-ted be-ca-use we ha-ve fo-und exactly not-hing. We had high ho-pes for the ba-se-ment, but the do-or to it has be-en na-iled shut sin-ce World War II." "I as-ked abo-ut that," Nell sa-id. "Do-ris li-kes the ba-se-ment to her-self. She ma-kes wre-aths down the-re." "Wre-aths," Ga-be sa-id, as if he wasn't su-re what to do with that. "Okay. You're su-re Lynnie didn't le-ave an-y-t-hing that you threw out?" "If she left an-y-t-hing, Do-ris to-ok it," Nell sa-id. "The pla-ce was empty when I mo-ved in. "Do-ris," Ga-be sa-id and lo-oked at Ri-ley. "Oh, thank you very much, no," he sa-id. "Ma-ke Nell do it. It's her lan-d-lady." "Ask Do-ris what she fo-und," Ga-be sa-id to Nell. "Su-re," Nell sa-id. "And then when she evicts me for sug-ges-ting she sto-le from Lynnie, Mar-le-ne and I will co-me li-ve with you." "Go-od idea," Ga-be sa-id, and he so-un-ded se-ri-o-us. "You sho-uld co-me back with us, just in ca-se yo-ur prow-ler co-mes back to se-arch aga-in. Chloe's pla-ce has locks that'll ke-ep out an-y-body, and she'd lo-ve to ha-ve you." Nell lo-oked aro-und her apar-t-ment. Her apar-t-ment. "I ust mo-ved in. My chi-na's un-pac-ked.

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Re-al-ly, I'm fi-ne." "You'd be sa-fer next do-or to us," Ga-be sa-id. "If an-y-t-hing hap-pe-ned, we co-uld get to you in a mi-nu-te." That did so-und ap-pe-aling, but it wo-uldn't be her pla-ce. "No," she sa-id. "Thank you, but no. We don't even know that the guy who bro-ke in he-re knew I was he-re." "I'd still fe-el bet-ter with you next do-or," Ga-be sa-id, but Nell wo-uldn't go. La-ter that night, when Bud-ge had col-lec-ted a re-luc-tant Mar-gie, when Su-ze had clim-bed in-to her yel-low Be-et-le with a par-ting shot at Ri-ley and a fishy lo-ok at Nell, and when Ga-be had tri-ed one mo-re ti-me to talk her in-to mo-ving to Chloe's and then left, Nell pat-ted Mar-le-ne and sa-id, "Okay, puppy, an-y-body who co-mes thro-ugh that do-or, you go for the thro-at." Mar-le-ne sas-ha-yed her butt de-eper in-to the che-nil-le. "Unless it's Ga-be," Nell sa-id. "He's on our si-de." With her chi-na un-pac-ked and her apar-t-ment li-vab-le and her mid-night in-va-der fo-iled, Nell tur-ned her at-ten-ti-on to the of-fi-ce. Ga-be had be-en gra-te-ful when she'd bro-ught him Mar-gie's pho-to al-bum sin-ce it had se-ve-ral go-od pic-tu-res of He-le-na we-aring her di-amon-ds-ear-rings, nec-k-la-ce, bra-ce-let, bro-och, and ring-and even mo-re gra-te-ful when she star-ted or-ga-ni-zing the fre-ezer full of fi-les. Un-for-tu-na-tely, he wasn't gra-te-ful eno-ugh to gi-ve her a free hand with the of-fi-ce, so she to-ok mat-ters in-to her own hands and pa-in-ted the bat-h-ro-om walls a pa-le do-ve gray with gold trim along the ce-iling. "Very fancy," was all Ga-be sa-id, so she went on, sur-p-ri-sing him one af-ter-no-on when he ca-me back to find her on a lad-der and Su-ze un-der-ne-ath, pa-in-ting the re-cep-ti-on ro-om walls a soft gold. She bra-ced her-self, but all he sa-id was, "If you fall off the lad-der, you're on yo-ur own," and went in-to his of-fi-ce. "Not chatty, is he?" Su-ze sa-id, and Nell sa-id, "He's dep-res-sed abo-ut a ca-se that's not go-ing well." She did her dam-ne-dest to che-er him up, ke-eping his bu-si-ness run-ning se-am-les-sly and his cof-fee cup fil-led, pla-ying De-an Mar-tin and Frank Si-nat-ra in the outer of-fi-ce and swi-ping al-mond co-oki-es from Mar-gie for him in the af-ter-no-on, but he didn't se-em to no-ti-ce, ig-no-ring her if she wor-ked at so-met-hing he as-ked her to do, yel-ling if she chan-ged so-met-hing wit-ho-ut chec-king with him first. "I co-uld dan-ce na-ked for that man on his desk," she told Su-ze at Hal-lo-we-en, "and all he'd say is, 'Damn it, Nell, you're step-ping on the re-ports.' Not that I want to dan-ce na-ked for him. That's just an ex-p-res-si-on." "Try it," Su-ze sa-id, adj-us-ting Mar-le-ne's pum-p-kin cos-tu-me whi-le Mar-le-ne glo-we-red. "The-re, do-esn't she lo-ok cu-te?" Mar-le-ne lo-oked li-ke a ra-bid oran-ge mar-s-h-mal-low pe-anut. "Ga-be lo-oks li-ke that every ti-me I im-p-ro-ve so-met-hing," Nell sa-id. Still, he let her get away with small things, and the pla-ce star-ted lo-oking a lot bet-ter. The only ef-fec-ti-ve op-po-si-ti-on she en-co-un-te-red was from Ri-ley when she mo-ved the ugly bird on the fi-ling ca-bi-net to the ba-se-ment. "This," Ri-ley sa-id when he bro-ught it back, "is the Mal-te-se Fal-con, and it stays." "Oh, ple-ase," she'd sa-id, but when she ap-pe-aled to Ga-be, he sa-id, "Le-ave the bird alo-ne, Ele-anor," so she ga-ve up and it bro-oded over her on-ce aga-in from the fi-ling ca-bi-net. The rest of the agency work went well, the bac-k-g-ro-und checks and ro-uti-ne di-vor-ce work that both Ga-be and Ri-ley did so well that they tur-ned away jobs be-ca-use they co-uldn't han-d-le it all. Even the de-coy work with Su-ze was a suc-cess, al-t-ho-ugh Ri-ley ma-de her we-ar su-its af-ter the first one. "It is just not fa-ir to send that wo-man in-to a bar in a swe-ater," he told Ga-be and Nell. "It's en-t-rap-ment." So the next ti-me Su-ze went out, she wo-re one of Nell's gray su-its, her pa-le ha-ir pul-led back in a chig-non, and, if an-y-t-hing, lo-oked even se-xi-er. "It's that Gra-ce Kelly thing she's got go-ing," Ri-ley sa-id, but all Su-ze sa-id was, "I lo-ve this lo-ok," and Nell ga-ve her all her old su-its, the grays and gra-yed-blu-es and char-co-al blacks that ma-de Su-ze lo-ok li-ke a sop-his-ti-ca-ted and po-ten-ti-al-ly dan-ge-ro-us wo-man in-s-te-ad of a col-le-ge kid. Su-ze sa-id Jack ha-ted them, but she se-emed to fe-el that was a plus, so Nell didn't worry. In re-turn, Nell in-he-ri-ted Su-ze's elec-t-ric war-d-ro-be and wo-ke up every mor-ning to a cho-ice of cas-h-me-re swe-aters and silk T-shirts in every co-lor of the ra-in-bow. Ga-be didn't no-ti-ce that, eit-her.

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Nell al-so wo-ke up every mor-ning to Mar-le-ne who, whi-le still mil-king her tra-uma-tic past for every bis-cu-it she co-uld get, had gi-ven up mo-aning and rol-ling over as a way of li-fe and oc-ca-si-onal-ly even bro-ke in-to a fast trot if fo-od was in-vol-ved. Nell had me-ant to le-ave her in the apar-t-ment whi-le she was at work, but the first day she tri-ed it, Mar-le-ne had com-p-la-ined the en-ti-re day, and Do-ris had not be-en amu-sed, and she was al-re-ady una-mu-sed from Nell's ca-re-ful-ly wor-ded in-qu-iri-es abo-ut any of Lynnie's lef-to-ver stuff. So Mar-le-ne now wal-ked to work with Nell, clad in the tan tren-c-h-co-at Su-ze had bo-ught her, in-ves-ti-ga-ting the six blocks of con-c-re-te and gro-und co-ver bet-we-en the apar-t-ment and the agency with the sa-me pes-si-mis-tic sus-pi-ci-on with which she vi-ewed the world in ge-ne-ral. On-ce at the agency, she sta-yed with Ri-ley if he was in, flut-te-ring her eye-las-hes at him whi-le he fed her dog bis-cu-its and scrat-c-hed her sto-mach with his fo-ot. "Wo-men," Ri-ley wo-uld say as she flut-te-red, and she'd whim-per a lit-tle in re-turn. "That's a re-al-ly sick re-la-ti-on-s-hip," Ga-be sa-id on-ce, but he didn't bar Mar-le-ne from the of-fi-ce, and sin-ce Far-n-s-worth had ne-ver cal-led aga-in in se-arch of her, Nell felt fa-irly sa-fe brin-ging her to work, if a lit-tle gu-ilty that she'd ta-ken the dog. "If he re-al-ly wasn't mis-t-re-ating her, I sto-le his pet," she sa-id to Ri-ley. "Now you think of that," he sa-id. In the me-an-ti-me, and in spi-te of Bud-ge's op-po-si-ti-on, Mar-gie was lo-ving the te-as-hop, which me-ant that Chloe co-uld le-ave wit-ho-ut worry, so she did, flying to Fran-ce with Lu's Eura-il pass. "She went whe-re?" was all Ga-be sa-id, and Nell won-de-red at first if may-be he wasn't hi-ding his des-pa-ir at lo-sing her as she put pos-t-card af-ter pos-t-card on his desk. They all sa-id, "Ha-ving a won-der-ful ti-me" and bur-b-led so-met-hing abo-ut wha-te-ver sce-nic won-der was on the front of the card, and no-ne of them sa-id, "I miss you." That had to hurt, Nell tho-ught, but af-ter wor-king for him for six we-eks, she re-ali-zed he wasn't the type to hi-de an-y-t-hing. If he was mad, she knew abo-ut it; if he was dep-res-sed, she knew abo-ut it; if he was on the track of so-met-hing, she knew abo-ut it. It was ex-hi-la-ra-ting to work for so-me-body that di-rect, and the days went by on high oc-ta-ne, oc-ca-si-onal-ly rev-ved up by the ine-vi-tab-le clas-hes as she fi-xed his agency for him. "Don't think I don't know what you're do-ing," he told her in No-vem-ber when she stuck the old Ori-en-tal from the re-cep-ti-on ro-om in the clo-set un-der the sta-irs and put down a new gold and gray Mor-ris-pat-ter-ned rug. "It lo-oks ni-ce, do-esn't it?" Nell sa-id. "No," Ga-be sa-id. "It lo-oks new and we didn't ne-ed it." "Now abo-ut the bu-si-ness cards-" "No," he sa-id and shut his of-fi-ce do-or in her fa-ce. A day la-ter, trying to mo-ve the wo-od fi-ling ca-bi-net to a dif-fe-rent pla-ce so the damn bird wo-uldn't be lo-oming over her sho-ul-der, Nell got a splin-ter in her right hand and co-uldn't get it out with her left. She went in to Ga-be with her twe-ezers and sa-id, "Help." "How the hell did you get a splin-ter?" he sa-id, put-ting his pen down. "The fi-ling ca-bi-net," she sa-id. "The back ed-ge was ro-ugh." "The back ed-ge was aga-inst the wall," he sa-id, ta-king the twe-ezers. "Yes, it was," Nell sa-id brightly. "Now if you co-uld get that pi-ece of wo-od out of my palm…" He to-ok her hand in his and stuck it un-der his desk lamp, and she held her bre-ath. "The-re it is," he sa-id and used his thumb to draw the flesh of her palm tight so he co-uld see it bet-ter. "Bra-ce yo-ur-self, Brid-get." He drew the splin-ter out ca-re-ful-ly and let go of her hand. "Now ke-ep yo-ur mitts off my fi-ling ca-bi-nets. They've be-en the-re for sixty ye-ars and they're sta-ying the-re." "Brid-get?" "What?" "Bra-ce yo-ur-self, Brid-get?" Nell re-pe-ated. "Old joke." Ga-be ga-ve her the twe-ezers. "Go and mo-ve my fur-ni-tu-re no mo-re." When Ri-ley ca-me back, Nell sa-id, "Do you know a joke abo-ut 'Bra-ce yo-ur-self, Brid-get'?" "That is the joke," Ri-ley sa-id. "It's the an-s-wer to 'What is Irish fo-rep-lay?' " "Irish fo-rep-lay," Nell sa-id. "Oh. Ne-ver mind." The pho-ne rang as Ri-ley went in-to his of-fi-ce, and when she pic-ked it up, it was Tre-vor Ogil-vie.

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She tri-ed to gi-ve him Mar-gie's num-ber at The Cup, but he wan-ted to talk to her. "J-ack says you're over-qu-ali-fi-ed for that job, my de-ar," Tre-vor sa-id. "With yo-ur bac-k-g-ro-und, you sho-uldn't be just a sec-re-tary." I'm not just a sec-re-tary. "Oh, it's a lit-tle mo-re com-p-li-ca-ted than that." "Well, we still think of you as fa-mily," Tre-vor sa-id. You ne-ver tho-ught of me as fa-mily, Nell tho-ught and be-gan to won-der what the hell was go-ing on. "So we'd li-ke to of-fer you a job he-re," Tre-vor went on. "We co-uld cer-ta-inly use yo-ur or-ga-ni-za-ti-onal skills." "Well, thank you, Tre-vor, but I think-" "Don't be hasty, Nell. Ga-be can't be pa-ying you that much." The cer-ta-inty in his vo-ice an-no-yed her. "Actu-al-ly, the pay is pretty go-od," she li-ed. "And it's a very in-te-res-ting wor-king en-vi-ron-ment. But I do ap-pre-ci-ate the of-fer." When she'd hung up, she went in to see Ga-be. He lo-oked up and sa-id, "What did you try to mo-ve this ti-me?" "Tre-vor Ogil-vie just of-fe-red me a job." "What?" Nell sat down ac-ross from him. "I swe-ar to God. He sa-id Jack sa-id I was over-qu-ali-fi-ed for this one, and they co-uld gi-ve me so-met-hing bet-ter. He pro-mi-sed me mo-re mo-ney, too." Ga-be's fa-ce was im-pas-si-ve. "What did you say?" Nell was in-dig-nant. "What do you me-an, what did I say? I sa-id no, of co-ur-se. What is he up to?" Ga-be le-aned back. "He sa-id Jack tal-ked to him?" Nell nod-ded. "May-be Jack's up-set abo-ut Su-ze wor-king and thinks if you qu-it, Su-ze'll qu-it." "J-ack do-esn't know Su-ze is wor-king. She tells him she's go-ing out with me." Ga-be was qu-i-et for a mo-ment, and then he sa-id, "Thanks for not qu-it-ting." "Qu-it-ting?" Nell sa-id. "I'm just get-ting star-ted. I'm te-aring apart the ba-se-ment next." "Oh, go-od," Ga-be sa-id. "We don't ha-ve eno-ugh up-he-aval aro-und he-re." But for the first ti-me, he didn't so-und exas-pe-ra-ted, and Nell went back to work fe-eling po-si-ti-vely che-er-ful. Ga-be's li-fe was not as tidy. For one thing, he co-uldn't find Lynnie or any evi-den-ce of whe-re she'd go-ne or who had bro-ken in-to her apar-t-ment, and he con-si-de-red that a per-so-nal af-f-ront and a pro-fes-si-onal fa-ilu-re. Ri-ley's can-vas-sing of the back re-cords of jewe-lers and paw-n-s-hops wasn't get-ting an-y-w-he-re, eit-her. "The damn di-amonds co-uld ha-ve be-en paw-ned an-y-w-he-re," Ri-ley told him. "In fact, if the guy who had them had any bra-ins at all, he'd ha-ve go-ne out of town. Gi-ve it up." But Ga-be co-uldn't, even tho-ugh he had ot-her prob-lems mo-re pres-sing. Bud-ge Jen-kins, for exam-p-le, cal-led re-gu-larly, mi-se-rab-le abo-ut Mar-gie ta-king over The Cup. "It's not sa-fe for her," he sa-id, the only man Ga-be had ever known who co-uld fid-get over the pho-ne. "She co-uld get rob-bed." Ga-be had sa-id, "Bud-ge, it's a te-as-hop not a 7-Ele-ven. She's clo-sed by six every night," but Bud-ge con-ti-nu-ed to fuss and nag un-til Ga-be tho-ught se-ri-o-usly abo-ut kic-king Mar-gie out just to get Bud-ge off his back. Then the-re was Ri-ley. "Su-ze is a me-na-ce," he told Ga-be af-ter the first de-coy with Su-ze. "She walks in a bar and ever-y-body co-mes on to her." "Con-si-de-ring her li-ne of work for us, that's a plus," Ga-be sa-id. Su-ze her-self was a com-p-le-te pro-fes-si-onal, and Ga-be saw her in the of-fi-ce most days, eit-her hel-ping Mar-gie clo-se the re-gis-ter at six or aiding and abet-ting Nell in her ce-ase-less ef-forts to tran-s-form an agency that didn't ne-ed it. He'd de-ci-ded to let Nell ha-ve her way on the rest of the pla-ce as long as she left his of-fi-ce alo-ne, a de-ci-si-on re-in-for-ced by her mat-ter-of-fact re-fu-sal of Tre-vor's of-fer of a job and a pay ra-ise, but in the se-cond we-ek in No-vem-ber, she ma-de her mo-ve. "Yo-ur fur-ni-tu-re ne-eds work," she told him, fa-cing him down ac-ross his desk, blin-ding him with her red ha-ir and an oran-ge swe-ater with a bright blue stri-pe ac-ross the bust. "It'll only be for a day,

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two at most." "Stay out of my of-fi-ce," Ga-be sa-id, trying not to lo-ok at the stri-pe. "You can ha-ve the bat-h-ro-om and the outer of-fi-ce, but this is mi-ne. I know it's out of da-te, but the fif-ti-es are due to co-me back any day now." "This stuff isn't fif-ti-es, it's for-ti-es. And it's al-re-ady back. I don't think you sho-uld get rid of it, I think you sho-uld ha-ve it cle-aned and re-pa-ired." Nell sat down, aiming the stri-pe right at him. "But you've got to cle-an the le-at-her and the wo-od on the fur-ni-tu-re, and so-me of it's wob-bling and ne-eds to be reg-lu-ed." She lo-oked at the ce-iling. "The-re's even one with a bro-ken arm." "I know," Ga-be sa-id. "You bro-ke it." "And we ne-ed to rep-la-ce the blinds in he-re-" Nell sa-id brightly. "Damn it, Nell," he sa-id, "co-uld you ple-ase le-ave so-met-hing he-re alo-ne?" "- but it wo-uldn't be a chan-ge at all." She smi-led at him. "It'd be a res-to-ra-ti-on." She lo-oked che-er-ful but ten-se, and he re-ali-zed she was bra-ced for him to yell. He'd be-en yel-ling a lot la-tely. He to-ok a de-ep bre-ath and wa-ited un-til he was cal-mer. "All right," he sa-id fi-nal-ly. "If it do-esn't cost too much, and you're not chan-ging an-y-t-hing, go ahe-ad with the fur-ni-tu-re." "And the blinds." "And the blinds." "And the rug." "Don't push yo-ur luck, Ele-anor." "Thank you," Nell sa-id and he-aded back to her desk to start pho-ning re-pa-ir pe-op-le. "But you can't chan-ge an-y-t-hing," Ga-be cal-led af-ter her, and she stuck her fi-ery he-ad back in the do-or to say, "I'm not chan-ging an-y-t-hing aro-und he-re. I'm im-p-ro-ving it." Then she di-sap-pe-ared aga-in. "Why is that not re-as-su-ring?" Ga-be sa-id to the empty spa-ce that vib-ra-ted with her af-te-ri-ma-ge. When he ca-me in a we-ek la-ter, all his of-fi-ce fur-ni-tu-re was go-ne. "Nell!" "The res-to-rer ca-me," she sa-id, ma-te-ri-ali-zing in his do-or-way in a vi-olet swe-ater this ti-me. The-re was a red he-art knit-ted in-to the fab-ric abo-ve her left bre-ast. Why do-esn't she just we-ar bull's-eyes? he tho-ught. "He sa-id the wo-od just ne-eded to be cle-aned and wa-xed," Nell went on, chip-per as hell, "but that res-to-ring the le-at-her up-hol-s-tery and re-in-for-cing the lo-ose jo-ints might ta-ke lon-ger." "Res-to-ring the le-at-her? That so-unds ex-pen-si-ve." "It is, a lit-tle, but not li-ke bu-ying new," Nell sa-id brightly. "And think of what a dif-fe-ren-ce it'll ma-ke." "Nell- " "And when that's do-ne we ha-ve to talk abo-ut the co-uch in the re-cep-ti-on ro-om-" "The co-uch is fi-ne." "- because it isn't pe-ri-od, it's just ugly and fal-ling apart. We-" "Nell," Ga-be sa-id, and so-met-hing in his vo-ice must ha-ve got-ten to her be-ca-use she stop-ped and lo-oked at him wa-rily, a red-he-aded, wi-de-eyed Bam-bi in pur-p-le cot-ton knit. "Stop it," he sa-id and felt gu-ilty for sa-ying it. "A new co-uch and I'm do-ne," Nell sa-id. "I swe-ar. That and the bu-si-ness cards and the win-dow, but the new co-uch first. So-me-body's go-ing to fall thro-ugh the old one and then whe-re will we be? Su-ed, that's whe-re. Re-al-ly, I know what I'm do-ing." "I ne-ver do-ub-ted it," Ga-be sa-id. "I'm just not su-re you know what we're do-ing. That wo-uld be run-ning a de-tec-ti-ve agency. We do not ha-ve the kind of cli-en-te-le that no-ti-ces the de-cor. By the ti-me they get to us, we co-uld be me-eting in Dum-p-s-ters and they wo-uldn't ca-re as long as we got the an-s-wers they ne-eded." "The co-uch will be the end of it," Nell sa-id and cros-sed her he-art, both of them. "I swe-ar."

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"No co-uch," Ga-be sa-id. "I me-an it." Nell sig-hed and nod-ded and went back to her desk as the pho-ne rang and then stuck her he-ad back in. "Ri-ley's on one and yo-ur pho-ne is over the-re on the flo-or by the win-dow." "How many days?" "Larry sa-id to-mor-row, Wed-nes-day tops." "Who's Larry?" Ga-be sa-id as he pic-ked up the pho-ne. "I don't know," Ri-ley sa-id on the ot-her end. "Who's Larry?" "The guy do-ing the fur-ni-tu-re," Nell sa-id. "You'd li-ke him. He li-ked yo-ur stuff." She di-sap-pe-ared back thro-ugh the do-or as Ri-ley sa-id, "You did not send me out to find any Larry." "For-get Larry," Ga-be sa-id. "Whe-re are you?" "Cin-cin-na-ti," Ri-ley sa-id. "The paw-n-s-hops he-re al-so ha-ve no re-cord of the di-amonds in 1978. And I'm ti-red of this. Tre-vor sa-id he bu-ri-ed them with He-le-na, and I've de-ci-ded to be-li-eve him." "Don't stop un-til you've hit every damn shop in the city," Ga-be sa-id. Ri-ley sig-hed his exas-pe-ra-ti-on in-to the pho-ne. "So who's Larry?" "So-me guy Nell has re-do-ing the fur-ni-tu-re in my of-fi-ce." "You know, you and Nell ha-ve a lot in com-mon," Ri-ley sa-id. "Ne-it-her one of you ever gi-ves up." "May-be I'll send Nell af-ter Lynnie." "She got her the first ti-me," Ri-ley sa-id. "I'd gi-ve her a shot at it." Nell knoc-ked on the do-or and ca-me in aga-in. "Cli-ent to see you," she sa-id and then sto-od back to let Bec-ca Joh-n-son in. Bec-ca lo-oked mi-se-rab-le, which was par for her; she hi-red the McKen-nas to check the bac-k-g-ro-und of every man who ca-me along that she tho-ught might be The One, but un-for-tu-na-tely Bec-ca's in-tel-li-gen-ce and com-mon sen-se we-re equ-aled only by her lo-usy tas-te in men. Now as she sto-od in front of him, her bre-ath co-ming in shud-ders as she bit her lip, Ga-be knew Bec-ca had pic-ked anot-her win-ner. "I'll talk to you la-ter," Ga-be sa-id to Ri-ley and hung up. "What's wrong?" "I'll get a glass of wa-ter," Nell sa-id and di-sap-pe-ared thro-ugh the do-or. "His na-me isn't Randy," Bec-ca sa-id, and then her fa-ce crum-p-led and she wal-ked in-to Ga-be's arms. "Okay," Ga-be sa-id, pat-ting her. "Who-se na-me isn't Randy?" She lif-ted her pretty fa-ce from his sho-ul-der. "He's re-al-ly won-der-ful, Ga-be. I was so su-re this ti-me, I didn't even hi-re you be-ca-use I knew. But his na-me isn't Randy at all. He li-ed to me," Bec-ca wa-iled, and Ga-be win-ced as her vo-ice ro-se. Nell ca-me back in with the wa-ter and then stop-ped, ra-ising an eyeb-row. Don't start with me, he tho-ught and cros-sed his eyes at her over Bec-ca's sho-ul-der. She cros-sed hers back at him, put the wa-ter on the win-dow-sill, and left the ro-om with a ni-ce swing to her walk. I sho-uld an-noy her mo-re of-ten, he tho-ught. It puts so-me bo-un-ce in her step. "I re-al-ly trus-ted him," Bec-ca sa-id, re-min-ding him he had a prob-lem on his hands. "I was so su-re." "Did you ask him abo-ut it?" Ga-be sa-id, pat-ting aga-in. "Ask him?" Bec-ca pul-led back. "Ask him?" "Yes," Ga-be sa-id pa-ti-ently. "How did you find out?" "His su-it-ca-se," Bec-ca sa-id, snif-fing. "In the back of his clo-set. I was lo-oking for an ex-t-ra blan-ket and fo-und it. The ini-ti-als on it are EAK." "May-be it's a se-con-d-hand su-it-ca-se," Ga-be sa-id. "May-be it was his ma-ter-nal gran-d-mot-her's." "It's his," Bec-ca sa-id. "It's al-most brand-new. He do-esn't buy se-con-d-hand. Ever-y-t-hing in his pla-ce is brand-new." "May-be he bor-ro-wed it," Ga-be sa-id, and she stop-ped hyper-ven-ti-la-ting. "Bec-ca, ask him.

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Then call me and tell me what he says, and we can in-ves-ti-ga-te that if you want. But don't jump all over the guy be-ca-use of ini-ti-als on a su-it-ca-se." Bec-ca snif-fed aga-in. "You re-al-ly think that's it?" "I don't know," Ga-be sa-id. "But it's ti-me you tal-ked to him. If you're re-al-ly se-ri-o-us abo-ut him-" "I am so se-ri-o-us abo-ut him," Bec-ca sa-id. "- then you're go-ing to ha-ve to le-arn to talk to him." "We talk," Bec-ca sa-id, and then when Ga-be sho-ok his he-ad, she sa-id, "Okay, I'll ask him." She swal-lo-wed on-ce and sa-id, "I re-al-ly will. To-night." Ga-be fo-und his no-te-bo-ok on the bo-ok-s-helf and to-ok down all the par-ti-cu-lars abo-ut Randy, his bac-k-g-ro-und as far as Bec-ca knew it, and his su-it-ca-se. Then he to-ok her el-bow and ste-ered her to-ward the do-or. "Okay, I've got all I ne-ed. Call me when you've tal-ked to him, and if you're still not happy, we'll find out ever-y-t-hing." "Thank you," she sa-id, with the ti-ni-est catch in her vo-ice. "I'm sorry, Ga-be, but I re-al-ly tho-ught this was it, and then I saw tho-se ini-ti-als." "Don't pa-nic yet," he sa-id, ur-ging her gently thro-ugh the re-cep-ti-on ro-om. When she was out the do-or, he tur-ned back to Nell. "Was the-re so-met-hing you wan-ted to say?" "Me? No," she sa-id, all in-no-cen-ce. "You gro-ping cli-ents is no bu-si-ness of mi-ne." "Re-mem-ber that," he sa-id, go-ing back to his of-fi-ce. "And try to send in only re-al-ly bu-ilt wo-men from now on. They're mo-re fun in a clinch." He clo-sed his do-or just as so-met-hing hit it. Pro-bably a pa-per wad, he tho-ught, and went back to work smi-ling un-til he re-ali-zed he didn't ha-ve a desk or a cha-ir. La-ter that eve-ning, wa-iting for the last cal-lback from Ca-li-for-nia on a bac-k-g-ro-und check, Ga-be sat on the flo-or in his of-fi-ce and ate Chi-ne-se next to Nell whi-le he lo-oked at her legs stret-c-hed out be-si-de his. At le-ast sit-ting be-si-de her, he co-uldn't see that damn he-art. "What wo-uld you do if you went af-ter Lynnie?" he sa-id. "Find so-me guy with mo-ney, sta-ke him out li-ke a go-at, and wa-it for her to show up," Nell sa-id. "Do you ha-ve the pot-s-tic-kers? Be-ca-use I-" She bro-ke off as he han-ded the pot-s-tic-ker car-ton to her. "You know, I re-mem-ber when I had fur-ni-tu-re," he sa-id, re-ac-hing for the gar-lic chic-ken car-ton. "It was ni-ce in he-re then." "I cal-led and Larry's brin-ging it back to-mor-row," Nell sa-id. "You're go-ing to lo-ve it. Tell me abo-ut Bec-ca." "What abo-ut Bec-ca?" Ga-be sa-id, wil-ling to fight but not re-al-ly up to it. It was so much mo-re ple-asant to sa-vor the gar-lic and lo-ok at the sce-nery. "Ri-ley calls her the Check-Out Girl, so I gat-her she checks out the men she da-tes?" "Bec-ca co-mes from a small town whe-re ever-y-body knows ever-y-body el-se," Ga-be sa-id. "She now li-ves in a big town and works in a big uni-ver-sity with a hu-ge tran-si-ent po-pu-la-ti-on. No-body knows an-y-body. So she hi-res us to do the work that her mot-her and gran-d-mot-her wo-uld do back ho-me." Nell con-si-de-red it aro-und a fork full of swe-et and so-ur pork. "That's not dumb." "No, but this ti-me she didn't want us to in-ves-ti-ga-te. This ti-me it was the re-al thing. Stop hog-ging the pork." He stret-c-hed out his hand and she pas-sed the car-ton over. "So what hap-pe-ned?" "She thinks he li-ed abo-ut his na-me." Ga-be to-ok a bi-te of pork and let the tang of the sa-uce lin-ger for a mo-ment be-fo-re he swal-lo-wed. The go-od things in li-fe de-ser-ved to be sa-vo-red. No po-int in mo-ving fast. "You don't so-und too con-vin-ced," Nell sa-id. "No re-ason to pa-nic yet." Ga-be pic-ked up his pa-per cup, and just as he re-ali-zed it was empty, Nell pas-sed him anot-her one full of Co-ke. "Thank you." "So who el-se is a re-gu-lar be-si-des Bec-ca the Check-Out Girl?" Nell sa-id, prying open the

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pot-s-tic-ker car-ton. "Boy, this smells go-od." "Tre-vor Ogil-vie," Ga-be sa-id, wat-c-hing her an-k-les. "He hi-res us every three or fo-ur months to find out what Oli-via's up to." He put down his pla-te to find the hot and so-ur so-up. The-re we-re two small con-ta-iners of it, so he han-ded one to Nell and ope-ned the ot-her for him-self. "Ri-ley calls her the Qu-ar-terly Re-port. He li-kes her be-ca-use she go-es to pla-ces with lo-ud mu-sic and che-ap be-er. She's due aga-in next month." He tas-ted the so-up, thick and hot, and the so-ur-ness re-min-ded him of Nell's french fri-es. He'd be-en ha-ving all of his fri-es with vi-ne-gar la-tely be-ca-use the tar-t-ness wo-ke up every tas-te bud he had. "And then the-re's the Hot Lunch," Nell sa-id. "Ha-rold Tag-gart and his lo-vely wi-fe, Gi-na." Ga-be po-in-ted his spo-on at her. "You get them the next ti-me. Ri-ley's fed up." "What do I ha-ve to do?" "You sit in the ho-tel lobby and watch to see if Gi-na shows up with her ne-west, which she will. Com-p-le-tely de-pen-dab-le, our Gi-na is." "Then I po-int my fin-ger and say 'I Spy'?" "Then you po-int the ca-me-ra and ta-ke the pic-tu-re. Ha-rold li-kes pic-tu-res." Nell sho-ok her he-ad and jos-t-led his sho-ul-der a lit-tle. "That's sick." "That's what Ri-ley says. I try not to pass jud-g-ment." "You're an exam-p-le to us all," Nell sa-id. "I li-ke to think so," Ga-be sa-id, ga-zing at her legs aga-in. Nell un-c-ros-sed her an-k-les. "They're go-od, aren't they?" Yep. "They we-re the only part of my body that didn't go to hell when I lost we-ight," Nell sa-id. "I think it was be-ca-use I kept wal-king." "You lo-ok a lot bet-ter," Ga-be sa-id, pas-sing the swe-et and so-ur back to her. "You we-re a lit-tle scary when you star-ted he-re." "I fe-el a lot bet-ter," Nell sa-id, pe-ering in-to the car-ton. The top of her he-ad brus-hed his chin, fe-at-her soft and sur-p-ri-singly co-ol. Ha-ir that red sho-uld be hot, he tho-ught. She held up the car-ton. "You want any mo-re of this or can I fi-nish it off?" "It's yo-urs," Ga-be sa-id. "Hard to be-li-eve we used to ha-ve to for-ce you to eat." "So what ot-her re-gu-lars?" "Not-hing el-se co-lor-ful," Ga-be sa-id. "We do a lot of bac-k-g-ro-und checks for so-me firms in the area." "Li-ke OD." "Es-pe-ci-al-ly OD. We got a lot of the-ir work be-ca-use my dad and Tre-vor we-re bud-di-es." Ga-be lost so-me of his go-od mo-od thin-king abo-ut them. "And then we did such a crac-ke-rj-ack job na-iling Jack in both his di-vor-ces that he sent us work from his de-par-t-ment, too." "That's open-min-ded of him." She frow-ned in-to spa-ce. "I'm ha-ving tro-ub-le se-e-ing Tre-vor as an-y-body's drin-king buddy." "Tre-vor was not al-ways a tho-usand ye-ars old," Ga-be sa-id. "He and my dad re-al-ly to-re up the town." He tri-ed not to think abo-ut what el-se they might ha-ve do-ne. "The-re's a pic-tu-re of them on the wall. Over the-re, be-hind the co-at-rack." Nell pus-hed her-self up off the flo-or and went to lo-ok, and Ga-be wat-c-hed her legs as she cros-sed the flo-or. Gre-at cal-ves. He con-si-de-red le-aning over to lo-ok up her skirt and de-ci-ded the light wasn't go-od eno-ugh to bot-her. "My God," Nell sa-id, ben-ding to squ-int at the pic-tu-re, which Ga-be ap-pre-ci-ated. "Tre-vor lo-oks po-si-ti-vely das-hing." "Well, back then he was. He was a to-ugh li-ti-ga-tor, too. He co-uld sto-ne-wall with the best." "Yo-ur dad lo-oks li-ke you." "Ac-tu-al-ly, I lo-ok li-ke my dad, but thanks."

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Nell lo-oked back at him and then at the pic-tu-re aga-in. "Not exactly. You lo-ok li-ke so-me-body I'd trust." "Thank you," Ga-be sa-id, sur-p-ri-sed. "I think. Do-es that me-an 'bo-ring'?" "No," Nell sa-id. "That me-ans yo-ur dad lo-oks li-ke a pla-yer." "Go-od call," Ga-be sa-id. She step-ped back and to-ok the blue pin-s-t-ri-ped jac-ket from the co-at-rack. "Was this his? It lo-oks li-ke the one in the pic-tu-re." "It was his;" Ga-be sa-id. "Don't know abo-ut the pic-tu-re. He li-ked pin-s-t-ri-pes. Ring-a-ding-ding." Nell shrug-ged the co-at on, and it hung down past her hips, al-most co-ve-ring her skirt. Ta-ke the skirt off, Ga-be tho-ught, and then tho-ught, Oh, no. It was one thing to idly ap-pre-ci-ate a wo-man's legs; it was anot-her thing en-ti-rely to start fan-ta-si-zing abo-ut loss of clot-hing in co-nj-un-c-ti-on with a McKen-na sec-re-tary. "This is a gre-at jac-ket." Nell tur-ned back to him as she pus-hed the sle-eves up her arms. "Why don't you we-ar it?" "Not the pin-s-t-ri-pe type," he sa-id, enj-oying the slash of her red ha-ir abo-ve the de-ep blue of the jac-ket. She lo-oked mo-re than cu-te, she re-min-ded him of so-me-body: ga-mi-ne fa-ce, al-mond eyes, pa-le skin, a smi-le that co-uld melt con-c-re-te. So-me-body old-fas-hi-oned but hot. Myrna Loy, he tho-ught. She brus-hed her hands over the front of the jac-ket, and he sa-id, "That's a go-od co-lor for you." "You think? Whe-re's a mir-ror?" She left the of-fi-ce, pro-bably he-ading for the bat-h-ro-om, and Ga-be tho-ught, Don't go. He put his fork down and sho-ok his he-ad, trying to get the ima-ge of her-tho-se long, long legs and that bright, bright ha-ir-out of his mind, but he still wan-ted her back. It was the sec-re-tary thing, he de-ci-ded. De-ca-des of McKen-nas cha-sing sec-re-ta-ri-es and cat-c-hing them. It was in the-ir DNA by now. But he was an adult, a ma-tu-re, ca-re-ful, in-tel-li-gent adult. All he had to do was con-cen-t-ra-te, and ha-bit wo-uldn't get him this ti-me. "You're right," she sa-id, co-ming back and smi-ling at him, a gre-at smi-le, a gre-at mo-uth with a full lo-wer lip that "I'm al-ways right," Ga-be sa-id, get-ting up. "You want any mo-re of this stuff?" "All of it if you don't," Nell sa-id. "I can't get eno-ugh la-tely." She put the co-at back on the rack and then cro-uc-hed down to gat-her up the car-tons on the flo-or, and her pur-p-le swe-ater ro-de up a lit-tle so he co-uld see a thin strip of her pa-le back abo-ve the skirt now pul-led tight ac-ross her re-ar. Stu-pid tra-di-ti-on to ha-ve, he tho-ught. Why co-uldn't the McKen-nas ha-ve be-en born with a ge-ni-us for ma-king mo-ney in-s-te-ad of sec-re-ta-ri-es? "What?" Nell sa-id, lo-oking up at him. "Not-hing," he sa-id. "Just thin-king." And then the pho-ne rang and he went back to work. Across the park, Su-ze was ha-ving prob-lems of her own. "What the hell is this?" Jack sa-id, and she lo-oked up from her bo-ok to see him co-ming out of the di-ning ro-om, hol-ding one of her run-ning cups. "Bri-tish no-velty chi-na," she sa-id. "I'm col-lec-ting it." "You've got the-se things cram-med in with our go-od chi-na." "Yo-ur mot-her's go-od chi-na," Su-ze sa-id and went back to her bo-ok. "I don't think it's a go-od idea to put this che-ap stuff in the-re, too," Jack sa-id, and she lo-oked up to see him turn the cup over to lo-ok at the bot-tom and lo-se his hold on it. It hit the har-d-wo-od flo-or, and the bowl bro-ke in half, se-pa-ra-ting from the legs at the sa-me ti-me. "J-ack!" Su-ze threw her bo-ok to one si-de as she went down on her kne-es to gat-her up the pi-eces. "I'm sorry," he sa-id, not so-un-ding sorry at all. "It's that che-ap stuff-" "This is a Ca-rib-be-an Run-ning Cup," she sa-id, trying to fit the pi-eces back to-get-her. "It's from the 1970s and it was worth se-ven-ty-fi-ve dol-lars."

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"That thing?" Jack so-un-ded in-c-re-du-lo-us. Su-ze ig-no-red him to carry the cup pi-eces thro-ugh the di-ning ro-om and in-to the kit-c-hen, lo-oking for glue. He fol-lo-wed her. "Is this so-met-hing el-se Nell's tal-ked you in-to? You don't ne-ed her chi-na, you ha-ve the Dysart Spo-de." Su-ze put the pi-eces on the co-un-ter and lo-oked at them, sick to her sto-mach. Even if she glu-ed it back to-get-her, it wo-uld be bro-ken. She to-uc-hed the big yel-low sho-es and no-ti-ced a chip in one. "Damn it," she sa-id and went back to the li-ving ro-om to se-arch for the mis-sing pi-ece of yel-low gla-ze. Jack fol-lo-wed her aga-in. "I can't be-li-eve you're spen-ding my mo-ney on the-se stu-pid cups." "I'm spen-ding my mo-ney." She got down on her kne-es and se-ar-c-hed the flo-or, til-ting her he-ad to see if the shiny chip wo-uld catch the lam-p-light. "You don't ha-ve any mo-ney," Jack sa-id. She squ-in-ted at the flo-or and sa-id, "Yes, I do. I'm wor-king." "You're what?" The-re it was. She mo-is-te-ned the tip of her fin-ger and pic-ked up the chip. Then she sto-od up and sa-id, "I've be-en wor-king part-ti-me for the McKen-nas for a whi-le now." "Wor-king?" Jack sa-id, ma-king it so-und li-ke che-ating. "Yes," Su-ze sa-id, and went back to the kit-c-hen. She put the chip on the co-un-ter and un-s-c-re-wed the oran-ge plas-tic top on the glue bot-tle. "Su-ze," Jack sa-id fol-lo-wing her, "you can't be-" "I'm a de-coy," Su-ze sa-id, trying to fi-gu-re out the best or-der for glu-ing. She squ-ir-ted glue on the For-mi-ca co-un-ter and dip-ped the whi-te si-de of the chip in it. "Pe-op-le hi-re the McKen-nas to find out if the-ir par-t-ners are che-ating on them, and I'm the one who gi-ves the guys the op-por-tu-nity to che-at." "You're do-ing what?" She put the chip back on-to the yel-low shoe ca-re-ful-ly, mo-ving it in-to pla-ce with her fin-ger-na-il. May-be she sho-uld glue the shoe and the cup se-pa-ra-tely and then glue the sho-es to the cup la-ter when the first mends we-re dry. "Su-ze," Jack sa-id, and she tur-ned to see him flus-hed with an-ger. "I told you I didn't want you se-e-ing Nell so much, and now you're wor-king with her? Pic-king up guys in bars?" "Not-hing hap-pens, Jack, I just talk." She tur-ned back to the co-un-ter and pic-ked up the two hal-ves of the cup, dip-ping the-ir ed-ges in the whi-te glue. "Ri-ley's the-re the who-le ti-me, and he'd kill me if I ever went too far." "Ri-ley McKen-na?" "In fact," she ad-ded, ig-no-ring his ro-ar whi-le she held the two pi-eces of the cup to-get-her, "that's why I'm do-ing it. Nell scre-wed up, and they won't let her do it an-y-mo-re so-" "Well, you're not do-ing it, eit-her," Jack snap-ped. "Jesus Christ, Su-ze, ha-ve you lost yo-ur mind? You are not-" "Yes, I am." Su-ze le-aned aga-inst the cup-bo-ard, hol-ding the cup pi-eces to-get-her. "I li-ke wor-king for the McKen-nas, and the-re's no re-ason for you not to trust me, so I'm not qu-it-ting." She to-ok a de-ep bre-ath and sa-id, "It's not fa-ir of you to ask me to." "Not fa-ir?" Jack lo-oked apop-lec-tic. "You're sle-eping with Ri-ley McKen-na, that's why won't you qu-it, and I won't-" Su-ze sig-hed. "I am not sle-eping with Ri-ley." When he didn't lo-ok con-vin-ced, she ad-ded, "Nell's sle-eping with him. And I won't qu-it be-ca-use I li-ke ha-ving a job, and it do-esn't get in the way of an-y-t-hing I ha-ve to do for you or with you, and if you don't trust me eno-ugh to let me work then I think we'd bet-ter see a mar-ri-age co-un-se-lor be-ca-use we're in big tro-ub-le." She ran out of bre-ath at the end and stop-ped to re-co-up. "Nell's sle-eping with him?" Jack so-un-ded ta-ken aback and then scow-led down at her aga-in. "I don't be-li-eve it. She's at le-ast ten ye-ars ol-der than he is. No-body in his right mind wo-uld sle-ep

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with her when he co-uld ha-ve you." "Hey!" Su-ze met his eyes. "That's my best fri-end you're tal-king abo-ut, and you are a big hypoc-ri-te. You're twen-ty-two ye-ars ol-der than I am and that's ne-ver bot-he-red you." "It's dif-fe-rent for wo-men," Jack sa-id. "Trust me." "Trust you?" Su-ze sa-id. "Why sho-uld I? You don't trust me, and I'm star-ting to think may-be you're pro-j-ec-ting." "Psych 101?" Jack sa-id, and Su-ze kept tal-king right over him. "You're thin-king abo-ut che-ating on me and so you're ex-t-ra sus-pi-ci-o-us, which is re-al-ly rot-ten of you. And the-re are a lot of re-asons so-me-body wo-uld rat-her ha-ve Nell than me be-ca-use she's smart and funny and in-de-pen-dent and al-lo-wed to go out at night wit-ho-ut so-me jac-kass ac-cu-sing her of adul-tery and bre-aking her chi-na. What are you go-ing to do when I get to be Nell's age and you me-et so-me-body who's yo-un-ger than I am? Dump me be-ca-use no-body wo-uld cho-ose a for-ty-ye-ar-old over a thir-ty-so-met-hing? Be-ca-use if that's true, you can just le-ave now and spa-re me the sus-pen-se." "Calm down," Jack sa-id, cle-arly ta-ken aback. "Just calm down. Of co-ur-se, I'm not che-ating. I'm just sur-p-ri-sed abo-ut Nell, that's all. Tim sa-id she was lo-usy in bed." Su-ze felt her-self grow hot. "I'd be lo-usy in bed, too, if that son of a bitch was the-re. Ri-ley se-ems to be pretty happy with her, and I got-ta tell you, Nell so-un-ded sur-p-ri-sed when she tal-ked abo-ut the way he ma-kes lo-ve, so I'm bet-ting Tim is just a crummy lo-ver. And she was stuck with him for twen-ty-two ye-ars so she de-ser-ves so-me go-od stuff with a yo-un-ger guy who knows what he's do-ing." "How do you know he knows what he's do-ing?" Jack sa-id, his fa-ce dar-ke-ning with sus-pi-ci-on aga-in. "You know, if you get any dum-ber…" Su-ze put the glu-ed cup ca-re-ful-ly on the co-un-ter and tur-ned back to him. "If you want to talk abo-ut this aga-in, you act li-ke an in-tel-li-gent adult and not a tan-t-rum-th-ro-wing baby. This is the dum-best fight we've ever had, and you star-ted it be-ca-use you didn't trust me. I'm not kid-ding, we ne-ed co-un-se-ling if you re-al-ly ho-nest-to-God think I'd che-at. Don't you know me at all?" Jack clo-sed his eyes. "I don't know. I just he-ar Ri-ley McKen-na's na-me and I go crazy." He lo-oked at her aga-in. "But you did lie to me. You got a job." "Ye-ah, well, I knew you'd do this I-am-mas-ter thing and tell me I wasn't al-lo-wed to," Su-ze sa-id. "I'm ti-red of that. I want a hus-band and a par-t-ner, not a daddy. I'm thir-ty-two ye-ars old and I ha-ve a job. That's not ab-nor-mal. Hell, all I wan-ted was to buy so-me egg cups." She lo-oked down at the co-un-ter, at the leg-less cup and the chip-ped sho-es and grit-ted her te-eth to ke-ep from scre-aming at him. "You don't ne-ed to work," Jack sa-id, stub-bornly. "If you want the damn cups, just buy them. It's not the work, an-y-way, it's that you didn't tell me. You li-ed to me, and you won-der why I think you'd che-at on me?" "Ke-ep this up, and I will." Su-ze pic-ked up the two chi-na pi-eces and left him stan-ding in the kit-c-hen, ta-king the li-ving ro-om sta-irs two at a ti-me to get away from him. She loc-ked her-self in Jack's of-fi-ce, cal-led Nell, and got her mac-hi-ne. "I just told Jack abo-ut the job," she sa-id. "He thinks I'm sle-eping with Ri-ley, can you be-li-eve it? I told him you we-re. Go ha-ve sex with Ri-ley aga-in, so I'm not stret-c-hing the truth." She hung up the pho-ne and log-ged.on-to e-Bay to ta-ke her mind off her an-ger and what she tho-ught might be fe-ar. Too much, too so-on, that was the prob-lem with that con-ver-sa-ti-on. She did a se-arch for Wal-king Wa-re and fo-und three pla-in run-ning egg cups, sel-ling for too much, but she didn't ca-re. She put an eig-h-ty-dol-lar re-ser-ve on each of them-you'd ha-ve to be nuts to pay eighty dol-lars for a pla-in egg cup, which me-ant she pro-bably had them-and sat back to con-tem-p-la-te her bids. She was sha-king, she re-ali-zed, and it wasn't from over-pa-ying for egg cups. I'm re-al-ly glad I did that, she told her-self, as she to-uc-hed the bro-ken pi-eces of cup. It was in-sa-ne that he didn't want her to ha-ve a job. In-sa-ne and con-t-rol-ling and pa-ter-na-lis-tic and

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an-ti-fe-mi-nist and What if he le-aves me? She shi-ve-red at the tho-ught, her en-ti-re body go-ing cold. She'd be alo-ne. She'd be-en lo-nely be-fo-re she met him, her mot-her al-ways at work, her fat-her long go-ne, and then Jack had be-en the-re, swe-aring he al-ways wo-uld be the-re, that she'd ne-ver be alo-ne aga-in. And she hadn't be-en, ever. But he co-uld le-ave her over this. And it'd be her fa-ult. Su-ze slum-ped back in her cha-ir. The-re was a dis-tinct pos-si-bi-lity that she'd just be-en re-al-ly stu-pid. Had she just je-opar-di-zed her mar-ri-age for a part-ti-me job and so-me chi-na? That was go-ing to be cold com-fort if she lost the only man she'd ever lo-ved. Okay, yes, he was be-ing a bas-tard, but he was af-ra-id, she'd se-en it in his eyes. He tho-ught he was too old for her. He tho-ught he was lo-sing her. He might be, she tho-ught, and then she tho-ught, No. She knew exactly how he felt. She'd be-en af-ra-id for fo-ur-te-en ye-ars that he'd bet-ray her the way he'd bet-ra-yed Abby and Vic-ki, that she'd be alo-ne li-ke they we-re. It had be-en aw-ful, and now he was fe-eling it, too. She dis-con-nec-ted from the net-work and slowly pus-hed her cha-ir back. She didn't ne-ed a job if it did that to Jack, if it ma-de them fight li-ke this. She went back down the sta-irs slowly and fo-und Jack in the kit-c-hen, han-ging up the pho-ne. He lo-oked at her de-fi-antly, and she sa-id, "If it bot-hers you that much, I'll qu-it." "That's my girl." Jack held out his arms, and when she didn't walk in-to them, he went to her, and she let him hug her. "I'm sorry, Su-ze, I just lost it. I know you wo-uldn't che-at, you didn't de-ser-ve that. You de-ser-ve an apo-logy, so-met-hing bet-ter than an apo-logy. How abo-ut if we go out and get you a lit-tle so-met-hing la-ter?" As long as it's not a di-vor-ce, Su-ze tho-ught and di-sen-tan-g-led her-self as so-on as she co-uld to go back up-s-ta-irs and glue the last two pi-eces of the cup to-get-her, trying not to fe-el dep-res-sed, and trying even har-der not to be angry. Chapter Seven The next af-ter-no-on, Su-ze cal-led the agency to tell Ri-ley she was qu-it-ting. "He's not he-re," Nell sa-id. "You so-und aw-ful," Su-ze sa-id. "What's wrong?" "Anot-her run-in with Ga-be," Nell sa-id. "Usu-al-ly the yel-ling do-esn't bot-her me, but I'm ti-red to-day. At le-ast his fur-ni-tu-re is back. That sho-uld help." "May-be you sho-uld stop do-ing the stuff that ma-kes him yell," Su-ze sa-id, thin-king of Jack. "I don't think so," Nell sa-id. "Then he'll think yel-ling is a so-lu-ti-on. He apo-lo-gi-zed be-fo-re he left and he's ta-king me to din-ner, so it's all right." "Re-al-ly?" Su-ze sa-id. "We're me-eting Ri-ley at the Syca-mo-re at six-thirty. Is Jack go-ing to be ho-me then?" "No," Su-ze sa-id. "He has so-me bu-si-ness thing. We're eating at ni-ne." "Me-et us the-re," Nell sa-id, and Su-ze tho-ught, What the hell. She got to the Syca-mo-re a lit-tle early and saw Ri-ley sit-ting at a tab-le by the win-dow. He wa-ved at her, and she went over and sat down ac-ross from him. "Nell sa-id you wan-ted to talk." He so-un-ded mad, but his fa-ce was blank. "I'm qu-it-ting," she sa-id. "The de-coy stuff." "Okay." "That's all? Just 'okay'?" "J-ack fo-und out, right?" She wan-ted to smack him. "May-be I'm just ti-red of wor-king for you." The wa-it-ress ca-me by and she sa-id, "Iced tea, no le-mon, ple-ase." Then she lo-oked at Ri-ley, nur-sing a be-er with his back to the sta-ined-glass pa-nel in the win-dow, sta-ring past her as if she wasn't the-re. "You know, I'm glad Nell's la-te," Su-ze sa-id, "be-ca-use I want to know yo-ur in-ten-ti-ons."

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"What in-ten-ti-ons?" Ri-ley sa-id. "I ha-ve no in-ten-ti-ons." "Yo-ur in-ten-ti-ons for Nell," Su-ze sa-id pa-ti-ently. "You re-mem-ber, the red-he-ad you're sle-eping with?" "Slept with," Ri-ley sa-id. "Three months ago. That's over. It was over af-ter one night, which she un-do-ub-tedly told you." Su-ze nar-ro-wed her eyes and le-aned ac-ross the tab-le, lo-oking for a fight with so-me-body she co-uld af-ford to fight with. "You dum-ped her? Do you know what she went thro-ugh with that jac-kass she mar-ri-ed? And now you-" "Back off, Bar-bie. All she wan-ted was a one-night stand. It's part of the re-co-very pro-cess." "Don't gi-ve me that." "She was just trying it on. Hap-pens all the ti-me." "And you know this how?" "Be-ca-use my job puts me in-to clo-se pro-xi-mity to pe-op-le who ha-ve just dis-co-ve-red that the-ir re-la-ti-on-s-hips are over. Which of-ten le-ads to me get-ting hit on by tho-se who pre-fer men in the-ir beds." Su-ze sho-ok her he-ad in dis-be-li-ef. "And you per-form this ser-vi-ce-?" "Usu-al-ly, no. Nell's a go-od wo-man who was ha-ving a bad ti-me." "And you wan-ted sex." "I had a da-te that night. If I just wan-ted sex, I co-uld ha-ve had sex." "You had sex with so-me-body el-se af-ter you slept with Nell?" "No," Ri-ley sa-id, his pa-ti-en-ce cle-arly we-aring thin. "I cal-led and can-ce-led. Now I'm ti-red of this con-ver-sa-ti-on. What's new in yo-ur li-fe? As-su-ming Jack lets you ha-ve an-y-t-hing new in yo-ur li-fe." "So Nell's all alo-ne aga-in," Su-ze sa-id. "You ga-ve her a one-night stand-" "Nell is not alo-ne. Nell has you and Mar-gie and me and Ga-be and her kid and pro-bably a cast of tho-usands I don't know abo-ut. She went a lit-tle nuts be-ca-use that's what hap-pens af-ter a bre-akup, but she's mo-ving in the right di-rec-ti-on now. She's eating aga-in and rip-ping the of-fi-ce apart and fig-h-ting with Ga-be, and she lo-oks pretty go-od to me. Gi-ve her ti-me, she'll find so-me-body new." "How much ti-me? I don't want her to be alo-ne, it's aw-ful to be alo-ne." "How wo-uld you know?" Ri-ley sa-id, lo-oking past her aga-in. "I can ima-gi-ne," Su-ze sa-id. "I know it's aw-ful. She sho-uld ha-ve fo-und so-me-body by now." "Two ye-ars," Ri-ley sa-id, lo-we-ring his he-ad a lit-tle. Su-ze tur-ned aro-und to see what he was lo-oking at and saw a res-ta-urant full of pe-op-le eating. "What?" "That's the ave-ra-ge re-co-very ti-me af-ter a di-vor-ce. Two ye-ars." "Oh, God." Su-ze co-un-ted back. "She got di-vor-ced a ye-ar ago last July. That's anot-her se-ven months yet. That's too long." "Su-san-nah," Ri-ley sa-id, with eno-ugh gra-vity that Su-ze pa-id at-ten-ti-on. "Le-ave her alo-ne. She's do-ing fi-ne." "I can't stand it that she's alo-ne," Su-ze sa-id. "No, you think you co-uldn't stand it if you we-re alo-ne." Ri-ley smi-led past her. Su-ze tur-ned aro-und aga-in and spot-ted a bru-net-te ac-ross the ro-om, smi-ling back. She fa-ced Ri-ley aga-in, an-no-yed. "What kind of a wo-man wo-uld flirt with a man who was with so-me-body?" "I'm not with you," Ri-ley sa-id, ke-eping his eyes on the bru-net-te. "We're just sit-ting at the sa-me tab-le." "But she do-esn't know that." Su-ze lo-oked back at the bru-net-te with con-tempt. It was wo-men li-ke this who bro-ke up mar-ri-ages. "Su-re she knows." "How? What'd you do? Send her a no-te?" "Body lan-gu-age. We're both le-aning away from each ot-her. Plus you've be-en yap-ping at me for

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fif-te-en mi-nu-tes now, so even if we we-re to-get-her, it wo-uld not be for long." "God knows, that's true," Su-ze sa-id, set-tling even far-t-her back from him. "I can't ima-gi-ne what Nell saw in you." "You don't ha-ve to," Ri-ley sa-id, still smi-ling at the bru-net-te. "She told you. Blow by blow, I'll bet." "This is what I ne-ed," Su-ze sa-id. "You tal-king dirty to me at the Syca-mo-re." "That's not what you ne-ed." Ri-ley sto-od and pic-ked up his glass. "But what you ne-ed, you can't get be-ca-use you mar-ri-ed a dic-k-he-ad." He to-ok her glass, too, and sa-id, "I'll get you a re-fill," and was go-ne be-fo-re Su-ze co-uld say, "I don't want a re-fill." She wat-c-hed him whi-le he stop-ped by the bru-net-te's tab-le, wat-c-hed the bru-net-te's smi-le wi-den as he tal-ked, and then wat-c-hed her la-ugh as he went on to the bar. How very che-ap of that bru-net-te, let-ting him pick her up li-ke that. Well, thank God she wasn't lo-oking for so-me-body if this was what it was li-ke in the world of da-ting. Thank God she "had Jack. Su-ze ta-med back to lo-ok out the win-dow at the brick stre-et in front of the res-ta-urant. The sun was go-ing down, and the Vil-la-ge was get-ting the ti-me-less lo-ok it al-ways to-ok on at sun-set, be-a-uti-ful and mo-ody. I lo-ve it he-re, she tho-ught. Why aren't I happy? Except she was happy. It was the twi-light. Twi-light was al-ways me-lan-c-holy, and me-lan-c-holy be-a-uty co-uld ma-ke an-y-body a lit-tle he-ar-t-sick. She'd be fi-ne when the sun ca-me up aga-in. Ri-ley put her glass in front of her and sat down ac-ross from her aga-in, bloc-king her vi-ew of the dusky stre-et. "You didn't even ask me what I was drin-king," Su-ze sa-id. "Tas-te it." She to-ok a sip. Iced tea, no le-mon. "I pay at-ten-ti-on," Ri-ley sa-id. "So she let you pick her up in front of me. Has she no et-hics?" "God, I ho-pe not," Ri-ley sa-id. "Also, I told her you we-re my sis-ter." He lo-oked so calm ac-ross from her, so con-fi-dent that he knew ever-y-t-hing, and she felt the sud-den ur-ge to dis-con-cert. If she le-aned over and kis-sed him, the bru-net-te wo-uld know she wasn't his sis-ter. That wo-uld fix him. "What?" Ri-ley sa-id, lo-oking less con-fi-dent. "I didn't say an-y-t-hing," Su-ze sa-id. "No, but yo-ur ex-p-res-si-on chan-ged," Ri-ley sa-id. "Wha-te-ver you're thin-king, stop it." "I wo-uldn't do it an-y-way. No guts." "Go-od. I ha-te wo-men with guts. I li-ke 'em pli-ant." "I am not pli-ant," Su-ze sa-id. "Anot-her re-ason we're not to-get-her," Ri-ley sa-id. The cha-ir be-si-de her scra-ped, and Nell sa-id, "Why are you frow-ning at each ot-her?" as she sat down. She lo-oked ti-red but re-la-xed, so the fight with Ga-be must ha-ve en-ded. "Low-class com-pany," Su-ze sa-id, mo-ving her fe-et so Mar-le-ne co-uld hi-de out un-der the tab-le. "Thank you very much," Ga-be sa-id, ta-king the se-at be-si-de Ri-ley. "So how was yo-ur day?" Su-ze sa-id brightly and then didn't lis-ten, cho-osing to watch Ri-ley la-ugh with Nell and ma-ke eye con-tact with the bru-net-te in-s-te-ad, cle-arly not ca-ring that she was out of his li-fe. When Ri-ley and Nell went to the bar for re-fil-ls, Ga-be sa-id, "So how's yo-ur li-fe?" "I ha-ve to qu-it the de-coys," she sa-id. "I'm sorry. I re-al-ly, re-al-ly am." "So are we," he sa-id. "You we-re gre-at to work with." "Thank you." She lo-oked away so he wo-uldn't see how much it mat-te-red to her and saw Nell, la-ug-hing with Ri-ley at the bar. "She lo-oks won-der-ful, do-esn't she?" Su-ze sa-id, tur-ning back to Ga-be. "So bright and happy." Ga-be nod-ded, wat-c-hing Nell, too. " 'The sha-pe a bright con-ta-iner can con-ta-in.'" Su-ze blin-ked at him, ama-zed. In a mil-li-on ye-ars, she wo-uldn't ha-ve sus-pec-ted Ga-be McKen-na of qu-oting po-etry. "Ro-et-h-ke?" Ga-be lo-oked ta-ken aback, too. "Ye-ah. He was my dad's fa-vo-ri-te. He used to re-ci-te that one to my mot-her all the ti-me. Nell ma-kes me think of it so-me-ti-mes." He frow-ned at her. "How do you know Ro-et-h-ke?"

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"En-g-lish 361," Su-ze sa-id, "Intro-duc-ti-on to Po-etry." When she got ho-me, she was go-ing to find her old an-t-ho-logy and see if that po-em was as ero-tic as she re-mem-be-red. Even if it wasn't, she was su-re it was a gre-at lo-ve po-em. May-be Nell wasn't alo-ne af-ter all. It wo-uld be too ter-rib-le if Nell was alo-ne. Two ho-urs la-ter, Su-ze and Ri-ley had both go-ne, and Nell was fi-nis-hing off the last of her French Silk pie and trying to fi-gu-re out the un-der-cur-rents of the eve-ning. Ga-be nur-sed a be-er ac-ross from her, lo-oking mildly an-no-yed be-ca-use Tre-vor had cal-led ear-li-er and of-fe-red her a job aga-in. "Okay," she sa-id. "I don't get what all that ten-si-on was abo-ut. Ri-ley was a lot mo-re up-set abo-ut Su-ze qu-it-ting than he let on. What's up with that?" "The-re's so-me his-tory the-re," Ga-be sa-id. "Lis-ten, when Tre-vor cal-led, did he say Jack had told him to of-fer you that job?" "No," Nell sa-id. "And the-re is no his-tory. Su-ze ne-ver met Ri-ley be-fo-re the night we sto-le Mar-le-ne. The-ir en-ti-re re-la-ti-on-s-hip is fo-ur-te-en de-coy jobs." "True," Ga-be sa-id. "I'm as-king abo-ut Tre-vor be-ca-use it's not li-ke him to ta-ke di-rect ac-ti-on. Jack, yes, Tre-vor, no. Tre-vor wa-its." "He didn't say." Nell le-aned for-ward over her empty pla-te to lo-ok him in the eye. "You told me you in-ves-ti-ga-ted Jack's di-vor-ces. Are you tel-ling me, you in-ves-ti-ga-ted Su-ze?" "You su-re you've told me ever-y-t-hing you know abo-ut Mar-gie?" "Vic-ki hi-red you to find out abo-ut Su-ze and Jack," Nell sa-id. "My God. That's when Ri-ley saw Su-ze?" Ga-be nod-ded, gi-ving up as she knew he wo-uld. "Thro-ugh a mo-tel win-dow strip-ping for Jack in a che-er-le-ader uni-form. At eig-h-te-en. It per-ma-nently da-ma-ged him." He sta-red in-to spa-ce for a mo-ment, lo-oking tho-ug-h-t-ful. Nell nar-ro-wed her eyes. "And you know this how?" "The-re are pic-tu-res," Ga-be sa-id, co-ming back to earth. "It must be so-met-hing big be-ca-use Tre-vor is re-al-ly hot to get you away from us." "The-re are pic-tu-res?" "We-re," Ga-be sa-id has-tily. "We-re, the-re we-re pic-tu-res." "You are duc-king me," Nell sa-id, le-aning clo-ser. "Li-ke that's pos-sib-le," Ga-be sa-id. "Of co-ur-se, the-re's al-ways the pos-si-bi-lity that it's Jack ma-ni-pu-la-ting Tre-vor. What do you know that Jack do-esn't want you to tell me?" "Not-hing. You ha-ve ever-y-t-hing I know. Lis-ten, I'm go-ing to be fi-nis-hed in the ba-se-ment by the end of next we-ek. Want me to start on yo-ur car?" Ga-be nar-ro-wed his eyes. "Stay away from my car." He stop-ped, tho-ug-h-t-ful. "May-be that's it. May-be they're af-ra-id you'll find so-met-hing. God knows, you've be-en ever-y-w-he-re." "J-ust to cle-an the car." Nell pus-hed her pla-te away. "I wo-uldn't dre-am of dri-ving it." "I cle-an it. The-re's not-hing in the-re. And don't even talk abo-ut dri-ving it." "I sa-id I wo-uldn't dre-am-" Nell be-gan, but he was stan-ding up, re-ady to go, his keys in his hand, the Por-s-c-he in-sig-nia tan-ta-li-zing her. "I can't think of any ot-her re-ason to hi-re you away," Ga-be sa-id. "It's got to ha-ve so-met-hing to do with this blac-k-ma-il mess." "May-be they just ne-ed a go-od of-fi-ce ma-na-ger," Nell sa-id, pus-hing her cha-ir back, ca-re-ful not to hit Mar-le-ne. "So are tho-se pic-tu-res still aro-und?" "You will ne-ver know," Ga-be sa-id. "The fur-ni-tu-re lo-oks gre-at, by the way." "You are much too sen-si-ti-ve abo-ut that car," she sa-id and pic-ked up Mar-le-ne to fol-low him out in-to the cold No-vem-ber night. Nell was di-sap-po-in-ted that Su-ze had qu-it, but not sur-p-ri-sed. "It's a mi-rac-le Jack let her do it this long," she told Ri-ley. "At le-ast now you're off the ho-ok. I know you didn't li-ke wor-king with her." She wa-ited for him to co-me cle-an, but all he sa-id was, "She wasn't that bad." Shortly af-ter that, he be-gan da-ting a den-tal tec-h-ni-ci-an who did re-gi-onal the-ater and tho-ught de-coy work was

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per-for-man-ce art, and no-body men-ti-oned Su-ze aga-in. Su-ze didn't ta-ke the chan-ge ne-arly as well. "I'm fi-ne with it, re-al-ly," she told Nell, but by the ti-me Than-k-s-gi-ving rol-led aro-und, she'd stop-ped smi-ling and her tem-per had fra-yed. "J-ack in-sis-ted on in-vi-ting Tim and Whit-ney," she'd told Nell the we-ek be-fo-re. "And I told him if you we-ren't co-ming, I wasn't co-ming. And then he sa-id I wo-uldn't ne-ed you be-ca-use he'd in-vi-ted Mar-gie and Bud-ge and Mar-gie's dad and his wi-fe and Oli-via. Fi-ve of them. And then the-re's my mot-her and his mot-her." "I can stay ho-me," Nell had sa-id, not wan-ting to ma-ke any mo-re tro-ub-le bet-we-en Su-ze and Jack. Jack had ta-ken to glo-we-ring at her whe-ne-ver they met, and she was ti-red of it. "No, you can't," Su-ze sa-id. "You and Jase are the only pe-op-le I want to see. You ha-ve to be the-re." So Nell had ar-ri-ved early with pum-p-kin pi-es and Mar-le-ne, and had hel-ped fi-nish the co-oking whi-le Su-ze snap-ped Mar-le-ne in-to a tur-key cos-tu-me she'd fo-und. Nell had be-en che-er-ful to Whit-ney when she lo-oked re-sen-t-ful, sympat-he-tic to Jase when he got stuck with the sulky Oli-via, and pa-ti-ent with Tim's mot-her when she ma-de ve-iled com-ments abo-ut pe-op-le get-ting on with the-ir li-ves and not hol-ding on to the-ir pasts. The low po-int of the day had co-me right be-fo-re they'd sat down to eat when Mot-her Dysart had co-un-ted the pla-ce set-tings, sa-id in hor-ror, "We can't ha-ve thir-te-en at the tab-le!" and sta-red po-in-tedly at Nell. The high po-int had co-me im-me-di-ately af-ter that when Su-ze had sta-red po-in-tedly at Mot-her Dysart and sa-id, "Shall I fix you a tray?" Jase had sa-ved the day by ha-uling Oli-via off to the kit-c-hen-"We'll eat at the kids' tab-le just li-ke old ti-mes"-but Jack hadn't be-en amu-sed, and he'd pu-nis-hed Su-ze by spen-ding the en-ti-re af-ter-no-on la-ug-hing with Oli-via and ig-no-ring her. Su-ze hadn't se-emed to ca-re. The fa-mily had mer-ci-ful-ly dis-per-sed by ni-ne when Jack to-ok his mot-her ho-me, and she evi-dently de-ci-ded to ke-ep him for a whi-le, be-ca-use at ele-ven that night, Su-ze and Nell we-re alo-ne in Su-ze's gu-est ro-om, sa-vo-ring the so-li-tu-de and the-ir ninth eg-gnogs. Even Mar-le-ne se-emed re-li-eved. "Thanks for spen-ding the night," Su-ze sa-id. "I co-uldn't fa-ce cle-aning that up by myself." "Not a prob-lem," Nell sa-id, stret-c-hing out on the bed in her blue silk pa-j-amas. It felt go-od to stretch, go-od to use her mus-c-les, and she tho-ught, not for the first ti-me, that she had ot-her mus-c-les she'd li-ke to use, too. Ce-li-bacy suc-ked. The-re we-re ti-mes when she al-most con-si-de-red jum-ping Ri-ley aga-in, just for the exer-ci-se. "Thanks for ha-ving both me and Whit-ney in the sa-me ro-om so Jase didn't ha-ve to split a ho-li-day aga-in." "She's an in-te-res-ting wo-man," Su-ze sa-id. "For a mid-get." She sat cross-leg-ged on the bed be-si-de Nell, un-s-nap-ping Mar-le-ne's tur-key cos-tu-me. "She's pe-ti-te." "She's a nasty lit-tle coc-k-ro-ach." "That's lo-yalty tal-king," Nell sa-id. "She's not that bad. And I ac-tu-al-ly don't ca-re abo-ut her an-y-mo-re, al-t-ho-ugh I'm still ho-ping Tim di-es. The only thing I ha-ve aga-inst her now is that she's ha-ving sex and I'm not." "You know," Su-ze sa-id, as she frow-ned at a stub-born snap, "if we had any bra-ins, we'd be sle-eping with each ot-her." "What?" Nell sa-id. "Us?" She tho-ught abo-ut it. "It wo-uld ma-ke things easi-er." "You do think I'm cu-te, right?" She stop-ped un-s-nap-ping Mar-le-ne to hold out the hem of her an-ci-ent OSU T-shirt. "As a bug," Nell sa-id. "Too bad it's was-ted on me." Whe-re the hell is lack an-y-way? "You lo-ok go-od in blue silk, too, swe-etie," Su-ze sa-id. "I'm tel-ling you, we're mis-sing a go-od bet he-re." Nell lo-oked down at her blue silk pa-j-amas. She did lo-ok go-od in blue. May-be she sho-uld get a blue nig-h-t-gown. In la-ce. Just in ca-se so-me-body stop-ped by so-me-ti-me. She shif-ted une-asily on the bed, lo-oking for a dis-t-rac-ti-on. "Ha-ve you got an-y-t-hing to eat that do-esn't scre-am Than-k-s-gi-ving?" They went dow-n-s-ta-irs to the kit-c-hen, Mar-le-ne clat-te-ring be-hind them in ho-pes of fo-od, and

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Su-ze pe-ered in-si-de the ref-ri-ge-ra-tor. "Lef-to-ver la-sag-na from yes-ter-day. Ce-lery and car-rots. Che-ese. I think the-re's rocky ro-ad ice cre-am in the fre-ezer. Ever-y-t-hing el-se is ho-li-day stuff." "Yes," Nell sa-id. "To what? The ice cre-am?" "To all of it. I'm star-ving. Got any wi-ne?" Su-ze be-gan un-lo-ading the ref-ri-ge-ra-tor. "This is a ni-ce chan-ge for you. We got very ti-red of trying to for-ce-fe-ed you last sum-mer." "I was get-ting ti-red of be-ing ha-ras-sed," Nell sa-id, go-ing for the car-rots. "And then sud-denly I was hungry, and now I can't catch up fast eno-ugh." Al-so when I eat, I don't think abo-ut sex. "Well, you're lo-oking a lot bet-ter." Su-ze to-ok a bot-tle of red wi-ne off the shelf and went lo-oking for a cor-k-s-c-rew. "Are you back to yo-ur ori-gi-nal we-ight?" "No, and I don't want to be," Nell sa-id. "I li-ke yo-ur hand-me-downs. But I'm he-althy aga-in. Well wit-hin go-ver-n-ment gu-ide-li-nes." Su-ze han-ded the bot-tle and the cor-k-s-c-rew to Nell. Then she dum-ped the la-sag-na on a pla-te and sho-ved it in-to the mic-ro-wa-ve. "Carbs co-ming up. The-re are pro-bably ste-aks dow-n-s-ta-irs in the fre-ezer. Want me to thaw a co-up-le for bre-ak-fast to-mor-row?" "Su-re." Nell pop-ped the cork on the wi-ne. "Ste-ak and eggs. Do we ha-ve to wa-it for bre-ak-fast?" Su-ze went down to the ba-se-ment and ca-me back up with three ste-aks, which she set in the sink to thaw. "I can't ima-gi-ne be-ing a ve-ge-ta-ri-an," she sa-id, ta-king the glass of wi-ne Nell han-ded her. "How do-es Mar-gie stand it?" "How do-es Mar-gie stand Bud-ge?" Nell sa-id, thin-king of the way Bud-ge had ho-ve-red over her all day and trying not to think of what he must be li-ke in bed. That tho-ught alo-ne cal-led for a drink. "He wor-s-hips the gro-und she walks on," Su-ze sa-id. "Lots of wo-men li-ke that." "Sort of li-ke Jack," Nell sa-id. "So, re-al-ly," Su-ze sa-id, "ha-ve you ever tho-ught abo-ut be-ing a les-bi-an?" "Ex-cu-se me?" "You know, you and me. Easi-er than guys." "Oh, right. No-pe." Nell un-w-rap-ped the che-ese and cut off a chunk. "I'm he-avily in-to pe-net-ra-ti-on. Or at le-ast I used to be. It's be-en a whi-le. Months. Ye-ars." "Not that long," Su-ze sa-id. "Or didn't Ri-ley pe-net-ra-te?" "He cer-ta-inly did," Nell sa-id. "But that was only on-ce and he do-esn't co-unt. He was a dis-po-sab-le lo-ver." Su-ze sta-red si-lently at the mic-ro-wa-ve as it co-un-ted off the se-conds, and when it din-ged, she pul-led the pas-ta out and put it on the tab-le. Then she to-ok two forks from the dra-wer, han-ded one to Nell, and they sat down with the la-sag-na pla-te bet-we-en them. Su-ze stab-bed the la-sag-na on her si-de. "Dis-po-sab-le lo-ver?" "Ac-cor-ding to Ri-ley," Nell sa-id aro-und a mo-ut-h-ful of che-ese and no-od-le, "wo-men who are get-ting over a di-vor-ce go thro-ugh a dis-po-sab-le lo-ver sta-ge when they sle-ep with men just to pro-ve they can." "Well, he'd ha-ve ac-cess to di-vor-ced wo-men," Su-ze sa-id. "So who el-se ha-ve you dis-po-sed of?" "J-ust Ri-ley." Nell cut in-to the la-sag-na aga-in. "This is re-al-ly go-od." "The-re sho-uld be mo-re than just Ri-ley," Su-ze sa-id sternly. "No-body el-se I'm at-trac-ted to," Nell sa-id, and then Ga-be flas-hed be-fo-re her, stan-ding in the do-or-way, lo-oming over her, ar-gu-ing with her, pus-hing back when she pus-hed him, enj-oying the fight as much as she did, and she stop-ped with her fork hal-f-way to her mo-uth. "Think of so-me-body, did you?" "No-pe," Nell sa-id and ate so-me la-sag-na. "So les-bi-anism. This in-te-rests you?" "May-be. I've ne-ver tri-ed it. I got mar-ri-ed very yo-ung, you know." "I know," Nell sa-id. "I was at the wed-ding. When the mi-nis-ter sa-id, 'Do-es an-yo-ne he-re

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obj-ect?' I wan-ted to stand up and say, 'Has an-yo-ne he-re no-ti-ced the bri-de is an in-fant?' but I didn't." She le-aned over and put a pi-ece of bre-ad on the flo-or for Mar-le-ne, who lo-oked at it as if it we-re broc-co-li. "If you're hol-ding out for la-sag-na," she told the dog, "you can for-get it." Mar-le-ne ate the bre-ad. "Thank you for not ru-ining my wed-ding," Su-ze sa-id. "Don't men-ti-on it. This is re-al-ly go-od la-sag-na." "It has to-fu in it." Nell slo-wed down long eno-ugh to lo-ok at the pan with do-ubt. "I can't tas-te it." "Then pre-tend it isn't the-re, the way you're pre-ten-ding this guy isn't the-re." "The-re is no guy," Nell sa-id. "To-fu, huh?" "For-get I men-ti-oned it." Su-ze re-fil-led the-ir wi-neg-las-ses. "Ever kiss a girl?" "No-pe." Nell re-ac-hed for the but-ter. "You?" "No-pe." Su-ze put her fork down. "We sho-uld try it." "I'm eating," Nell sa-id. "May-be la-ter, for des-sert." "So what's new at work?" "Not much. Ga-be let me fix the fur-ni-tu-re in his of-fi-ce, can you be-li-eve it? Next I'm go-ing to get a co-uch and then I'm go-ing to get that win-dow re-pa-in-ted. And new bu-si-ness cards." Su-ze sat back and ob-ser-ved her. "Ga-be al-ways se-ems dull to me." "Ga-be? Go-od he-avens, no." Nell for-ked mo-re la-sag-na. "Ri-ley says he's rep-res-sed from too many ye-ars of trying to ke-ep the firm af-lo-at be-ca-use his dad al-most ran it in-to the gro-und, but I think he's just dry. You know, the old tra-di-ti-onal pri-va-te de-tec-ti-ve co-ol." "I tho-ught so," Su-ze sa-id. "It's Ga-be." "What?" "You ha-ve the hots for Ga-be. That's why you ke-ep pus-hing him, to get him to pay at-ten-ti-on to you." "No, I do not," Nell sa-id, put-ting her fork down. "Are you in-sa-ne?" Su-ze sho-ok her he-ad. "I can he-ar it in yo-ur vo-ice. Co-me on, it's me. Ad-mit it." "Well." Nell pic-ked up her wi-neg-lass. "I ha-ve had a few fle-eting inap-prop-ri-ate tho-ughts." She drank half her wi-ne and then ad-ded, "But I'm su-re it's just be-ca-use he lo-oks li-ke Tim." "He do-esn't lo-ok li-ke Tim," Su-ze sa-id. "Be-si-des, you don't fe-el that way when you lo-ok at Tim now, right?" "Clas-si-cal con-di-ti-oning," Nell sa-id, thin-king abo-ut how stu-pid Tim had lo-oked at din-ner, hol-ding hands with Whit-ney and trying to pre-tend he didn't ha-ve two wi-ves at the sa-me tab-le. "I think I just lo-ok at tall, rangy guys with dark ha-ir and think 'I sho-uld be sle-eping with you' be-ca-use I slept with Tim for so long. It'll go away." She sho-ok her he-ad and drank aga-in. "Tim's not that tall," Su-ze sa-id. "And I re-pe-at, you don't fe-el that way abo-ut Tim an-y-mo-re, right?" Nell con-si-de-red it. Did she fe-el lust when she lo-oked at Tim? Well, God knew, not to-day she hadn't. He'd lo-oked sof-ter than she'd re-mem-be-red, as if she'd left him out in the ra-in. Not so-me-body she'd want to to-uch, not so-me-body she co-uld mo-ve aga-inst and fe-el bo-ne and mus-c-le. He lo-oked as tho-ugh, if she'd pus-hed a fin-ger in him, the dent wo-uld stay. "No," she sa-id. "Well, then," Su-ze sa-id, exas-pe-ra-ted. "I don't see that as a se-tup for lus-ting for Ga-be." "I just don't want to be li-ke Mar-gie and her in-ter-c-han-ge-ab-le blonds." "They we-ren't in-ter-c-han-ge-ab-le," Su-ze sa-id. "Ste-wart was a jac-kass, and Bud-ge is a do-or-mat." She se-emed dep-res-sed by that and fi-nis-hed off her wi-ne with a sigh. "Well, that's what I me-an," Nell sa-id. "She res-ponds to a cer-ta-in lo-ok in men and that's what she falls for no mat-ter what they're re-al-ly li-ke, and then she's stuck." "What's Ga-be re-al-ly li-ke?" "Smart." Nell pic-tu-red him stan-ding in the of-fi-ce do-or-way aga-in. "Te-na-ci-o-us. Char-ming when he wants to be. Exas-pe-ra-ted. Dry. Swe-et. Ob-no-xi-o-us. Kind. Con-t-rol-ling. Bra-ve.

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Sloppy. Pa-ti-ent." Hard. Strong. Le-an. "And la-tely, re-al-ly, re-al-ly hot." She sho-ok her he-ad and re-ac-hed for the wi-ne bot-tle. "Go fi-gu-re." "This do-es not so-und li-ke lust." "Thank God." "This so-unds li-ke luv." "Oh, no, it do-esn't." Nell stra-ig-h-te-ned. "Don't even start that. Ab-so-lu-tely not." She grab-bed her glass and drank. "The thing abo-ut lo-ve is, you don't get to cho-ose," Su-ze sa-id. "You just wa-ke up one day and the-re it is, sit-ting at the fo-ot of the bed, go-ing 'nyah, nyah, got-c-ha,' and the-re's not a damn thing you can do abo-ut it." She sho-ok her he-ad at the tho-ught and drank, too. "Ab-so-lu-tely not. No. I'm not go-ing back to that aga-in." "And the fact that you think he's hot do-esn't hurt," Su-ze sa-id. "He is very ap-pe-aling. Ni-ce body." "Ex-cu-se me?" Nell sa-id. "He we-ars tho-se su-its damn well." Su-ze pic-ked up a car-rot stick, non-c-ha-lantly not lo-oking at Nell. "And that mas-ter of the uni-ver-se thing he's got go-ing for him is sexy, too. I do lo-ve a man who's in con-t-rol." "You're mar-ri-ed to one of tho-se," Nell po-in-ted out. "Right. Do-esn't me-an I can't ap-pre-ci-ate it in ot-hers." Nell pic-ked up her fork and stab-bed the la-sag-na. "So go for it." "You wo-uldn't mind?" "Not at all," Nell sa-id airily. "Altho-ugh you are mar-ri-ed." "Well, then, if I ever de-ci-de to che-at, it'll be with Ga-be," Su-ze de-ci-ded. "He re-al-ly is dar-ling." "You're trying to ma-ke me mad, right?" Nell sa-id, re-ac-hing for her wi-neg-lass. "Is it wor-king?" "Yes. Damn it." "I don't see a prob-lem," Su-ze sa-id, put-ting the car-rot down. "You're both sin-g-le. Go for it." "I am not sle-eping with my boss," Nell sa-id. "And he's not sle-eping with me. It's aga-inst po-licy." "What po-licy?" "Don't fuck the help. The McKen-nas ha-ve a his-tory with the-ir sec-re-ta-ri-es." "He slept with Lynnie?" "No, that was Ri-ley." "Ri-ley." Su-ze sho-ok her he-ad over her wi-ne. "What a com-p-le-te was-te of man-ho-od that boy is." "No, he's not." Nell stra-ig-h-te-ned a lit-tle. "Ri-ley is a go-od man." "I tho-ught you sa-id he slept with ever-y-t-hing that mo-ved." "With a few flaws," Nell ad-mit-ted. "But he's a gre-at guy, re-al-ly. I'd trust him with my li-fe. You just ne-ed to know him bet-ter." She re-gar-ded Su-ze ca-re-ful-ly. "Or may-be not." "De-fi-ni-tely not." "So you're get-ting bo-red with Jack?" "Ice cre-am?" Su-ze sa-id brightly and went to the ref-ri-ge-ra-tor. "Okay. Hit a ner-ve, did I?" "I am not bo-red with my hus-band." Su-ze sa-id, thun-king the half gal-lon of rocky ro-ad down next to the la-sag-na. "Of co-ur-se not," Nell sa-id. "Got a spo-on?" Su-ze got two spo-ons out of the dra-wer and han-ded Nell one. "So you gon-na ma-ke yo-ur mo-ve on Ga-be any ti-me so-on?" "Ne-ver." Nell sco-oped a chunk of rocky ro-ad out of the car-ton and bit in-to it, le-aving so-me be-hind on the spo-on. The cho-co-la-te sme-ared her lo-wer lip, and Su-ze bent over and lic-ked the cho-co-la-te off, her ton-gue to-uc-hing Nell's as Nell jer-ked back a lit-tle in sur-p-ri-se. "C'mon." Su-ze grin-ned evil-ly at her, and Nell tho-ught abo-ut it thro-ugh a ha-ze of eg-gnog and red

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wi-ne and la-ug-hed. What the hell. "Okay. Mar-le-ne, clo-se yo-ur eyes." She le-aned for-ward and kis-sed Su-ze, her mo-uth soft on soft, swe-et on swe-et. It was dif-fe-rent, smo-oth and co-ol, li-ke va-nil-la ice cre-am. Su-ze pul-led back af-ter a mi-nu-te. "What do you think?" "Ni-ce." Nell ate the rest of the ice cre-am on her spo-on. "No zing, tho-ugh. I don't think we'll be bu-ying Mar-le-ne the 'My Two Mom-mi-es Lo-ve Me' T-shirt." "Ye-ah." Su-ze slum-ped in-to her cha-ir. "I want to ha-ve an af-fa-ir." Nell stop-ped, wi-de-eyed for a mo-ment. "I ha-ve Ri-ley's num-ber in my pur-se." "I can't che-at on Jack," Su-ze sa-id mi-se-rably, pic-king up her wi-neg-lass. "So why are you nec-king with me?" "I don't think he'd co-unt you. I think he'd pro-bably get tur-ned on if I slept with you." "I think he'd pro-bably want to play, too," Nell sa-id, sco-oping mo-re ice cre-am. "That's whe-re I bow out." "I just…" Su-ze sat back. "I ha-ven't kis-sed an-y-body but Jack in fo-ur-te-en ye-ars." Nell's mo-uth was full of ice cre-am, so she held up her hand. "And you. But that wasn't for re-al. It's li-ke you sa-id, I miss the zing. I want so-me zing." "Well, zing is go-od," Nell sa-id, swal-lo-wing. "But it do-esn't last." "It sho-uld." Su-ze fol-ded her arms. "I don't ex-pect it to be fi-re-works fo-re-ver, I know that stuff go-es, but sho-uldn't I still fe-el a lit-tle zing when he kis-ses me? A lit-tle hel-lo?" "I don't know," Nell sa-id. "I think the zing went with the fi-re-works with Tim and me. Ask Mar-gie. She's had mo-re zings than I ha-ve." "You had Ri-ley. The-re was zing, right?" Nell con-si-de-red. "Not re-al-ly. He's an ex-cel-lent, ex-cel-lent kis-ser, and the-re was buzz to the no-velty of it all, but zing? No-pe. I think you ha-ve to ha-ve pre-zing to get "Huh?" "You know," Nell sa-id, thin-king of Ga-be. "You lo-ok at his hands when he's wri-ting and you get hot just wat-c-hing the pen mo-ve. You he-ar his vo-ice and ha-ve to ta-ke a de-ep bre-ath be-ca-use you stop-ped bre-at-hing the mi-nu-te you he-ard him. He le-ans over yo-ur sho-ul-der and you clo-se yo-ur eyes so you can enj-oy it mo-re. Pre-zing." "That's not pre-zing," Su-ze sa-id. "That's full zing." "Well, I didn't ha-ve that with Ri-ley." "Oh." Su-ze lo-oked tho-ug-h-t-ful. "I fi-gu-red Ri-ley was uni-ver-sal zing. Mar-gie su-re res-pon-ded that night in the car." "But you didn't," Nell sa-id and grin-ned at her. "Of co-ur-se I did," Su-ze sa-id. "Obno-xi-o-us-ness do-esn't ne-ga-te ani-mal mag-ne-tism." "I do not get the ani-mal mag-ne-tism," Nell sa-id. "Na-tu-ral zing," Su-ze sa-id. "So-me guys ha-ve it. Li-ke Ri-ley and Jack." "No-pe," Nell sa-id. "Don't get eit-her one. That must be yo-ur zing. You didn't start thin-king abo-ut che-ating un-til you met Ri-ley, right?" "I am not thin-king abo-ut che-ating now," Su-ze sa-id, hol-ding her glass so tightly that her knuc-k-les went whi-te. "I wo-uldn't. I re-al-ly wo-uldn't." "Right. But you didn't start thin-king abo-ut it un-til you met Ri-ley, right?" "I don't even li-ke him." Nell sig-hed in exas-pe-ra-ti-on. "But you didn't start thin-king abo-ut it un-til you met him, right?" "A whi-le af-ter that. But I'm not go-ing to do it. It's a fan-tasy." Su-ze put down her wi-ne and dug in-to the ice cre-am in-s-te-ad. "It's not even that. I me-an, I don't ha-ve fan-ta-si-es abo-ut him. That wo-uld be wrong." She swal-lo-wed so-me ice cre-am and cho-ked a lit-tle. "So what's he li-ke?" "Who?" "Ri-ley. In bed." Nell tho-ught abo-ut it. "Very gen-t-le. And tho-ro-ugh. He pays at-ten-ti-on, cros-ses all the i's, dots all the t's. Slow but ste-ady." She til-ted her he-ad, thin-king abo-ut what she'd sa-id. "That so-unds

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bo-ring, do-esn't it?" "Not re-al-ly," Su-ze sa-id, her vo-ice a lit-tle stra-ined. "Be-ca-use he wasn't. Bo-ring, I me-an. Very gen-t-le but very in-ten-se. Lot of po-wer the-re. Gre-at hands." "Oh. Not that I ca-re." Su-ze sco-oped out mo-re rocky ro-ad and stuf-fed it in her mo-uth. "So you're thin-king abo-ut Ri-ley." "I think abo-ut the zing," Su-ze sa-id, her mo-uth full of ice cre-am. "And un-for-tu-na-tely, he co-mes to mind. Which an-noys me. But I'm not go-ing to do an-y-t-hing abo-ut it." "Me, ne-it-her," Nell sa-id, sco-oping mo-re ice cre-am and trying not to think abo-ut Ga-be. "We sho-uld try that kiss aga-in," Su-ze sa-id, put-ting down her ice cre-am spo-on. "Why?" Nell sa-id aro-und her rocky ro-ad. "Sup-po-se the-re was a pla-gue that wi-ped out all the men." "No mo-re wars and lots of fat, happy wo-men. Ni-co-le Hol-lan-der al-re-ady did the car-to-on." "No, I me-an wo-uld you gi-ve up sex?" "I'd still ha-ve elec-t-ri-city, right?" Nell sa-id. "Me and my vib-ra-tor. Not a prob-lem." "It's not the sa-me," Su-ze sa-id. "The-re's no to-uc-hing, no bo-di-es-" Nell ima-gi-ned Ga-be, stret-c-hed le-an and hard be-si-de her, and put her spo-on down. "- no he-at, no sli-de-" "Shut up," Nell sa-id, and re-ac-hed for the la-sag-na pla-te aga-in. "We'd only ha-ve each ot-her," Su-ze sa-id. "And Mar-gie," Nell sa-id, trying to ima-gi-ne a three-way with Mar-gie. "The she-ets wo-uld al-ways be cle-an." "Ima-gi-ne all the men are go-ne in the pla-gue, and it's just you and me. Mar-gie's do-ing the la-undry." Nell sho-ok her he-ad and stab-bed the la-sag-na. "I don't think I ha-ve the psycho-logy for this. I think I'm wi-red for tes-tos-te-ro-ne." She lo-oked at Su-ze. "I don't think you ha-ve the psycho-logy for it, eit-her. I think you're using me to dis-t-ract yo-ur-self from Ri-ley. And I don't think it's go-ing to work." Nell went back to the la-sag-na. "Are you su-re the-re's to-fu in this?" "Po-si-ti-ve," Su-ze sa-id and pic-ked up her ice cre-am spo-on. "Lot's of to-fu, no zing. Li-ke my li-fe." "I've got Ri-ley's num-ber," Nell sa-id, re-ac-hing for the bre-ad. "Po-si-ti-vely not," Su-ze sa-id. "I'm a hap-pily mar-ri-ed wo-man." I'm not, Nell tho-ught, and to-yed with the tan-ta-li-zingly idea of Ga-be whi-le they fi-nis-hed off the la-sag-na and the bot-tle of wi-ne. Chapter Eight A we-ek la-ter, Nell was still re-fu-sing to act on her at-trac-ti-on to Ga-be, so Su-ze cor-ne-red Ri-ley at the Syca-mo-re whi-le they we-re wa-iting for Ga-be and Nell and gril-led him. "Nell and Ga-be," she sa-id to him as the wa-it-ress put her ice tea in front of her. "Sho-uld be he-re very shortly," Ri-ley sa-id. "Whe-re's yo-ur hus-band?" "In a me-eting," Su-ze sa-id and then frow-ned as Ri-ley con-cen-t-ra-ted on so-met-hing be-hind her. "Anot-her bru-net-te?" she sa-id, exas-pe-ra-ted. "Blon-de. Ke-ep tal-king. You will an-y-way." "Ga-be and Nell. I think they ne-ed a push." "Don't in-ter-fe-re. They'll get the-re, as-su-ming they stop fig-h-ting long eno-ugh to no-ti-ce they want each ot-her." Su-ze sat back in sur-p-ri-se. "You know abo-ut this?" "I work with them," Ri-ley sa-id. "When he didn't fi-re her the first we-ek, I knew so-met-hing was up. Al-so, he was not happy that we'd slept to-get-her." "Nell's pre-ten-ding she do-esn't ca-re." "She ca-res," Ri-ley sa-id. "And I'm bo-red with this con-ver-sa-ti-on."

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. He was still trying to ma-ke eye con-tact with the blon-de, or may-be he al-re-ady had. She didn't ca-re eno-ugh to turn aro-und and lo-ok, but she wan-ted his at-ten-ti-on, so she le-aned for-ward. "Lis-ten, Sco-oter," she sa-id, and he frow-ned at her. "They're go-ing to ne-ed help. The French ha-ve this sa-ying that in every re-la-ti-on-s-hip the-re is one who kis-ses and one who is kis-sed." "What French?" Ri-ley sa-id. "You're French?" "I to-ok French 101. It me-ans in every co-up-le, the-re's one who calls the shots and one who obeys." "I got that," Ri-ley sa-id with pal-pab-le pa-ti-en-ce. "Why sho-uld I ca-re?" "Ga-be and Nell are both kis-sers," Su-ze sa-id. "Nell ran Tim, and Ga-be ran Chloe and the of-fi-ce and you." "Not me," Ri-ley sa-id. "You and I are kis-se-es," Su-ze went on as if he hadn't spo-ken. "Other pe-op-le co-me af-ter us. That's why not-hing is ever go-ing to hap-pen with us. We'd spend the rest of our li-ves wa-iting for the ot-her one to ma-ke a mo-ve." "You, may-be," Ri-ley sa-id. "I mo-ve. Just not on you." "But Ga-be and Nell are fo-re-ver go-ing to be kis-sing, trying to be the one on top. They're so ca-ught up in fig-h-ting over who gets to call the shots, they're ne-ver go-ing to con-nect and kiss for re-al." "So they'll le-arn to sha-re," Ri-ley sa-id, star-ting to lo-ok grumpy. "I am not a kis-see." He lo-oked be-yond her and his fa-ce cle-ared. Su-ze ga-ve up and tur-ned to see. The blon-de was get-ting up to go, smi-ling at Ri-ley. Ri-ley smi-led back. Su-ze tur-ned back and pic-ked up her tea. "I rest my ca-se." "What?" Ri-ley sa-id. "I'll ma-ke my mo-ve when I want to." From the cor-ner of her eye, Su-ze wat-c-hed the blon-de pick up her pur-se and mo-ve to-ward the do-or, slo-wing as she went past Ri-ley. He lif-ted his fa-ce to say so-met-hing to her, and she han-ded him a bu-si-ness card. "Call me," she sa-id and left, pus-hing past Ga-be and Nell, who we-re on the-ir way in. "Kis-see," Su-ze sa-id to Ri-ley. "I pre-fer to think of it as 'po-pu-lar,' " Ri-ley sa-id, sto-wing the card in his poc-ket. Ga-be pul-led out the cha-ir next to him for Nell, and Ri-ley lo-oked up and sa-id, "What to-ok you so long?" "Pla-ces to go," Nell sa-id. "Things to do," Ga-be sa-id and sat down be-si-de Su-ze. "What's new?" "So-me wo-man just pic-ked up Ri-ley," Su-ze sa-id. "It hap-pens," Ga-be sa-id. "He sits the-re and they throw them-sel-ves at him." "Kis-see," Su-ze sa-id to Ri-ley. "Kiss off," Ri-ley sa-id. La-ter, when he was hel-ping her on with her co-at, she le-aned back and whis-pe-red, "Push him, will you?" Ri-ley sig-hed and rol-led his eyes, but af-ter fo-ur-te-en nights of de-coy work, she co-uld re-ad him li-ke a bo-ok. He'd do it. Now all she had to do was get Nell in mo-ti-on, and at le-ast so-me-body wo-uld be get-ting zing. The next night, Ga-be lis-te-ned to Nell out in her of-fi-ce ask Ri-ley if the-re was an-y-t-hing el-se he ne-eded be-fo-re she went ho-me. Mar-le-ne's na-ils clic-ked on the har-d-wo-od flo-or as she ma-de her last to-ur of the re-cep-ti-on ro-om, stop-ping lon-gest at the Chris-t-mas tree Nell had put up af-ter he'd told her not to, and Ga-be felt the early eve-ning me-lan-c-holy that had be-en ta-king him la-tely. The pla-ce was al-ways dif-fe-rent af-ter Nell was go-ne, as if she to-ok so-und and light with her, but that was pro-bably be-ca-use she al-ways left af-ter fi-ve when the who-le world got qu-i-eter and dar-ker. Ri-ley knoc-ked on the do-or and ca-me in. "I'm qu-it-ting for the night. You ne-ed an-y-t-hing el-se?" "Lynne," Ga-be sa-id. "He-le-na's di-amonds. Ste-wart Dysart." "J-esus, Ga-be, get over it," Ri-ley sa-id. "She was not the type to go qu-i-etly away," Ga-be sa-id. "She's so-mew-he-re plan-ning so-met-hing. And I'd re-al-ly li-ke to know whe-re the hell Ste-wart is, too. I'd lo-ve to find a link bet-we-en them, find out that he was the one who sent her in he-re to lo-ok for so-met-hing, the one who told her who to

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blac-k-ma-il at OD. I as-ked, but no Lynn Ma-son ever wor-ked at OD. She for-ged her re-fe-ren-ce from the-re, and of co-ur-se yo-ur mot-her ne-ver chec-ked it." "May-be she was the-re un-der anot-her na-me," Ri-ley sa-id. "Lis-ten, I've be-en thin-king. Nell's a very at-trac-ti-ve wo-man. That red T-shirt she's we-aring-" "Don't fuck the help," Ga-be sa-id. "Not for me," Ri-ley sa-id. "You." "Oh, no. I can only ima-gi-ne what all that rut-h-less ef-fi-ci-ency wo-uld be li-ke in bed." The tho-ught held a per-ver-se kind of ap-pe-al, so Ga-be sho-ved it out of his mind. "I bet you can," Ri-ley sa-id. "You're pat-he-tic." "Go away." "You're al-so in de-ni-al." Ga-be sat back, exas-pe-ra-ted. "Do you ha-ve a po-int?" "This thing you ha-ve with Nell-" "The-re is no thing." "- is so ob-vi-o-us that you're the only one who hasn't no-ti-ced." Ri-ley stop-ped and re-con-si-de-red. "Altho-ugh I'm not su-re she's ca-ught on, eit-her." "Which wo-uld le-ave you to do the no-ti-cing. No, thank you." "Su-ze Dysart men-ti-oned it." Ga-be ra-ised an eyeb-row. "When did you dis-cuss this with Su-ze Dysart?" "We had a drink last night," Ri-ley sa-id. "Wa-iting for you, re-mem-ber?" "I no-ti-ced Jack wasn't the-re." "He had a bu-si-ness me-eting." "At night?" "I didn't men-ti-on that." Ga-be sig-hed and rub-bed his fo-re-he-ad. "He was very sin-ce-re abo-ut not che-ating on her when he tal-ked to us abo-ut the blac-k-ma-il thing." "That was three months ago. Jack's not known for his at-ten-ti-on span." "Well, un-til Su-ze hi-res us to catch him, we don't ca-re. Don't you ha-ve so-met-hing to do? What abo-ut the Hot Lunch?" "Nell did it," Ri-ley sa-id. "He-re's so-met-hing fun. Gi-na's da-ting a girl this ti-me." "Re-al-ly?" Ga-be sa-id. "Go-od for Gi-na. That sho-uld rev Ha-rold up so-me." "Mo-re than so-me. This ti-me he's up-set. He says it's dis-gus-ting." "Ha-rold sho-uld bro-aden his ho-ri-zons." "That's what I sa-id. I told him if he pla-yed his cards right, he might get them both in bed as an apo-logy." Ga-be win-ced. "And he sa-id…?" "That he wants to de-al with you from now on," Ri-ley sa-id, che-ering up so-me. "I'm a per-vert." "We al-re-ady knew that." Ga-be sig-hed. "Okay, what are you do-ing whi-le I talk Ha-rold down from the led-ge?" "The Qu-ar-terly Re-port," Ri-ley sa-id, lo-sing his smi-le. "Tre-vor says Oli-via is ac-ting mo-re sus-pi-ci-o-us than usu-al. He's wor-ri-ed." "And Merry Chris-t-mas to you," Ga-be sa-id. "At le-ast you get to go to bars for the ho-li-days." "Spa-re me," Ri-ley sa-id. "Oli-via is a com-p-le-te va-cu-um, which was okay when I first star-ted wat-c-hing her, but it's be-en three ye-ars now and she's still dumb as a rock, go-ing to the sa-me stu-pid, no-isy pla-ces, fal-ling in-to bed with the sa-me mo-ro-nic guys, which wo-uldn't bot-her me ex-cept that then I end up lis-te-ning to them when I eaves-d-rop, and so-oner or la-ter I'm go-ing to kill one of them just to shut him up." "Ne-ver tho-ught I'd see the day," Ga-be sa-id. "What?" "You're ma-tu-ring. Way to go." "Ne-ver say that," Ri-ley sa-id, and got up to ma-ke his es-ca-pe be-fo-re Ga-be co-uld ac-cu-se him of adul-t-ho-od.

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When Ri-ley was go-ne, Ga-be tri-ed to con-cen-t-ra-te on the re-ports in front of him, but Ri-ley was right. Nell kept in-t-ru-ding, the sa-me way she kept bar-ging in-to his of-fi-ce and his li-fe: ab-rupt and de-fi-ant and mad-de-ningly ef-fi-ci-ent, snap-ping back up at him whe-ne-ver he tri-ed to put her down. She co-uldn't ha-ve be-en mo-re dif-fe-rent from Chloe if she'd tri-ed, but Chloe had ne-ver lur-ked in his sub-con-s-ci-o-us. Chloe had al-ways just be-en the-re, warm and lo-ving and su-re, part of the wal-lpa-per of his li-fe. She'd known what she'd be-en tal-king abo-ut when she sa-id they both de-ser-ved bet-ter. She had cer-ta-inly de-ser-ved bet-ter. He sho-ok his he-ad at his own ob-tu-se-ness and re-sol-ved to be bet-ter to Chloe when she ca-me back, if she ever ca-me back, her last pos-t-card had be-en from Bul-ga-ria. That fi-led ne-atly away, he ig-no-red Nell-stan-ding in the cen-ter of his mind in her red T-shirt with her hands on her hips-and went back to bu-si-ness. May-be he sho-uld call Tre-vor, see if he co-uld worm out of him exactly what he was wor-ri-ed abo-ut with Oli-via. That wo-uld ma-ke Ri-ley's li-fe easi-er. May-be he co-uld al-so worm out of him wha-te-ver the hell Lynne had be-en blac-k-ma-iling him for. He ne-eded his ap-po-in-t-ments for to-mor-row, too; and Ha-rold was go-ing to ne-ed ex-t-ra ti-me sin-ce the Hot Lunch had ta-ken a turn for the dif-fe-rent, so bet-ter tell Nell Nell knoc-ked on the do-or and ca-me in, car-rying pa-pers and a blue fol-der. "Abo-ut to-mor-row," Ga-be sa-id, trying not to lo-ok at her red silk T-shirt. Un-for-tu-na-tely lo-oking down ga-ve him her legs. She had phe-no-me-nal legs. "He-re's yo-ur sche-du-le," Nell sa-id, put-ting it in front of him. "I've gi-ven you ex-t-ra ti-me at lunch with Ha-rold. He se-emed a lit-tle up-set when I tal-ked to him." "He's mar-ri-ed to Gi-na. That wo-uld up-set any man." He frow-ned at her, re-ali-zing what she'd just sa-id. "What do you me-an, you tal-ked to him?" "He cal-led back. You we-re on the pho-ne with Bec-ca." "Right. Which re-minds me-" "You're go-ing to see her to-mor-row. He-re's her fol-der." Nell drop-ped the blue fol-der on top of his iti-ne-rary. "Arran-ged la-test job to ear-li-est. Al-so the stuff Ri-ley and I got on Randy, the phan-tom Te-xan, which is not-hing. On the ot-her hand, we didn't find an-y-t-hing bad." "Not-hing is bad eno-ugh," Ga-be sa-id. "Also I ne-ed-" "The Qu-ar-terly Re-port fol-der." Nell held it out to him. "Stop that!" Ga-be jer-ked it out of her hand. "Jesus, you re-ad minds, too?" "No," Nell sa-id, lo-oking ta-ken aback. "I just fi-gu-red you'd want to lo-ok at it sin-ce Tre-vor cal-led twi-ce." "Thank you." Ga-be to-ok the fol-der. "Sorry I yel-led. Get him on the pho-ne for me, will you?" "Li-ne one," Nell sa-id, and when he jer-ked his he-ad up, she held her hands up in de-fen-se and sa-id, "Pu-re dumb luck. He cal-led right be-fo-re I ca-me in he-re." "You are get-ting a lit-tle cre-epy," Ga-be sa-id, re-ac-hing for the pho-ne. "Hey," she sa-id, and he lo-oked up at her, ca-ught in the dusky twi-light from his win-dow, her ha-ir on fi-re over her snap-ping brown eyes, her slen-der sho-ul-ders bra-ced back for his as-sa-ult, her body ar-c-hed in her tight red T-shirt cur-ving down to hips that we-re un-de-ni-ably ro-un-der than they'd be-en six months be-fo-re, ta-pe-ring in-to im-pos-sibly long, strong legs plan-ted firmly apart on his Ori-en-tal rug. "I am not a lit-tle cre-epy," she sa-id. "I am ef-fi-ci-ent." That's not all you are. He tri-ed not to lo-ok at her, but it was im-pos-sib-le. "And Tre-vor just of-fe-red me that job aga-in, so watch it, buddy, or you'll be short a sec-re-tary." "Sorry. I'm ha-ving a bad day." "Oh, hell, Ga-be." She let her hands fall from her hips. "I'm sorry, too. I'm just ti-red and cranky. You want a cup of cof-fee be-fo-re I go?" "No." "Well, what can I get you? Tea? Be-er? What?" You, he tho-ught and ga-ve him-self the lu-xury of one shiny fan-tasy of Nell on his desk with his hands sli-ding up the pa-le, smo-oth skin un-der her T-shirt be-fo-re he sa-id, "Not-hing. Go away." "Yo-ur pe-op-le skills ne-ed work," Nell sa-id and then mer-ci-ful-ly went back in-to the re-cep-ti-on

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ro-om. He pic-ked up the pho-ne and pun-c-hed "one." "Tre-vor? Sorry to ke-ep you wa-iting. Go-od to talk to you." To an-y-body but Nell. He ope-ned the bot-tom dra-wer and to-ok out his bot-tle of Glen-li-vet. "I un-der-s-tand you're wor-ri-ed abo-ut Oli-via." Nell. Jesus. "She's up to so-met-hing," Tre-vor sa-id. "I know that juni-or par-t-ner of yo-urs is go-od, but I think this might be so-met-hing for you to han-d-le." Ga-be crad-led the pho-ne bet-we-en his chin and his sho-ul-der as he lo-oked for so-met-hing to po-ur the whis-key in-to. If Nell had be-en the-re, she'd ha-ve had a glass un-der the bot-tle by now. Of co-ur-se, if Nell had be-en the-re, he wo-uldn't want the whis-key. He'd want "Ri-ley's not a juni-or par-t-ner, Tre-vor, he's a full par-t-ner. And most of the ti-me he's a hell of a lot bet-ter than I am. He's the guy you want on this one." He lo-oked aro-und the ro-om for a glass, an old cof-fee cup, an-y-t-hing, but he knew bet-ter. Nell had be-en the-re. The pla-ce was spot-less. He ga-ve up and to-ok a swig from the bot-tle. "If you're su-re," Tre-vor sa-id. Ga-be sa-vo-red the he-at of the scotch go-ing down. "I'm su-re. Ri-ley is the best the-re is." "Call me if you find out an-y-t-hing," Tre-vor sa-id. "I know I'm over-p-ro-tec-ti-ve, but damn it, she's my lit-tle girl." "Right," Ga-be sa-id, scre-wing the top back on the bot-tle. Oli-via Ogil-vie was a lit-tle girl the way Brit-ney Spe-ars was a te-ena-ger. "Co-unt on us. Oh, and Tre-vor? Stop trying to ste-al my sec-re-tary." He hung up on Tre-vor's un-re-pen-tant chuc-k-le, and Ri-ley spo-ke from the do-or-way. "Thanks." Ga-be lo-oked up, sur-p-ri-sed. "I didn't know you we-re still he-re." "I'm the best the-re is, huh?" Ga-be eased back in his cha-ir. "Ye-ah, you are. Sho-uld ha-ve told you that be-fo-re." "It's go-od to he-ar any ti-me." Ri-ley slo-uc-hed in-to his cha-ir and re-gar-ded him ste-adily. "What did you say to Nell?" "She was fus-sing. I kic-ked her out." Ga-be tho-ught abo-ut it and un-s-c-re-wed the Glen-li-vet aga-in. "I'll apo-lo-gi-ze." "She se-emed a lit-tle an-no-yed." "She's al-ways an-no-yed," Ga-be sa-id and drank. "You okay?" "Ne-ver bet-ter." He cap-ped the bot-tle. "Tre-vor wants the re-port on Oli-via to-mor-row. Is that a prob-lem?" "Not un-less Oli-via stays ho-me and be-ha-ves her-self. Sin-ce it's Fri-day night, I'm gu-es-sing that's not a prob-lem." Ri-ley stu-di-ed him for a mi-nu-te, and just as Ga-be was abo-ut to say, "What?" Ri-ley sa-id, "I think you're right." He stra-ig-h-te-ned in his cha-ir and lo-oked open and for-t-h-right, which ma-de Ga-be nar-row his eyes in sus-pi-ci-on. "I do ha-ve a mo-re ma-tu-re out-lo-ok on li-fe." "Okay," Ga-be sa-id, wa-iting for it. "And just now tal-king with Nell and her T-shirt, I re-ali-zed what I wal-ked away from," Ri-ley sa-id. "Ma-tu-re men ne-ed ma-tu-re wo-men. I'm go-ing to ma-ke a mo-ve on her aga-in. That okay with you?" Ga-be lo-oked at him with lo-at-hing. "You co-uldn't let it alo-ne, co-uld you? You had to ke-ep pus-hing." "J-ust wan-ted to ma-ke su-re it's okay." "I will rip yo-ur thro-at out with my ba-re hands." "The-re you go," Ri-ley sa-id, stan-ding up. "Big day for both of us. I'm in-to ma-tu-rity and you're out of de-ni-al." "And the sad thing is, you're on my si-de," Ga-be sa-id. "Ima-gi-ne what my ene-mi-es are do-ing to me." "For-get abo-ut yo-ur ene-mi-es," Ri-ley sa-id. "Inves-ti-ga-te yo-ur sec-re-tary."

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Ga-be tho-ught abo-ut Nell on his desk aga-in. Now he knew why his dad had kept the whis-key in the bot-tom dra-wer. Sec-re-ta-ri-es, the ba-ne of the McKen-nas. "When did she get di-vor-ced?" "A ye-ar ago last July," Ri-ley sa-id, and then he sa-id, "No, you're not go-ing to wa-it for the two ye-ars to be up." "Smart thing to do," Ga-be sa-id. "Sta-tis-tics show-" "Co-wardly thing to do," Ri-ley sa-id. "That's se-ven months from now. I got twenty says you don't ma-ke it." "You're on," Ga-be sa-id. "Now go away." Fif-te-en mi-nu-tes la-ter, Nell ca-me in with her co-at on and sa-id, "I'm le-aving. An-y-t-hing you ne-ed be-fo-re I go?" Ask me aga-in in se-ven months, Ga-be tho-ught, but he sa-id, "No-pe. Sorry I yel-led ear-li-er." "Not a prob-lem," Nell sa-id. "That's pretty much yo-ur ma-j-or mo-de of com-mu-ni-ca-ti-on." Ga-be win-ced. "You re-al-ly are a ter-ri-fic sec-re-tary. Best we've ever had." "Thank you," Nell sa-id, sur-p-ri-sed in-to a smi-le, and Ga-be felt the he-at spre-ad as he lo-oked at her. "Ha-ve a go-od night." "You, too," he sa-id as she fa-ded thro-ugh the do-or, ta-king the he-at with her. Se-ven months. He got out the whis-key aga-in. At ni-ne the next mor-ning, Bec-ca cal-led and can-ce-led for the fo-urth ti-me. "I just can't ask him, Ga-be," she sa-id. "May-be af-ter Chris-t-mas." "When you've as-ked him, call us," Ga-be sa-id, fe-eling sorry for her, but sor-ri-er for him-self: He had the mot-her of all han-go-vers. "Ha-ve a go-od ho-li-day." He hung up the pho-ne just as Ri-ley ca-me in and sat down ac-ross from him. "I did the Qu-ar-terly Re-port last night," Ri-ley sa-id, his fa-ce grim. "Oh, go-od for you," Ga-be sa-id aro-und his he-adac-he and then lo-oked at him clo-ser. "What's wrong?" "Tre-vor was right, Oli-via's up to so-me-body new." "How bad?" "Re-al bad," Ri-ley sa-id. "It's Jack Dysart." "Oh, hell." Ga-be yan-ked open his desk dra-wer and fo-und his as-pi-rin bot-tle. He'd al-re-ady ta-ken two, but he was pretty su-re it was im-pos-sib-le to over-do-se on as-pi-rin. "Are you su-re?" "He went back to her pla-ce with her and they didn't clo-se the dra-pes. And no, he wasn't chec-king her ho-me-work." "J-ack Dysart is an idi-ot." Tre-vor was go-ing to ha-ve Jack's he-ad on a plat-ter, which was only right. And then the-re was Su-ze. She didn't de-ser-ve this. "Son of a bitch." "I ha-ve stron-ger words," Ri-ley sa-id. "You go-ing to tell Tre-vor?" "Un-less you want to," Ga-be sa-id. "Get the re-port to-get-her…" His vo-ice tra-iled off as he saw what Ri-ley had al-re-ady se-en. "We don't gi-ve this to Nell," Ri-ley sa-id. "She'll tell Su-ze." "She'll sus-pect so-met-hing if you don't gi-ve her a re-port. Wri-te a dummy for her to type and then do the re-al re-port yo-ur-self." "If she ever finds out we li-ed to her, she'll kill us both," Ri-ley sa-id. "Then see to it she ne-ver finds out," Ga-be sa-id. "And be ca-re-ful. She's sharp." Ri-ley got up to go. "So you go-ing to do an-y-t-hing abo-ut her?" "No," Ga-be sa-id. "Go away." "Lo-ok," Ri-ley sa-id. "You've had it for her for months now. Gi-ven the kind of guy you are, you're al-ways go-ing to ha-ve it for her. Why can't you just ad-mit that and get it over with?" "Thank you. When you've fi-xed yo-ur own li-fe, then you can cri-ti-ci-ze mi-ne." "My li-fe is fi-ne." "Yo-ur li-fe is fi-ne." "Yes, my li-fe is fi-ne."

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"Well, you've ne-ver be-en a hypoc-ri-te," Ga-be sa-id. "So I'm go-ing to ha-ve to go with tra-gi-cal-ly stu-pid he-re." "What hypoc-ri-te?" Ri-ley lo-oked mysti-fi-ed. "I don't ha-ve it for Nell. I was just trying to get you mo-ving when I sa-id that last night." "Su-san-nah Cam-p-bell Dysart," Ga-be sa-id, enun-ci-ating each syllab-le ca-re-ful-ly. "For fif-te-en ye-ars." "En-ti-rely dif-fe-rent si-tu-ati-on," Ri-ley sa-id. "She was a fan-tasy of my yo-uth. I'm over that." "Tra-gi-cal-ly stu-pid," Ga-be sa-id and went back to his re-ports, and then, as an af-ter-t-ho-ught, prom-p-ted by the news abo-ut Oli-via, he ad-ded, "Ha-ve you se-en Lu la-tely?" "Uh, no," Ri-ley sa-id and he-aded for the do-or. "Hold it," Ga-be sa-id. "What's go-ing on?" "Not-hing," Ri-ley sa-id. "She's yo-ur kid. Talk to her." Ga-be put his pen down, sud-denly cold. "Drugs?" "J-esus, no," Ri-ley sa-id. "I'm not sa-ying I'd be sur-p-ri-sed if she did a lit-tle we-ed now and then, but she's not stu-pid." "Then what is it?" Ga-be sa-id, and when Ri-ley he-si-ta-ted, he sa-id, "So-me-day you're go-ing to ha-ve a kid of yo-ur own. Cut me a bre-ak now." "She's da-ting a re-al-ly ni-ce guy." Ga-be frow-ned. "So what's the prob-lem?" "She's be-en da-ting him for a whi-le." "How long?" "Sin-ce scho-ol star-ted." Fo-ur months. A new re-cord for his scat-ter-b-ra-ined child. "Anything wrong with him?" "No-pe." "Then why are you sca-ring the hell out of me?" "It's Nell's kid," Ri-ley sa-id. "Jason. Nell says he's not much for long-term re-la-ti-on-s-hips." "Go-od," Ga-be sa-id, pic-king up his pen aga-in, and Ri-ley es-ca-ped in-to the outer of-fi-ce. Nell ca-me in a few mi-nu-tes la-ter with the pre-vi-o-us day's pa-per-work to sign. "How'd the Qu-ar-terly Re-port go?" she sa-id. "Sa-me as al-ways," Ga-be sa-id. "I've got lunch with Ha-rold to-day." "I know, I ha-ve it al-re-ady," Nell sa-id. "Don't for-get the ap-po-in-t-ment at Na-ti-on-wi-de at three. She tur-ned to go and Ga-be sa-id, "One mo-re thing." "Yes?" "We-re you awa-re that yo-ur son is da-ting my da-ug-h-ter?" Nell fro-ze, her bright gre-en swe-ater stret-c-hed tight ever-y-w-he-re. "Oh?" "Ye-ah, I tho-ught you we-re," Ga-be sa-id, and went back to the pa-per-work. If Nell had ra-ised the kid, he'd ha-ve to be de-cent, al-t-ho-ugh that idi-ot she'd mar-ri-ed wasn't a go-od in-di-ca-tor. He stop-ped to think abo-ut it and de-ci-ded that it didn't mat-ter who the kid's fat-her was. Nell wo-uld ha-ve ra-ised him right. Be-si-des, an-y-body was bet-ter than Jack Dysart. De-cem-ber was the bu-si-est month the McKen-nas had had sin-ce Nell jo-ined them, and it dep-res-sed her a lit-tle. We-ren't pe-op-le sup-po-sed to trust each ot-her mo-re at the ho-li-days? "Mo-re su-ici-des this ti-me of ye-ar than any ot-her," Ga-be sa-id when she men-ti-oned it to him. "It's all that ex-pec-ta-ti-on. Ever-y-body wants to li-ve in a Nor-man Roc-k-well pa-in-ting, and ever-y-body's re-al-ly li-ving in The Scre-am. It gets to pe-op-le." "I'm happy," Nell sa-id, trying not to lo-ok at him. His tie was lo-ose-ned and his shir-t-s-le-eves we-re rol-led up and his ha-ir lo-oked rum-p-led, and he lo-oked li-ke an un-ma-de bed. A re-al-ly in-vi-ting, re-al-ly hot un-ma-de bed. When she men-ti-oned it to Su-ze the next day, Su-ze sa-id, "Well, do so-met-hing abo-ut it." Nell sho-ok her he-ad, "The-re's a word for sec-re-ta-ri-es who se-du-ce the-ir bos-ses." "'Bim-bos'?" Su-ze sa-id.

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"'Fi-red,"' Nell sa-id. "I li-ke my job, and I'm not go-ing to lo-se it by ma-king a pass at Ga-be." They we-re de-co-ra-ting The Cup for Chris-t-mas for Mar-gie-Mar-t-ha Ste-wart wo-uld ha-ve ta-ken Mar-gie and her shop to her bo-som, it was that clas-sy-cu-te now-and Mar-gie ca-me up with a tray of in-t-ri-ca-tely iced co-oki-es and sa-id, "What do you think?" "They're works of art," Nell sa-id, and me-ant it. The co-oki-es we-re cut in clas-sic Chris-t-mas sha-pes, but the icing that co-ve-red them was shiny and smo-oth as a new snow-fall, and the pi-ped de-co-ra-ti-ons we-re im-ma-cu-la-tely do-ne. "Tho-se must ha-ve ta-ken you ho-urs." "J-ust all mor-ning," Mar-gie sa-id. "I'm thin-king of ope-ning in the mor-nings, too. May-be just for Chris-t-mas. What do you think?" "I think Bud-ge will ha-ve a fit," Su-ze sa-id. "Do it." "He's not aro-und in the mor-nings," Mar-gie sa-id. "And pe-op-le li-ke tea in the mor-ning, too." Nell was still stuck on the co-oki-es. "The-se are re-al-ly be-a-uti-ful, Mar-gie. Pe-op-le co-uld gi-ve them as gifts." "Do you think?" Mar-gie's ro-und lit-tle fa-ce flus-hed with ple-asu-re. "I've be-en prac-ti-cing. I've go-ne thro-ugh po-unds of ro-yal icing, but I think I'm get-ting pretty go-od." "I think you're gre-at," Su-ze sa-id. "What do they tas-te li-ke?" "Ta-ke one," Mar-gie ur-ged, and Su-ze sa-id, "God, no. Don't you ha-ve any bro-ken pi-eces?" "I've got so-me that aren't pretty eno-ugh to sell," Mar-gie sa-id and went to get them. "What's with the crack abo-ut Bud-ge?" Nell sa-id. "I'm sorry," Su-ze sa-id. "He's dri-ving Mar-gie crazy, cal-ling her he-re all the ti-me, trying to get her to qu-it, and it's so sel-fish of him when she lo-ves it so much. I think he's af-ra-id she's go-ing to me-et so-me-body el-se and le-ave him, but Mar-gie do-esn't ha-ve that kind of luck." "Sort of li-ke Jack," Nell sa-id. Su-ze sho-ok her he-ad. "You know, he bul-li-ed me in-to qu-it-ting the de-coys, and now he's wor-king la-te all the ti-me so he's not ho-me an-y-way. I don't miss him that much, I just think if he's not go-ing to be the-re, why do I ha-ve to be?" Not go-od, Nell tho-ught. "So what did you get him for Chris-t-mas?" "Not-hing," Su-ze sa-id. "What's the po-int of bu-ying him a pre-sent with mo-ney he gi-ves me?" "Okay," Nell sa-id. "What are you get-ting Ga-be?" "We don't ex-c-han-ge pre-sents. We're not that clo-se." "Right. What did you get him?" "Not-hing," Nell sa-id. "But I did ha-ve so-me of the pic-tu-res on his wall blown up big-ger and fra-med in gold so we can put them in the outer of-fi-ce. Co-me he-re, you ha-ve to see them." She to-ok Su-ze in-to the sto-re-ro-om and Mar-gie fol-lo-wed them in with the co-oki-es. "The-se are re-al-ly go-od," Nell sa-id af-ter one bi-te. "They tas-te li-ke the al-mond co-oki-es." She to-ok anot-her for eater and be-gan to un-pack the pic-tu-re bo-xes. "I adap-ted the re-ci-pe," Mar-gie sa-id. "I tho-ught if we only sold the-se at Chris-t-mas, pe-op-le wo-uld ap-pre-ci-ate them mo-re." "And pay mo-re for them," Su-ze sa-id. "Mar-gie, you're a ge-ni-us." "I am, aren't I?" Mar-gie sa-id, de-lig-h-ted. "I'm fre-ezing the do-ugh so I can ma-ke it on-ce a we-ek but ba-ke them fresh every mor-ning. It's so much bet-ter that way." Nell stop-ped un-pac-king pic-tu-res to lo-ok at her, sur-p-ri-sed at her con-fi-den-ce. "Go-od for you," she sa-id. She put the pic-tu-res on the box. "This one's yo-ur dad, Mar-gie." She fi-nis-hed off her co-okie and wat-c-hed Mar-gie smi-le as she re-cog-ni-zed her dad in the twen-ty-so-met-hing, scot-ch-clut-c-hing Tre-vor. "I sho-uld get a copy of this for him for Chris-t-mas," Mar-gie sa-id. "He's be-en re-al-ly dep-res-sed la-tely. This wo-uld che-er him up." "Who's the guy who lo-oks li-ke Ga-be? His dad?" Su-ze sa-id. "Yes." Nell pul-led out anot-her pic-tu-re. "He-re's Ga-be and his dad to-get-her." "My God, he's yo-ung," Su-ze sa-id.

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Nell lo-oked at the slen-der boy in the pic-tu-re. "He's eig-h-te-en the-re. He star-ted wor-king he-re at fif-te-en. Can you ima-gi-ne?" She pul-led out anot-her one. "This is Pat-rick and Lia, Ga-be's mom. The-ir wed-ding pic-tu-re." "She's pretty," Mar-gie sa-id. "Her jac-ket's a lit-tle tight thro-ugh the sto-mach," Su-ze sa-id. "She was ex-pec-ting Ga-be," Nell sa-id, lo-oking at Lia's vi-vid fa-ce abo-ve her prac-ti-cal pin-s-t-ri-ped su-it. "She is pretty, isn't she? Ga-be's got her eyes." "Oh, lo-ok at this," Mar-gie sa-id, pic-king up the next one. "Chloe's just a baby." "Chloe has a baby," Su-ze sa-id, lo-oking clo-ser at the pic-tu-re. "Is that Lu?" "Yes," Nell sa-id, and re-ci-ted the na-mes as she mo-ved her fin-gers ac-ross the pic-tu-re. "Ga-be, Pat-rick, Ri-ley, and Chloe and Lu in front." "That's Ri-ley?" Su-ze sa-id and to-ok the pic-tu-re from her. "At fif-te-en," Nell sa-id. "1981. Ga-be sa-id Lu had just be-en born, so they to-ok a fa-mily pic-tu-re. His dad di-ed a co-up-le of we-eks la-ter." "Ri-ley was a cu-te kid," Su-ze sa-id. So was Ga-be, Nell tho-ught, lo-oking at Ga-be at twen-ty-fi-ve. "Chloe was the sec-re-tary," Su-ze sa-id. "Yep. So was Ga-be's mom." "Hmm," Su-ze sa-id and han-ded it back. "I've be-en thin-king abo-ut Chloe's chi-na," Mar-gie sa-id, ap-ro-pos of not-hing. "I think it's too pla-in with just the star on it." "Chi-na?" Nell sa-id, co-ming back from 1981. "It's whi-te," Mar-gie sa-id. "And I think so-met-hing with co-lor wo-uld be go-od, but I want to ke-ep it in pe-ri-od, too. What do you think?" "Don't ask Nell," Su-ze sa-id. "You can't af-ford her tas-te." "Fi-es-ta-wa-re," Nell sa-id. "It's re-al-ly bright and it co-mes in a lot of co-lors. You used to be ab-le to get it che-ap at ga-ra-ge sa-les." "EBay," Su-ze sa-id. "I'll show you how to lo-ok for it to-night, Mar-gie." "To-night?" Mar-gie sa-id. "Won't Jack mind?" "No." Su-ze bit in-to her co-okie aga-in. "The-se are re-al-ly go-od. Can I ha-ve the re-ci-pe?" "If I gi-ve you the re-ci-pe, will you co-me he-re and buy them?" Mar-gie sa-id. "No." "My God," Su-ze sa-id, "we've cre-ated a mon-s-ter," and Mar-gie be-amed at her. Nell wat-c-hed Su-ze in-s-te-ad. Not a happy wo-man. And she didn't get hap-pi-er as the month prog-res-sed. Mar-gie's co-oki-es we-re men-ti-oned in the Dis-patch and her bu-si-ness do-ub-led, much to Bud-ge's dis-may, and Su-ze be-gan to help her out, even-tu-al-ly wor-king full days wit-ho-ut tel-ling Jack. "It's not worth the fight," she told Nell. "And he's ne-ver the-re, so why sho-uld he ca-re?" "Can't think of a re-ason," Nell sa-id and hun-ted up her di-vor-ce law-yer's card, just in ca-se. Chris-t-mas Day at Su-ze's had its high po-in-ts-Mar-gie ga-ve them the al-mond co-okie re-ci-pe on the con-di-ti-on they'd tell no one-but it al-so had its lows-Tre-vor ba-rely spo-ke to Jack, Bud-ge was ru-de to Nell in re-ta-li-ati-on for The Cup, Oli-via was mo-re ob-no-xi-o-us than usu-al, and Jack ga-ve Su-ze a di-amond bra-ce-let iden-ti-cal to one he'd gi-ven her the Chris-t-mas be-fo-re and then left to ta-ke his mot-her ho-me, di-sap-pe-aring un-til af-ter mid-night aga-in. "Let's spend New Ye-ar's Eve to-get-her," Nell sa-id, as they sat in the gu-est ro-om, fre-e-ing Mar-le-ne from her an-gel wings. "J-ack might ac-tu-al-ly show up on New Ye-ar's Eve," Su-ze sa-id. "But hell, yes, co-me over he-re. I'd rat-her kiss you than him an-y-way." She set Mar-le-ne free. "The-re you go, puppy. Ho-li-day's over." Mar-le-ne rol-led over on her back and squ-ir-med un-til the me-mory of the wings was go-ne, her long brown co-at grown out from the in-dig-nity of her Sep-tem-ber dis-gu-ise, and Nell scrat-c-hed her tummy un-til she stret-c-hed out and sig-hed.

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"So-me-ti-mes I fe-el gu-ilty," she sa-id. "Abo-ut what?" "Mar-le-ne." Nell stro-ked the dog's tummy aga-in, wat-c-hing the dog's fa-ce. "I lo-ve her so much, but I sto-le her from so-me-body." "Who didn't ap-pre-ci-ate her," Su-ze sa-id. "We don't know that," Nell sa-id. "I lo-ve her, but she's a dra-ma qu-e-en. Pe-op-le pro-bably think I abu-se her." "Think abo-ut so-met-hing el-se," Su-ze sa-id. "How'd Ga-be li-ke the pic-tu-res?" "He re-al-ly did," Nell sa-id, smi-ling as she re-mem-be-red. "Ri-ley li-ked them, too, but Ga-be lo-oked at them on the walls for a long ti-me, and then he sa-id, 'The-se are gre-at, thank you."' "That was it?" Su-ze sa-id. "That's a lot for Ga-be," Nell sa-id. "I co-uld tell. They me-ant a lot." "I was ho-ping he'd swe-ep you in-to his arms and say, 'My dar-ling!"' Su-ze sa-id. "What's wrong with him?" "Evi-dently pho-tos of his fa-mily don't turn him on. The-re's not-hing wrong with him." Nell tho-ught abo-ut Ga-be, stan-ding in the of-fi-ce, sta-ring at the pic-tu-res. "The-re's not a thing wrong with him." Su-ze snor-ted. "So what did he get you?" "Me?" Nell ca-me back from her me-mory. "A desk cha-ir. From him and Ri-ley both." "Oh, God," Su-ze sa-id. "The man is ho-pe-less." "No, re-al-ly, it's per-fect. It's just li-ke the one I had in my old of-fi-ce." When Su-ze didn't lo-ok im-p-res-sed, she ad-ded, "It's er-go-no-mic and ex-pen-si-ve as hell. I'd ne-ver ha-ve as-ked for it. I think Ri-ley as-ked Jase abo-ut it." "Go-od for Ri-ley," Su-ze sa-id. "Ri-ley al-so ga-ve Mar-le-ne a hu-ge box of dog bis-cu-its," Nell sa-id, scrat-c-hing the dog's sto-mach aga-in. "He and Mar-le-ne ha-ve a very clo-se re-la-ti-on-s-hip." "Has he ever met a fe-ma-le he hasn't had a very clo-se re-la-ti-on-s-hip with?" Nell pat-ted Su-ze's knee. "Why don't we go dow-n-s-ta-irs and eat so-met-hing? What do you ha-ve be-si-des ham?" "I think the-re's la-sag-na aga-in," Su-ze sa-id. "But fo-od is not lo-ve." "No, but it is fo-od." Nell sto-od up. Mar-le-ne rol-led over and lo-oked at them both, cle-arly ex-pec-ting the worst. "Bis-cu-it," Nell sa-id, and Mar-le-ne le-aped from the bed and trot-ted off to the sta-irs and the kit-c-hen. "That's the way we sho-uld go af-ter li-fe," Nell told Su-ze, fol-lo-wing the dog down the sta-irs. "Just lun-ge for it." "Che-ap talk," Su-ze sa-id, and Nell ga-ve up and con-cen-t-ra-ted on tal-king abo-ut ever-y-t-hing ex-cept Jack and his re-so-un-ding ab-sen-ce from the sce-ne. At fi-ve on New Ye-ar's Eve, Nell to-ok the last of the. re-ports in to Ga-be to sign be-fo-re she left for Su-ze's. She wat-c-hed him, his fa-ce se-ri-o-us in the po-ol of light that his gre-en-sha-ded lamp cast on the desk. It threw the pla-nes of his fa-ce in-to re-li-ef, ma-de his eyes even dar-ker than they re-al-ly we-re, and hig-h-lig-h-ted his strong hand as it slas-hed away ac-ross the pa-ge, sig-ning his na-me with the sa-me pas-si-on and de-ter-mi-na-ti-on he did ever-y-t-hing. He fi-nis-hed and put the pen down, and she sa-id, "Thanks," and gat-he-red the pa-pers up clum-sily, trying to get out be-fo-re she lost it and went for him li-ke Mar-le-ne af-ter lef-to-ver ham. "Uh, ha-ve a ni-ce ho-li-day." She ret-re-ated as fast as she co-uld, but he sa-id, "Nell?" and she tur-ned at the do-or, fum-b-ling the pa-pers in-to or-der, trying to lo-ok bright and ef-fi-ci-ent in-s-te-ad of in-can-des-cent with lust. "Yes?" "Are you all right?" He frow-ned at her from be-hind his desk, and even frow-ning he lo-oked hot. She re-al-ly was lo-sing her' mind if di-sap-pro-val ma-de her pant. "I'm fi-ne," Nell sa-id ga-ily. "Co-uldn't be bet-ter. Got-ta go. Go-ing to me-et Su-ze. New Ye-ar's

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Eve, you know. Par-ti-es." She shut up as he sto-od and wal-ked aro-und the desk. "What's wrong?" He was stan-ding a go-od six fe-et away from her, next to his desk. You're too far away. I want you to-uc-hing me. She clo-sed her eyes at the tho-ught of his hands on her, and he sa-id, "Spill it." "The-re's not-hing wrong," she sa-id, ope-ning her eyes to lo-ok con-fi-dently in-to his, but she co-uldn't, and her eyes slid away at the last mi-nu-te. "Stop be-ing a de-tec-ti-ve." "I've known you for fo-ur months," Ga-be sa-id. "If you're not yap-ping at me, the-re's so-met-hing on yo-ur mind. Tell me what it is and for God's sa-ke don't try to fix it on yo-ur own. This pla-ce can't ta-ke any mo-re of yo-ur suc-ces-ses." "The-re is no prob-lem," Nell sa-id, and met his eyes. Mis-ta-ke. That dark, le-vel ga-ze ma-de her bre-at-hing co-me from de-ep in-si-de her. He sto-od very still as the blo-od ro-se in her fa-ce, and she sa-id, "I'm fi-ne," but it ca-me out fa-intly, on a bre-ath, and the mo-ment stret-c-hed out in-to a hot empty eter-nity be-fo-re he sho-ok his he-ad. "I was ne-ver go-ing to ma-ke it to July an-y-way," he sa-id. He step-ped to-ward her, and so-met-hing ga-ve in-si-de her and she met him hal-f-way, in the mid-dle of the worn Ori-en-tal, clut-c-hing at his sho-ul-ders as he slid his hand aro-und her wa-ist, bum-ping no-ses with him as she went up on her to-es and he bent down, and fi-nal-ly, fi-nal-ly tas-ting him as his mo-uth fo-und hers. Chapter Nine Nell held on as he kis-sed her, clut-c-hing his shirt to pull him clo-ser, and when she bro-ke the kiss, he ran his hands over her, tra-cing he-at, un-til she was bre-at-h-less. "Wa-it a mi-nu-te," she sa-id, and he sa-id, "No," and bent to her aga-in. "Hey," she sa-id, duc-king away, trying to get her bre-ath. "What hap-pe-ned to 'Don't fuck the help'?" "You're not that much help," he sa-id and to-ok her mo-uth aga-in be-fo-re she co-uld an-s-wer, his body hard aga-inst hers, his hands hot on her back un-der her swe-ater. She tho-ught, Oh, God, yes, and pul-led his shirt free so she co-uld sli-de her hands up his back and to-uch him, too, ma-king him draw in his bre-ath and then kiss her har-der. He bac-ked her aga-inst the do-or and she let him, ne-eding it to push back and hold her own, only on-ce stop-ping to think, May-be I sho-uld pre-tend to be soft and let him le-ad li-ke Tim. Then she tho-ught, No, it's Ga-be, and she knew she'd ne-ver ha-ve to be ca-re-ful aga-in. She to-ok his fa-ce in her hands and kis-sed him aga-in, and he held her as if he we-re ne-ver go-ing to let her go, his hands on her ever-y-w-he-re, kis-sing her for long mi-nu-tes un-til she was dizzy and ac-hing for him. Fi-nal-ly he sa-id bre-at-h-les-sly aga-inst her mo-uth, "I ha-ve this apar-t-ment up-s-ta-irs," and she shud-de-red a lit-tle at the tho-ught pri-va-te, na-ked, rol-ling on co-ol she-ets-fe-eling him hard aga-inst her as she pres-sed clo-ser, and that ma-de her mo-an, a tiny mo-an that he must ha-ve he-ard be-ca-use he sa-id, "Or he-re's go-od, too," and pul-led her down on-to the an-ci-ent Ori-en-tal. He was he-avy on top of her, and she wrap-ped her legs aro-und him as her skirt rol-led up to her hips, ar-c-hing aga-inst all that hard mus-c-le and le-an length, pres-sing back, no he-si-ta-ti-on at all, do-ing an-y-t-hing to get him clo-ser as his mo-uth mo-ved down her neck and his hands slid un-der her swe-ater. She ra-ked her na-ils down his back and he held her down, kis-sing her so hard that her blo-od po-un-ded in her ears. Then Ri-ley knoc-ked and ope-ned the do-or and smac-ked, her in the he-ad. "Very ni-ce," he sa-id, lo-oking down. "You owe me twenty." Ga-be slam-med the do-or shut with the flat of his hand and sa-id to Nell, "You okay?" He so-un-ded bre-at-h-less and lo-oked hot and dis-he-ve-led and wor-ri-ed and tur-ned on and ever-y-t-hing she'd ever ne-eded, and she sa-id, "I want you so much I'm in-sa-ne with it." "That wo-uld ex-p-la-in the past fo-ur months," he sa-id, le-aning down to kiss her aga-in, but she sat up from un-der-ne-ath him, knoc-king him off ba-lan-ce and grab-bing him by the col-lar as she rol-led

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him over on his back to climb on top of him. "No in-sults," she sa-id, strad-dling him, trying to catch her bre-ath. "You're sup-po-sed to be se-du-cing me." "You sho-uld ha-ve just told me you wan-ted this," he sa-id, run-ning his hands down to her re-ar end to pull her tig-h-ter aga-inst him. "You didn't ha-ve to ste-al the dog to get my at-ten-ti-on-" "Or sle-ep with Ri-ley?" she sa-id, pus-hing his sho-ul-ders down. His eyes dar-ke-ned. "That you're go-ing to for-get." He put his hand on the back of her neck and pul-led her down to kiss her, his mo-uth hard on hers. "Ma-ke me," she sa-id, her mo-uth still pres-sed to his, and he slid his fin-gers up un-der her skirt-my God, this is Ga-be-and in-to her un-der-we-ar-don't stop-and then slickly in-to her, ma-king her shud-der aga-inst him aga-in whi-le he bre-at-hed he-avi-er be-ca-use of her he-at. "For-get, "he sa-id, and she ca-ught her bre-ath and sa-id, "Not eno-ugh," and he rol-led her on-to her back and be-gan to strip her clot-hes from her with such rut-h-less ef-fi-ci-ency that it to-ok her a mo-ment be-fo-re she did the sa-me for him, rip-ping his shirt open to bi-te in-to the hot flesh of his sho-ul-der. He jer-ked away and pin-ned her down aga-in, his hands hard on her hips, his mo-uth hot on her bre-ast, and she dis-sol-ved in-to the blur-red tan-g-le they ma-de, lo-sing her bo-un-da-ri-es as he mo-ved aga-inst her, fe-eling only he-at and fric-ti-on and pres-su-re as she twis-ted in his arms, lo-ving the hot sli-de of his body on hers and ne-eding him so much that when he fi-nal-ly ca-me in-to her, she shim-me-red in his arms, trying to con-su-me him the way he con-su-med her, mo-ving fast aga-inst him, un-til she fi-nal-ly bro-ke, bi-ting her lip as every ner-ve in her body sur-ged. When they we-re qu-i-et on the flo-or, fig-h-ting for bre-ath, Ga-be sa-id, "Swe-et Jesus, is it al-ways go-ing to be li-ke that?" and Nell sa-id, "Oh, I ho-pe so." He la-ug-hed and kis-sed her. "So-me day let's do so-met-hing whe-re we co-ope-ra-te." His vo-ice bro-ke off as she let her hand tra-il down his back, and she wat-c-hed him clo-se his eyes, still bre-at-h-less. "I'm hungry," she sa-id. "Is the-re fo-od in yo-ur apar-t-ment?" "Ever-y-t-hing you've ever wan-ted is in my apar-t-ment." He pus-hed him-self off her, and the co-ol air rus-hed in to ta-ke his pla-ce, ma-king her ner-ves sing aga-in. He sto-od and re-ac-hed down for her hand, com-p-le-tely un-sel-f-con-s-ci-o-us in his na-ked-ness, and she let him pull her to her fe-et so she co-uld put her arms aro-und him aga-in and to-uch all that he-at and mus-c-le, skin to skin, kno-wing he was hers, at le-ast for to-night. "Pro-ve it," she sa-id and kis-sed him aga-in, tas-ting him aga-in, fal-ling in-to him aga-in, fe-eling as tho-ugh she'd fi-nal-ly co-me ho-me to a man strong eno-ugh to lo-ve her the way she ne-eded to be lo-ved. When Nell hadn't shown by ele-ven and the-re was no an-s-wer ex-cept for the mac-hi-ne at the agency, Su-ze shrug-ged on her co-at and wal-ked ac-ross the park to see what was up. If Nell was wor-king la-te, she wo-uld ha-ve cal-led-which was mo-re than Jack ever did-so so-met-hing must be wrong. It was Su-ze's duty as a best fri-end to go find out what. Also, she had to get out of that big empty ho-use. The park was be-a-uti-ful in the mo-on-light, the ice on the tre-es gle-aming sil-ver and the mel-ting snow ma-king a pat-c-h-work on the gro-und. Ex-cept for the oc-ca-si-onal re-ve-ler dri-ving by on his way to a party with pe-op-le and no-ise and la-ug-h-ter, she was all alo-ne. She was alo-ne a lot la-tely. The he-els of her bo-ots clic-ked on the con-c-re-te walk as she pic-ked up spe-ed, pas-sing the big sto-ne pil-lars that mar-ked the end of Ri-ley's si-de of the park. It wasn't stran-ge that Jack was away so much, even on New Ye-ar's Eve; it was a to-ugh job be-ing par-t-ner in a law firm. And be-si-des, she'd ma-de it past her thir-ti-eth bir-t-h-day. Jack had left Abby when she'd tur-ned thirty and dum-ped Vic-ki at twen-ty-eight, but he-re she was at the ri-pe old age of thir-ty-two and he still lo-ved her. She was su-re he still lo-ved her. She just wasn't su-re she lo-ved him. When she wal-ked past The Cup and tur-ned down the dark si-de stre-et to the agency do-or, she re-ali-zed she'd be-en stu-pid to walk aro-und the Vil-la-ge that la-te. She knoc-ked on the do-or and

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pe-ered thro-ugh the big win-dow in-to the dar-k-ness. Nell wasn't the-re. She was go-ing to ha-ve to walk back ho-me alo-ne. It was sud-denly a lot dar-ker and a lot col-der, and she didn't want to walk ho-me alo-ne. She po-un-ded on the do-or one mo-re ti-me, and the do-or ope-ned and Ri-ley sto-od the-re. "What the hell?" he sa-id. "Nell ne-ver sho-wed up," Su-ze sa-id, her te-eth chat-te-ring a lit-tle from the cold. "I was wor-ri-ed." "So you went out wal-king thro-ugh the city at night," Ri-ley sa-id. "Jesus. Get in he-re." He tur-ned on the light as she ca-me in, and she saw he was dres-sed in a dark su-it and tie, lo-oking as clo-se to dis-tin-gu-is-hed as she'd ever se-en him. Or may-be she was just des-pe-ra-te for com-pany and not as picky as usu-al. "Party?" she sa-id. "Al-ways," he sa-id. "What's Jack do-ing let-ting you wan-der aro-und in the dark?" Su-ze lif-ted her chin. "Jack do-esn't let me do an-y-t-hing. I let me." Ri-ley sho-ved Nell's pho-ne to-ward her. "Call him for a ri-de ho-me." "He's not the-re," Su-ze sa-id. Ri-ley sa-id, "Oh," and put the pho-ne back. "Nell's not at her apar-t-ment, eit-her," she sa-id to chan-ge the su-bj-ect. "Do you know whe-re-" "Up-s-ta-irs. With Ga-be." "Re-al-ly?" Su-ze sa-id, brig-h-te-ning a lit-tle. "Tell me they're not tal-king abo-ut the agency." "I don't think they're tal-king at all. Al-t-ho-ugh gi-ven the-ir mu-tu-al pas-si-on for work, they co-uld be run-ning spre-ad-s-he-ets by now." "But they we-ren't ear-li-er." "Not when I wal-ked in on them." "I for-gi-ve her for not cal-ling me." Su-ze sa-id, and tur-ned back to the do-or. "Wa-it a mi-nu-te," Ri-ley sa-id. "You are not go-ing to walk ho-me in the dark. I'll gi-ve you a lift." "I can- " Su-ze be-gan and lo-oked out at the dark stre-et. "Thank you," she sa-id. "I'd lo-ve a ri-de." She got in-to his car and sat qu-i-etly whi-le he put it in ge-ar and tur-ned down Third Stre-et. "You go-ing to be la-te for yo-ur da-te?" "Don't ha-ve a da-te," he sa-id. "Just a party." "No-body to kiss on New Ye-ar's Eve?" "The-re will be so-me-body to kiss," Ri-ley sa-id as he tur-ned to ma-ke the cir-c-le aro-und the park. "The-re's al-ways so-me-body to kiss on New Ye-ar's Eve." Su-ze tho-ught abo-ut her big empty ho-use for a co-up-le of blocks. "Not al-ways." He was qu-i-et for a mi-nu-te, and then he sa-id, "Jack is an idi-ot." "J-ack's be-en mar-ri-ed for fo-ur-te-en ye-ars. The zing go-es." "Not yo-urs." "Oh, ye-ah?" Su-ze lif-ted her chin. "You think I've got zing?" "You don't se-em too ple-ased abo-ut Nell and Ga-be. Or are you just be-ing co-ol?" "It was ine-vi-tab-le," Su-ze sa-id, ac-cep-ting the su-bj-ect chan-ge. She'd be-en pus-hing her luck, an-y-way. Pat-he-tic. "I don't know what she was wa-iting for." I don't know what I'm wa-iting for. "Ga-be was wa-iting for July," Ri-ley sa-id. "The dum-bass." "Why July?" "Two- ye-ar re-co-very pe-ri-od." Su-ze tho-ught abo-ut it. "You know, Tim dum-ped her two ye-ars ago Chris-t-mas. She didn't get the di-vor-ce un-til July, but he left her on Chris-t-mas." "So Ga-be wins aga-in," Ri-ley sa-id. "The guy's a mas-ter." He pul-led up in front of her ho-use, and Su-ze felt li-ke sa-ying, "Ta-ke me to the party with you." But she co-uldn't. Jack might co-me ho-me. Jack wasn't co-ming ho-me. He was with so-me-body el-se. No-body left a wi-fe alo-ne on New Ye-ar's Eve un-less he was with a mis-t-ress. She knew that from ha-ving be-en a mis-t-ress.

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"You okay?" Ri-ley sa-id. "Kiss me," Su-ze sa-id, and he fro-ze. "I me-an it. I'm go-ing back to that ho-use alo-ne and it's New Ye-ar's Eve and I want to be kis-sed. Fe-el sorry for me and kiss me." "No," Ri-ley sa-id. "O-uch," Su-ze sa-id. "Sorry." She yan-ked on the do-or han-d-le. "Lo-ok," Ri-ley sa-id. "It's not-" She stop-ped and lo-oked back at him. "What?" "You de-ser-ve bet-ter." "Than you?" "Than Jack. And God knows, bet-ter than me." "I didn't me-an to put you in that po-si-ti-on. You know, a mar-ri-ed wo-man co-ming on to you-" "Any guy wo-uld be glad to be in that po-si-ti-on." He so-un-ded sorry for her, which ma-de her mad. "Ye-ah, right. Thanks for the ri-de." She tur-ned to open the do-or and lo-oked up to see Jack, stan-ding be-si-de the car with his fists in his jac-ket poc-kets. "Uh-oh," she sa-id, and Ri-ley bent to see past her out the car win-dow. "Oh, go-od," Ri-ley sa-id. "You want me to stay?" "I don't think that will help," Su-ze sa-id, pus-hing the do-or open. He ca-ught her arm. "Is he-" "He do-esn't hit," Su-ze sa-id. "He yells, but that's okay. I'm all right." Ri-ley let go of her, and she got out of the car and slam-med the do-or shut. "Very ni-ce," Jack sa-id. "I co-me ho-me to ce-leb-ra-te New Ye-ar's Eve with my wi-fe-" "Damn big of you." Su-ze sa-id and pus-hed past him to go up the steps. "Who is that?" Jack sa-id. "Ri-ley McKen-na." Su-ze re-ac-hed the porch and put her key in the lock. "He bro-ught me ho-me when I went lo-oking for Nell." "Go-od story, "Jack sa-id, fol-lo-wing her up the steps. Su-ze went in-si-de and tur-ned on the light and wa-ved to Ri-ley to go on. "Not a story. You got one for me?" "I told you, I was at work-" "I cal-led," Su-ze sa-id, wat-c-hing Ri-ley's ta-il-lights skim down the stre-et to-ward his party. "You didn't an-s-wer." "The swit-c-h-bo-ard shuts down at night." "I cal-led yo-ur cell pho-ne." "I tur-ned it off." "Re-al-ly?" Su-ze sa-id. "Why?" "Are you sle-eping with him?" "With Ri-ley?" Su-ze star-ted up the sta-irs, sud-denly so ti-red she co-uld hardly mo-ve. "No. I ba-rely know the man." He grab-bed her arm and jer-ked her off the steps, and she suc-ked in her bre-ath, shoc-ked out of her ex-ha-us-ti-on. "You're fuc-king him," Jack sa-id, and she lo-oked at him and didn't ca-re an-y-mo-re. "If I was sle-eping with Ri-ley," she sa-id, "I'd be with Ri-ley. I wo-uldn't be stan-ding he-re pre-ten-ding I still had a re-la-ti-on-s-hip with you." She jer-ked her arm away and rub-bed it and wa-ited for him to ra-ise his hand and hit her be-ca-use then she co-uld le-ave him. "You told me you we-re go-ing to be with Nell," he sa-id. "You told me-" "Nell's with Ga-be," Su-ze sa-id, "which is go-od. No-body sho-uld be alo-ne on New Ye-ar's Eve." She star-ted up the sta-irs aga-in, da-ring him to stop her. "This is her fa-ult," Jack sa-id. "Bud-ge was right, she's a bad in-f-lu-en-ce. You we-re ne-ver li-ke this be-fo-re she mo-ved down he-re." "I'll ha-ve to thank her for that," Su-ze sa-id, and clim-bed to-ward the dar-k-ness at the top be-ca-use it was bet-ter than the light he was stan-ding in at the bot-tom.

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Six blocks away, thro-ugh a post-co-ital drow-se, Ga-be lis-te-ned with only half his at-ten-ti-on to the ce-leb-ra-ti-ons on TV. "This is gre-at," Nell sa-id. "One big party ever-y-w-he-re, no tra-uma." "Go-od." Ga-be set-tled de-eper in-to his bed, too damn ti-red and much too sa-tis-fi-ed to ca-re. "I still fe-el bad abo-ut Su-ze, tho-ugh. She so-un-ded so down when I cal-led her. I'm a ter-rib-le fri-end." "Umhm," Ga-be sa-id in-to his pil-low, pra-ying she'd run down so-on. She'd put as much energy in-to them as he had, and now she was sit-ting up na-ked be-si-de him, eating po-ta-to chips and do-ing a play-by-play of the fi-re-works. If she didn't shut up in the next fi-ve mi-nu-tes, he was go-ing to ha-ve to drug her. "Hey." She smac-ked his sho-ul-der, and he rol-led back to see her grin-ning down at him, the po-ta-to chip bag in her hand, her ha-ir ma-king her lo-ok li-ke a fi-rec-rac-ker in his bed. "We are too new for you to ta-ke me for gran-ted. Let's ha-ve a lit-tle co-ur-t-s-hip he-re, shall we?" "Why?" he sa-id. "I sco-red. It's over." She let her mo-uth drop open in mock ra-ge, and he la-ug-hed and pul-led her down to him whi-le she fo-ught him the who-le way, sen-ding the po-ta-to chip bag flying. "I am not ta-king you for gran-ted," he sa-id in her ear as she squ-ir-med. "I'm ex-ha-us-ted from not ta-king you for gran-ted." She stop-ped fig-h-ting, and he clo-sed his eyes in ple-asu-re at all her sud-denly pli-ant sof-t-ness pres-sed aga-inst him. He he-ard a rus-t-le and re-ali-zed that Mar-le-ne had crept up from the bot-tom of the bed and was drag-ging the po-ta-to chip bag back with her whi-le the TV chan-ted the co-un-t-down for the new ye-ar. The-re's a dog in my bed, he tho-ught and won-de-red when she'd jum-ped up. He was fa-irly cer-ta-in she'd wa-ited un-til all the thras-hing was over or they'd ha-ve kic-ked her in-to a wall. Mar-le-ne had ex-cel-lent sur-vi-val skills. "I'm happy," Nell whis-pe-red in his ear, her vo-ice all smi-les, and he tho-ught, I can sle-ep la-ter. He rol-led so they we-re si-de by si-de, pul-ling her clo-ser, still ama-zed that she was the-re with him, that he'd fi-nal-ly do-ne all the things he'd be-en trying not to think abo-ut and that they'd tur-ned out to be so much bet-ter than he'd tri-ed not to ima-gi-ne. "Me, too. Happy New Ye-ar, kid." He kis-sed her softly this ti-me, and she re-la-xed in-to him and then sa-id, "Lo-ok!" He fol-lo-wed her eyes up to the skylight now fil-led with fi-re-works li-ke sho-oting stars. "Ever-y-t-hing is per-fect," she sa-id to him. "Abso-lu-tely ever-y-t-hing." "Don't say that," he sa-id, fe-eling a chill. "You're tem-p-ting fa-te." "I don't be-li-eve in fa-te," Nell sa-id, and he re-mem-be-red that fo-ur months ago Chloe had sa-id they'd be he-re, that it was in the-ir stars. He star-ted to tell her and then tho-ught, Not a go-od ti-me to men-ti-on Chloe. "What?" she sa-id, and he sa-id, "Not-hing," and she ra-ised her-self up on one el-bow, pre-pa-red to ar-gue it out of him. "Tru-ce for one night," he sa-id, pul-ling her back, "just for to-night," and when she sa-id, "But-" he kis-sed her qu-i-et aga-in, and then held her un-til she fell as-le-ep, wat-c-hing the fi-re-works fa-de abo-ve them. "So you slept with Ga-be," Su-ze sa-id at brunch the next day at the Syca-mo-re. Nell tri-ed to lo-ok in-no-cent but she had too many go-od me-mo-ri-es, so she grin-ned in-s-te-ad and cut anot-her pi-ece of French to-ast. "And Happy New Ye-ar's Day to you, too." "Re-al-ly?" Mar-gie coc-ked her he-ad and sur-ve-yed Nell, lo-oking a lot li-ke a dim lit-tle bird. "Ima-gi-ne you mar-ri-ed to a de-tec-ti-ve." "Ima-gi-ne me not mar-ri-ed to a de-tec-ti-ve," Nell sa-id. "I'm not do-ing that aga-in." "Nell McKen-na," Mar-gie sa-id. "That's pretty." She po-ured ex-t-ra syrup over her cho-co-la-te-chip pan-ca-kes. "Ro-man-tic." "Be-ats Dysart," Su-ze sa-id, stab-bing her eggs Be-ne-dict. Nell and Mar-gie lo-oked at her and then at each ot-her. "I ne-ver li-ked Mar-gie Dysart," Mar-gie sa-id. "She was okay on-ce you got used to her," Su-ze sa-id, and

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Nell la-ug-hed. Mar-gie was con-si-de-ring things. "I think Mar-gie Jen-kins wo-uld be okay, al-t-ho-ugh it so-unds sort of low class." "Don't tell Bud-ge," Nell sa-id. "He'll chan-ge it." "Mar-gie Ogil-vie is still my fa-vo-ri-te, tho-ugh," Mar-gie sa-id. "So ke-ep yo-ur na-me." Su-ze so-un-ded an-no-yed with the who-le con-ver-sa-ti-on. "No-body wo-uld know I was mar-ri-ed," Mar-gie sa-id. "Which wo-uld ma-ke it all the easi-er to che-at," Su-ze sa-id. Mar-gie frow-ned at her. "What is wrong with you?" "J-ack ca-ught me co-ming ho-me last night with Ri-ley McKen-na," Su-ze sa-id, still tor-tu-ring her eggs. "I was lo-oking for Nell and he bro-ught me ho-me. It's past ele-ven on New Ye-ar's Eve, and Jack ac-cu-ses me of fo-oling aro-und. So I loc-ked myself in the bed-ro-om. The hell with him." "Oh, no," Nell sa-id, fe-eling hor-rib-le. "That's my fa-ult. I am so sorry abo-ut last night, that was a ter-rib-le thing, I just for-got you-" "Un-der the cir-cum-s-tan-ces, no," Su-ze sa-id. "Way to go, Ele-anor, that's what I think abo-ut that." "Men al-ways know," Mar-gie sa-id. "Ste-wart was je-alo-us of Bud-ge." Su-ze swung her he-ad aro-und to Mar-gie. "What?" "Ste-wart. He was je-alo-us of Bud-ge. Be-ca-use I li-ked Bud-ge bet-ter, the way you li-ke Ri-ley." "I am not ha-ving an af-fa-ir," Su-ze sa-id coldly. "Well, of co-ur-se not," Mar-gie sa-id. "But you li-ke Ri-ley bet-ter than Jack." "Uh, Mar-gie," Nell be-gan. "It's a ter-rib-le thing to be mar-ri-ed to the wrong man," Mar-gie sa-id. "It's li-ke be-ing trap-ped at a bad party that ne-ver ends. The vo-ices are al-ways too lo-ud and the jokes are dumb and you end up stan-ding aga-inst a wall, ho-ping no-body no-ti-ces you be-ca-use it's so much easi-er that way. It's li-ke you're trying to avo-id so-me-body who's the only ot-her per-son at the party. I ha-ted it." She to-ok out her ther-mos and po-ured mo-re soy milk in her cof-fee, whi-le Nell and Su-ze sat stun-ned. "Le-ave him," Mar-gie sa-id to Su-ze. "Don't try to ma-ke it work when it's that bad. It's just too aw-ful, you end up do-ing ter-rib-le things be-ca-use you can't stand the pa-in an-y-mo-re." "Mar-gie." Nell stret-c-hed out her hand. "We didn't know it was that bad." "I know." Mar-gie drank her cof-fee, stra-ight down to the bot-tom of the cup, and then put the cup back in its sa-ucer. "I hit him on-ce." "Go-od," Su-ze sa-id. "No," Mar-gie sa-id. "But it tur-ned out okay. He left. Are you okay?" "I don't know," Su-ze sa-id. "I ha-ve to think abo-ut it. I can't ima-gi-ne not be-ing mar-ri-ed to Jack, but I don't think I can stand the ten-si-on an-y-mo-re, eit-her. He re-al-ly thinks I che-at, and I don't. I re-al-ly don't." "We know," Nell sa-id. "But I re-al-ly want to," Su-ze sa-id. "We know," Mar-gie sa-id. "So-me-ti-mes I wish Jack wo-uld di-sap-pe-ar li-ke Ste-wart did," Su-ze sa-id. "Just eva-po-ra-te." "No, you don't," Mar-gie sa-id. "Be-ca-use what if he ca-me back?" Nell drew in her bre-ath. "Do you think Ste-wart's co-ming back?" "Bud-ge wants me to fi-le the in-su-ran-ce cla-im," Mar-gie sa-id. "He says I can buy a lot of Fi-es-ta-wa-re with two mil-li-on dol-lars. He says I sho-uldn't just le-ave it lying the-re." "If you don't want to fi-le, don't," Su-ze sa-id sharply. "It's no-ne of Bud-ge's bu-si-ness." "He's just lo-oking out for me," Mar-gie sa-id. "But what if I fi-le and Ste-wart co-mes back? I'd ha-ve to gi-ve it back. And you know I wo-uldn't ha-ve all of it." "Has he co-me back?" Nell sa-id, ha-ting her-self for the qu-es-ti-on. "I don't think so," Mar-gie sa-id. "But it wo-uld be just li-ke him. He was such a prick." "Mar-gie!" Su-ze sa-id and then la-ug-hed, shoc-ked out of her self-pity.

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"Well, he was," Mar-gie sa-id. "So you think he's ali-ve," Nell sa-id, fe-eling li-ke a rat for pus-hing it. "No," Mar-gie sa-id. "I think he's de-ad. But so-me-ti-mes I'm af-ra-id he's ali-ve." Nell sat the-re nod-ding, wa-iting for her to say so-met-hing el-se, but it was Su-ze who spo-ke. "So," she sa-id to Nell. "Was the-re zing?" "Mer-ci-ful he-avens, yes," Nell sa-id, and let them te-ase her for the rest of brunch whi-le she won-de-red how things had got-ten so tur-ned aro-und that she was the happy one and they we-re the ones in tro-ub-le. Two blocks away, Ri-ley po-ured a cup of cof-fee from Nell's cof-fe-ema-ker and sa-id, "So. You and Nell." "Fi-gu-red that out, did you?" Ga-be drank his cof-fee and squ-in-ted at the fra-med blo-wup of his dad and Tre-vor, to-uc-hed aga-in that Nell had tho-ught of this way to de-co-ra-te the of-fi-ce. "I ha-ve gre-at po-wers of de-duc-ti-on." Ri-ley sat on the ed-ge of Nell's desk and sip-ped his cof-fee ca-uti-o-usly. "Su-ze ca-me by last night lo-oking for her." Ga-be nod-ded, mo-ving on to the fa-mily gro-up por-t-ra-it, a lit-tle chag-ri-ned at how yo-ung Chloe was in the pic-tu-re, even yo-un-ger-lo-oking in the blo-wup than she had be-en in the ori-gi-nal, li-ke a very pretty egg, smo-oth and ro-und. So-me-body sho-uld ha-ve slap-ped me, he tho-ught. She was Lu's age and hol-ding a baby, for Christ's sa-ke. But the-re hadn't be-en an-y-body the-re to pro-tect her; her pa-rents we-re de-ad, and so was his mot-her by then, and all his fat-her had sa-id was, "Go-od cho-ice, she'll ne-ver gi-ve you any tro-ub-le." And she ne-ver had. "I to-ok her ho-me and we ran in-to Jack," Ri-ley sa-id, and Ga-be lo-oked aro-und. "What?" "Su-ze. Jack was the-re when I to-ok her ho-me." "How bad was it?" Ri-ley sho-ok his he-ad. "Bad. But she didn't want me to stay. She sa-id he didn't hit." "No," Ga-be sa-id. "He's just ar-ro-gant and sel-fish." "And che-ating on her," Ri-ley sa-id. "Did you tell her?" "No." Ga-be nod-ded and tur-ned back to the pic-tu-re. "I can't be-li-eve how yo-ung Chloe is in this pic-tu-re. What the hell was I thin-king?" "The sa-me thing you we-re thin-king last night," Ri-ley sa-id, co-ming to stand be-si-de him. "Hell, lo-ok how yo-ung I am. And you sent me out on the stre-ets to work." "I didn't, Dad did," Ga-be sa-id. "And you wan-ted to go." "I know," Ri-ley sa-id. "Damn, she was yo-ung. What we-re you thin-king?" "Not the sa-me thing I was thin-king last night." Ga-be tri-ed to ima-gi-ne what his fat-her wo-uld say abo-ut Nell. Pro-bably "Run the ot-her way, boy." With Chloe, he'd had no idea of what he was get-ting in-to, what mar-ri-age me-ant, but last night with Nell, he'd known exactly how much tro-ub-le he was he-ading for. And he hadn't ca-red. He didn't ca-re this mor-ning, eit-her. He mo-ved to the next pic-tu-re, one of his mot-her and fat-her on the-ir wed-ding day, his mot-her dark-ha-ired and vi-vid in a wasp-wa-is-ted su-it, the but-tons stra-ining over her sto-mach, his fat-her dark-ha-ired and vib-rant in his pin-s-t-ri-pes, hap-pi-er than Ga-be had ever se-en him. They le-aned in-to each ot-her but not on each ot-her, both of them ten-se with energy, smi-ling at the fu-tu-re, al-re-ady kno-wing they had a baby on the way, not kno-wing they had twenty ye-ars of fights and slam-med do-ors and sho-uted go-od-byes ahe-ad of them. Ga-be lo-oked at his dad and tho-ught, He wo-uld ha-ve do-ne it an-y-way. He lo-ved her that much. "Ga-be," Ri-ley sa-id. And it's go-ing to be li-ke that with Nell, he tho-ught, lo-oking at the light in his mot-her's dark eyes. And I'm go-ing to do it an-y-way, too. "Ga-be," Ri-ley sa-id. "Co-me he-re and lo-ok at this."

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Ga-be glan-ced his way and saw him stan-ding in front of the fa-mily por-t-ra-it. "What?" "Lo-ok at Chloe." Ga-be squ-in-ted at the pic-tu-re. "What am I lo-oking at?" "Her ear-rings," Ri-ley sa-id, and Ga-be lo-oked and sa-id, "You are kid-ding me." Chloe was we-aring di-amond cir-c-les. Ga-be he-aded for the do-or. Fi-ve mi-nu-tes la-ter, they we-re stan-ding in Chloe's bed-ro-om, her jewelry box dum-ped out on her dres-sing tab-le, sta-ring at a pi-le of sil-ver ankhs and gold stars and ena-me-led mo-ons and-tan-g-led in the mid-dle of the mis-cel-la-ne-o-us cha-ins and lo-ops-two per-fect gold cir-c-les the si-ze of nic-kels, clo-sely stud-ded with di-amonds. "Are tho-se it?" Ri-ley sa-id. "Tho-se are He-le-na's," Ga-be sa-id, pic-king them out of the mess. "And now I get to start the new ye-ar with Tre-vor." "You al-re-ady star-ted it with Nell," Ri-ley sa-id. "So I did," Ga-be sa-id, fe-eling a lit-tle bet-ter even as he sta-red at the evi-den-ce of his fat-her's per-fidy. "So I did." Nell wa-ited un-til af-ter ni-ne that night to call Ga-be, kno-wing that he and Ri-ley we-re spen-ding the day with Lu be-ca-use Jase had com-p-la-ined abo-ut it when he'd cal-led to wish her a happy new ye-ar. She let the pho-ne ring half a do-zen ti-mes and was abo-ut to hang up when Ga-be sa-id, "Hel-lo?" "I fo-und out a lit-tle mo-re abo-ut Ste-wart," Nell sa-id. "Not much, but so-me." "Go-od," he sa-id. "I'll co-me over. You want Chi-ne-se or piz-za?" "Chi-ne-se," she sa-id, smi-ling in-to the re-ce-iver in spi-te of Su-ze and Mar-gie's tra-uma. It was dis-lo-yal, but on the ot-her hand, the-re was not-hing li-ke a man who fed you. And pos-sibly slept with you la-ter. "We-ar tho-se blue silk things," he sa-id and hung up. De-fi-ni-tely slept with you la-ter. The tho-ught of it ma-de her bre-at-h-less. Ever-y-t-hing abo-ut him ma-de her bre-at-h-less, in-c-lu-ding the swe-eping way he just as-su-med they'd be back in bed. If he'd fum-b-led, she'd ha-ve be-en self-con-s-ci-o-us and they'd ha-ve be-en aw-k-ward. And they we-ren't aw-k-ward, hadn't re-al-ly ever be-en sin-ce the first day when she'd lo-oked at his desk and re-ali-zed how much work he was go-ing to be. Lit-tle had she known. She ran up-s-ta-irs to put on her blue silk pa-j-amas and pick up the bed-ro-om, pus-hing Mar-le-ne off the bed to stra-ig-h-ten her qu-ilt. Mar-le-ne mo-aned at her, so she drop-ped the che-nil-le throw on the flo-or, and Mar-le-ne stuck her no-se in it and sho-ved it aro-und a lit-tle, sto-od on it and wig-gled her butt, tur-ned in cir-c-les fo-ur or fi-ve ti-mes, and then set-tled down with a tor-tu-red sigh. "Ye-ah, you ha-ve a ro-ugh li-fe," Nell sa-id and went to cle-an up the bat-h-ro-om. When the do-or-bell rang, half an ho-ur la-ter, she ca-ught her bre-ath and to-ok one last lo-ok in the mir-ror. Co-lor in her ha-ir, spar-k-le in her eyes, he-at in her che-eks, and silk on her body. "God, I'm hot," she sa-id to the mir-ror, and then she went to let him in. Ga-be ca-me in, drop-ped the Chi-ne-se on the bo-ok-s-helf by the do-or, put his arms aro-und Nell, and kis-sed her un-til she was bre-at-h-less. "Do you ha-ve any idea how long I've be-en wa-iting to rip the-se pa-j-amas off you?" he sa-id, run-ning his hand up her si-de. "No," she sa-id, her vo-ice co-ming out as a squ-e-ak. He kis-sed her aga-in, his hands sli-ding all over the blue silk, and then he sa-id, his vo-ice husky, "So do we eat Chi-ne-se whi-le I sta-re at you with lust, or do we go up-s-ta-irs whe-re I throw you down on the bed and ha-ve my way with you?" "Bed," Nell sa-id. Half an ho-ur la-ter, Nell grab-bed on-to the he-ad-bo-ard of her bed and pul-led her-self up, trying to get her bre-ath back. "My God. May-be we sho-uld try mo-ving that down a notch." "I wasn't the one mo-aning, 'Har-der,'" Ga-be sa-id, pul-ling her down so that her back bur-ned

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aga-inst him. The man was a fur-na-ce. "If you'd go a lit-tle slo-wer, I'd ha-ve ti-me to think." Nell stret-c-hed aga-inst his mus-c-le and bo-ne, me-mo-ri-zing how strong and so-lid he was. "You want me to be pas-si-ve?" "Hell, no." Ga-be ran his hand down her si-de and ma-de her curl up aga-in. "I'm just sa-ying you're not an easy wo-man to lo-ve." "Al-so, I don't mo-an." Nell shi-ve-red un-der his hands. "That was Mar-le-ne." "That wo-uld ex-p-la-in the ste-reo ef-fect." He kis-sed her neck and she shi-ve-red aga-in, and then he drew his fin-gers ac-ross her sto-mach so that she pres-sed back, har-der aga-inst him. "Stop it," she sa-id. "This is sup-po-sed to be af-ter-g-low." "I li-ke my af-ter-g-low with you in mo-ti-on. I me-asu-re ti-me by how yo-ur body sways." He bit her ear-lo-be and she rol-led to lo-ok up at him. "Okay," he sa-id. "I just li-ke my af-ter-g-low with you." His eyes we-re dark as ever, but now they we-re hot, too, in-tent on her, and he to-ok her bre-ath away. Go-od gri-ef, she tho-ught. Lo-ok at him. He's be-a-uti-ful. "By how my body sways?" she sa-id in-s-te-ad. "It's from a very hot po-em," he sa-id. "It co-mes to mind whe-ne-ver I watch you mo-ve." Po-etry, she tho-ught. He'll be sur-p-ri-sing me fo-re-ver. Not that she was co-un-ting on fo-re-ver. "What?" he sa-id, and when she didn't an-s-wer, he slid his hand up her body aga-in to ma-ke her shud-der. "You ma-ke me ner-vo-us when you get that lo-ok in yo-ur eyes." "It's hun-ger," she sa-id, rol-ling out of bed and pic-king up her pa-j-ama top from the flo-or. "Ti-me to eat." "Bring it up he-re." He rol-led and snag-ged her pa-j-ama bot-toms from the flo-or be-fo-re she co-uld. "I'll wa-it." "Lazy." She tug-ged on the hem of her pa-j-ama top, and he grin-ned at her. "Con-ser-ving my energy," he sa-id, and she lost her bre-ath aga-in. When they we-re both in bed, for-king gar-lic chic-ken from the sa-me car-ton, he sa-id, "By the way, we fo-und so-me di-amonds to-day." Nell stop-ped with her fork in mi-da-ir. "The Ogil-vie di-amonds?" "Well, the Ogil-vie ear-rings. They we-re in Chloe's jewelry box." Nell lis-te-ned as he fil-led her in and then sa-id, "And I sup-po-se you co-uldn't find Chloe in Euro-pe." "Not a chan-ce. But I know what hap-pe-ned. My dad was crazy abo-ut her. He ga-ve them to her, and she wo-re them for the fa-mily pic-tu-re and then put them away. They're not her kind of jewelry. I cal-led Tre-vor and he sa-id he'd see me to-mor-row. I'm re-al-ly lo-oking for-ward to that." "Di-amonds are ever-y-body's kind of jewelry." Ga-be sho-ok his he-ad. "Not Chloe's. I'd bet she didn't even know they we-re di-amonds, or if she did, she didn't ha-ve a clue what they we-re worth. She was only ni-ne-te-en when Lu was born. Her idea of fis-cal mag-ni-fi-cen-ce was a res-ta-urant with cloth nap-kins." His vo-ice was af-fec-ti-ona-te, and Nell stom-ped on the je-alo-usy that stir-red in her. He'd be a re-al clod if he didn't still ca-re abo-ut her. "You must ha-ve be-en re-al-ly happy," she sa-id. "Chloe's so swe-et and then a new baby." Ga-be lo-oked at her as if she we-re in-sa-ne. "I was twen-ty-six and I had not plan-ned on get-ting mar-ri-ed, let alo-ne be-ing a fat-her. Chloe co-uld ha-ve be-en Ma-rilyn Mon-roe and I wo-uldn't ha-ve be-en happy." "Oh, co-me on," Nell sa-id, fe-eling gu-ilty be-ca-use that was che-ering. "Stop ro-man-ti-ci-zing," Ga-be sa-id. "Ever-y-t-hing tur-ned out fi-ne. Chloe was gre-at, but it was not a fa-iry ta-le. Now tell me what Mar-gie sa-id." "She tal-ked abo-ut Ste-wart," Nell sa-id. "She ha-ted him." She fil-led in the de-ta-ils and in-ha-led chic-ken whi-le Ga-be ate and lis-te-ned, fi-nis-hing with, "She thinks he's ali-ve but if she do-esn't col-lect the in-su-ran-ce mo-ney, he won't co-me back. She's ha-ving a hard ti-me." "How are you do-ing?"

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"Me?" Nell star-ted to la-ugh. "I've had the gre-atest sex of my li-fe two days in a row." "That go-od, huh?" Ga-be le-aned over her to put the car-ton on her bed-si-de tab-le. "And we're just get-ting star-ted." He kis-sed her, ke-eping his we-ight off her with his arms, and she pul-led him down on top of her, wan-ting so-met-hing so-lid to push aga-inst. "I li-ke the way you fight back," she mur-mu-red aga-inst his mo-uth. "I ha-ve to." He mo-ved his mo-uth to her ear. "If I don't, you'll des-t-roy me." "I was tal-king abo-ut the sex," she sa-id, pul-ling away a lit-tle, and he re-ac-hed for anot-her car-ton. "So was I." He sat back and ope-ned the car-ton. "You're a strong wo-man." "I didn't fe-el li-ke it so-me-ti-mes," she sa-id, thin-king of all the ye-ars when she'd pla-yed pas-si-ve so Tim wo-uld fe-el as tho-ugh he was in char-ge, all the lost months af-ter Tim when she co-uldn't eat. She lo-oked in his car-ton. Crab Ran-go-on. Ex-cel-lent. Ga-be to-ok one and ga-ve it to her. "Ye-ah, but how do you fe-el now?" "Po-wer-ful." She bit in-to the pastry, sa-vo-ring the cre-amy fil-ling. "Strong. Ex-ci-ting." "That's what you fe-el li-ke to me, too," he sa-id. "Must be you." "Might be you," she sa-id. "It's a pretty new fe-eling." "I find that hard to be-li-eve." He pic-ked up a pastry and bit in-to it. "I'd bet you've be-en kic-king butt all yo-ur li-fe." Nell tho-ught back over her old li-fe. "I ne-ver re-al-ly had any butt to kick. Ever-y-t-hing went my way." Her fri-ends had al-ways de-fer-red to her, the agency cli-ents had obe-yed her every sug-ges-ti-on, her kid had known bet-ter than to cross her, Tim had do-ne what she'd told him to She stop-ped with anot-her pi-ece of Crab Ran-go-on hal-f-way to her mo-uth as the re-ali-za-ti-on hit. "It's you," she sa-id. "You're the first per-son who ever pus-hed back." "Only be-ca-use it fe-els so go-od. What el-se is the-re to eat over the-re? I co-uld ha-ve sworn I bo-ught-" She to-ok the Crab Ran-go-on car-ton away from him and put it back on the bed-si-de tab-le, and then she sho-ved him over on-to his back. "I want to be on top this ti-me." "May-be," he sa-id, not fig-h-ting her. "But la-ter. I had a long day, I fuc-ked yo-ur bra-ins out on an empty sto-mach, and I know the-re are pot-s-tic-kers over the-re. I want to eat." "So do I," she sa-id, and be-gan to lick her way down his sto-mach. "You can be on top," he sa-id, and then he shut up. "So how are you?" Nell as-ked Su-ze on Tu-es-day as they hel-ped Mar-gie clo-se the te-as-hop. "I'm fi-ne." Su-ze didn't lo-ok at her as she pun-c-hed re-gis-ter keys. "I me-an you and Jack." "We're fi-ne." "Okay," Nell sa-id, swit-c-hing ge-ars. "You know, the we-ir-dest thing hap-pe-ned to-day." "Tell all," Su-ze sa-id as she prin-ted out the re-gis-ter ta-pe. "Ga-be and I had a fight over the new rug for his of-fi-ce. He ho-nest to God thinks if his fat-her pic-ked it out, it's sac-red. And I'm not su-re he even li-ked his fat-her." "Okay." Su-ze frow-ned at the ta-pe. "So I told him, lo-ok it's got a ho-le in it," Nell sa-id. "And he sa-id, 'You sho-uld know, you put it the-re.' The guy has eyes li-ke an eag-le. And I sa-id if it hadn't be-en so old, I wo-uldn't ha-ve be-en ab-le to, and he sa-id get-ting rid of things ba-sed on my abi-lity to des-t-roy them wo-uld cle-an out the bu-il-ding, and we we-re just gla-ring at each ot-her." Nell stop-ped to sta-re in front of her, re-mem-be-red the way Ga-be's eyes had snap-ped at her, the way he'd le-aned over the desk to yell at her. "And I got so hot I grab-bed him by the tie and kis-sed him." "I'm still not get-ting the we-ird part," Su-ze sa-id. "So-unds li-ke bu-si-ness as usu-al to me." "You know, it's not the fig-h-ting that turns me on," Nell sa-id. "I ha-te the fig-h-ting. It's the way he lo-oks when he's trying to do-mi-na-te me. He do-esn't ha-ve a ho-pe, but he su-re lo-oks go-od trying." "In-te-res-ting re-la-ti-on-s-hip," Su-ze sa-id.

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"An-y-way, then we did so-me he-avy nec-king, and then he as-ked me if I wan-ted to ha-ve din-ner at the Fi-re Ho-use and kis-sed me aga-in and went back to work." "So-unds li-ke a go-od pro-vi-der," Su-ze sa-id. "So?" "So we didn't ha-ve sex," Nell sa-id. "I know, I know, it was the mid-dle of the day and we we-re at work, but do you know how long it had be-en sin-ce I've nec-ked? I me-an, just nec-ked? Tim and I ne-ver did that. We tal-ked abo-ut work and we had sex, but we ne-ver fo-oled aro-und and then didn't do it." Nell sho-ved the last of the cha-irs un-der a tab-le. "I'd re-al-ly got-ten to the pla-ce whe-re if I got kis-sed, I star-ted ta-king off my clot-hes." "Which wo-uld ex-p-la-in Ri-ley," Su-ze sa-id, zip-ping shut the bank de-po-sit bag. "Do you and Jack neck?" Nell sa-id, and Su-ze stop-ped. "Oh," she sa-id. "Now that you men-ti-on it, no." "It must ha-ve so-met-hing to do with mar-ri-age," Nell sa-id. "I don't think I'm ever get-ting mar-ri-ed aga-in. You lo-se such go-od stuff." "Ye-ah," Su-ze sa-id, slowly. "We did a lot of fo-oling aro-und be-fo-re we we-re mar-ri-ed." "Well, you we-re eig-h-te-en. It's ap-prop-ri-ate to do that when you're a te-ena-ger." "We did mo-re than that." "That's what I he-ard." Nell bro-ught the bro-om aro-und to the back of the co-un-ter. "You ne-ed me for an-y-t-hing el-se? Be-ca-use I nec-ked to-day, and I think my boy-f-ri-end is go-ing to ex-pect me to go all the way to-night." "What do you me-an, you he-ard?" Su-ze sa-id. "Oh." Nell tri-ed to think of a go-od lie, but it was Su-ze. "Well, you know, Vic-ki di-vor-ced Jack for adul-tery, so I as-su-med-" "You didn't say 'assu-me,' you sa-id 'he-ard.' " Su-ze fol-ded her arms. "From whom?" Nell lo-oked at the ce-iling, trying to think of a way out. Su-ze fol-lo-wed her eyes up. "From Ri-ley?" she sa-id. "Ri-ley?" Nell pul-led back, con-fu-sed. "Why Ri-ley?" "That's his apar-t-ment," Su-ze sa-id, nod-ding at the ce-iling. Gre-at. "I was just lo-oking at the ce-iling," Nell sa-id. "Pres-sed tin. You don't see that much an-y-mo-re." "Un-less you li-ve in a his-to-ric dis-t-rict," Su-ze sa-id. "Then it's pretty com-mon. How-" Her eyes wi-de-ned. "Ga-be? The agency? Did they get the evi-den-ce for Vic-ki's di-vor-ce?" "Yes," Nell sa-id, "but don't you da-re tell an-y-body I told you. I'm not al-lo-wed to talk to an-y-body abo-ut agency bu-si-ness." "What kind of evi-den-ce? What did they do?" "I think they just fol-lo-wed you." "I want to see the re-port. They ke-ep the-ir fi-les in the fre-ezer, right?" "I don't know whe-re-" Nell be-gan, and Su-ze went in-to the back ro-om. Nell fol-lo-wed her in ti-me to see her open the fre-ezer. Mar-gie had be-en war-ned abo-ut le-aving it un-loc-ked, but war-ning Mar-gie was al-ways an exer-ci-se in fu-ti-lity. "Uh, Su-ze?" Su-ze star-ted shif-ting thro-ugh bo-xes, lo-oking at da-tes. "Spring of 1986," she sa-id. "It has to be…he-re it is." "Okay, that's agency pro-perty," Nell sa-id, but Su-ze al-re-ady had the box open and was tab-bing thro-ugh fol-ders. "Dysart." She pul-led out the fol-der and flip-ped it open and then grab-bed for so-me pic-tu-res that slid out. Nell ca-ught them as they hit the flo-or and stra-ig-h-te-ned to put them back in the fol-der, only, to be ca-ught by what she saw. They'd be-en ta-ken thro-ugh a win-dow, thro-ugh a spa-ce whe-re the cur-ta-ins hadn't be-en pul-led com-p-le-tely shut. Jack was stret-c-hed out on a che-ap mo-tel bed, lo-oking mo-re han-d-so-me than Nell co-uld ever re-mem-ber, forty and fit and in his pri-me. No won-der Su-ze had fal-len. But the ca-me-ra wasn't fo-cu-sed on Jack. Be-si-de the bed, stan-ding with her pom-poms on her hips, was Su-ze, eig-h-te-en and ama-zingly pretty in her che-er-le-ading uni-form, lo-oking at him with he-ad til-ted and lips par-ted. She was la-ug-hing, and she lo-oked shiny and new and ex-hi-la-ra-ted.

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"My God," Su-ze sa-id from be-si-de her. Nell sa-id, "Ye-ah. You we-re a ba-be." Then she ad-ded has-tily, "You still are, of co-ur-se-" "Not li-ke that," Su-ze sa-id. "I didn't know what I had. Lo-ok at that." Nell lo-oked aga-in. "Ho-nestly, you're bet-ter now." "Oh, ye-ah, su-re I am." Su-ze to-ok the pho-tos from her to le-af thro-ugh them, and it was al-most li-ke a flip bo-ok, wat-c-hing Su-ze-at-eig-h-te-en ta-ke off first her skirt, and then her swe-ater, and then her vir-gi-nal cot-ton whi-te bra and un-der-pants un-til she sto-od the-re na-ked, fla-un-ting a high, tight body that wo-uld ha-ve bro-ught a stron-ger man than Jack Dysart to his kne-es. "I may ne-ver ta-ke off my clot-hes aga-in," Nell sa-id, lo-oking at the last pic-tu-re in dis-be-li-ef. "Who to-ok the-se?" Su-ze sa-id. "Ri-ley," Nell sa-id. "It was one of his first as-sig-n-ments. Ga-be sa-id it scar-red him for li-fe." "Damn go-od thing I'm not sle-eping with Ri-ley," Su-ze sa-id. "I'd ne-ver be ab-le to com-pe-te with myself." "Oh, ple-ase," Nell sa-id. "Ri-ley slept with me." Su-ze jam-med the pho-tos back in the fol-der. "Don't ever let Jack see tho-se." "Lis-ten, swe-etie, you didn't see them. Just be-ca-use I'm do-ing the boss do-esn't me-an he won't fi-re me." Nell fi-led the fol-der back in the box and put the lid back on. "For-get you ever saw the-se." "I'd lo-ve to," Su-ze sa-id. "But I don't think I'm go-ing to." Janu-ary tur-ned in-to Feb-ru-ary. Nell con-ti-nu-ed to fix the agency be-hind Ga-be's back and then fight with him abo-ut it, Mar-gie stal-led Bud-ge abo-ut the wed-ding and the in-su-ran-ce, Su-ze sta-yed with Jack and pre-ten-ded she wasn't mi-se-rab-le, and Ga-be re-ma-ined fi-xa-ted on the di-amonds. He'd go-ne to see Tre-vor abo-ut Chloe's ear-rings and had the ri-ot act re-ad to him: Pat-rick had bo-ught the ear-rings for Lia at the sa-me ti-me Tre-vor had bo-ught the en-ti-re su-ite for He-le-na, and that kind of ge-ne-ro-us hus-band did not de-ser-ve a pos-t-hu-mo-usly sus-pi-ci-o-us in-g-ra-te for a son. Ga-be had co-me back even mo-re de-ter-mi-ned that so-met-hing was wrong"If he bo-ught tho-se for my mot-her, I'd ha-ve se-en them on her; that wo-man li-ked jewel-ry"-and now he was dri-ving ever-y-body crazy, mum-b-ling abo-ut it. It re-al-ly wasn't he-althy for him to ob-sess on the past, Nell tho-ught, and she did ever-y-t-hing she co-uld to dis-t-ract him, in-c-lu-ding bad-ge-ring him abo-ut the re-cep-ti-on ro-om co-uch, which was only get-ting mo-re slo-venly as the we-eks pas-sed. All they ne-eded was for one re-al-ly he-avy cli-ent to drop down on the damn thing and they'd be pic-king splin-ters out of a law-su-it. And it wasn't as tho-ugh they didn't ha-ve eno-ugh to think abo-ut wit-ho-ut so-me phan-tom di-amonds. The agency was swam-ped with work, in-c-lu-ding a new wrin-k-le on an old cli-ent when Ri-ley got a pho-ne call and ca-me out of his of-fi-ce to say, "Gi-na wants us to fol-low Ha-rold to-night. I'm cal-ling it the Hot Din-ner." "Gi-na thinks Ha-rold is che-ating?" Nell sa-id. "I think he owes her a co-up-le," Ri-ley sa-id. "But I don't think she fe-els that way." "Ye-ah," Nell sa-id. "Pe-op-le get so sen-si-ti-ve abo-ut adul-tery." The fol-lo-wing Mon-day, Nell was typing the Hot Din-ner re-port-Ha-rold was de-fi-ni-tely che-ating-when Su-ze ca-me in. "Hey," Nell sa-id. "You're too early if you want lunch." "Not lunch," Su-ze sa-id, and Nell lo-oked at her clo-ser and went cold. "What's wrong?" "I ne-ed to hi-re the McKen-nas," she sa-id. "Fa-mily tra-di-ti-on." "Oh, no." "Oh, I think so." Su-ze nod-ded to-ward Ga-be's of-fi-ce. "Can it be him? I don't think I can fa-ce-" Ri-ley ope-ned the do-or to his of-fi-ce and sto-od in the do-or-way. "Tho-ught I he-ard yo-ur vo-ice." Nell lo-oked from him to Su-ze. "Su-ze just drop-ped by." Su-ze to-ok a de-ep bre-ath. "I ne-ed a de-tec-ti-ve." "Okay," Ri-ley sa-id. "Stay ho-me to-night un-til I call you." Su-ze nod-ded and ope-ned her pur-se. "How much re-ta-iner-"

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"This one's on the ho-use. Just be ho-me." He went back in-si-de and clo-sed the do-or, and Su-ze tur-ned to Nell and swal-lo-wed. "He didn't even ask me what I wan-ted." "I no-ti-ced that. Are you okay?" "No," Su-ze sa-id and sank down on the co-uch, te-ars spil-ling from her eyes. "We had a big fight last night abo-ut me wor-king at The Cup. I re-fu-sed to qu-it and he wal-ked out. And he didn't co-me back at all last night." "Hang on," Nell sa-id, and ran to Ga-be's of-fi-ce to get his Glen-li-vet. "He-re," she sa-id to Su-ze, splas-hing so-me in-to a Su-sie Co-oper cup. "Drink this." Su-ze gul-ped so-me of the whis-key and then in-ha-led sharply. "Ta-ke it easy," Nell sa-id. "Ga-be only drinks the go-od stuff." "I re-al-ly tho-ught I'd be dif-fe-rent. Not li-ke Abby and Vic-ki." "You are dif-fe-rent." Nell pat-ted her sho-ul-der and ha-ted Jack. "May-be he's not che-ating. You don't know." "I know," Su-ze sa-id. "I just want to know for su-re." When Su-ze had go-ne, Nell ban-ged on the do-or of Ri-ley's of-fi-ce and went in. "What the hell is go-ing on?" "J-ack Dysart Is Che-ating on His Wi-fe, Part Three," Ri-ley sa-id. "Se-qu-els suck." "Don't get cu-te with me," Nell le-aned over his desk. "How long ha-ve you known?" "A co-up-le of months." "And Ga-be?" "A co-up-le of months." "And you didn't tell me." "Do we lo-ok stu-pid?" "Yes," Nell sa-id. "Mo-re than stu-pid. Why the hell-" "Be-ca-use you wo-uld ha-ve told Su-ze. Re-mem-ber the first ru-le?" "Don't pull that juni-or high crap on me," Nell sa-id. "This is my best fri-end. " "Which is why we didn't tell you." Ri-ley sat be-hind his desk, im-pas-si-ve and calm. "You co-uldn't ha-ve do-ne a damn thing for her, an-y-way." "I co-uld ha-ve let her know-" "She knew," Ri-ley sa-id. "She just didn't want to know. You knew be-fo-re that Chris-t-mas that yo-ur hus-band was scre-wing aro-und." "I did not." "You knew the who-le ti-me you we-re ex-p-la-ining to pe-op-le that he hadn't che-ated. You just didn't want to know." Ri-ley sig-hed. "It's a co-ping de-vi-ce. I can show pho-tos of a spo-use che-ating and if the cli-ent do-esn't want to be-li-eve it, she won't. Or he. De-ni-al go-es both ways." He sto-od up and ca-me aro-und the desk. "Except by the ti-me they hi-re us, they're usu-al-ly re-ady to fa-ce the truth. That's why Su-ze didn't show up un-til now. So to-night I'll show her the truth. On the ho-use." He put his hand on her sho-ul-der. "Trust me." Nell step-ped away from him. "Ne-ver aga-in." She tur-ned to see Ga-be stan-ding in the do-or-way. "You know," he sa-id, "I'm not the je-alo-us type, but-" "Go to hell," she sa-id and wal-ked past him to get her pur-se. Ri-ley sa-id, "Jack Dysart." "Oh, hell," Ga-be sa-id and ca-me af-ter her. "Wa-it a mi-nu-te." "You knew and you didn't tell me," Nell sa-id, pur-se in hand, trying to push past him to get the do-or. "Ye-ah," Ga-be sa-id, bloc-king her. "Wo-uld you just lis-ten, ple-ase?" "No," Nell sa-id, and Ga-be grab-bed her arm and drag-ged her in-to his of-fi-ce, slam-ming the do-or be-hind him. "Lis-ten to me," he sa-id when she tur-ned on him, re-ady to yell. "We fo-und out do-ing the Qu-ar-terly Re-port for Tre-vor back in No-vem-ber." "It wasn't in the re-port I typed," Nell sa-id. "We ga-ve you a dummy." "I am a dummy," Nell sa-id. "I tho-ught we-"

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Ga-be po-in-ted his fin-ger at her and sa-id, "Don't even start on that. What we are has not-hing to do with the agency." "What are you tal-king abo-ut? We are the agency. The agency and sex. You li-ed to me and you bet-ra-yed Su-ze." "No." Ga-be sa-id. "We li-ed to you so you wo-uldn't bet-ray the agency." Nell felt cold. "So you and Ri-ley are the agency and I'm not?" Ga-be clo-sed his eyes. "Lo-ok, it's sim-p-le. We didn't tell you be-ca-use you'd tell her. You know the ru-les." "I know the ru-les, and I know you bre-ak them all the ti-me," Nell sa-id. "This wasn't abo-ut the ru-les. This was abo-ut you ke-eping me out, you not trus-ting me. Well, the hell with you." "You wo-uld ha-ve told Su-ze," Ga-be sa-id, but she'd al-re-ady de-to-ured aro-und him and was he-ading out the do-or to Su-ze. Ri-ley cal-led Su-ze that night at ten and pic-ked her up fif-te-en mi-nu-tes la-ter. He to-ok her up High Stre-et to the cam-pus and then par-ked in front of a bar off a si-de stre-et. "He-re?" she sa-id when they we-re in-si-de. The pla-ce was a typi-cal un-der-g-rad han-go-ut, dirty, no-isy, and cram-ped. "He-re," Ri-ley sa-id and went to the bar whi-le Su-ze lo-oked aro-und and tho-ught, So this is what I mis-sed by not be-ing sin-g-le as an un-der-g-ra-du-ate. It didn't ca-use much of a pang, but then her sto-mach was al-re-ady ti-ed in knots so pangs we-re pro-bably not physi-cal-ly pos-sib-le. She fo-und a bo-oth and slid in-to it, ta-king ca-re not to snag her swe-ater sle-eve on the splin-te-red tab-le-top. My hus-band is che-ating on me. Ri-ley ca-me back with two mugs of be-er in one hand and a bowl of un-s-hel-led pe-anuts in the ot-her. He slid one of the mugs ac-ross to her and sat down. "I don't see why we're he-re," Su-ze sa-id, and Ri-ley sa-id, "Wa-it," so she shut up and sip-ped her be-er. Af-ter a long si-len-ce bro-ken only by the crack of pe-anut shells, she sa-id, "Do you ha-ve to be this qu-i-et?" "Yes," Ri-ley sa-id, his jaw tight. "Are you mad at me? Is it be-ca-use I ma-de a pass at you on New Ye-ar's Eve?" "No." She lo-oked aro-und the bar and tho-ught, I will not cry. "You're not qu-i-et with Nell." "Nell is dif-fe-rent." "Be-ca-use you slept with her." "No," Ri-ley sa-id, pretty much ig-no-ring her to lo-ok at the crowd, and Su-ze felt her tem-per ri-se. "I can't be-li-eve you to-ok ad-van-ta-ge of her," she sa-id, wat-c-hing him to see if he'd flinch. By God, he was go-ing to pay at-ten-ti-on to her to-night or she'd know the re-ason why. "I didn't ta-ke ad-van-ta-ge of her." "You se-du-ced her," Su-ze sa-id, and Ri-ley tur-ned to her with gre-at and ob-vi-o-us pa-ti-en-ce and sa-id, "Shut up." "She sa-id you we-re a re-al-ly gen-t-le lo-ver," Su-ze sa-id, trying to get so-me kind of re-ac-ti-on, any kind of re-ac-ti-on. "I find that hard to be-li-eve, con-si-de-ring the way you tre-at me." "Nell was fra-gi-le. You're not." Ri-ley crac-ked anot-her pe-anut. "I'm fra-gi-le. You wo-uldn't be-li-eve how fra-gi-le I am right now." She wat-c-hed him crack anot-her pe-anut, and ad-ded, "But sin-ce it's me, you're not in-s-pi-red li-ke you we-re with Nell. I'm not the type you'd be gen-t-le with." "No, you're the type I'd fuck aga-inst a wall," Ri-ley sa-id, and she slung her be-er in his fa-ce. He tur-ned to her, the be-er drip-ping on-to his shirt. "Fe-el bet-ter now?" "That was a lo-usy thing to say," Su-ze sa-id, her he-art ra-cing. He pic-ked up a nap-kin and wi-ped so-me of the be-er from his fa-ce. "You wan-ted a fight." "Not li-ke that." Su-ze han-ded him anot-her nap-kin. "Is my hus-band che-ating on me?" "Yes." "How old is she?"

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Ri-ley lo-oked at her with sympathy, and that was wor-se than an-y-t-hing. Su-ze clo-sed her eyes in pa-in. "Oh, God, call me a who-re aga-in, just don't lo-ok at me li-ke that." "I didn't call you a who-re. She's twen-ty-two." Twen-ty- two. "Well, that ex-p-la-ins it, I gu-ess." She lo-oked down at her-self, re-mem-be-ring the pho-tos Ri-ley had ta-ken fif-te-en ye-ars be-fo-re. "Not-hing on me lo-oks twen-ty-two." She re-ac-hed for her be-er and re-ali-zed she'd thrown it all at Ri-ley, but be-fo-re she co-uld sit back, he'd sho-ved his mug in front of her. "Thank you." She sto-le a lo-ok at him whi-le she drank and fo-und him still wat-c-hing the ro-om. Even in a be-er-sp-las-hed shirt, he lo-oked de-pen-dab-le. Big and de-pen-dab-le. Gre-at hands, Nell had sa-id. May-be she co-uld get him to be-at up Jack. Of co-ur-se, what she re-al-ly wan-ted was to be-at up a twen-ty-two-ye-ar-old. "Co-uld I ta-ke her?" Ri-ley tur-ned back to her. "What? In a fight?" He sur-ve-yed her. "Pro-bably. You'd ha-ve ra-ge on yo-ur si-de." "How long?" "For you to ta-ke her?" Su-ze sho-ok her he-ad. "How long has he be-en se-e-ing her?" "End of No-vem-ber is the first we knew." "And you didn't tell me?" "No." "And Nell didn't tell me." "Nell didn't know un-til to-day." "Why not? If-" "Be-ca-use we knew she'd tell you." Ri-ley to-ok the mug back. "We fo-und out abo-ut it wor-king anot-her job. We do not go ca-using tro-ub-le, so we did not tell eit-her of you." He drank, and Su-ze felt bet-ra-yed. "I wor-ked for you," she sa-id fi-nal-ly. "You qu-it be-ca-use yo-ur hus-band threw a tem-per tan-t-rum," Ri-ley sa-id. "Not that we're not gra-te-ful. He cal-led the night be-fo-re you qu-it and thre-ate-ned to pull bu-si-ness from us if we didn't fi-re you, so you sa-ved us ha-ving to com-p-ro-mi-se our et-hics." "But you wo-uld ha-ve." "Su-ze, you'd wor-ked for us for a co-up-le of months. Ogil-vie and Dysart ha-ve be-en gi-ving us work for ye-ars. It wasn't much of a cho-ice." "You dum-ped me just li-ke he's dum-ping me." Ri-ley sho-ved the mug back to her. "Drink up." She re-ac-hed for the mug and then fro-ze as Jack ca-me thro-ugh a do-or in the back mar-ked "Ga-me Ro-om." The-re was anot-her wo-man with him, and she was yo-ung and she had dark ha-ir, but it wasn't un-til they we-re far-t-her in-to the ro-om that Su-ze re-cog-ni-zed her. "That's Oli-via. That's his par-t-ner's da-ug-h-ter." "Ye-ah, Jack go-es for what's clo-se and easy," Ri-ley sa-id, and Su-ze gla-red at him. "Not you, dummy. Oli-via Ogil-vie." Jack pul-led out a cha-ir for Oli-via, and she la-ug-hed up at him as she sat. He bent and kis-sed her on the top of her he-ad, and Su-ze was torn bet-we-en pa-in and ra-ge. "I'll kill him." "I'd work out a plan on that one," Ri-ley sa-id. "Unless, of co-ur-se, you want to go to ja-il." Jack went to the bar, and Su-ze wat-c-hed Oli-via. She wasn't strictly be-a-uti-ful, but she was yo-ung and slen-der, and Su-ze felt li-ke a lump. "No won-der." Ri-ley glan-ced at her. "What? Oli-via? Stop be-ating yo-ur-self up. You're a class act. She's a pro-mis-cu-o-us mo-ron." "Sort of li-ke Jack," Su-ze sa-id sa-va-gely, and Ri-ley la-ug-hed. "Exactly," he sa-id. Su-ze felt a lit-tle che-ered, even as she wat-c-hed Oli-via. "I tho-ught you wan-ted to fuck me aga-inst a wall. That do-esn't say class act to me."

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He didn't say an-y-t-hing and she tur-ned to see what was wrong. "You ma-ke too many as-sum-p-ti-ons," he told her. "Is he sle-eping with her?" "That as-sum-p-ti-on you can ma-ke." "Are you po-si-ti-ve?" "Yes." His vo-ice was su-re, and Su-ze felt sick. He'd se-en them, and now she co-uld see them, co-up-ling in her mind's eye, and it was hor-rib-le, gross, dis-gus-ting, sha-me-ful…ex-c-ru-ci-ating. Ri-ley nod-ded to-ward the bar whe-re Jack was stan-ding. "You want to con-f-ront him?" The tho-ught ma-de Su-ze sic-ker. "No." "Then my work is do-ne. I'll ta-ke you ho-me." Jack sat down ac-ross from Oli-via and ra-ised his glass. What wo-uld he do if he glan-ced over and saw her? He'd told her on-ce that he al-ways knew when she wal-ked in-to a ro-om, even if his back was to her, he al-ways knew. The bas-tard. "Yes," Su-ze sa-id. "Ta-ke me ho-me." They we-re hal-f-way ac-ross the bar when she lo-oked back at Jack one mo-re ti-me and ca-ught his eye. He fro-ze for a mo-ment and then put his be-er down and he-aded for them, his fa-ce flus-hed. "Hold it," she sa-id to Ri-ley, and he lo-oked back and sa-id, "Oh, hell." "I knew it," Jack sa-id when he was in front of them. "I knew-" "I hi-red him," Su-ze sa-id $qtly, cut-ting him off. "Just li-ke Abby and Vic-ki. This guy is go-ing to re-ti-re on yo-ur lack of mo-rals." Jack lo-oked past her to Ri-ley, lo-we-ring his he-ad a lit-tle, so mad he must ha-ve for-got-ten he was the-re with, so-me-body el-se, too. Who the hell do-es he think be is? Su-ze tho-ught, and then he to-ok a step to-ward her, and Ri-ley pus-hed her out from bet-we-en them, bloc-king her from Jack with his sho-ul-der. "Don't even think abo-ut it," he sa-id to Jack, his vo-ice lo-aded with con-tempt. "I'll ta-ke you apart whi-le they both watch." "You've be-en wa-iting for this," Jack sa-id, so-un-ding as cocky as ever. "Fif-te-en ye-ars I've had her and you've wan-ted her. You think you're go-ing to get her now?" "I think now she gets what she wants," Ri-ley sa-id. "I think that's not you an-y-mo-re. And I think it's abo-ut ti-me." "I want to go ho-me," Su-ze sa-id to Ri-ley, and Ri-ley tur-ned his back on Jack, put-ting his hand on the small of her back to push her gently to-ward the do-or. "It's my ho-me, too," Jack sa-id from be-hind her. "I'll-" "Not an-y-mo-re," Su-ze sa-id. "The de-ad bolts will be on." She lo-oked past him to Oli-via, wat-c-hing them with her ton-gue to-uc-hing her top lip li-ke a lit-tle cat, and then she tur-ned to-ward the do-or, Ri-ley be-hind her li-ke a wall, bloc-king out di-sas-ter, ste-ad-ying her when she stum-b-led. When they we-re out-si-de in the cold, he sa-id, "Are you okay?" "No," she sa-id. "Ta-ke me ho-me." When he pul-led up in front of her ho-use, she got out and was sur-p-ri-sed when he did, too. "Go on," he sa-id, gi-ving her a gen-t-le push to-ward the ho-use. "Not a go-od ti-me for you to be alo-ne. Call Nell and I'll stay with you un-til she gets he-re." She un-loc-ked the do-or and let him in-to the ho-use, trying not to cry, trying to con-cen-t-ra-te on her an-ger. "You pro-bably think I de-ser-ve this." "Did I say that?" Ri-ley sa-id, an-no-yed. "I did it, too, I did this to Vic-ki." "Aren't you in eno-ugh pa-in wit-ho-ut be-ating yo-ur-self up?" Ri-ley sa-id, fol-lo-wing her in-to the di-ning ro-om. "Jack's a low-li-fe as-sho-le, he's al-ways be-en a low-li-fe as-sho-le, and he al-ways will be a low-li-fe as-sho-le. Bla-me him." "How abo-ut you?" Su-ze sa-id, wan-ting to fight with so-me-body. "You spi-ed on me in a mo-tel ro-om. You're not exactly on high mo-ral gro-und yo-ur-self." "I was wor-king. You we-re the one strip-ping for so-me-body el-se's hus-band in a ren-ted che-er-le-ader uni-form." Ri-ley sta-red at her chi-na ca-bi-net. "What the hell are tho-se things with

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fe-et?" "I didn't rent it," Su-ze sa-id. "It was my uni-form. I was a se-ni-or che-er-le-ader." Ri-ley ex-ha-led on a sort of sigh. "I don't be-li-eve you. He-re's a guy in his for-ti-es-" "He was thir-ty-ni-ne." "- chasing a high scho-ol se-ni-or. That didn't stri-ke you as wrong?" Su-ze sat down, mi-se-rab-le. "Not-hing abo-ut him struck me as wrong. He was the most ama-zing man I'd ever met." Oh, lack. Ri-ley snor-ted. "Pe-de-rast." Su-ze frow-ned at him, dis-t-rac-ted for a mo-ment. "I was eig-h-te-en. And we-ren't you just da-ting a col-le-ge juni-or?" "Don't chan-ge the su-bj-ect." "And you're what? Thir-ty-fi-ve?" "Fo-ur," Ri-ley sa-id. "It didn't work out. She was too sop-his-ti-ca-ted for me." "Hard to be-li-eve." Su-ze slum-ped back in-to her cha-ir. "Gi-ve Jack her num-ber. May-be he'll le-ave Oli-via for her." She felt her thro-at tig-h-ten and swal-lo-wed. "You know, I re-al-ly be-li-eved him when he sa-id I was dif-fe-rent. When I tur-ned thirty and he didn't le-ave the way he'd left Abby and Vic-ki, ever-y-body was ama-zed, but I wasn't be-ca-use I knew he lo-ved me." Her eyes got hot and she co-uld he-ar her vo-ice thic-ken. "And then he left me an-y-way." She bit her lip to ke-ep from crying-cr-ying in front of Ri-ley wo-uld be just too damn vul-ne-rab-le, the hell with him-and then she he-ard him say, "Oh, hell." "I'm not crying," she sa-id. "I know I'm go-ing to reg-ret this," Ri-ley sa-id, "but he didn't le-ave you." Su-ze gla-red up at him thro-ugh her te-ars. "He didn't? Well, that's gre-at news. What the hell is he do-ing with Oli-via then?" "He's ma-king a pre-em-p-ti-ve stri-ke. He's be-en fa-it-h-ful for the who-le fo-ur-te-en ye-ars he's be-en mar-ri-ed to you. I know be-ca-use I tri-ed my dam-ne-dest to find anot-her wo-man. The-re wasn't one. The-re re-al-ly isn't one now. He knows you're go-ing to le-ave him, so he's bo-oking first. It ma-kes him lo-ok li-ke a scum, but it do-esn't ma-ke him lo-ok li-ke a mid-dle-aged lo-ser." Su-ze sur-ged up from her cha-ir, en-ra-ged. "I wasn't go-ing to le-ave him. I lo-ved him. You don't know-" "Did he want you to get a job?" Ri-ley sa-id. "Oh, co-me on. Sit-ting on a bar-s-to-ol whi-le you eaves-d-rop is not a job. It's not even an ad-ven-tu-re." "Did he obj-ect?" "Yes," Su-ze sa-id, get-ting mad-der as Ri-ley got cal-mer. "So you're sa-ying I sho-uld ha-ve sta-yed unem-p-lo-yed-" "What did you do with yo-ur pay-c-heck?" Ri-ley sa-id. "What dif-fe-ren-ce-" "You ope-ned a chec-king ac-co-unt, didn't you? Not a jo-int ac-co-unt. One just for you." "I was ma-king a hun-d-red bucks a night," Su-ze snar-led. "I don't think he mis-sed it." "You got a job wit-ho-ut tel-ling him, you ope-ned a chec-king ac-co-unt wit-ho-ut tel-ling him-" "Wo-men do that every day. It do-es not con-s-ti-tu-te de-ser-ti-on." "Who bo-ught the cups with the fe-et?" Ri-ley sa-id, po-in-ting to-ward the chi-na ca-bi-net and Su-ze saw her twen-ty-se-ven lit-tle pot-tery cups run-ning in front of the chi-na, run-ning over the chi-na, the who-le ca-bi-net in flight. "If I was af-ra-id so-me-body was go-ing to dump me," Ri-ley sa-id, "and she star-ted to col-lect tho-se things, I think I'd start drop-ping them." "He did." Su-ze swal-lo-wed. "He drop-ped one, but I glu-ed it back to-get-her." "When did you start bu-ying them?" Ri-ley sa-id. "Sep-tem-ber." Su-ze let her sho-ul-ders slump, roc-king a lit-tle on her fe-et, and then she felt Ri-ley's hand on her back, warm and so-lid.

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"He didn't start se-e-ing Oli-via un-til the end of No-vem-ber," Ri-ley sa-id. She win-ced at the na-me, the pa-in sli-cing thro-ugh her be-ca-use she wasn't bra-ced for it. "If he wan-ted to le-ave, he didn't ha-ve to go to her," she sa-id. "You can't tell me that he didn't lo-ok at her and no-ti-ce she was yo-un-ger and fir-mer and-" "No guy wo-uld pre-fer Oli-via to you," Ri-ley sa-id, so-un-ding dis-gus-ted with her. "Stop wal-lo-wing." Su-ze ig-no-red him and fa-ced the truth: She'd en-ded her own mar-ri-age, and now she didn't even ha-ve Oli-via to bla-me for it. lack. "I ha-te this." She tur-ned aro-und to fa-ce Ri-ley, a lit-tle sur-p-ri-sed to find that he wasn't stan-ding clo-se. He'd se-emed so clo-se. "And it's all my fa-ult." "No, it isn't," Ri-ley sa-id, exas-pe-ra-ted. "You mar-ri-ed a guy who was so con-t-rol-ling that nor-mal ever-y-day li-fe thre-ate-ned him. You qu-it yo-ur job and clo-se the chec-king ac-co-unt and then what? You go-ing to sit in this di-ning ro-om for the rest of yo-ur li-fe, lo-oking at tho-se blue pla-tes? Be-ca-use I'm pretty su-re you'll ha-ve to gi-ve up all tho-se cups with fe-et, too. They cre-ep me out, and I'm not trying to hold on to you." Gi-ve up the cups? "I ne-ed Nell," Su-ze sa-id and burst in-to te-ars. "Hold on." Ri-ley bac-ked up a step. "Just wa-it a se-cond." She he-ard him ret-re-at in-to the kit-c-hen and di-al the pho-ne. I tra-ded in the only man I've ever lo-ved for a chec-king ac-co-unt and a bunch of egg cups, she tho-ught, and then she put her he-ad down on the di-ning ro-om tab-le and how-led. A few mi-nu-tes la-ter, when the worst of it was over, she lif-ted her fa-ce and Ri-ley stuck a box of Kle-enex un-der her no-se. "Nell's on her way," he told her, so-un-ding as if he co-uldn't wa-it. "Sorry abo-ut the crying," she sa-id and to-ok a tis-sue to blow her no-se. "That must ha-ve be-en aw-ful." "Yes, it was. Don't do that aga-in. Wo-uld you li-ke a drink? Or so-met-hing?" She snif-fed aga-in and tri-ed to smi-le up at him. He lo-oked trap-ped and wary. "Oh, for he-aven's sa-ke, Ri-ley, I just cri-ed, that's all. My mar-ri-age di-ed, I'm al-lo-wed to cry." "Su-re you are. Sa-ve it for Nell. She'll be he-re in abo-ut half an ho-ur. You su-re you don't want a drink? Be-ca-use I do." "Why half an ho-ur? It's not that far." "Ga-be was with her at her pla-ce. They we-re fig-h-ting over us not tel-ling you and then they…s-top-ped. She's get-ting dres-sed." The-re, Su-ze tho-ught as she snif-fed aga-in. Nell had fo-und so-me-body el-se. She hadn't cur-led up and di-ed when her mar-ri-age en-ded that Chris-t-mas, she'd "Oh, God," Su-ze sa-id. Nell had wa-ited two ye-ars. It was go-ing to be anot-her two ye-ars be-fo-re she wasn't alo-ne aga-in. And all Nell had had to get over was that wor-t-h-less Tim. She was go-ing to ha-ve get over Jack. "Oh, God." "What?" Ri-ley sa-id. "It's go-ing to be two ye-ars be-fo-re I ha-ve sex aga-in," Su-ze wa-iled. "I'll just get tho-se drinks," Ri-ley sa-id and es-ca-ped in-to the kit-c-hen. Su-ze sat on the sta-irs at mid-night and pat-ted Mar-le-ne whi-le she lis-te-ned to Nell tell Jack exactly what kind of che-ating, dis-gus-ting, de-ge-ne-ra-te we-asel he was thro-ugh the loc-ked do-or. She'd put the de-ad bolt on, and she wo-uldn't let him in, and even-tu-al-ly, he'd gi-ven up and go-ne so-mew-he-re el-se, pro-bably to Oli-via. "To-mor-row you get a law-yer," she told Su-ze, co-ming up the sta-irs to her. "To-mor-row I ha-ve to go to work," Su-ze sa-id. "I ha-ve a te-as-hop to run." "You can call a law-yer from the te-as-hop," Nell sa-id, and then sto-od by her the next day whi-le she did. Su-ze's days dis-sol-ved in-to a blur of blen-ded te-as and Mar-gie's co-oki-es, drinks at the bar as a de-coy for Ri-ley, pa-in-ful dis-cus-si-ons with the law-yer, and long talks with Nell, who ne-ver got ti-red of lis-te-ning, even when Su-ze kept go-ing back re-len-t-les-sly to the sa-me the-mes.

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"I'd be re-ady to kill me," she told Nell on Va-len-ti-ne's Day. "I know I ke-ep sa-ying the sa-me things, but I just can't se-em to get un-s-tuck. I know I sho-uld fi-le for di-vor-ce, the law-yer says it's ti-me, but I just can't se-em to-" She bro-ke off. "I'm so sorry." "You're do-ing bet-ter than I did," Nell sa-id. "I didn't say an-y-t-hing at all for a ye-ar and a half. What do you want for din-ner?" They we-re at Nell's, so-met-hing that ma-de Su-ze fe-el gu-ilty be-ca-use he-re was Nell, fi-nal-ly happy with a go-od man to lo-ve her, and the-re was Su-ze, plan-ted in the mid-dle, li-ke the to-ad in the fa-iry ta-le, spo-iling ever-y-body's go-od ti-mes. "Lis-ten, it's Va-len-ti-ne's Day. I can go ho-me." "Over my de-ad body," Nell sa-id. "How abo-ut stir-fry? I can do that fast." "Su-re," Su-ze sa-id and wan-de-red in-to the li-ving ro-om to pat Mar-le-ne aga-in. It was ama-zing how the-ra-pe-utic pat-ting a dac-h-s-hund co-uld be, even one with an at-ti-tu-de as bad as Mar-le-ne's. She stop-ped by Nell's chi-na ca-bi-net and lo-oked at Cla-ri-ce's dis-hes. The Sec-rets ho-uses sto-od alo-ne on the hill with the-ir lo-nely smo-ke plu-mes and dep-res-sed the hell out of her, so she lo-oked at the Stro-ud car-to-uc-hes in-s-te-ad, the che-er-ful lit-tle oran-ge-ro-ofed ho-use in-si-de the per-fect lit-tle squ-ares. For so-me re-ason they we-re wor-se, that lo-nely lit-tle sin-g-le ho-use trap-ped in-si-de the squ-are, ever-y-t-hing so tidy, ever-y-t-hing so im-pos-sib-le. May-be that was what she was do-ing, trying to ke-ep ever-y-t-hing tidy, out-li-ned in black. Yo-ur hus-band che-ats, so you get rid of him. That was car-to-uc-he li-fe, not re-al li-fe. Re-al li-fe was messy, com-p-li-ca-ted by do-ubts and reg-ret. May-be she sho-uld go ho-me and call Jack. May-be they sho-uld talk wit-ho-ut the law-yers the-re. "You okay?" Nell sa-id when Su-ze ca-me out to the kit-c-hen to help set the tab-le. "May-be I ga-ve up too so-on," Su-ze sa-id. When Nell didn't say an-y-t-hing, she tur-ned to lo-ok at her. "What do you think?" "I think that wha-te-ver you de-ci-de, I'm be-hind you one hun-d-red per-cent," Nell sa-id. "And Mar-gie will be be-hind you one hun-d-red per-cent with a ther-mos of soy milk." "What wo-uld I do wit-ho-ut you?" Su-ze sa-id. "That you'll ne-ver ha-ve to know," Nell sa-id, put-ting a pla-te-ful of fo-od in front of her. "Now eat. I worry you'll be as dumb as I was and do the sle-ep-wal-king thing." For all Nell wor-ri-ed abo-ut her, Su-ze wor-ri-ed abo-ut Nell. Wor-king at The Cup with Mar-gie and mo-on-lig-h-ting at the agency ga-ve Su-ze a rin-g-si-de se-at on Nell's new re-la-ti-on-s-hip, and as far as she co-uld see, if Nell didn't wi-se up, they we-re both go-ing to grow old alo-ne. Be-ca-use in spi-te of her ob-vi-o-us ec-s-tasy, Nell wasn't li-ving a new li-fe. Nell had re-ma-de her old li-fe, run-ning her new boss the way she'd run her old boss. The prob-lem was, her old boss had be-en a wuss and her new boss wasn't. Nell wo-uld ask for so-met-hing, Ga-be wo-uld say no, and Nell wo-uld work aro-und him. Then Ga-be wo-uld yell, Nell wo-uld drag him off to bed, and the who-le thing wo-uld start all over aga-in with so-met-hing el-se Nell wan-ted, in-c-lu-ding her last three gre-at go-als, the ones even she was af-ra-id to do an end run for: the co-uch, the bu-si-ness cards, and the new win-dow. She and Ga-be we-re eit-her fig-h-ting or ma-king lo-ve or on the way to one or the ot-her, and whi-le Su-ze co-uld un-der-s-tand the ex-hi-la-ra-ti-on, she co-uldn't un-der-s-tand how they kept go-ing. She'd ha-ve ne-eded me-di-ca-ti-on long ago. "I don't un-der-s-tand them," Su-ze sa-id to Ri-ley when he ca-me in-to the te-as-hop to get away from the ar-gu-ing one af-ter-no-on. She po-ured him a cup of tea and set out the pla-te of bro-ken co-oki-es she kept be-hind the co-un-ter for him, and he pic-ked up half a star and nod-ded. "You had it right," Ri-ley sa-id. "They're both kis-sers. And if Nell do-esn't knock it off, they're go-ing to ha-ve re-al prob-lems." "Oh, it's Nell's fa-ult, is it?" Su-ze sa-id. "Yes, it is, and I'm not fig-h-ting with you so don't even start." Ri-ley bit in-to the co-okie, and Su-ze to-ok a de-ep bre-ath and cal-med down. "Ga-be owns the agency," Ri-ley went on, "she's his sec-re-tary, she do-esn't get to ma-ke de-ci-si-ons and just as-su-me he'll rub-ber-stamp them. I can't be-li-eve the crap he's let her get away with so far, but it's get-ting to him." "How can you tell?" Su-ze sa-id. "He lo-oks the sa-me to me."

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"I can tell be-ca-use they fight every god-damn day, and he do-esn't ne-ed that with this thing abo-ut his dad dri-ving him crazy. He's go-ing to crack, and I don't want Nell to be his bre-aking po-int. She's go-od for him, or she wo-uld be if she qu-it ac-ting li-ke she ow-ned the pla-ce." "Ye-ah, tho-se pushy wo-men," Su-ze sa-id. "You got-ta ke-ep slap-ping them down or they'll run right over you." "Why do I talk to you?" Ri-ley sa-id and went back to the agency, his cup still in his hand, whi-le Su-ze sat over her tea and bro-ken co-oki-es and tri-ed not to think abo-ut the mess ever-y-t-hing was in. The ar-gu-ment in Ga-be's of-fi-ce had en-ded the way the-ir ar-gu-ments usu-al-ly en-ded, and Nell was fe-eling won-der-ful. "You know," Ga-be sa-id, put-ting his pants back on, "my cof-fee bre-aks used to be a lot mo-re re-la-xing." "It's the caf-fe-ine." Nell stret-c-hed na-ked in front of his desk to fe-el her mus-c-les mo-ve. "I used to be mo-dest." "I must ha-ve mis-sed that era." Ga-be tos-sed her swe-ater to her and she didn't bot-her to catch it. "Not that I'd be par-ti-cu-larly in-te-res-ted in it." She wal-ked over to the bo-ok-ca-se, fe-eling the mus-c-les in her legs flex. The-re was not-hing li-ke sex to re-mind you that you we-re an ani-mal. Damn, she felt go-od. She drew her fin-gers along the ed-ge of one of the shel-ves and sa-id, "I bet this of-fi-ce has se-en a lot of na-ked sec-re-ta-ri-es." "I don't think so," Ga-be sa-id, lo-oking aro-und for so-met-hing. "Most wo-men in-sist on beds." "So I'm brin-ging so-met-hing new to the tra-di-ti-on," Nell sa-id, mo-ving along to the co-at-rack. "God, yes. Whe-re the hell did you throw my shirt?" "Over my he-ad, I be-li-eve." She un-ho-oked the old blue pin-s-t-ri-ped jac-ket from the co-at-rack and slip-ped in-to it, shim-mying a lit-tle to let the silk li-ning sli-de on her skin as she wrap-ped the jac-ket aro-und her. "You sho-uld we-ar this. You'd lo-ok gre-at in it." He stop-ped lo-oking for his shirt. "Not as gre-at as you do." "Ye-ah?" She smi-led at him, so happy she felt li-ke bo-un-cing. She ca-ught sight of the cas-set-te pla-yer and went over and pus-hed Play, and Di-no be-gan sin-ging "Ain't That a Kick in the He-ad." She la-ug-hed and did a fast two-step to it to "I kis-sed her and she kis-sed me," and then jum-ped when Ga-be ca-ught her hand a co-up-le of bars la-ter and spun her aro-und in-to his arms. "You can dan-ce?" she sa-id, ama-zed as he mo-ved with her, as gra-ce-ful as he was shir-t-less. "I can if you let me le-ad," he sa-id, swit-c-hing steps on her and la-ug-hing when she ca-ught up right away. "What fun is that, fol-lo-wing so-me-body aro-und all the ti-me?" She dan-ced away a step and he ca-ught her aga-in. "Well, you get my arms aro-und you," he sa-id, and when she cud-dled clo-ser, he tig-h-te-ned his grip on her and put his che-ek aga-inst her ha-ir. "Big pri-ce to pay," she mur-mu-red in-to his chest. "It's just dan-cing, Nell," he sa-id, swa-ying with her. "It's all dan-cing," she sa-id and slip-ped out of his arms to do a jaz-zy shuf-fle, her hands in the poc-kets of the jac-ket, pul-ling it tight aga-inst her body, fe-eling free aga-in. He le-aned aga-inst the bo-ok-ca-se and wat-c-hed her, and she mis-sed his arms. "The-re must be so-me way. you can dan-ce with both pe-op-le le-ading." "You can," Ga-be sa-id. "It's cal-led sex." When the song en-ded, she stop-ped, bre-at-h-less, and stret-c-hed her arms out to fe-el her mus-c-les, and he pul-led her back to slow dan-ce to "You Be-long to Me." "J-ust gi-ve me one," he sa-id, and she re-la-xed in-to his arms, gra-te-ful for the way he felt aga-inst her. "You're re-al-ly go-od at this," she sa-id. "My mom ta-ught me." He so-un-ded sad, and she pul-led him clo-ser. "I'll tell you what," she sa-id. "I'll let you le-ad if you don't slow me down."

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"De-al," he sa-id and kis-sed her, still mo-ving to the mu-sic, and when she bro-ke the kiss, she put her che-ek aga-inst his chest and tho-ught, So this is what it's li-ke to be in lo-ve. Ex-cept he'd ne-ver sa-id he lo-ved her. They'd be-en to-get-her for mo-re than two months now, and he ne-ver sa-id it. He held her clo-ser, and she had one small mo-ment of pa-nic-that it wo-uld end, that he wo-uld ne-ver lo-ve her, that one day he'd say, "The fights are just too much," that she'd lo-se this fe-eling-and then she tho-ught, Well, at le-ast I'll ha-ve bad it. But la-ter that night, when Ga-be was spo-oned aga-inst her back, half as-le-ep, she knew that wasn't eno-ugh. She ne-eded fo-re-ver, and she ne-eded to he-ar it. She knew that was des-pe-ra-te and pat-he-tic of her, she knew it was too so-on, but she be-en tor-tu-ring her-self with a tho-usand re-asons why he didn't lo-ve her, why he'd ne-ver lo-ve her, and she wan-ted re-as-su-ran-ce now. The worst of the re-asons was, May-be he still lo-ves Chloe. He ne-ver tal-ked abo-ut Chloe, wasn't par-ti-cu-larly in-te-res-ted in the pos-t-cards she kept sen-ding, but Nell knew Ga-be didn't show his emo-ti-ons much. May-be he was rep-res-sing his lon-ging for Chloe. May-be he pre-ten-ded she was Chloe when they ma-de lo-ve. She bum-ped her re-ar end aga-inst him to get his at-ten-ti-on, and he stir-red and pat-ted her hip. "Do you ever think abo-ut Chloe?" "Su-re," he mum-b-led aga-inst her neck. His hand cur-ved abo-ve her he-ad, his fin-gers ca-ught in her ha-ir, and she snug-gled back clo-ser, wan-ting him mo-re tan-g-led with her, mo-re ca-ught. "When?" she sa-id. He mo-ved aga-inst her back and let his ot-her hand fall down ac-ross her sto-mach. "When I smell the al-mond co-oki-es," he sa-id and yaw-ned. Su-ze ba-ked al-mond co-oki-es every day. "Do you miss her?" "Umhmm." She co-uld he-ar the sle-ep in his vo-ice. "Do you wish she was back?" "She'll be back." He yaw-ned aga-in. "She just wan-ted to see so-met-hing be-si-des Ohio for a whi-le." He was too ti-red to be duc-king her, so she de-ci-ded on the blunt ap-pro-ach. "Do you still lo-ve her?" "Umhm." "Oh." Nell felt sick. "Do you-" Ga-be sig-hed and pus-hed him-self up on one el-bow and away from her, and she fell back flat on-to the bed. "No," he sa-id, lo-oking down at her, still half as-le-ep, "not li-ke you," and then he kis-sed her, and she was so star-t-led, she held on-to him, even when he en-ded the kiss. "Not li-ke me?" she sa-id. "I lo-ve you. Not li-ke Chloe. Dif-fe-rent." He lo-ves me. "Oh," she sa-id, swal-lo-wing. How dif-fe-rent? Don't ask. "Chloe was easy," he sa-id, as if he'd he-ard her. "Chloe was swe-et. Chloe did exactly what I told her to. Chloe ne-ver ca-used me any tro-ub-le at all." "Now say so-met-hing ni-ce abo-ut me," Nell sa-id, fe-eling pa-nic start. "You dri-ve me crazy," Ga-be sa-id, fi-nal-ly awa-ke, sli-ding his hand ac-ross her sto-mach. "You ne-ver do what I tell you to, and you chal-len-ge ever-y-t-hing I say, and I wish to hell you'd stop it. You ma-ke me so mad I yell at you, and then I lo-ok at you, and I can't get eno-ugh of you, and I know I ne-ver will. If I co-me down to the of-fi-ce and you're not the-re, the who-le day go-es to hell. If I'm ha-ving a lo-usy day and you co-me in, the sun co-mes out. I-" "I lo-ve you." Nell sat up next to him and clut-c-hed his arm. "Li-ke not-hing ever be-fo-re. You let me be strong. I don't ha-ve to pre-tend. I don't fe-el gu-ilty with you." "Ho-ney, I don't let you be an-y-t-hing," he sa-id, with la-ug-h-ter in his vo-ice. "You just are." She kis-sed him, hol-ding his fa-ce in her hands, lo-ving him so much she ac-hed with it. "I'm sorry abo-ut the third deg-ree," she whis-pe-red. "I'll let you get so-me sle-ep now." "Li-ke hell you will," Ga-be sa-id. "You wa-ke me up, you put me back to sle-ep." He bent her back

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down in-to her pil-lows, and she cur-led aro-und him, thin-king, He lo-ves me, this one's fo-re-ver, even whi-le she knew it might not be, that no-body knew fo-re-ver un-til the end. That'll ha-ve to be eno-ugh, she tho-ught, and then she clo-sed her eyes and lo-ved him back. The next mor-ning, Ga-be wo-ke with his arm dra-ped over Nell and fo-ught thro-ugh a fog of sle-ep, trying to fi-gu-re out what had jar-red him awa-ke. Mar-le-ne was sit-ting up at the fo-ot of the bed, her ears pric-ked, and then he he-ard so-met-hing that so-un-ded li-ke muf-fled scre-aming co-ming from next do-or. "What the hell?" he sa-id and rol-led out of bed, grab-bing for his pants, Nell sat up, and sa-id, her vo-ice sle-ep-fog-ged, too, "Do-ris." By the ti-me he got dow-n-s-ta-irs, Do-ris was po-un-ding on the front do-or, prac-ti-cal-ly fal-ling in when he ope-ned it. "What?" he sa-id, and she sa-id, "The ba-se-ment. Oh, my God." "What?" he sa-id, and she sa-id, "In the fre-ezer," and star-ted to shri-ek aga-in. He pas-sed her over to Nell and went ca-uti-o-usly in-to her apar-t-ment and down the nar-row ba-se-ment sta-irs, thin-king, The fre-ezer? What the hell? but when he wal-ked past a tab-le full of pi-ne-co-ne wre-aths and ope-ned the nar-row chest fre-ezer, he suc-ked in his bre-ath and al-most scre-amed, too. Lynnie was cram-med in the-re, blue and de-sic-ca-ted and long de-ad, on the run no mo-re. "How long?" Nell sa-id, when the po-li-ce had go-ne, le-aving yel-low cri-me sce-ne ta-pe all over Do-ris's do-or, and Do-ris had left for her sis-ter's, cla-iming she wo-uldn't spend anot-her night in that ho-use. "How long had she be-en the-re?" "Long ti-me," Ga-be sa-id, splas-hing Glen-li-vet in-to a glass for her. "My gu-ess is, sin-ce last Sep-tem-ber. She was go-ing off to me-et her law-yer af-ter you tal-ked to her, right?" "That's what she sa-id." Sin-ce last Sep-tem-ber. I mo-ved in on top of her body. "And we ne-ver he-ard from her aga-in." Ga-be han-ded her the glass. "Drink up. You lo-ok li-ke hell." "You didn't tell the po-li-ce abo-ut OD," Nell sa-id and sip-ped the scotch. "Lynnie's blac-k-ma-iling OD is a gu-ess," Ga-be sa-id. "I think it's a go-od gu-ess, but it's not fact." "But the em-bez-zle-ment from you, that was a fact." "What's yo-ur po-int?" "You're pro-tec-ting Tre-vor, but not yo-ur-self." "No," Ga-be sa-id. "I'm gi-ving the po-li-ce all the in-for-ma-ti-on I ha-ve. They want facts, not hun-c-hes." "You don't want yo-ur dad's na-me sme-ared," Nell sa-id. "You're af-ra-id Lynnie was blac-k-ma-iling Tre-vor and Jack abo-ut He-le-na's de-ath and you're af-ra-id the po-li-ce will find out yo-ur dad did it." "Don't in-ter-fe-re in what you don't un-der-s-tand." Ga-be went in-to the kit-c-hen to put the Glen-li-vet back in the cup-bo-ard, and when he ca-me out, he was put-ting his co-at on. "I ha-ve to go talk to Ri-ley. I'll see you la-ter." Nell wat-c-hed him go and tho-ught, You're so smart abo-ut ever-y-t-hing el-se, but you can't let go of the past. She sho-ok her he-ad and stro-ked Mar-le-ne's silky he-ad and tri-ed not to think abo-ut Lynnie or an-y-body el-se for a whi-le. So much pa-in ever-y-w-he-re, she tho-ught, and then Mar-le-ne snug-gled clo-ser, and she felt a lit-tle com-for-ted. "She was fro-zen?" Su-ze sa-id the next day at brunch. "I'm so glad I ne-ver use my fre-ezer," Mar-gie sa-id. "Ste-wart wan-ted one be-ca-use he li-ked ste-aks, but I think fresh fo-od is im-por-tant." Nell lo-oked at her, dum-b-fo-un-ded, and Su-ze nod-ded to-ward Mar-gie's oran-ge ju-ice glass. "Mi-mo-sa," she sa-id to Nell. "She or-de-red be-fo-re you got he-re. That's her third." "If she'd be-en a ve-ge-ta-ri-an," Mar-gie sa-id, ob-li-vi-o-us, "she wo-uldn't ha-ve di-ed." "It wasn't her fre-ezer," Nell sa-id, not amu-sed. "It was her lan-d-lady's fre-ezer. She didn't ha-ve a fre-ezer." ' "So so-me-body just put her in the-re?" Su-ze sat back. "At le-ast Jack left me, he didn't fre-eze me." "Ga-be sa-id it lo-oked li-ke the-re was a bru-ise on her fo-re-he-ad, but it was hard to tell. She was…" Nell swal-lo-wed, thin-king abo-ut what Lynnie must ha-ve lo-oked li-ke, and Mar-gie sho-ved her mi-mo-sa to-ward her.

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"He-re," she sa-id. "It helps." Nell to-ok the glass and drank. "Are you okay?" Su-ze sa-id. "I didn't re-ali-ze you knew her that well." "I didn't," Nell sa-id, pus-hing Mar-gie's glass back to her. "Just that one mor-ning. But I li-ked her. She was a fig-h-ter. She fo-ught dirty, but I think she was pro-bably fig-h-ting with guys who fo-ught dirty." "What guys?" Mar-gie sa-id. "Was she en-ga-ged?" "Ga-be thinks she was blac-k-ma-iling so-me-body," Su-ze sa-id, and Nell kic-ked her on the an-k-le. Mar-gie didn't ne-ed to know the "so-me-body" in-c-lu-ded her fat-her and her fi-anc?. Mar-gie lo-oked sadly at the bot-tom of her empty mi-mo-sa glass. "So-me-body blac-k-ma-iled me on-ce." "What?" Nell sa-id. Mar-gie wa-ved to the wa-it-ress. "Anot-her mi-mo-sa, ple-ase." "Ma-ke that a black cof-fee," Su-ze told the wa-it-ress, who lo-oked at Mar-gie and nod-ded. "Who tri-ed to blac-k-ma-il you?" Nell sa-id to Mar-gie. "So-me wo-man." Mar-gie sig-hed as the wa-it-ress bro-ught her a cup and fil-led it. When the wa-it-ress was go-ne, she sa-id, "She wan-ted twenty tho-usand dol-lars, but I didn't ha-ve it. Bud-ge says I sho-uld dec-la-re Ste-wart de-ad now, be-fo-re I get any bro-ker, but it just se-ems wrong. I me-an, he's mis-sing, not de-ad. I think." "Mar-gie," Su-ze sa-id, her vo-ice ca-re-ful-ly re-aso-nab-le. "Why did she want twenty tho-usand dol-lars?" "She sa-id I'd kil-led Ste-wart." Mar-gie to-ok her ther-mos of soy milk out of her bag and top-ped up her cof-fee. "She sa-id if I didn't pay her, she'd tell ever-y-body." She sip-ped her cof-fee un-til the le-vel had drop-ped half an inch, and then she po-ured mo-re soy milk in. "Which was ri-di-cu-lo-us. I me-an, cle-arly we didn't know the sa-me pe-op-le. What did I ca-re if she told her fri-ends that?" "J-ust how hard did you hit him?" Su-ze sa-id. "When?" Nell sa-id. "Any ti-me," Mar-gie sa-id, sip-ping her soy and caf-fe-ine. "I was ne-ver go-ing to know her fri-ends." Nell to-ok a de-ep bre-ath. "No, when did she call?" "Last ye-ar." Mar-gie put her cup down and went back to her ve-ge-ta-ri-an eggs Be-ne-dict. "I ne-ver ma-ke this be-ca-use the Hol-lan-da-ise sa-uce is such a pa-in." "When last ye-ar?" Nell sa-id. "Hmmm? Oh, it was be-fo-re you got yo-ur job be-ca-use I was wor-ri-ed abo-ut you not eating and I was lo-oking at a re-ci-pe for che-ese cre-pes when she cal-led. I re-mem-ber lo-oking at the pic-tu-re when she as-ked for the mo-ney. Do you li-ke cre-pes?" "Mar-gie," Nell sa-id. "When did she call?" Mar-gie frow-ned, thin-king. "When did you get yo-ur job?" "Sep-tem-ber," Nell sa-id. Mar-gie shrug-ged. "Then it was August. But it didn't mat-ter be-ca-use she ne-ver cal-led back." "Did you tell an-y-body?" Nell sa-id. "Daddy and Bud-ge," Mar-gie sa-id, re-ac-hing for the cof-fee aga-in. "They sa-id it was a prank. Bud-ge sa-id to for-get it, it was over. So I did." She sip-ped from her cup and then sa-id, "Oh. Was it Lynnie?" "Hard to say," Nell sa-id. "But it do-esn't mat-ter. Bud-ge was right, it's over." "Bud-ge is al-ways right," Mar-gie sa-id and put her cup down. "He says we sho-uld get mar-ri-ed as so-on as I dec-la-re Ste-wart de-ad. It's re-al-ly a prob-lem be-ca-use I wo-uld li-ke the in-su-ran-ce mo-ney, but it's wrong to dec-la-re Ste-wart de-ad if he isn't, and on-ce he's de-ad I'll ha-ve to tell Bud-ge I don't want to marry him, and that's go-ing to be aw-ful. Co-uld I ha-ve one mo-re mi-mo-sa, ple-ase?" Su-ze sig-na-led the wa-it-ress. "Three mi-mo-sas," she told her. "You, too?" Nell sa-id. "It's the fre-ezer," Su-ze sa-id. "If he'd just kil-led her, that wo-uld ha-ve be-en bad eno-ugh, but he put her body in the fre-ezer."

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"Ac-tu-al-ly, it's wor-se than that," Nell sa-id. "Ga-be sa-id the bru-ise on her fo-re-he-ad didn't lo-ok bad, that she pro-bably hadn't be-en kil-led first, that who-ever hit her had pro-bably put her in the fre-ezer un-con-s-ci-o-us but ali-ve and she fro-ze to de-ath." "Oh, God," Su-ze sa-id. "That's li-ke Jack," Mar-gie sa-id. "He put you in that big ho-use and didn't want you to work or an-y-t-hing. He fro-ze you to de-ath, too." Su-ze win-ced and Nell sa-id, "Mar-gie, shut up," and Mar-gie jer-ked back a lit-tle, lo-oking hurt. "I'm sorry," Nell sa-id, "I'm re-al-ly sorry I sa-id that. This thing with Lynnie is just…I li-ked her and so-me-body kil-led her." She to-ok a de-ep bre-ath and tri-ed aga-in. "I felt so stu-pid abo-ut sit-ting aro-und for a ye-ar and a half af-ter Tim, and I re-al-ly ad-mi-red her for fig-h-ting back." "Don't fe-el stu-pid," Su-ze sa-id glo-omily. "I un-der-s-tand per-fectly." "But Lynnie didn't sit aro-und," Nell sa-id. "She went af-ter pe-op-le. And they kil-led her. I me-an, you re-al-ly ha-ve to think, are tho-se our cho-ices? Sit still and be ni-ce or get kil-led?" "Mo-re wo-men get kil-led by men they know than by stran-gers," Mar-gie sa-id. "It was on Op-rah. I li-ke Op-rah, but so-me-ti-mes she's dep-res-sing." Su-ze let her bre-ath out. "Lynnie was blac-k-ma-iling pe-op-le, for he-aven's sa-ke. That's a high-risk ca-re-er." "It was so-me guy who did it," Nell sa-id. "I will bet you an-y-t-hing. So-me guy from her past who had bet-ra-yed her. She was get-ting even with him." "J-ack," Su-ze sa-id. "I don't know." Nell sta-red at her French to-ast. "Do you think Jack wo-uld kill so-me-body?" "No," Su-ze sa-id. "But he's got the bet-ra-yal thing down pat." They sat si-lent un-til the wa-it-ress bro-ught the-ir mi-mo-sas, and then Mar-gie sa-id, "Do you think you co-uld co-me by and show me that eBay thing you we-re tal-king abo-ut? The pla-ce that has the Fi-es-ta-wa-re? You can sell things on the-re, too, right?" "Su-re," Su-ze sa-id. "You can lo-ok at the run-ning cups, too." "No," Mar-gie sa-id. "They're not my style." The po-li-ce ca-me to talk to Ga-be aga-in on Mon-day, and he told them the truth: He didn't know who'd hit Lynnie. Then they qu-es-ti-oned Nell in the outer of-fi-ce, and that ma-de him edgy; they co-uldn't pos-sibly think she had an-y-t-hing to do with it. It to-ok ever-y-t-hing he had not to say, "Get away from her," and by the ti-me they left, he was as an-no-yed at Nell as he was with them. If she hadn't ta-ken it upon her-self to go af-ter the damn mo-ney, she'd ne-ver ha-ve met Lynnie, she wo-uldn't ha-ve be-en aro-und when Do-ris had fo-und her, and she wo-uldn't be on the po-li-ce's top-ten fa-vo-ri-te wit-ness list now. So when she ca-me in, he scow-led at her, and when she sa-id, "The cops al-most fell thro-ugh the co-uch, we ha-ve to get a new one," his tem-per fla-red. "No. " "Ga-be, it's hor-rib-le. The rest of this pla-ce lo-oks gre-at, but that-" "The rest of the pla-ce do-es not lo-ok gre-at, the rest of the pla-ce lo-oks li-ke every god-damn of-fi-ce in the city. The co-uch stays." She fol-ded her arms, her de-cep-ti-vely de-li-ca-te fa-ce scow-ling at him. She was abo-ut as de-li-ca-te as a sled-ge-ham-mer. "Let me gu-ess. Yo-ur dad bo-ught the co-uch. He clo-sed his eyes. "Why do you ha-ve to chan-ge ever-y-t-hing? I don't even re-cog-ni-ze that outer of-fi-ce an-y-mo-re. It lo-oks li-ke so-me fuc-king doc-tor's of-fi-ce." "It's tas-te-ful," Nell sa-id. "It's slick," Ga-be sa-id. "And it's not me and it's not Ri-ley-" "And it's not yo-ur dad," Nell fi-nis-hed. "And it's al-so not 1955." "And it's my of-fi-ce," Ga-be sa-id. "Not yo-urs." He le-aned for-ward, sta-ring her down. "Re-mem-ber this. You are just a sec-re-tary. You-" He stop-ped be-ca-use she'd go-ne even pa-ler than usu-al. "I am not just a sec-re-tary," she sa-id, her vo-ice low and bre-at-h-less. "No-body is just a

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sec-re-tary, you jerk." Ga-be cast his eyes to the ce-iling, kno-wing that if he lo-oked at her, he'd lo-se it. "God-damn it, Nell, this is my bu-si-ness." "I know it's yo-ur bu-si-ness. You tell me that every damn day. I'm just trying to run it for you. I'm an of-fi-ce ma-na-ger. You ha-ve an of-fi-ce to ma-na-ge. I'm do-ing that. If you'd stop get-ting in my way-" "I'm not Tim," Ga-be sa-id, and she shut up. "Stop as-su-ming this is the in-su-ran-ce agency and that you can run me the way you ran him." "I'm not Chloe. Stop as-su-ming you can run me the way you ran her. What is it with men? Bud-ge is ma-king Mar-gie qu-it the te-as-hop be-ca-use he'll worry too much if she's down he-re with mur-de-rers. What do you guys think, that you just ac-qu-ire us and put us in the bac-k-g-ro-und and that we'll just stay the-re, so you can be comfy?" He drew in a de-ep bre-ath so he wo-uldn't yell aga-in, using ever-y-t-hing he had not to yell aga-in, and she pres-sed her lips to-get-her and sa-id, "Lynnie was right. You'd use me wit-ho-ut even no-ti-cing me if you co-uld," and left, her back po-ker-st-ra-ight, prac-ti-cal-ly sha-king with fury. Ri-ley ca-me in a mi-nu-te la-ter when Ga-be was still trying to get his tem-per back. He didn't use her, god-damn it, he "The cops we-ren't too bad," Ri-ley sa-id, "and I just got a very in-te-res-ting pho-ne call." Then he lo-oked at Ga-be's fa-ce and sa-id, "Oh, hell, tell me you're not fig-h-ting aga-in." "The co-uch," Ga-be sa-id, grimly. "Nell has prob-lems with the cha-in of com-mand. She'll le-arn." "I wo-uldn't co-unt on it." Ri-ley clo-sed the do-or and ca-me in to sit ac-ross from Ga-be. "Are you all right? You lo-ok li-ke hell." Ga-be re-ali-zed he was swe-ating. From ra-ge, pro-bably. Jesus, she was go-ing to kill him. "I get so mad at her I can't stop yel-ling. And at the sa-me ti-me I want to grab her and-" "I know," Ri-ley sa-id. "And she just stands the-re, her hands on her hips, da-ring me to do it. I swe-ar to God, she thinks it's fo-rep-lay." "I know." "And a lot of the ti-me it is," Ga-be sa-id, thin-king abo-ut it. "That wo-man is a fuc-king mi-rac-le in bed." "I know," Ri-ley sa-id. Ga-be felt his tem-per fla-re, and Ri-ley sa-id has-tily, "No, I don't. I've for-got-ten. I can ba-rely re-mem-ber her na-me." When Ga-be still gla-red, he sa-id, "Hey, I'm not the one who wants a new co-uch." Ga-be put his he-ad in his hands. "I fi-nal-ly un-der-s-tand why men hit wo-men." "What?" "You wo-uldn't un-der-s-tand. It's all a ga-me to you. But I swe-ar to God, when you can't ma-ke her do what you ne-ed her to do, and you can't li-ve wit-ho-ut her-" "This is not li-ke you," Ri-ley sa-id, stra-ig-h-te-ning in his cha-ir. "Jesus, get a grip." "I can't," Ga-be sa-id. "The-re's not-hing to grip. The-re's my li-fe that's di-sap-pe-aring un-der ten co-ats of pa-int, and the wo-man who's bur-ying it is the cen-ter of it." He lo-oked up at Ri-ley who was sta-ring at him with re-al alarm, and he sa-id, "I'd ne-ver hit her. But she starts in and I can fe-el it all slip-ping away from me, and I can't do a damn thing abo-ut it be-ca-use I cra-ve her. I just want to slow her down-" "Okay," Ri-ley sa-id. "Co-uld I sug-gest the-rapy? Be-ca-use this is not li-ke you. In fact, if it's that bad, fi-re her. Get her out of yo-ur li-fe. I me-an, I lo-ve her-pla-to-ni-cal-ly of co-ur-se," he ad-ded when Ga-be gla-red aga-in, "but she's not worth this." "I can't," Ga-be sa-id, fe-eling li-ke a fo-ol be-ca-use it was true. "So-me-ti-mes I think it wo-uld be bet-ter if she'd just go away, but I ne-ed her. If she'd just stand still for a mi-nu-te. If every damn mi-nu-te didn't ha-ve to be abo-ut chan-ge-" "I sup-po-se com-p-ro-mi-se is out of the qu-es-ti-on."

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"I tri-ed that. I en-ded up with the-se god-damn yel-low walls." Ri-ley lo-oked at him as if he we-re in-sa-ne. "I didn't want yel-low walls," Ga-be sa-id. "I li-ked the old walls." Ri-ley sho-ok his he-ad. "Okay, you ha-ve to stop yel-ling be-ca-use it's frying yo-ur bra-in cells." "The yel-ling is what's ke-eping me from kil-ling her. I think it's what kept my dad from hit-ting my mom. He was so crazy abo-ut her, and she was so hot-tem-pe-red and stub-born and con-t-rary-" "I don't sup-po-se you're se-e-ing a pat-tern he-re," Ri-ley sa-id. "God, I ho-pe not," Ga-be sa-id. "She left him." He sat back in his cha-ir, ex-ha-us-ted. "If she'd just let me run this pla-ce, we'd be okay. I'm her boss, for Christ's sa-ke." "Kis-sers," Ri-ley sa-id. "Who calls the shots in bed?" "I ha-ve scars," Ga-be sa-id, "but I think I may be ahe-ad on po-ints." "So you don't sol-ve an-y-t-hing the-re, eit-her." "No. The bet-ter it gets, the wor-se it gets." Ri-ley was qu-i-et for a long whi-le, and Ga-be fi-nal-ly sa-id, "What?" "Are you su-re you won't hit her?" "Yes." "Try not to say an-y-t-hing abo-ut this to an-y-body el-se. I get chills thin-king abo-ut what the cops co-uld do with this con-ver-sa-ti-on." "I know. I get chills thin-king abo-ut it myself. It's li-ke I know the guy who hit Lynnie. He's li-ke me." "No, he's not," Ri-ley sa-id. "I just won-der if that's how she di-ed, if she pus-hed too hard, and he bro-ke and hit her. I try to pic-tu-re Tre-vor do-ing it, or Jack, and it's easy. Not so easy with Bud-ge," he ad-ded as an af-ter-t-ho-ught. "De-pends," Ri-ley sa-id. "He gets a lo-ok in his eye when he's aro-und Mar-gie that is not go-od." "Even Ste-wart," Ga-be sa-id. "I can see Ste-wart be-ing dumb eno-ugh to kill her. The part I can-not see is put-ting her in the fre-ezer. What kind of sick-" Nell knoc-ked and ca-me in, and he clo-sed his eyes. "No mo-re. I ho-nest to God can't ta-ke any mo-re to-day." "It's just yo-ur sche-du-le for to-mor-row," she sa-id, and she so-un-ded as ti-red as he was. "Okay," he sa-id. She lo-oked aw-ful. "I'm sorry I yel-led." "I know," she sa-id. "It's not you." She smi-led tightly at Ri-ley and left, and he tur-ned to Ga-be and sa-id, "If you two don't get the-rapy, I'm hol-ding an in-ter-ven-ti-on." "It's just a bad day," Ga-be sa-id. "It'll get bet-ter. What we-re you go-ing to say when you ca-me in he-re?" "Oh, right. I don't know if this is bet-ter, but he-re's so-met-hing new: Gi-na is di-vor-cing Ha-rold for adul-tery. It's the end of the Hot Lunch as we knew it. Can you be-li-eve it?" "Yes," Ga-be sa-id. "He chan-ged the ru-les on her. They had a de-al and he mes-sed with it and now the-re's not-hing to ke-ep them to-get-her." "It wasn't much of a de-al," Ri-ley sa-id. "You don't get to jud-ge ot-her pe-op-le's de-als," Ga-be sa-id. "You just get to ma-ke yo-ur own and hold on." "I don't think you and Nell ha-ve the sa-me de-al," Ri-ley sa-id. "I'm still hol-ding on," Ga-be sa-id. Su-ze was was-hing down tab-les when Nell ca-me in-to The Cup, lo-oking li-ke hell. "What?" Su-ze sa-id. "What did he do?" "He cal-led," Nell sa-id. "He wants to me-et me at the Syca-mo-re. I think he's brin-ging Whit-ney." "Whit-ney?" Su-ze sa-id, and did a fast re-adj-us-t-ment. "Tim cal-led." "He wants to ha-ve din-ner." Nell drew a de-ep bre-ath. "I ha-ven't se-en him for we-eks, I ac-tu-al-ly for-got abo-ut him, and now this. I don't know." "Are you go-ing?"

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"Well, yes," Nell sa-id. "It co-uld be an-y-t-hing. We still own a bu-si-ness to-get-her. We ha-ve a son. I can't just say no." "Su-re you can," Su-ze sa-id. "And if you can't, I can. I'm go-ing with you." At fi-ve- thirty that night, Ga-be ca-me out his of-fi-ce and sa-id, "I'm do-ne for the day. You?" "I don't think so," Ri-ley sa-id. "I think I ne-ed a be-er. Let's go to the Syca-mo-re." "Any par-ti-cu-lar re-ason?" "Nell didn't tell you?" Ga-be sho-ok his he-ad. "She sa-id she and Su-ze we-re go-ing to the Syca-mo-re for din-ner. I tho-ught may-be Su-ze ne-eded so-me ti-me with her. Or may-be she just ne-eded ti-me away from me." "They're me-eting Tim," Ri-ley sa-id. "Su-ze fi-gu-res Whit-ney is go-ing to be with him and they're go-ing to put the screws to Nell for so-met-hing." Son of a bitch. The irony of his ha-ting Tim for be-ing lo-usy to Nell was not lost on Ga-be, but be-ing angry with so-me-body el-se felt re-al-ly go-od, so he ig-no-red it. "I de-fi-ni-tely ne-ed a be-er," he sa-id. Chapter Ten Su-ze fol-lo-wed Nell in-to the res-ta-urant, re-ady to watch her back. Tim and Whit-ney we-re al-re-ady the-re, hol-ding hands on one of the ben-c-hes that di-vi-ded the res-ta-urant down the mid-dle, and Nell to-ok a cha-ir ac-ross from Tim, le-aving Su-ze to sta-re down the la-test Mrs. Dysart. She was a pretty lit-tle thing, but her jaw was ten-se, and she sta-red at Nell as if she we-re the An-tic-h-rist. "I'm re-al-ly glad you co-uld me-et us," Tim sa-id, do-ing his best in-su-ran-ce sa-les-man im-p-res-si-on, and Nell nod-ded. "The-re are a few things we ne-ed to get cle-ared up, not-hing ma-j-or, then we can all re-lax and ha-ve a ni-ce din-ner." In what uni-ver-se? Su-ze tho-ught. The-re was de-ni-al and then the-re was Tim's world. When Nell didn't say an-y-t-hing, Tim nod-ded and went on. "Well, it's abo-ut the Icic-les. They're a hun-d-red and fifty bucks each to rep-la-ce, and you bro-ke fo-ur-te-en of them last Sep-tem-ber so that's…" He tur-ned to Whit-ney, frow-ning. "Two tho-usand one hun-d-red dol-lars," Whit-ney sa-id crisply. "Right, two tho-usand one hun-d-red dol-lars," Tim sa-id. "And then we had to rep-la-ce the desk and that was fi-ve tho-usand six hun-d-red, with tax." "Fi-ve tho-usand dol-lars?" Su-ze sa-id in-c-re-du-lo-usly. "Whe-re the hell did you get this desk? The Pen-ta-gon? And why now?" "Ta-xes," Nell sa-id, re-la-xing as she sa-id it. "It's six we-eks to tax ti-me. They ne-ed cash." "What we ne-ed is a check for se-ven tho-usand se-ven hun-d-red dol-lars," Whit-ney sa-id. "We've tal-ked to a law-yer and we've be-en ad-vi-sed to pro-ce-ed aga-inst you for the mo-ney and that we will suc-ce-ed." "You think?" Nell sa-id, still se-re-ne. "I think," Whit-ney sa-id, still ten-se. "Or our law-yer says we call the po-li-ce aga-in and re-fi-le that war-rant for ma-li-ci-o-us des-t-ruc-ti-on and as-sa-ult. He says they'll be very in-te-res-ted to know abo-ut yo-ur vi-olent past sin-ce you are known to ha-ve thre-ate-ned a wo-man fo-und de-ad in yo-ur ba-se-ment this we-ekend." "I think you're a bitch on whe-els," Su-ze sa-id. "Su-ze, this has not-hing to do with you," Tim sa-id. Su-ze ope-ned her mo-uth, and Nell put her hand on her arm. "I think yo-ur law-yer's wrong," Nell sa-id. "In fact, I think yo-ur law-yer is a ven-ge-ful idi-ot." Tim's eyes went to Su-ze and then back to Nell. "Lo-ok, we don't want to be me-an, but you des-t-ro-yed pro-perty we had to rep-la-ce. It's only fa-ir-"

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"Tim," Nell sa-id, a fa-int smi-le on her fa-ce. "I stop-ped let-ting you tell me what was fa-ir months ago." She le-aned for-ward. "First of all, I'm still half ow-ner of that agency, even tho-ugh it myste-ri-o-usly did not show a pro-fit for the first ti-me last ye-ar. So I'd only be li-ab-le for half of tho-se Icic-les, which wo-uld put my ob-li-ga-ti-on to you at one tho-usand fifty dol-lars." "But we ha-ve to rep-la-ce all of them," Tim sa-id. "No," Nell sa-id. "I don't. par-ti-cu-larly want mi-ne rep-la-ced, thanks. I li-ke them bet-ter bro-ken. And as for the desk, you can-not ma-ke a ma-j-or ex-pen-di-tu-re wit-ho-ut my okay, and a fi-ve-tho-usand-dol-lar desk is a ma-j-or ex-pen-di-tu-re. I'm not oka-ying it. The-re-fo-re, it's a per-so-nal ex-pen-di-tu-re and you'll just ha-ve to co-ver it." "Now wa-it a mi-nu-te," Whit-ney sa-id, and Su-ze bra-ced her-self to deck her if ne-eded. Nell ig-no-red her to re-ach out and co-ver Tim's hand with hers. "I know how hard this is for you, sha-ring the agency with me." "It ma-kes it har-der," Tim sa-id, nod-ding. "I didn't think abo-ut you ow-ning half the awards. You're right." "Tim," Whit-ney sa-id, her vo-ice low. "But the desk," he sa-id, "that's not per-so-nal, Nell, that's my bu-si-ness desk." "He-re's what I think we sho-uld do," Nell sa-id, still calm, lo-oking in-to his eyes wit-ho-ut he-at. "I think I sho-uld sell you my half of the agency. I've be-en thin-king abo-ut it for a whi-le, and then af-ter you cal-led to-day I tho-ught so-me mo-re, and then I cal-led Bud-ge Jen-kins, and he'll be over on Mon-day to be-gin an audit and to eva-lu-ate the mo-ne-tary worth of the bu-si-ness as a who-le." "What?" Tim sa-id, his jaw go-ing slack. The-re you go, Su-ze tho-ught, fe-eling her en-ti-re body flo-od with glee. "Then if ever-y-t-hing's all right with the audit, you can gi-ve me half of what the agency's worth and wri-te off yo-ur desk as a bu-si-ness ex-pen-se." Nell sat back and fi-nal-ly tur-ned to Whit-ney. "And that way, if I show up at the agency and smash so-met-hing aga-in, you can ha-ve me ar-res-ted and shot. Ever-y-body's happy." "I can't af-ford to buy you out," Tim sa-id. "We ha-ve ex-pen-ses-" "Bor-row," Nell sa-id. "Tig-h-ten yo-ur belts. Li-ve the way we did when we we-re first mar-ri-ed. Sha-red tri-bu-la-ti-on can re-al-ly stren-g-t-hen a uni-on." "You're just be-ing vin-dic-ti-ve," Whit-ney sa-id. "I pre-fer to think of it as jus-ti-ce with a pro-fit," Nell sa-id a lit-tle sadly. Whit-ney ga-zed at Nell, eva-lu-ating the si-tu-ati-on, and Su-ze wat-c-hed Whit-ney. "Our law-yer," Whit-ney sa-id, "says we ha-ve a ca-se." "Yo-ur law-yer," Nell sa-id, "is Jack Dysart, and he's bla-ming me for the bre-akup of his mar-ri-age." Su-ze flin-c-hed, and Nell pat-ted her hand and sa-id to Tim, "Yo-ur brot-her is not gi-ving you ad-vi-ce ba-sed on yo-ur best in-te-rests. He wants re-ven-ge." Tim ex-c-han-ged glan-ces with Whit-ney. "Nell, be re-aso-nab-le. Debt is not a go-od mo-ve for me right now." "All right," Nell sa-id. "I don't think it's go-ing to be a prob-lem. Bud-ge se-emed to think he co-uld find in-ves-tors to buy me out. You'd lo-se con-t-rol of the agency, of co-ur-se, be-ca-use they'd ex-pect re-gu-lar audits and re-ports, but you wo-uldn't ha-ve to worry abo-ut me an-y-mo-re." She smi-led at him. "And you can just ta-ke that one tho-usand one hun-d-red out of my half be-fo-re you wri-te the check. I'll tell Bud-ge that's okay." "What a co-in-ci-den-ce," Ri-ley sa-id, sli-ding in be-si-de Tim be-fo-re he co-uld an-s-wer, pus-hing him in-to Whit-ney. "You guys are he-re, too. Who'd ha-ve tho-ught?" Su-ze re-la-xed, ta-king a de-ep bre-ath for the first ti-me sin-ce she'd sat down. Ga-be pic-ked up a cha-ir from anot-her tab-le and sat down at the end of the-irs, his el-bow clo-se to Nell's. "We tho-ught we'd ha-ve a be-er," he sa-id to Nell. She let her sho-ul-ders ease back and smi-led back at him. "Did you now?" She le-aned a lit-tle clo-ser, and Su-ze co-uld see him re-lax, too. "So what's go-ing on?" Ri-ley sa-id. "Ever-y-body happy?"

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"Nell just sold her half of the agency to Tim," Su-ze sa-id brightly. "Bud-ge is go-ing to do the audit and the es-ti-ma-ti-on of va-lue." "Go-od man, Bud-ge Jen-kins," Ga-be sa-id, wa-ving to the wa-it-ress. "We're ce-leb-ra-ting," he told her. "We ne-ed two pit-c-hers, six glas-ses, and fo-ur or-ders of french fri-es with vi-ne-gar." "We ha-ven't ag-re-ed to an-y-t-hing," Whit-ney sa-id. "You don't ha-ve an-y-t-hing to ag-ree to," Nell sa-id. "All the di-vor-ce set-tle-ment says is that we ha-ve to gi-ve each ot-her the first chan-ce on a bu-yo-ut. And that's what I'm do-ing. If you don't want it, Bud-ge's in-ves-tors will. Eit-her way, we're free of each ot-her." She lo-oked at Tim. "Fi-nal-ly." "I'll drink to that," Ga-be sa-id as the wa-it-ress set down the pit-c-hers and glas-ses. He po-ured Nell a glass and slid it to her, and she pas-sed it down to Su-ze who slid it ac-ross the tab-le to Whit-ney. "Che-ers," she sa-id flatly, lo-oking Whit-ney in the eye. Whit-ney lif-ted her glass and sa-id, "Che-ers to you, too. He-ard yo-ur hus-band left you." Su-ze clen-c-hed her jaw, but be-fo-re she co-uld say an-y-t-hing, Ri-ley sa-id, "I don't think I've had the ple-asu-re, I'm Ri-ley," and re-ac-hed ac-ross Tim to of-fer Whit-ney his hand. Whit-ney to-ok it, not qu-ite su-re what to do, smi-ling fa-intly in con-fu-si-on when he held her hand a mi-nu-te too long. Then he let go and sa-id, "Don't be a bitch to the blon-de. She'll cut you off at the kne-es and fe-ed you yo-ur fe-et." Whit-ney flus-hed, and Su-ze un-c-len-c-hed, and Ga-be po-ured the last of the be-ers and sa-id, "What shall we drink to?" Nell lo-oked aro-und and sa-id, "Go-od gri-ef. Drink to me. I just re-ali-zed I've slept with ever-y-body at this tab-le." "And God knows we ap-pre-ci-ate it," Ri-ley sa-id, whi-le Tim gaw-ked. "Ex-cept for Whit-ney, of co-ur-se," Nell sa-id. "To Nell," Ga-be sa-id, ra-ising his glass. "To Nell," Ri-ley sa-id and drank, and Su-ze clin-ked her glass with Nell and drank, too. Whit-ney tri-ed to sha-re a su-pe-ri-or eye-roll with Tim, but he was still sta-ring at Nell. She tur-ned back to Nell and le-aned ac-ross the tab-le to her, lo-oking con-des-cen-ding and amu-sed. "That's re-al-ly wild of you. Three men in, what? Fifty ye-ars?" Die, bitch, Su-ze tho-ught, and sa-id, "And me." She held up her hand, and all three men tur-ned to her on the in-s-tant, le-aving Whit-ney with no audi-en-ce at all. Su-ze be-amed on the tab-le im-par-ti-al-ly. "She's a ter-ri-fic kis-ser. And when you con-si-der she's na-iled three of us in less than se-ven months, that's pretty go-od." She pat-ted Nell's arm, thin-king, Do not tell them we only nec-ked. This is pay-back ti-me. Ga-be had al-re-ady tur-ned to Nell, a grin split-ting his fa-ce. "Hel-lo?" "Af-ter Ri-ley, be-fo-re you," Nell told Ga-be so-lemnly. "I don't che-at." "We don't ca-re if you che-at," Ri-ley sa-id. "We just want the de-ta-ils." He ra-ised his eyeb-rows at Su-ze, and she sat back, sa-tis-fi-ed with the stun-ned lo-ok on Tim's fa-ce and the an-no-yed lo-ok on Whit-ney's. "This is a joke," Tim sa-id. "I am ne-ver a joke," Su-ze sa-id. "Espe-ci-al-ly not in bed." "So you we-re in bed…" Ri-ley prom-p-ted. Nell sig-hed and tur-ned to Ga-be. "It was li-ke this." Don't tell them the truth, Su-ze tho-ught. Co-me on. For on-ce, be nasty and get even. Nell lo-oked at Ga-be un-der her las-hes. "We we-re alo-ne one night, and we, uh, ha-ve ne-eds-" Ga-be and Ri-ley nod-ded. "- and we li-ke each ot-her a lot. And we're very at-trac-ti-ve. So we…" Nell fi-nis-hed with a shrug, smi-ling up at Ga-be un-der her las-hes. "Abo-ut tho-se ne-eds," Ga-be sa-id with gre-at se-ri-o-us-ness. "I want you to know you can al-ways co-me to me. Any ti-me, day or night. Bring Su-ze." "You're se-ri-o-us," Tim sa-id. "You re-al-ly did this?" You are such a bo-ob, Su-ze tho-ught. "It wasn't just lust. We got to thin-king abo-ut what we'd do if a

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pla-gue wi-ped out all the men." She shrug-ged at Ri-ley and Ga-be. "No of-fen-se." "No-ne ta-ken," Ri-ley sa-id. "Be pre-pa-red. So what exactly did you do?" "We ex-pe-ri-men-ted," Nell sa-id. "Su-ze is an ex-cep-ti-onal-ly go-od kis-ser." "Go-od to know," Ri-ley sa-id, and Tim frow-ned at him. "Okay, then what did you do?" Whit-ney lo-oked at them so-urly. "We don't ne-ed the de-ta-ils." "Oh, su-re we do," Ga-be sa-id, not ta-king his eyes off Nell. "Start at the be-gin-ning. What we-re you we-aring?" "My blue silk pa-j-amas," Nell sa-id. "You know, the slip-pery-" "God, yes," Ga-be sa-id. "J-ust the top, tho-ugh," Nell li-ed. "Go-od, go-od," Ga-be sa-id. "Did you get the bot-toms?" Ri-ley sa-id to Su-ze. She sho-ok her he-ad. "No. I was we-aring an old T-shirt." "Not as go-od as the silk thing," Ri-ley sa-id, "but ac-cep-tab-le. Was the-re a pil-low fight? You get ex-t-ra po-ints if the-re's a na-ked pil-low fight." "So-me things are pri-va-te," Nell sa-id primly. "Mostly it was just fun." Su-ze sa-id, "Yes, it was." Nell met her eyes, and Su-ze tho-ught, I'm so glad I ha-ve you. On a im-pul-se she to-ok Nell's hand and kis-sed her che-ek. "Best re-la-ti-on-s-hip I've ever had," Su-ze told her. "Me, too," Nell sa-id. "Abso-lu-tely." When the si-len-ce stret-c-hed out, they tur-ned back to the tab-le to find the ot-hers wat-c-hing them. Then Ga-be sa-id, "Right," and sto-od up. "Nell and I ha-ve to get back to the of-fi-ce now." Nell blin-ked at him. "We do?" "Yes, Brid-get," Ga-be sa-id, lo-oking stra-ight in-to her eyes. "We do." Nell flus-hed. "Right." She pus-hed her cha-ir back so hard it tip-ped over. "Sorry." She rig-h-ted the cha-ir and pic-ked up her co-at. "I was just ex-ci-ted. Abo-ut get-ting back. To the of-fi-ce." She lo-oked at Ga-be and sa-id, "I li-ve for my work." Ga-be la-ug-hed and put his arm aro-und her as she slid past him, and when they went out the do-or, Su-ze cra-ned her neck to see aro-und the sta-ined-glass pa-nel in-to the stre-et. Ga-be had pul-led her clo-se, fig-h-ting a smi-le as he spo-ke sternly to her, and Nell la-ug-hed up at him. She lo-oked so tran-s-cen-dently happy that Su-ze felt a pang wat-c-hing them. I want that, too, she tho-ught. I had that on-ce, and I want it aga-in. "Check, ple-ase," Ri-ley cal-led. "And can-cel the fri-es." "Un-be-li-evab-le," Tim sa-id. "Exactly," Whit-ney sa-id. "I don't be-li-eve a word of this. They're just be-ing chil-dish, trying to get at-ten-ti-on." "If I want at-ten-ti-on," Su-ze sa-id coldly, "I do not ha-ve to ma-ke up sto-ri-es. I just walk in-to a ro-om." "This is true." Ri-ley mo-ved from the bench to ta-ke the cha-ir be-si-de Su-ze that Nell had va-ca-ted. "So when was this aga-in? And whe-re was I?" "Than-k-s-gi-ving night," Su-ze sa-id, le-aning in-to his sho-ul-der a lit-tle. "You we-re pro-bably with the in-fant hor-ti-cul-tu-re ma-j-or." Whit-ney sho-ok her he-ad at Su-ze. "And you won-der why Jack left you." Ri-ley snor-ted. "If you think that story wo-uld ma-ke a man le-ave her, you know not-hing abo-ut men, ho-ney." He tur-ned to lo-ok down at Su-ze. "So you we-re in yo-ur T-shirt-" "I've had eno-ugh." Whit-ney slid out of the bench and sto-od up, lo-oking at Tim with con-cern. "They're just do-ing this to up-set you, Tim." Tim ig-no-red her to lo-ok at Su-ze. "You re-al-ly did it, didn't you?" "Yes," Su-ze sa-id. "I kis-sed yo-ur wi-fe and I re-al-ly li-ked it and so did Ri-ley, and Ga-be is drag-ging her off to bed even whi-le we sit he-re. And you are a fo-ol, but then, as Ri-ley says, we knew that." Tim drew back and Su-ze went on, sud-denly fi-er-ce in her de-ter-mi-na-ti-on to tell him the truth,

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to tell so-me-body the truth. "I lo-at-he you for what you did to her, but I'm al-so glad be-ca-use you set her free. She's so happy now, she's got so-met-hing be-si-des that stu-pid in-su-ran-ce agency to li-ve for, and she wo-uldn't ha-ve you back as a gift, so it's all right now, but I will ne-ver for-gi-ve you for che-ating on her and hur-ting her. You are scum." Tim sa-id, "Now wa-it a mi-nu-te," and Whit-ney tug-ged at his arm. "That's what I me-an," she sa-id to him, her dis-t-ress cle-ar in her vo-ice. "They're just do-ing this to up-set you. It's all li-es. Don't lis-ten to them. They're just trying to pay you back." She stro-ked his sle-eve, and Su-ze tho-ught, She re-al-ly lo-ves him. Tim lo-oked from Su-ze to Whit-ney to Ri-ley, re-li-eved. "Su-re. That's not li-ke Nell. I don't be-li-eve-" "Be-li-eve it," Ri-ley sa-id. "What's the scar un-der her belly but-ton from?" "La-pa-ro-tomy," Tim sa-id auto-ma-ti-cal-ly and then stop-ped. "I no-ti-ced it whi-le I was down the-re," Ri-ley sa-id. "And from her re-ac-ti-on to what I was do-ing, I'm sur-p-ri-sed you even knew it was the-re." "O-uch," Su-ze sa-id and tur-ned to Whit-ney. "All my sympat-hi-es, ho-ney." Tim sto-od up. "You pe-op-le ha-ve no mo-rals." "You fuc-ked a chip-pie and bet-ra-yed yo-ur wi-fe and son," Su-ze sa-id. "Get yo-ur own mo-rals, sli-me-ball." "That's it," Whit-ney sa-id and drag-ged Tim to-ward the do-or. "'Get yo-ur own mo-rals, sli-me-ball'?" Ri-ley sa-id to Su-ze when they we-re go-ne. "I ha-te him." "Un-der-s-tan-dably," Ri-ley sa-id. "That's no re-ason to des-cend to his le-vel." "I co-uldn't get to his le-vel with a bac-k-hoe. He's be-ne-ath con-tempt." "See, that was bet-ter. Not gre-at, but mo-re ima-gi-na-ti-on than 'sli-me-ball.' Want anot-her be-er be-fo-re I walk you ho-me?" "No-pe." Su-ze slid her cha-ir back. "I've had eno-ugh sti-mu-la-ti-on for to-night." "Too true." Ri-ley lo-oked at the check and put a co-up-le of bills on the tab-le as he sto-od up. "I can't be-li-eve Ga-be stuck me with the check." "He had pla-ces to go and Nell to do." Ri-ley held the do-or for her, and she step-ped out in-to the cold stre-et. "That guy was born for mo-no-gamy," he sa-id, as he to-ok her arm. "First Chloe for ni-ne-te-en ye-ars, and now Nell for eter-nity even tho-ugh she dri-ves him crazy. He just ke-eps hol-ding on." "It bet-ter be for eter-nity." Su-ze tho-ught abo-ut jer-king her arm away, but it was ni-ce be-ing sup-por-ted li-ke that. Firm. Warm. She co-uld be in-de-pen-dent when she got ho-me aga-in sin-ce that was her only op-ti-on an-y-way. In-de-pen-den-ce sho-uld be a cho-ice, not a pu-nis-h-ment. She tho-ught abo-ut Nell, abo-ut the months she'd spent fro-zen in shock, and then re-mem-be-red her to-night, la-ug-hing up at Ga-be. If he bet-ra-yed her, too…S-he stop-ped and tur-ned to Ri-ley. "If Ga-be's just pla-ying aro-und-" "Do-es he lo-ok li-ke he's just pla-ying aro-und?" Ri-ley so-un-ded exas-pe-ra-ted as he tug-ged on her arm, ma-king her walk with him aga-in. "Do-es he act li-ke it? If an-y-body el-se had pul-led the stuff she's pul-led, she'd ha-ve be-en fi-red long ago. He's in this for go-od." "May-be." Su-ze slip-ped a lit-tle on a patch of ice and felt his grip on her arm tig-h-ten un-til she had her ba-lan-ce back. "He lo-oks li-ke he's nuts abo-ut her. But so did Tim on-ce." So did Jack abo-ut me, on-ce. "You want gu-aran-te-es?" Ri-ley sa-id. "The-re are no gu-aran-te-es. But Ga-be is not a che-ater or a li-ar, and he's ta-ken Nell in-to his li-fe, not just his bed. He's not Tim." He so-un-ded mo-re than an-no-yed, but be-fo-re she co-uld apo-lo-gi-ze, he ad-ded, "He's not Jack." "I'm sorry," Su-ze sa-id. "I for-got he's yo-ur fri-end." "He's my fri-end, my par-t-ner, my men-tor, and my fa-mily," Ri-ley sa-id. "Do not cri-ti-ci-ze Ga-be." "Right. For-get Ga-be. We've still got six blocks to walk to my ho-use. How's yo-ur li-fe?" "Hell. The pla-ce I work has tur-ned in-to the WWF cros-sed with Sex and the City. Ga-be's a qu-i-et

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kind of guy, he wasn't born to be that mad or that happy. Let's talk abo-ut so-met-hing el-se." "Okay. What do you want to talk abo-ut?" "So you're we-aring the T-shirt and Nell is in the pa-j-ama top," Ri-ley sa-id, and Su-ze la-ug-hed and told him ever-y-t-hing and then so-me, em-b-ro-ide-ring the story as they wal-ked, im-p-l-ying that she and Nell had vi-si-ted pla-ces they hadn't. By the ti-me they we-re thro-ugh the park, she was a lit-tle bre-at-h-less from her own story, and by the ti-me they clim-bed the steps to her cold, empty ho-use, Ri-ley had be-en si-lent for so-me ti-me. "I may ha-ve ma-de so-me of that up," Su-ze sa-id as she fum-b-led for her key. "No, no," Ri-ley sa-id. "If the-re is a God, that was all true." She un-loc-ked the do-or and pus-hed it open, ha-ting the dark em-p-ti-ness in-si-de. "The po-int is, it was fun. This di-vor-ce stuff isn't so bad," she told her-self, as much as him. "Lo-ok at all the things I'm dis-co-ve-ring abo-ut myself." "And sha-ring with ot-hers," Ri-ley sa-id. "That's im-por-tant." It was dark on the porch so she co-uldn't see his fa-ce, but she co-uld he-ar the smi-le in his vo-ice, and so-met-hing mo-re. "I'd li-ke to sha-re it with you, too," she sa-id, exas-pe-ra-ted, re-mem-be-ring the kiss he'd tur-ned down on New Ye-ar's Eve, "but you're not in-te-res-ted." On an im-pul-se, she stret-c-hed up on her to-es and kis-sed him be-fo-re he co-uld duck, me-aning to ma-ke it qu-ick, so she co-uld say, Isn't that bet-ter than just thin-king abo-ut it? But he kis-sed her back, hard, fol-lo-wing her as she sank back on her he-els, and her blo-od went hot on the in-s-tant. He pul-led her to him and she le-aned in-to his so-lid bulk and lost her bre-ath. When he fi-nis-hed the kiss, she held on to him, tig-h-ter, grip-ping his co-at be-ca-use she knew he was go-ing to step away, and she didn't think she co-uld stand to be alo-ne aga-in. Don't ma-ke me go in-to that ho-use alo-ne. "That was dumb," Ri-ley sa-id, his bre-ath co-ming hard. "I apo-lo-gi-ze." He tri-ed to pull back, and she held on for de-ar li-fe. "If I push this," she sa-id, "if I kiss you aga-in and stick my ton-gue in yo-ur mo-uth and climb all over you, will you go to bed with me?" Ri-ley to-ok a de-ep bre-ath. "Yes." Su-ze's he-art skip-ped a be-at. "Sho-uld I?" she sa-id, wan-ting him to stop be-ing such a pas-si-ve clod, such a kis-see, and tell her yes. "No." "Why?" Su-ze sa-id, let-ting go of him. "I don't get this." Ri-ley le-aned back aga-inst the brick wall, and when he spo-ke, he had his bre-ath back and so-un-ded angry. "When we we-re tal-king to-night, did you want me?" "What? At din-ner? No, I wan-ted to ma-ke Tim and Whit-ney pay." "Ye-ah. That was cle-ar. So did Nell. But she wan-ted Ga-be mo-re. She was a lot mo-re in-te-res-ted in tur-ning Ga-be on than in ma-king Tim sorry. Ever-y-t-hing she sa-id, she pit-c-hed to Ga-be." "Oh." Su-ze tri-ed to re-mem-ber. May-be she'd be-en re-ading Nell wrong. "Okay. So?" "You had no in-te-rest in me, which is okay. Many wo-men ha-ve no in-te-rest in me. The only ti-me you want me is when you're alo-ne. You're go-ing in-to the big empty ho-use, so you re-ach for me. In most ca-ses, I'd be all for it, but this is not most ca-ses, this is you and you are a mess right now, and you're trying to ta-ke me down with you. Which do-es not me-an I won't go if you ask aga-in. I'm only hu-man, and you are hot, kid, no do-ubt abo-ut it. But it's go-ing to be bad af-ter-ward, and you know it." "It's not just be-ing alo-ne," Su-ze sa-id, trying to be ho-nest. "I re-al-ly want the sex, too. I miss it. It's be-en we-eks." Ri-ley let out a stif-led sigh. "You want to wa-ke up with me to-mor-row?" he sa-id, and Su-ze tho-ught abo-ut it, abo-ut de-aling with the re-ality of him in the day-light. "No." "That's okay," Ri-ley sa-id. "I don't want to wa-ke up with you, eit-her." He re-ac-hed past her to

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sho-ve the do-or all the way open. "So we'll go in the-re and fuck each ot-her be-ca-use it fe-els go-od, and then I'll le-ave." He ga-ve her a push. "After you." "You bas-tard," Su-ze sa-id, stan-ding firm. "You ma-ke it so-und hor-rib-le. Why can't you just ta-ke ad-van-ta-ge of me li-ke any ot-her guy wo-uld?" "Be-ca-use I am not any ot-her guy," Ri-ley sa-id. "Altho-ugh if you don't get yo-ur ass in the-re and lock the do-or, I will be-co-me him." "You re-al-ly do want me?" Su-ze sa-id, and Ri-ley sa-id, "Oh, Christ, that's it, I'm co-ming in. Find a wall, and bra-ce yo-ur-self." He pus-hed her har-der to-ward the do-or, but she pus-hed him back as she step-ped in-si-de. "No," Su-ze sa-id. "You win." "If I win, why am I out-si-de?" Ri-ley sa-id. "But you're wrong abo-ut me not wan-ting you for you," Su-ze sa-id. "I do, sort of. I'm still not over Jack, al-t-ho-ugh if he re-al-ly did sic Whit-ney on Nell, I ha-te him-" "What?" Ri-ley sa-id. "- and I re-al-ly co-uld use the sex, and I ha-te be-ing alo-ne, and I'm lo-oking for so-me-body to sa-ve me, you're right abo-ut all of that, but you're in the-re, too. The-re is de-fi-ni-te zing with you, and I'm not get-ting it with an-y-body el-se." "Re-al-ly?" Ri-ley sa-id. "May-be we sho-uld talk abo-ut this." "No," Su-ze sa-id. "Be-ca-use if we talk much mo-re, I will sle-ep with you for all the wrong re-asons, and then you'll be right and I'll be wrong aga-in." "May-be they're not the wrong re-asons," Ri-ley sa-id. "May-be-" "Go-od night," Su-ze sa-id a lit-tle bre-at-h-les-sly, and shut the do-or in his fa-ce be-fo-re she co-uld do so-met-hing stu-pid. Thro-ugh the glass she co-uld see him wa-it a mi-nu-te, and then he went down the steps, his bro-ad back di-sap-pe-aring in-to the dar-k-ness of the stre-et. She tho-ught, I wish you we-ren't go-ing, I re-al-ly do. She wat-c-hed from the front win-dow as he tur-ned down Fo-urth Stre-et, he-ading back ac-ross the park to the agency, half ho-ping he'd turn aro-und and co-me back. When she co-uldn't see him an-y-mo-re, she drop-ped the cur-ta-in and he-ard a car start up ac-ross the stre-et. She drew the cur-ta-in back aga-in and wat-c-hed a BMW pull away, gun-ning its mo-tor. Jack. I ba-te you, she tho-ught. Wat-c-hing me. Hur-ting Nell. And even then she re-mem-be-red how swe-et he co-uld be, how pas-si-ona-te, how go-od most of that fo-ur-te-en ye-ars with him had be-en. That was the prob-lem with mar-ri-age. It sunk its ho-oks in-to yo-ur so-ul and left scars that we-re with you fo-re-ver. They sho-uld warn the pe-op-le who we-re get-ting mar-ri-ed abo-ut what it was go-ing to do to them. How it sha-ped yo-ur li-fe and chan-ged yo-ur mind and al-te-red yo-ur re-ality un-til you didn't know who you we-re an-y-mo-re. How it ho-oked you on the pre-sen-ce of anot-her per-son, may-be so-me-body you didn't even li-ke very much, may-be so-me-body you didn't even lo-ve an-y-mo-re, and ma-de you ne-ed that per-son even when you didn't want him at all. Mar-ri-age was a drug and a trap and an il-lu-si-on, and kic-king it was hell. I'm glad Ri-ley didn't stay, Su-ze tho-ught. I'm glad I'm alo-ne. And then she went up-s-ta-irs to bed. An ho-ur ear-li-er, Nell had kis-sed Ga-be in the dar-ke-ned agency of-fi-ce, ex-hi-la-ra-ted that she'd fa-ced down Tim and re-li-eved she and Ga-be we-ren't fig-h-ting an-y-mo-re. He'd ca-ught her aro-und the wa-ist and pul-led her to him, smi-ling down at her in the dim light from the stre-et, and she tho-ught, I ha-ve to stop ma-king him so mad. It was the sa-me tho-ught, she re-ali-zed, that she'd had way too many ti-mes with Tim. That was so-be-ring eno-ugh to ma-ke her step away. "What?" he sa-id, so-me of the light fa-ding from his vo-ice. "Not-hing," she sa-id. "Ha-ve I men-ti-oned that I'm crazy abo-ut you?"

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He slid his arms aro-und her aga-in. "So tell me the rest of the Su-ze story." "The-re wasn't any mo-re. She kis-sed me. She wasn't you. Sin-ce then I've be-en kis-sing you." "Thank you," Ga-be sa-id. "Anything I can do to show my ap-pre-ci-ati-on?" "Yes," she sa-id, and sho-ved him to-ward the co-uch. He stum-b-led back in the dark and sat down on it hard, and she strad-dled him be-fo-re he co-uld stand up aga-in. "This is pro-bably not a go-od idea," he sa-id, tes-ting it with his hand. "This is not the stur-di-est-" "Which is why I ke-ep as-king for a new one," she sa-id, set-tling aga-inst him clo-ser. "A sa-fe co-uch that won't col-lap-se un-der us. Or the cli-en-te-le, for that mat-ter. Kiss me and tell me we can get a new co-uch." He put his hands on her thighs, mo-ving them up un-der her skirt. "We've had this con-ver-sa-ti-on. You don't get a co-uch. Co-me up-s-ta-irs with me and you can ha-ve so-met-hing el-se." He le-aned to-ward her, and she put her hands on his chest and pus-hed him back. "Wa-it a mi-nu-te. I ha-ve an idea." "Al-ways bad news for me," Ga-be sa-id. "He-re's the de-al, Di-no. I am now in gol-d-dig-ger mo-de. I will let you do un-s-pe-akab-le things to me on this co-uch, right now, but you ha-ve to buy me." "With a new co-uch," Ga-be sa-id, lo-oking up at her in the dim light, his eyes hot on her and his hands hot-ter un-der her skirt, and she tho-ught, Oh, hell, with a pa-per clip, an-y-t-hing, ta-ke me. "Yes," she sa-id, her chin in the air. "I li-ve for my job." "And you fuck for it, too." Ga-be sho-ved her skirt up to her wa-ist and then pul-led her clo-se, and she shi-ve-red as she felt him hard aga-inst her. "Very pro-fes-si-onal," he sa-id. "Did I lock the stre-et do-or?" "Yes," she sa-id and lic-ked in-to his mo-uth, and he sa-id, "You do re-ali-ze this is in front of a win-dow." "It's dark. You want me or not?" She bo-un-ced on him a lit-tle, and the co-uch cre-aked, and he ca-ught his bre-ath, and so did she. "Tell you what," he sa-id, his vo-ice husky, "if this co-uch bre-aks in the next half ho-ur, you can ha-ve a new one." "De-al." Nell pul-led him down on top of her, ro-ta-ting her hips to sli-de un-der him, fi-gu-ring the co-uch wo-uld go that much so-oner with him on top. Ever-y-t-hing went ac-cor-ding to plan for the next twenty mi-nu-tes, both of them do-ing the-ir usu-al go-od work un-til they we-re both too hot to stand it an-y-mo-re and her un-der-pants had be-en tos-sed so-mew-he-re on the ot-her si-de of the desk. Then Ga-be kis-sed her de-eply and slid in-to her, and she bra-ced her-self for the storm to co-me. It didn't. In-s-te-ad he kept her still, im-p-ri-so-ned un-der him, whi-le he pul-sed aga-inst her, ba-rely mo-ving but hit-ting ever-y-t-hing that co-un-ted with a rhythm that ma-de her skin itch and her bre-ath co-me short. She swal-lo-wed her gasp and sa-id, "What are you do-ing?" "Get-ting you the-re," he sa-id in her ear, and she co-uld he-ar the la-ug-h-ter in his vo-ice. She tri-ed to bo-un-ce un-der him and co-uldn't, he had her pin-ned aga-inst the damn co-uch cus-hi-ons so that she co-uldn't even get le-ve-ra-ge on the flo-or. "Har-der," she sa-id, and he sa-id, "No-pe," and slo-wed even mo-re. She bre-at-hed de-ep as her blo-od thic-ke-ned and sa-id, "This isn't do-ing it for me," whi-le she tho-ught, If he do-esn't stop I'm go-ing to co-me my bra-ins out on an in-tact co-uch. "You lie," Ga-be sa-id in her ear, pul-sing ine-xo-rably aga-inst her. "I can al-ways get you the-re and I al-ways will." He kis-sed her neck and mo-ved his hand to her bre-ast, and she tri-ed to bo-un-ce un-der him aga-in, only to ha-ve him tig-h-ten his hand on her in-s-te-ad of pic-king up spe-ed. She tri-ed writ-hing, which he ap-pre-ci-ated, and roc-king, which he qu-el-led with hot hands, and then fi-nal-ly, frus-t-ra-ted by her en-for-ced stil-lness, she ra-ked her fin-ger-na-ils down his back, lif-ting him off the co-uch with her hips and kic-king her-self in-to the first shud-der of her cli-max. She jer-ked aga-inst him, and he suc-ked in his bre-ath as she sur-ged up from the co-uch, ne-eding to mo-ve as much as she ne-eded to

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co-me, and he bo-re down on her, po-un-ding her in-to the cre-aking co-uch as she went min-d-less, ever-y-t-hing in mo-ti-on at last. When she got her bra-in back, she re-ali-zed the co-uch was still stan-ding. "I am so di-sap-po-in-ted," she sa-id as her blo-od sang. "We'll ha-ve to do this aga-in." "Anot-her re-ason not to get rid of the co-uch," Ga-be sa-id aga-inst her ha-ir. "I'm go-ing to ha-ve it re-in-for-ced when you're not lo-oking." "Get off me," Nell sa-id, and he pus-hed him-self off her and sto-od up. She sho-ved her skirt down as he zip-ped his pants, and then she sa-id, "I can't be-li-eve this damn thing held." "They ma-de stuff go-od in the fif-ti-es," Ga-be sa-id. "Me, for in-s-tan-ce. And, God knows, you." Nell had tur-ned on the desk light and was be-hind the desk ret-ri-eving her un-der-we-ar when the stre-et do-or ope-ned. She stra-ig-h-te-ned and saw Ri-ley, hol-ding his key. "What are you do-ing he-re?" Ga-be sa-id, tuc-king in his shirt. "I work he-re," Ri-ley sa-id. "You used to do that, too, be-fo-re you ga-ve it up to se-xu-al-ly ha-rass yo-ur dog-nap-ping sec-re-tary. What a night." He tos-sed his keys on the desk and col-lap-sed on-to the co-uch. It held. "I can't be-li-eve it," Nell sa-id, sta-ring at it in dis-gust. "I'm go-ing to jump up and down on it be-fo-re we do it the next ti-me." "What?" Ri-ley sa-id. "You just did it he-re? The-re's a win-dow he-re, for Christ's sa-ke." "You ha-ve no fla-ir," Ga-be sa-id. "Also it was her idea." "Do-es it ever oc-cur to you to say no to her?" "No," Ga-be sa-id, but he was frow-ning, his he-ad til-ted. "Lo-ok at the legs on that thing." "See, I told you," Nell be-gan, but then she lo-oked at the co-uch legs and shut up. They we-re spla-yed out si-de-ways, as if the co-uch we-re slowly do-ing the splits, and the long se-at had ske-wed as if it we-re war-ped. "Ooh. It's ne-ver do-ne that be-fo-re." Ri-ley pus-hed him-self off the co-uch and it sank a lit-tle far-t-her. "What did you do?" "Now we ha-ve to get a new co-uch," Nell sa-id, but Ga-be ig-no-red her. He went over and grab-bed the co-uch by the front ed-ge, tip-ping it back un-til it res-ted aga-inst the win-dow and he was lo-oking at the bot-tom of it. "What the hell is that?" "That" was a long pi-ece of pi-pe, jam-med tightly along the length of the se-at at an an-g-le. "Well, no won-der it wasn't bre-aking," Nell sa-id. "Of co-ur-se, that al-so ex-p-la-ins why it was so damn un-com-for-tab-le." "It's not even wel-ded in," Ga-be sa-id, lo-oking at it clo-ser. "It's just jam-med in the-re. Gi-ve me a hand." Ri-ley ca-me to stand be-si-de him. "You know, if you jerk that out of the-re, the co-uch is his-tory." "J-erk it out of the-re," Nell sa-id. "Bra-ce the co-uch," Ga-be sa-id, and Ri-ley le-aned aga-inst the se-at, whi-le Ga-be grab-bed the bar and yan-ked. "Damn it," he sa-id, "one mo-re ti-me." Ri-ley le-aned har-der on the back, and Ga-be yan-ked aga-in, and this ti-me the pi-pe pop-ped out, ma-king him stag-ger back a step. Ri-ley let the co-uch drop back in-to pla-ce. "You want me to ta-ke this out to the Dum-p-s-ter? Be-ca-use it re-al-ly is go-ing to go if an-y-body-" He stop-ped be-ca-use Ga-be had the pi-pe upen-ded and was sha-king it. "What are you do-ing?" "The-re's so-met-hing in he-re." Ga-be sa-id, trying to pe-er in-to the end. "We ne-ed mo-re light in this pla-ce." "Go-od," Nell sa-id. "I'll buy lamps when I get the new co-uch." "Gi-ve me so-met-hing with a ho-ok on it," he sa-id, and Nell tho-ught, Ye-ah, I ha-ve one of tho-se, but then he sa-id, "Wa-it a mi-nu-te," and dug out his poc-ket-k-ni-fe. He stuck the bla-de in the end of the pi-pe and be-gan to le-ver so-met-hing out. "I re-pe-at," Ri-ley sa-id. "What-" "My fat-her was not a fi-xer-up-per," Ga-be sa-id. "And he jam-med this pi-pe in the co-uch."

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"How do you know?" "Well, it wasn't you or me." Ga-be frow-ned as he wor-ked on the pi-pe. "And I don't see yo-ur mot-her or Chloe cram-ming it in the-re. And the li-ke-li-ho-od of so-me-body el-se sne-aking in he-re and jam-ming pi-pes in our fur-ni-tu-re-" He stop-ped as he ma-ne-uve-red a wad of whi-te cloth out of the end of the pi-pe. He put his kni-fe away and pul-led on the cloth and it ca-me out easily, un-fur-ling as he pul-led, un-til so-met-hing he-avy fell out at his fe-et and glin-ted on the flo-or. "Di-amonds," Nell sa-id, lo-oking at the spil-led pi-le of glit-te-ring cir-c-les. "I can't wa-it for Tre-vor to ex-p-la-in this one," Ri-ley sa-id. "I can," Ga-be sa-id. "But I'm not go-ing to." "You ga-ve Mar-gie the pin and the ring," Ga-be sa-id half an ho-ur la-ter when he had the jewelry spre-ad out on Tre-vor's di-ning ro-om tab-le. "You ga-ve my dad the nec-k-la-ce, the bra-ce-let, and the ear-rings. And I want to know why. No li-es this ti-me, no crap abo-ut un-g-ra-te-ful sons. The truth." Tre-vor sat down at the tab-le, lo-oking ol-der than Ga-be had ever se-en him. He felt no sympathy for him at all. "The-re's brandy the-re on the si-de-bo-ard," Tre-vor sa-id. Ga-be pic-ked up the brandy bot-tle, ke-eping his eyes on Tre-vor. "Who kil-led He-le-na?" "Ste-wart," Tre-vor sa-id, and Ga-be al-most drop-ped the bot-tle. "Ste-wart? Mar-gie's hus-band?" Tre-vor nod-ded. Ga-be splas-hed so-me brandy in-to a snif-ter and han-ded it to him, and he drank, not de-eply, and then to-ok a bre-ath. "Sit down," Tre-vor sa-id, "and I'll tell you what hap-pe-ned. And then I ho-pe you won't tell an-yo-ne el-se." "Tre-vor, it's mur-der," Ga-be sa-id. "That's not so-met-hing-" "You'll ne-ver pro-ve it," Tre-vor sa-id. "If I co-uld ha-ve pro-ved it, I wo-uld ha-ve. I was di-vor-cing He-le-na, but I didn't want her de-ad. She was Mar-gie's mot-her. Mar-gie's ne-ver re-al-ly got-ten over it, you know. Ima-gi-ne if it we-re Chloe and Lu." "Talk," Ga-be sa-id, sta-ving off sympathy. "I had an af-fa-ir," Tre-vor sa-id, sadly. "With Aud-rey. I lo-ved her, but I wo-uldn't ha-ve mar-ri-ed her, He-le-na was my wi-fe, af-ter all. But then Aud-rey got preg-nant and I wan-ted my child to ha-ve my na-me, and my mar-ri-age had re-al-ly be-en over-" "Tre-vor," Ga-be sa-id. "Get to the part whe-re Ste-wart sho-ots He-le-na, and my dad helps." "Helps?" Tre-vor lo-oked re-vol-ted. "You sho-uld be as-ha-med of yo-ur-self. Yo-ur fat-her was a fi-ne man." "With a hun-d-red tho-usand dol-lars' worth of di-amonds in his co-uch," Ga-be sa-id. "Expla-in." "That's whe-re he put them?" Tre-vor la-ug-hed, but wit-ho-ut much hu-mor. "In that che-ap co-uch? That was Pat-rick for you. Smart as hell." He pic-ked up the snif-ter aga-in. "You co-uld ha-ve thrown that co-uch out any ti-me and then no-body wo-uld ever ha-ve known. How did you find them, an-y-way?" "Nell wan-ted a new co-uch," Ga-be sa-id. "I want the story. Spill it." "Nell's an in-dus-t-ri-o-us wo-man," Tre-vor sa-id. "He-le-na wasn't. She to-ok the di-vor-ce badly." And most pe-op-le ta-ke them so well, Ga-be tho-ught, won-de-ring if Tre-vor had any idea of what a fat-he-ad he co-uld be. "I was pre-pa-red to pro-vi-de for her, but she wan-ted half of my sha-re of the firm, which was ri-di-cu-lo-us. She wasn't go-ing to get it, of co-ur-se, but the li-ti-ga-ti-on was go-ing to kill us. Jack had just mar-ri-ed Vic-ki, and he didn't ha-ve any spa-re cash sin-ce Abby had ta-ken half of his as-sets. Ste-wart had just mar-ri-ed Mar-gie and wan-ted mo-re mo-ney from the firm, but that wasn't pos-sib-le with the cash flow. And then he ca-me to me and sa-id he and Jack had tal-ked and they had a way out of our prob-lems, that he co-uld sho-ot He-le-na whi-le I had an air-tight ali-bi. I sa-id no." Tre-vor sta-red at Ga-be ac-ross the tab-le. "I told them both no. I told him if we wa-ited, she'd get ti-red and gi-ve up the fight, and we'd be fi-ne."

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"I be-li-eve it," Ga-be sa-id. Tre-vor wo-uld ha-ve sug-ges-ted wa-iting du-ring the Chi-ca-go Fi-re be-ca-use the fla-mes we-re su-re to die down on the-ir own. "I didn't want her de-ad," Tre-vor sa-id aga-in. "And abo-ut a month la-ter, he cal-led me. He sa-id Mar-gie had go-ne to her mot-her's and now was the ti-me, that if I cal-led her the-re and kept her on the pho-ne, he co-uld ta-ke ca-re of He-le-na in the next half ho-ur. I told him ab-so-lu-tely not. He sa-id if we wa-ited an-y-mo-re, we'd lo-se ever-y-t-hing. Then he hung up." "So you rus-hed right over to warn He-le-na," Ga-be sa-id. "You cal-led the po-li-ce." "The po-li-ce?" Tre-vor lo-oked ag-hast. "You're joking. No, I cal-led He-le-na and Mar-gie an-s-we-red. She sa-id He-le-na was ac-ting stran-gely and she as-ked me to co-me over, but I knew I'd be too la-te. I told her to ta-ke He-le-na to the hos-pi-tal right away, that I'd me-et her the-re, and she sa-id, no, that if I just ca-me over-" Tre-vor clo-sed his eyes. "Whi-le we we-re ar-gu-ing, she he-ard the shot. And then I went over." "Was Ste-wart the-re?" "No," Tre-vor sa-id, his vo-ice flat. "Mar-gie had fo-und her mot-her and she was hyste-ri-cal, so I put a blan-ket over He-le-na and cal-led the pa-ra-me-dics." He to-ok a de-ep bre-ath. "And then I went up-s-ta-irs and fo-und He-le-na's su-ici-de no-tes. Three of them. She'd be-en prac-ti-cing." His fa-ce flus-hed and he so-un-ded angry. "She'd be-en plan-ning on kil-ling her-self all along. If Ste-wart had -just wa-ited…" So much for Tre-vor not wan-ting He-le-na de-ad. "He was a fo-ol," Tre-vor sa-id. "I sho-uld ne-ver ha-ve let Mar-gie marry him." You sho-uldn't ha-ve let him sho-ot yo-ur wi-fe, eit-her, Ga-be tho-ught, but he sa-id, "She was shot with yo-ur gun." "He'd ta-ken it ear-li-er," Tre-vor sa-id. "Jack had ever-y-t-hing plan-ned." Ga-be le-aned aga-inst the li-qu-or ca-bi-net. He'd buy that Ste-wart hadn't plan-ned the mur-der, but the ac-cu-sa-ti-on aga-inst Jack was fishy, co-ming as it did on the he-els of the Qu-ar-terly Re-port. And that "he'd ta-ken it ear-li-er" bit had be-en rus-hed. "I'm still not se-e-ing Pat-rick in this." "Mar-gie had told me that her mot-her had on her go-od jewelry. When I saw the body, He-le-na had on her rings and her pin, but the rest was go-ne." "Ste-wart had ta-ken it," Ga-be sa-id, pla-ying along. "J-ust the pi-eces he co-uld grab be-fo-re he ran," Tre-vor sa-id, dis-tas-te ma-king his vo-ice cur-d-le, and Ga-be be-gan to be-li-eve him. "The pin wo-uld ta-ke too long to un-latch and the rings we-re em-bed-ded in her fin-gers be-ca-use she'd put on so much we-ight. I knew he'd do so-met-hing stu-pid with the ot-her pi-eces, he was a stu-pid man, so I cal-led Pat-rick." "And still no-body tells the po-li-ce," Ga-be sa-id. "The scan-dal wo-uld ha-ve ru-ined us," Tre-vor sa-id. "Yo-ur da-ug-h-ter was mar-ri-ed to her mot-her's mur-de-rer," Ga-be sa-id. "Exactly," Tre-vor sa-id. "Ima-gi-ne what that wo-uld do to her if she ever fo-und out." Ga-be sta-red at him, Mar-gie's may-be-they'll-ne-ver-know man-t-ra ma-de flesh. "Yo-ur fat-her was mag-ni-fi-cent as al-ways," Tre-vor sa-id. "He fol-lo-wed Ste-wart for days un-til he went in-to a paw-n-s-hop. Then he to-ok most of the agency's ca-pi-tal and bo-ught the di-amonds back." "And he told my mot-her and she left him," Ga-be sa-id, thin-king, What fo-ols the two of you we-re. "Of co-ur-se not," Tre-vor sa-id. "Lia wo-uldn't ha-ve un-der-s-to-od. But she didn't un-der-s-tand an-y-way, didn't un-der-s-tand what had hap-pe-ned to the mo-ney and didn't un-der-s-tand why he wo-uldn't tell her. She wasn't a go-od wi-fe, Ga-be. I'm sorry to say it, but it's true. Not trus-ting at all." Ga-be lo-oked at him and tho-ught, You must be fiv.-.t Mars. "And Pat-rick wasn't the kind of man to let him-self be run by a wo-man," Tre-vor went on. "I'm su-re that kept him warm at night af-ter she left," Ga-be sa-id. "I didn't ha-ve the ca-pi-tal to pay Pat-rick back in full," Tre-vor sa-id, ig-no-ring him, "so I ga-ve him

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the Por-s-c-he. I knew he li-ked it, and it was my se-cond car." "J-esus," Ga-be sa-id. "And then we did dummy in-vo-ices for the ba-lan-ce of the mo-ney, bil-ling the law firm for fa-ke bac-k-g-ro-und checks. I'd pa-id him back for all of it by the end of the ye-ar. Yo-ur mot-her was go-ne by then and yo-ur aunt was ke-eping the bo-oks. No-body no-ti-ced." "But he kept the di-amonds," Ga-be sa-id. "Well, I co-uldn't ta-ke them," Tre-vor sa-id. "I was li-ving with Aud-rey by then and I co-uldn't risk her fin-ding them. I'd told ever-yo-ne they we-re bu-ri-ed with He-le-na. If Mar-gie had fo-und out I had them, she'd ha-ve got-ten the en-ti-rely wrong idea." No, sbe wo-uldn't ha-ve. "So they we-re just go-ing to stay in the co-uch?" Ga-be sa-id. "No. We we-re go-ing to wa-it fi-ve ye-ars and then bre-ak the sto-nes out of the set-tings and sell them. But then-" "Dad had a he-art at-tack wit-ho-ut tel-ling you whe-re they we-re," Ga-be fi-nis-hed. Tre-vor nod-ded. "And then Ste-wart em-bez-zled and left, and it was all over. So we went on with our li-ves un-til Nell star-ted to te-ar up yo-ur agency. You sho-uld ha-ve hi-red a lazy sec-re-tary, my boy." He tri-ed to chuc-k-le, but his he-art cle-arly wasn't in it. "I tri-ed to hi-re her away be-fo-re she fo-und the jewelry but…" He sig-hed. "And now it's all over." Ga-be sho-ok his he-ad in dis-be-li-ef. "All over? Tre-vor, it is not all over. Ste-wart is still ali-ve and, let's not for-get, gu-ilty of mur-der. And he didn't le-ave for fif-te-en ye-ars. Jesus, the ho-li-days must ha-ve be-en fun with him ac-ross the tab-le from you." "The-re's a lot you co-uld le-arn from yo-ur fat-her," Tre-vor sa-id gra-vely. "He was ne-ver jud-g-men-tal." "Which ex-p-la-ins this en-ti-re mess," Ga-be sa-id. "If he'd drag-ged you off to the po-li-ce-" "Gab-ri-el, the po-li-ce we-re not then and are not now a pos-si-bi-lity." Tre-vor's vo-ice to-ok on the strength of his yo-uth, and for on-ce he was im-p-res-si-ve. "Wit-ho-ut my tes-ti-mony, you can't pro-ve an-y-t-hing, but you can hurt my da-ug-h-ter and my bu-si-ness, so I'm as-king you, as the son of my de-arest fri-end, to let this go. It was twenty ye-ars ago-" "Twen-ty- th-ree." "- and not-hing can be ga-ined by dred-ging this up. Even if the po-li-ce be-li-eved you, they can't find Ste-wart. He's be-en go-ne se-ven ye-ars. Mar-gie's go-ing to ha-ve him dec-la-red le-gal-ly de-ad. It's over. Let it go." Ga-be sto-od up. "Tre-vor, I'm not the only one who knows." "Nell will do what you tell her," Tre-vor sa-id. "Ob-vi-o-usly, you don't know Nell," Ga-be sa-id. Tre-vor lo-oked at him with con-tempt, and Ga-be flus-hed. "And I wo-uldn't tell her to ke-ep qu-i-et even if she did lis-ten to me." Tre-vor sho-ok his he-ad, cle-arly di-sap-po-in-ted in him and his way with wo-men. Ga-be tri-ed a new tack. "So whe-re do-es Lynnie fit in all of this?" "Who?" Tre-vor sa-id, lo-oking le-gi-ti-ma-tely mysti-fi-ed. "Lynnie Ma-son. Our for-mer sec-re-tary. The one who tur-ned up in a fre-ezer a we-ek ago." Tre-vor blin-ked at him. "She do-esn't. Wasn't she qu-ite yo-ung?" "E-arly thir-ti-es," Ga-be sa-id, not fol-lo-wing. Tre-vor spre-ad his hands. "She'd ha-ve be-en ten when He-le-na di-ed." "She didn't ha-ve to be the-re," Ga-be sa-id. "Pe-op-le talk. What did the wo-man who was blac-k-ma-iling you re-al-ly ac-cu-se you of?" "I told you," Tre-vor sa-id, his vo-ice shar-pe-ning. "Adul-tery. It was a prank. Who-ever it was ne-ver cal-led back. I don't un-der-s-tand you, Gab-ri-el. You ke-ep trying to ma-ke this per-so-nal, abo-ut yo-ur fa-mily and yo-ur bu-si-ness. It wasn't. It was my fa-mily." "But my fa-mily to-ok the hit for it, too. This is why my mot-her left, isn't it?" "Yo-ur mot-her," Tre-vor sa-id, his vo-ice qu-el-ling, "left re-gu-larly. Why yo-ur fat-her al-ways to-ok her back is be-yond me." "He lo-ved her," Ga-be sa-id. "And she lo-ved him, that's why she kept co-ming back, even tho-ugh he

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pul-led stuff li-ke this." "Don't jud-ge yo-ur fat-her harshly," Tre-vor sa-id as Ga-be tur-ned to go. "He was a go-od fri-end. You'd do the sa-me for yo-ur co-usin." "No, I wo-uldn't," Ga-be sa-id. "I wo-uldn't ha-ve to. He'd ne-ver do an-y-t-hing li-ke this." "I didn't do an-y-t-hing," Tre-vor sa-id. "Exactly," Ga-be sa-id and dro-ve ho-me in his fat-her's car, kno-wing for the first ti-me how ex-pen-si-ve it re-al-ly had be-en. "What do you think?" Ri-ley sa-id that eve-ning in the of-fi-ce. "I'll buy that Ste-wart didn't plan it," Ga-be sa-id. "Too many pe-op-le say he's rash and stu-pid." "Rash is ta-king the di-amonds." "That part I be-li-eve. Tre-vor was truly dis-gus-ted by that. But I will bet you that Tre-vor or Jack plan-ned it. And my dad co-ve-red it up." "Mo-ving past that," Ri-ley sa-id. "Lynnie shows up twen-ty-two ye-ars la-ter lo-oking for di-amonds. Who told her they we-re he-re? It'd ha-ve to be Tre-vor, wo-uldn't it?" "He might ha-ve told Ste-wart or Jack," Ga-be sa-id. "But Tre-vor is still front and cen-ter." "So why did he tell her?" Ri-ley sa-id. "If it was Jack or Ste-wart, I'd say pil-low talk, she was not a dif-fi-cult da-te, but I don't see Tre-vor cud-dling up to Lynnie and sa-ying, 'The McKen-nas ha-ve di-amonds.'" "I don't see that as pil-low talk ever," Ga-be sa-id. "Even if mo-ney did turn her on. So-me-body sent her in he-re af-ter them and then kil-led her be-ca-use she knew too much." "Why lo-ok now?" Ri-ley sa-id. "It's be-en twen-ty-two ye-ars. The only per-son who'd wa-it that long for di-amonds is Tre-vor, and he wo-uld just ke-ep wa-iting." "May-be so-me-body just fo-und out abo-ut them." "J-ack." "Why Jack?" "Be-ca-use he's a son of a bitch,", Ri-ley sa-id. "As long as we're ke-eping an open mind," Ga-be sa-id. "So what's this I he-ar abo-ut you and Su-ze ha-ving sex?" Mar-gie sa-id when she was sit-ting in the Syca-mo-re with Nell and Su-ze the next Sun-day for brunch, and Su-ze cho-ked on her oran-ge ju-ice and tho-ught, Who tal-ked? "Whe-re'd you get that?" Nell as-ked. "Tim told Bud-ge," Mar-gie sa-id, pic-king up her mi-mo-sa. "We had din-ner at Mot-her Dysart's." She sig-hed. "It was aw-ful. I had to talk to Whit-ney and Oli-via. I felt bad for you both, but now that I know you're ha-ving sex…" "Okay, you know that was a joke, right?" Su-ze sa-id, ne-ver su-re abo-ut Mar-gie. Mar-gie cut in-to her eggs Be-ne-dict. "Uh-huh. Ex-cept I bet you did do so-met-hing. Nell do-esn't lie." "We kis-sed," Nell sa-id. "In the in-te-rests of sci-en-ce. In ca-se a pla-gue wi-ped out all the men." "And if the pla-gue hits," Su-ze sa-id, pic-king up her egg qu-esa-dil-la, "you are in-vi-ted to a three-way." "No, thank you," Mar-gie sa-id. "If the pla-gue hits, I'm go-ing to go find Jani-ce." Su-ze stop-ped, her mo-uth full of qu-esa-dil-la, and tho-ught, Mar-gie had a Jani-ce? Nell sa-id, "Jani-ce? Jani-ce who?" "J-ani-ce was a fri-end I had in high scho-ol," Mar-gie sa-id, frow-ning at her eggs Be-ne-dict. "She was the best sex I ever had un-til Bud-ge." "So much for Ste-wart," Su-ze sa-id. The wa-it-ress ca-me and Mar-gie as-ked for anot-her mi-mo-sa. When she was go-ne, Mar-gie sa-id, "I le-ar-ned things from Jani-ce." "But you en-ded up with Ste-wart," Nell sa-id. "Why?" "Be-ca-use Jani-ce dum-ped me," Mar-gie sa-id. "And Ste-wart was so-me-body I'd known for a whi-le, and he wor-ked for Daddy. And he kept as-king." She shrug-ged.

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"I can't be-li-eve this," Nell sa-id. "You had this sec-ret li-fe-" "No, I didn't," Mar-gie sa-id. "I ne-ver kept it sec-ret. No-body no-ti-ced. No-body ever no-ti-ces what I do." She didn't so-und too con-cer-ned abo-ut that. "And when I did tell Ste-wart, he got so up-set I just let the who-le thing die." She sho-ok her he-ad. "If I'd ne-ver sa-id an-y-t-hing, he'd ne-ver ha-ve known." "He got up-set?" Nell sa-id. "Why?" "Be-ca-use it was un-na-tu-ral." Mar-gie sig-hed. "He wasn't much fun." "I still fe-el aw-ful abo-ut that," Nell sa-id. "I sho-uld ha-ve known you we-re un-hap-py." "Why?" Mar-gie sho-ved the pla-te away and pic-ked up her drink. "It wasn't that bad mostly. He wasn't aro-und much. But then one day the-re was tro-ub-le at the firm and I didn't know what to do. We had this hu-ge fight, it was so aw-ful, I re-al-ly lost my tem-per." Su-ze lo-oked at her in dis-be-li-ef. "You ha-ve a tem-per?" "- and I just hit him. Then I went to Daddy and sa-id I wan-ted a di-vor-ce, but Ste-wart left and didn't co-me back, so the prob-lem sol-ved it-self." "And then the-re was Bud-ge," Su-ze sa-id. "Did you tell him abo-ut Jani-ce?" Mar-gie dim-p-led. "Yes, I did. It had a com-p-le-tely dif-fe-rent ef-fect on him." "Ye-ah, it had a com-p-le-tely dif-fe-rent ef-fect on Ga-be, too," Su-ze sa-id, smi-ling at the me-mory. "I've ne-ver se-en two pe-op-le le-ave a res-ta-urant so fast." "What abo-ut Ri-ley?" Nell as-ked and Su-ze stop-ped smi-ling. "Ye-ah. It in-te-res-ted him, too." "You and Ri-ley?" Mar-gie sa-id. "That's ni-ce." "No," Su-ze sa-id, fe-eling li-ke hell. "He won't." "May-be he res-pects you too much," Mar-gie sa-id, "No," Su-ze and Nell sa-id to-get-her. "I'm just not the wo-man I on-ce was," Su-ze sa-id lightly. "He can't be that stu-pid," Nell Aid. "He's not stu-pid at all," Su-ze sa-id and tur-ned to Mar-gie. "So whe-re is Jani-ce now?" "So-me big law firm in New York," Mar-gie sa-id. "That's okay. I ha-ve Bud-ge, and if the pla-gue hits, I can ta-ke the bus to New York." "I find that hard to be-li-eve," Su-ze sa-id. "You, on a bus?" "And I pa-id for half of yo-ur pre-sent," Mar-gie sa-id sadly. "I get a pre-sent?" Su-ze sa-id, che-ering up a lit-tle. Mar-gie ope-ned her bag and put a cle-ar plas-tic box full of de-co-ra-ted co-oki-es on the tab-le. "It's a di-vor-ce party. We tho-ught you sho-uld ha-ve one so you'd go ahe-ad and get one. A di-vor-ce, I me-an." Ouch, Su-ze tho-ught. "We tho-ught you ne-eded che-ering up," Nell sa-id, with mo-re tact. "I co-uldn't fi-gu-re out how to get a ca-ke and can-d-les in my bag," Mar-gie sa-id, "so I ma-de co-oki-es. No-ne of them are bro-ken." "Un-b-ro-ken co-oki-es," Su-ze sa-id, prying open the box as she tri-ed to so-und che-er-ful. "That's a gre-at pre-sent." "That's not yo-ur pre-sent," Mar-gie sa-id, pic-king up her mi-mo-sa, "that's yo-ur ca-ke." "Pre-sent," Nell sa-id, han-ding over a pink fo-il-wrap-ped box. "We spent ho-urs in the sto-re pic-king it out," Mar-gie sa-id, as Su-ze un-w-rap-ped the box. "No, it just se-emed li-ke ho-urs," Nell sa-id. "Thank you," Su-ze sa-id, ta-king the last of the wrap-ping off. The box sa-id, "Lady's Ho-me Com-pa-ni-on. Bat-te-ri-es In-c-lu-ded," and Su-ze wasn't su-re what to say. "It's a vib-ra-tor," Mar-gie sa-id. "It cer-ta-inly is," Su-ze sa-id. "That's to ke-ep you from ma-king any mis-ta-kes in the pur-su-it of or-gasm," Nell sa-id. "Easy to do, as I know only too well."

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"Ri-ley was not a mis-ta-ke," Mar-gie sa-id. "He was an ad-ven-tu-re." She sig-hed at the tho-ught. "Mas-tur-ba-ti-on," Su-ze sa-id, still sta-ring at the vib-ra-tor box. "I pre-fer to think of it as ha-ving sex with so-me-body I trust," Nell sa-id. "Go-od po-int," Su-ze sa-id. "And no wet spot," Mar-gie sa-id, ges-tu-ring with her glass. "Plus you get the who-le bed to yo-ur-self." It's not eno-ugh, Su-ze tho-ught, and when she got ho-me that af-ter-no-on, she put the box on a shelf in the clo-set. Then she ma-de her-self a drink be-ca-use Jack was co-ming by to pick up the last of his clot-hes. When he was la-te, she ma-de her-self anot-her. When he ca-me in the front do-or, Su-ze felt her chest tig-h-ten. He lo-oked the sa-me as al-ways, tall and gor-ge-o-us, tho-se blue eyes mel-ting at her as if they we-re still to-get-her, and she tri-ed to re-mem-ber what he'd tri-ed to do to Nell with Tim and the bu-si-ness, what he was still do-ing to Oh-via. They tal-ked po-li-tely as he gat-he-red the last of his shirts from the-ir clo-set, and then she fol-lo-wed him dow-n-s-ta-irs and in-to the hall, trying hard to bre-at-he nor-mal-ly, fig-h-ting back the ur-ge to say, "Don't go, may-be we can try aga-in." She didn't want to try aga-in, he'd che-ated, he'd be-en aw-ful to Nell, he'd wat-c-hed her kiss Ri-ley in a dark stre-et, but she wan-ted to say, "Don't go," be-ca-use the fu-tu-re was ter-rif-ying and bo-un-d-less and he was the past she knew. "I can't be-li-eve we're over," she sa-id in-s-te-ad, her thro-at al-most clo-sing. "I can't be-li-eve it, eit-her. We had it all." He sto-od by the front do-or with a han-d-ful of shirts on han-gers, the light from the porch sho-wing the sad-ness on his fa-ce. My hus-band, she tho-ught and felt gu-ilty that she co-uldn't ke-ep him no mat-ter what, that as much as she'd lo-ved him, she co-uldn't lo-ve him eno-ugh to for-gi-ve him for Oli-via, for che-ating on her to sa-ve his pri-de. "It's not go-ing to be the sa-me wit-ho-ut you, Su-ze," he sa-id, and his vo-ice was so ho-nest and so pa-in-ful that she went to him and put her arms aro-und him. "I'll al-ways lo-ve you," she sa-id. "Wha-te-ver el-se-" He drop-ped the han-gers and kis-sed her, and she tho-ught, Wa-it, I didn't me-an that, and then she re-mem-be-red what they'd be-en on-ce and was af-ra-id she'd ne-ver fe-el go-od aga-in, and she didn't want to be alo-ne, and she did want so-me-body, so-me hu-man to-uch, not a damn pink vib-ra-tor no mat-ter how li-be-ra-ted that was, so she kis-sed him back as he pul-led at her clot-hing, sin-king to the flo-or with him and let-ting him back in-si-de in one last va-le-dic-ti-on for her mar-ri-age and the li-fe she'd had with him. Then I'll let go, she tho-ught and clung to him and his kiss. The next we-ek, as Ga-be ob-ses-sed over Lynnie's de-ath, Nell ob-ses-sed over Su-ze's ina-bi-lity to let go of Jack and Mar-gie's gro-wing ina-bi-lity to hold on-to re-ality wit-ho-ut a mi-mo-sa in her hand. The only stab-le thing in her li-fe was the agency. She bo-ught a mis-si-on co-uch with le-at-her cus-hi-ons for the outer of-fi-ce, and Ga-be flin-c-hed at the bill but didn't ar-gue, so for St. Pat-rick's Day she went for bro-ke and ga-ve Ga-be and Ri-ley new bu-si-ness cards. They we-re pa-le gray and had "Answers" em-bos-sed at the top in gold, old-fas-hi-oned type li-ke the win-dow. She left the bo-xes on the-ir desks and when they ca-me in, she wa-ited for them to find them and tell her she'd be-en right all along. Ga-be ca-me out of his of-fi-ce with blo-od in his eye, and Nell sa-id, "Wa-it a mi-nu-te, I to-ok the de-sign stra-ight off yo-ur win-dow." "You can ta-ke them stra-ight off my desk, too," he sa-id, slam-ming the box down in front of her. "Burn tho-se damn things and get the old cards rep-rin-ted." "Lo-ok, you didn't pay for them, I did," Nell sa-id. "They we-re yo-ur St. Pat-rick's Day pre-sent." "Wish I'd known," Ga-be sa-id. "I'd ha-ve gi-ven you a ca-se of Glen-li-vet." "Well, if I'd known you we-re go-ing to act li-ke this, I'd ha-ve drunk it," Nell sa-id. "If you'd just gi-ve the-se a chan-ce-" "Not only will I not gi-ve the-se a chan-ce," Ga-be sa-id, "I'm not go-ing to gi-ve you anot-her one. Get my god-damn bu-si-ness cards back or you're fi-red. And for the last ti-me, stop chan-ging things." "You'd gi-ve up sle-eping with me for bu-si-ness cards?" Nell sa-id, trying to lig-h-ten the mo-od a

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lit-tle. "No," Ga-be sa-id. "But I'll gi-ve up pa-ying you to type for me if you don't act li-ke a sec-re-tary and fol-low or-ders." "Hey," Nell sa-id. "I am not just a-" Ri-ley ope-ned the do-or to his of-fi-ce and ca-me out with one of his new cards in his hand. "When did I be-co-me a re-al-ly ex-pen-si-ve ha-ir-d-res-ser?" "That's not-" "Or may-be a ho-oker," he sa-id, lo-oking at the card. "'Answers'? That pretty much de-pends on the qu-es-ti-on, do-esn't it?" "She's get-ting rid of them," Ga-be sa-id and went back in-to his of-fi-ce and slam-med the do-or. "J-ust be-ca-use it's so-met-hing new," Nell sa-id, gla-ring af-ter him. "It's not be-ca-use it's new," Ri-ley sa-id, drop-ping the card on her desk. "It's be-ca-use it's ge-eky. Don't do stuff li-ke that wit-ho-ut chec-king with him first. You know how he is." "But he's wrong," Nell sa-id. "He's such a con-t-rol fre-ak. Tho-se old cards-" "- are the ones he li-kes," Ri-ley fi-nis-hed for her. "You're not pa-ying at-ten-ti-on." "Do-es this pla-ce lo-ok 'a lot bet-ter than it did be-fo-re I ca-me?" Nell sa-id and wat-c-hed Ri-ley lo-ok aro-und the re-cep-ti-on ro-om. "Very shiny." "And the bat-h-ro-om-" "- is a work of art," he fi-nis-hed for her aga-in. "Nell, you're mis-sing the po-int. It's his bu-si-ness. And this is not the way he wants it to lo-ok." "It's yo-urs, too," Nell sa-id. "And I ag-ree with him." Ri-ley sho-ok his he-ad at her. "You know, the prob-lem is not that he's a con-t-rol fre-ak. It's that you're both con-t-rol fre-aks. And one of you has to gi-ve in. You, to be spe-ci-fic." "He's wrong," Nell sa-id. "And on that, I'm go-ing back to my of-fi-ce," Ri-ley sa-id. "Let me know when the dust set-tles, and I'll talk to who-ever is still stan-ding." "Damn it," Nell sa-id and pic-ked up the pho-ne to or-der the old cards aga-in, de-ter-mi-ned to find a bet-ter way. Okay, he didn't want an-y-t-hing too dif-fe-rent. But that didn't me-an he had to ke-ep butt-ugly cards. "Cre-am card stock," she told the prin-ter fi-ve mi-nu-tes la-ter. "Dark brown ink. A classy ol-der se-rif type-fa-ce. Very pla-in. Bo-ok-man? Fi-ne. McKen-na In-ves-ti-ga-ti-ons in twel-ve po-int…" The-re, she tho-ught when she'd hung up. Who says I can't com-p-ro-mi-se? She went in to see Ga-be and sa-id, "I re-or-de-red the cards." "Exactly li-ke the old ones?" he sa-id dan-ge-ro-usly. "No. I com-p-ro-mi-sed. I think-" "No, you don't think. I don't want you thin-king and I don't want you com-p-ro-mi-sing. I want you lis-te-ning. And I want the old cards back." "Lo-ok, you can't just ke-ep sa-ying no," Nell sa-id. "You ha-ve to lis-ten to me." "Ac-tu-al-ly, I don't. I'm the boss, you're the sec-re-tary." "Tec-h-ni-cal-ly, yes. But-" "No." Ga-be lo-oked up at her, im-pa-ti-ent and exas-pe-ra-ted. "Not 'tec-h-ni-cal-ly.' That's the way it is." Nell step-ped on her an-ger. "You don't think my opi-ni-on co-unts." "It co-unts," Ga-be sa-id. "Just not very much." "In spi-te of ever-y-t-hing I've do-ne-" "Nell, sle-eping with me do-es not ma-ke you a bu-si-ness par-t-ner. I told you, this isn't Tim and the in-su-ran-ce age"I'm not tal-king abo-ut sle-eping with you," Nell snap-ped. "I'm tal-king abo-ut ever-y-t-hing I've do-ne for this pla-ce in the past se-ven months." "You're a ge-ni-us at or-ga-ni-za-ti-on," Ga-be sa-id. "Now go away."

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"J-ust li-ke that," Nell sa-id. "J-ust li-ke that. I ha-ve to think and I can't with you bit-c-hing at me." He rub-bed his hand over his fo-re-he-ad. "Can we talk abo-ut this la-ter? I'm ti-red of this fight." "No," Nell sa-id. "If I'm hi-red help, the-re's no re-ason to talk abo-ut it at all." "Well, what the hell did you think you we-re?" Ga-be sa-id. "We hi-red you and we pay you. At what po-int did that so-und li-ke a par-t-ner-s-hip to you?" When I star-ted sle-eping with you, Nell tho-ught and re-ali-zed he was right. She'd slip-ped right back in-to her old li-fe, sle-eping with the boss and run-ning his bu-si-ness. He le-aned for-ward, fi-xing her with tho-se eyes, and sa-id, "For the last ti-me, you are just a sec-re-tary." "My mis-ta-ke," she sa-id fa-intly and went back to sit at her desk, na-use-ated by her dis-co-very. The of-fi-ce lo-oked lo-vely, the walls in soft gold, the co-uch in gray, the gold-fra-med pho-tos bre-aking up the ex-pan-se over the bo-ok-ca-ses and fi-ling ca-bi-nets. Re-al-ly lo-vely. Li-ke an ex-pen-si-ve in-su-ran-ce agency. She hadn't star-ted a new li-fe at all. She'd fo-und the clo-sest guy who lo-oked li-ke Tim and re-ma-de her old world. She lo-oked aro-und the be-a-uti-ful of-fi-ce, trap-ped aga-in. Even fi-xing the win-dow wo-uldn't chan-ge things. She'd just sold her-self in-to the sa-me old sla-very. If Ga-be dum-ped her, she'd be back on the stre-et be-ca-use she was still ser-ving men. She hadn't star-ted an-y-t-hing for her-self at all. She sho-uld qu-it. That was it, she sho-uld qu-it. For-ce her-self to find a new li-fe. That wo-uld fix him. No, that wasn't right, that wo-uld fix her. The-re must be so-met-hing she co-uld do. May-be ta-ke over The Cup? No-pe, she'd still be wor-king for so-me-body el-se, for Ga-be, ac-tu-al-ly, un-til Chloe ca-me back. No, if she wan-ted to be her own wo-man, she'd ha-ve to qu-it and start her own bu-si-ness. The tho-ught hurt, she lo-ved be-ing part of Ga-be and Ri-ley, lo-ved the wor-king re-la-ti-on-s-hip and even the work, lo-ved the com-mu-nity of them, but she had to go. It was the only way to sa-ve what she had with Ga-be. She sho-uld ha-ve go-ne long ago, af-ter the first fight, ex-cept that wo-uld ha-ve be-en be-fo-re the first kiss. She had ab-so-lu-tely no idea of what kind of bu-si-ness she wan-ted to start, but she was de-fi-ni-tely go-ing to ta-ke what was left of her di-vor-ce set-tle-ment and wha-te-ver Bud-ge co-uld screw out of Tim for the agency and start so-met-hing new. The hell with se-cu-rity in her old age. She co-uld get hit by a truck to-mor-row. She sho-uld start so-met-hing new to-day. So-met-hing that wo-uld be hers. No men in-vol-ved. Ga-be ca-me out of the of-fi-ce, shrug-ging on his su-it jac-ket. "I'll be back at fi-ve," he told her as he he-aded for the do-or. "You want din-ner at the Syca-mo-re or the Fi-re Ho-use?" "Ne-it-her," Nell sa-id. She had a new li-fe to plan. "You are not go-ing to start skip-ping me-als aga-in," he sa-id from the do-or-way. "Just pick a pla-ce." "I'm go-ing to eat at ho-me to-night. I want to think." Ga-be clo-sed his eyes. "Oh, co-me on, don't sulk. That's not li-ke you." "I'm not sul-king. I want so-me ti-me alo-ne to think abo-ut things." "What things? Yo-ur li-fe isn't that com-p-lex." "I know," Nell sa-id. "That's the prob-lem. I jum-ped from one tidy si-tu-ati-on to anot-her wit-ho-ut ever re-al-ly fin-ding out what the pos-si-bi-li-ti-es we-re. I just mo-ved right in he-re and tho-ught I had the sa-me thing with you that I had with Tim. I don't." "Well, I'm not che-ating on you. I as-su-med that wo-uld be a plus." "You did the sa-me thing," Nell sa-id, trying not to so-und ac-cu-sing. "You tho-ught you had the sa-me thing you had with Chloe." "I ne-ver tho-ught you we-re Chloe," Ga-be sa-id. "You we-re right when you sa-id just be-ca-use I was sle-eping with you that didn't ma-ke me a par-t-ner. Es-pe-ci-al-ly he-re, whe-re the boss al-ways sle-eps with the sec-re-tary." "Wa-it a mi-nu-te-" "No," Nell sa-id. "It's okay. You we-re right and I was wrong."

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"Okay," Ga-be sa-id ca-uti-o-usly. "So if I'm right, why am I eating alo-ne?" "Be-ca-use it was sle-eping with you that ma-de me ma-ke that mis-ta-ke," Nell sa-id. "You scram-b-le my tho-ughts." "Do not tell me you think we sho-uld sle-ep apart from now on. That's just pay-back be-ca-use I won't let you or-der new cards." "No," Nell sa-id, get-ting exas-pe-ra-ted be-ca-use he wo-uldn't lis-ten. "The-re's a re-ason se-xu-al ha-ras-sment ca-ses are se-ri-o-us." "I did not se-xu-al-ly ha-rass you," Ga-be sa-id. "For Christ's sa-ke-" "I didn't say you did. I'm just sa-ying Lynnie was right, it's a bad idea for bos-ses to sle-ep with sec-re-ta-ri-es. You of all pe-op-le know that. It's yo-ur ru-le. Which is why-" "Which I was mo-re than ple-ased to bre-ak for you," Ga-be sa-id. "Can we ha-ve this dis-cus-si-on over din-ner? I've got pla-ces to go and things to do." "So go the-re and do them," Nell sa-id, fed up. "And whi-le you're out, get din-ner for yo-ur-self. I'm go-ing ho-me." "I'll stop by la-ter." Ga-be tur-ned to go. "No, you won't," Nell sa-id. "I want to think this thro-ugh." He sho-ok his he-ad at her. "Don't even think abo-ut bre-aking this off." "Lis-ten," she sa-id. "You do not tell me what to do." "Ye-ah, I do," he sa-id. "I'm the boss." "No, you aren't," she sa-id. "I qu-it." "You do not." Ga-be slam-med the stre-et do-or and sto-od in front of it whi-le she put her co-at on and pic-ked up her pur-se. "God-damn it, Nell, I ha-ve an ap-po-in-t-ment. I don't ha-ve ti-me for this-" "So go," Nell sa-id, co-ming aro-und the desk to fa-ce him. "I'm not stop-ping you. I've got ever-y-t-hing he-re so or-ga-ni-zed that an-y-body co-uld ta-ke over. Get Lu in he-re. Hi-re Su-ze. I don't ca-re. As long as I work he-re, I'm go-ing to ke-ep trying to be a par-t-ner and you're go-ing to ke-ep tel-ling me I'm not, and we're go-ing to be at each ot-her's thro-ats." "Fi-ne," Ga-be sa-id ti-redly. "Ta-ke the rest of the day off. We'll talk abo-ut this to-mor-row." Nell felt the fury ri-se and smac-ked him hard on the arm with her pur-se. "Will you for on-ce just lis-ten to me? I qu-it. I won't be he-re to-mor-row. I qu-it yo-ur bu-si-ness, I'm go-ne. I qu-it." She was so mad she was sput-te-ring. "I don't want to ha-ve din-ner with you, I don't want to see you, I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to pre-tend ever-y-t-hing is all right, and I don't want you!" "Why do I al-ways fall for the in-sa-ne wo-men?" Ga-be as-ked the ce-iling. "Why do you al-ways dri-ve wo-men in-sa-ne?" Nell sa-id. "A smart guy wo-uld see a pat-tern he-re." "Hey," Ga-be sa-id. "I'm not the one with emo-ti-onal prob-lems." "Too true," Nell sa-id. "You ha-ve to ha-ve emo-ti-ons to ha-ve emo-ti-onal prob-lems. Now get out of my way." "Fi-ne." Ga-be step-ped asi-de and ges-tu-red to the do-or. "When you're over this snit, you still ha-ve a job. And me." "I ha-te you," Nell sa-id. "Drop de-ad." She pus-hed past him and ope-ned the do-or, plan-ting her fe-et down hard as she stro-de away, ex-hi-la-ra-ted to ha-ve wal-ked out on at le-ast one bas-tard in-s-te-ad of wa-iting for him to throw her out. Prog-ress. Now all she had to do was find a job. Chapter Eleven Ri-ley ca-me in whi-le Ga-be was stan-ding in the do-or-way in his co-at, thin-king un-p-rin-tab-le things and clen-c-hing his jaw to ke-ep from yel-ling down the stre-et af-ter Nell. "I just pas-sed Nell," Ri-ley sa-id as he clo-sed the do-or be-hind him. "She lo-oked mad as hell. What hap-pe-ned?" "She qu-it."

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"Sle-eping with you or wor-king for us?" "I don't know. And I don't ca-re." "You're a re-al ge-ni-us with wo-men, you know that? What did you do?" Ga-be tri-ed to get his tem-per back. "I just told her the truth, that she wasn't a par-t-ner, just a sec-re-tary." "And you felt it was im-por-tant to sha-re that with her be-ca-use…?" "She chan-ged the cards aga-in." Ga-be felt his blo-od pres-su-re ri-se as he sa-id it. "Jesus, she ne-ver stop-ped un-til she got what she wan-ted. If I hadn't put my fo-ot down, she'd ha-ve pa-in-ted the win-dow." "Let me get this stra-ight," Ri-ley sa-id. "You'd rat-her lo-se the best thing that's hap-pe-ned to yo-ur bu-si-ness sin-ce me, and the best thing that's hap-pe-ned to yo-ur bed sin-ce Chloe, just so you wo-uldn't ha-ve to pa-int the god-dam-ned win-dow?" "It was the prin-cip-le of the thing," Ga-be sa-id. "That sho-uld ke-ep you warm to-night," Ri-ley sa-id. "Of co-ur-se, it won't an-s-wer the pho-ne to-mor-row, but I'm su-re you've got a plan for that, too." "She'll be back to-mor-row," Ga-be sa-id. He ope-ned the stre-et do-or to go be-fo-re he got in-to anot-her ar-gu-ment. "She will not be back to-mor-row. She's the only per-son I know who's mo-re stub-born than you are. Gi-ve her ti-me to co-ol down and then go apo-lo-gi-ze." "For what? Be-ing right?" "What ma-kes you think you're right?" Ri-ley sa-id. "The damn win-dow ne-eds to be pa-in-ted. And she's wor-ked as hard for the agency as you and I ha-ve, may-be har-der. She's put in we-ird ho-urs and ne-ver as-ked for over-ti-me or ti-me off or an-y-t-hing that any sa-ne sa-la-ri-ed wor-ker wo-uld do. You ex-pect her to be-ha-ve li-ke a par-t-ner and then you don't tre-at her li-ke one. Hell, I'd ha-ve wal-ked, too." "Fe-el free," Ga-be sa-id and went out, slam-ming the do-or be-hind him, sick of the who-le damn agency. "Ri-ley says you left Ga-be," Su-ze sa-id af-ter work that night when Nell an-s-we-red the do-or of her dup-lex. "Are you out of yo-ur mind?" "No." Nell sto-od back so she co-uld co-me in. "He was ne-ver go-ing to lis-ten to me as long as I sta-yed and pla-yed his ga-me. So we'll just see how he do-es wit-ho-ut me." "Oh, go-od." Su-ze flop-ped down on the day-bed and an-no-yed Mar-le-ne. "And whi-le we're at it, we'll see how you do wit-ho-ut him." "Not a prob-lem," Nell sa-id. "I've be-en alo-ne be-fo-re." "Ye-ah, you we-re alo-ne wit-ho-ut Tim," Su-ze sa-id. "That was a step up. Alo-ne wit-ho-ut Ga-be is go-ing to be hell." "He'll co-me to his sen-ses," Nell sa-id. "He'll ask me back. He'll want me back." "And if he do-esn't?" "Then I'll start a new li-fe. What wo-uld you say to star-ting a new bu-si-ness with me?" "Do-ing what?" Su-ze sa-id, frow-ning at her. "I tho-ught that co-uld be yo-ur call," Nell sa-id, co-ming to sit be-si-de her. "You de-ci-de what you want to do, and I'll run the bu-si-ness si-de." Su-ze clo-sed her eyes and sho-ok her he-ad. "Nell, I don't even know who I am right now, let alo-ne what I want to do. I can't even walk away from the man I'm di-vor-cing. He ke-eps cal-ling and I can't bring myself to hang up. I know you can run an-y-t-hing, but I'm not yo-ur an-s-wer." She to-ok Nell's hand. "And this is duc-king the prob-lem an-y-way. You lo-ve Ga-be. You lo-ve the agency. I've ne-ver se-en you as happy as you've be-en the-se past months. Wal-king out on him was dumb." ' Nell swal-lo-wed. "You're sup-po-sed to be on my si-de." "I am," Su-ze sa-id. "Go back the-re right now." "What?" Nell sa-id, ta-king her hand back, out-ra-ged. "I'm not go-ing to apo-lo-gi-ze." "I didn't say apo-lo-gi-ze. Go back the-re and do him on his desk and he'll for-get it ever hap-pe-ned."

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"No, he won't. He'll re-mem-ber and know I ca-ved. If I'm ever go-ing to be an-y-t-hing but so-me-body he or-ders aro-und, I ha-ve to stick this out." "He's pro-bably thin-king the sa-me thing abo-ut you." Su-ze cros-sed her arms, lo-oking dis-gus-ted. "I ha-ve to tell you, you're not go-ing to get a lot of sympathy from me on this one. You we-re happy with him." "I can't sell myself in-to bon-da-ge be-ca-use he ma-kes me happy," Nell sa-id, her bra-va-do go-ne. "Be-ca-use I'm go-ing to re-sent it, and then I'm go-ing to re-sent him, and that'll kill it. That's what hap-pe-ned with Tim. I had to pre-tend that he was the smart one, that I li-ved only to ser-ve, and I star-ted to ha-te it and then I ha-ted him. No won-der he left." Su-ze sat back. "I had no idea." "I didn't, eit-her," Nell sa-id. "Until I was lis-te-ning to Ga-be tell me I was not-hing but a sec-re-tary, and it was de-ja vu all over aga-in." She bit her lip. "I can see it co-ming for us, too, and I swe-ar to God, I'd rat-her le-ave him lo-ving him than lo-se him ha-ting him. I can't do that aga-in." "Oh," Su-ze sa-id. "Oh. You're right. My God. That's what hap-pe-ned with me and Jack. Not the ma-ni-pu-la-ting part, but…" She tho-ught abo-ut it a mo-ment. "I just got so ti-red of be-ing the child bri-de, and he wo-uldn't let me be what I ne-eded to be." "I know," Nell sa-id. "And that ma-kes it so much wor-se. If you can lo-ok at so-me-body and say, 'I ne-ver lo-ved you, you we-re a mis-ta-ke,' that's one thing. But if you lo-ok at him and say, 'You we-re ever-y-t-hing and I po-iso-ned it be-ca-use I wo-uldn't stand up for myself,' that's hard. That's too hard. I can't do that with Ga-be." "You're right," Su-ze sa-id. "Okay, you win. How can I help? Be-si-des star-ting a new bu-si-ness with you," she ad-ded has-tily. "That's out un-til I get my li-fe to-get-her." "Go be Ga-be's sec-re-tary on Mon-day," Nell sa-id. "Call Mar-gie to ta-ke back The Cup for a whi-le, and go help him and Ri-ley. You know how to ke-ep the pla-ce run-ning. I don't want the bu-si-ness to suf-fer. And God knows, Mar-gie ne-eds to get out of that ho-use. She's get-ting stran-ger by the day." "You su-re you want to le-ave him?" Su-ze sa-id. "I'm su-re," Nell li-ed. On Mon-day, Ga-be smel-led cof-fee as he ca-me down the sta-irs from his apar-t-ment and felt unac-co-un-tably re-li-eved. Of co-ur-se Nell hadn't re-al-ly left him. She was a sen-sib-le wo-man. She lo-ved him. She He stop-ped in the do-or-way to the of-fi-ce. She was Su-ze, lo-oking li-ke a Hit-c-h-cock blon-de in a well-cut gray su-it a lot li-ke the one Nell had be-en we-aring when she'd put her sho-ul-der in-to his win-dow that first day. "Hi," Su-ze sa-id, po-uring his cup of cof-fee. "Nell sent me to fill in un-til you find so-me-body el-se. I'm ho-ping it's just un-til you co-me to yo-ur sen-ses and beg her to co-me back." "Do you ha-ve any idea how to run this of-fi-ce?" Ga-be sa-id. "Li-ke Nell did?" Su-ze nod-ded. "She's be-en sho-wing me things right along. I can't sol-ve any prob-lems, but I can ke-ep the pla-ce go-ing." "Who's run-ning The Cup?" "Mar-gie. Sin-ce it was an emer-gency, she told Bud-ge she had to co-me back." "You're hi-red," Ga-be sa-id. "As long as you don't mess with my bu-si-ness cards, you can stay." "Yo-ur bu-si-ness cards are butt-hgly," Su-ze sa-id. He to-ok his cof-fee cup from her, sa-id "Thank you," went in-to his of-fi-ce, and sat down at his desk. His fat-her's pin-s-t-ri-ped jac-ket sne-ered at him from the co-at-rack, re-min-ding him of Nell and tho-se long, long legs. "Su-ze," he yel-led and she ca-me in. "Get rid of that co-at. And ta-ke the hat whi-le you're at it." "Okay," Su-ze sa-id, col-lec-ting them. "Anything el-se?" She sto-od in a shaft of sun-light from the win-dow, pos-sibly the most be-a-uti-ful wo-man he'd ever se-en in re-al li-fe, and he wis-hed she we-re Nell. "No," he sa-id. "Thanks an-y-way."

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Su-ze to-ok the hat and co-at out to the re-cep-ti-on ro-om and sto-wed them in the clo-set the-re. Un-til Ga-be got out of this mo-od, she wasn't get-ting rid of an-y-t-hing. She sat down at the desk and cal-led up the ap-po-in-t-ment log as Ri-ley wal-ked in and stop-ped de-ad in the do-or-way. "No," he sa-id. "What?" she sa-id. "I'm just fil-ling in un-til they get over this." "No, you are not," he sa-id, lo-oking li-ke a mad-de-ned bull. He po-in-ted to the do-or-way. "Out." "Ga-be sa-id I ha-ve the job," Su-ze sa-id. "What's the mat-ter with you?" He wal-ked past her and went in-to Ga-be's of-fi-ce wit-ho-ut knoc-king, and she he-ard him say, "No, no, no," be-fo-re he slam-med the do-or. What the hell was wrong with him? She got up and pres-sed her ear to the do-or, but she co-uldn't he-ar an-y-t-hing, so she tur-ned the do-or-k-nob slowly and pus-hed the do-or open just eno-ugh to he-ar Ga-be say, "Get over it. We ne-ed her un-til Nell co-mes to her sen-ses." "Nell is not go-ing to co-me to her sen-ses," Ri-ley sa-id. "Nell is right. You are wrong. Go apo-lo-gi-ze and get that blon-de out of he-re." Go-od for you, Su-ze tho-ught, ig-no-ring the blon-de part. "You know, the-re's a dis-tinct pos-si-bi-lity she do-esn't want to sle-ep with you," Ga-be sa-id. "It's not ine-vi-tab-le." "Yes, it is," Ri-ley sa-id. "She go-es." Me? Su-ze tho-ught. "She stays," Ga-be sa-id. "Grow up." "Let me ask you this," Ri-ley sa-id. "Has the-re ever be-en, in the six-ty-ye-ar his-tory of this firm, a sec-re-tary one of the par-t-ners didn't sle-ep with?" "No," Ga-be sa-id. "But we're co-ming up on a brand-new cen-tury. An-y-t-hing is pos-sib-le." "That's why I want her out of he-re," Ri-ley sa-id, and his vo-ice was clo-ser, so Su-ze scram-b-led back to her desk and was typing gib-be-rish as he ca-me out the do-or and gla-red at her. "What is yo-ur prob-lem?" she sa-id to him, as in-no-cently as pos-sib-le. "I'm a ter-ri-fic wor-ker." "I ha-ve no do-ubt," Ri-ley sa-id. "It's not you. Exactly." "Well, then?" "We ha-ve a tra-di-ti-on he-re. You don't fit it." "Oh, ple-ase," Su-ze sa-id. "I do, too. I'm per-fect for it." "What?" He lo-oked star-t-led, and she po-in-ted at the black bird on the fi-ling ca-bi-net. "The Mal-te-se Fal-con," she sa-id. "Sam Spa-de. I ma-ke a gre-at Ef-fie Pe-ri-ne. You can even call me 'Pre-ci-o-us.' I'll gag, but I'll han-d-le it." "You know The Mal-te-se Fal-con?" "Of co-ur-se, I know The Mal-te-se Fal-con," Su-ze sa-id, an-no-yed that he tho-ught she was stu-pid. "It's not my fa-vo-ri-te but-" "What's wrong with it?" Ri-ley sa-id, lo-oking bel-li-ge-rent aga-in. "Sam Spa-de, for one thing," Su-ze sa-id. "That 'I won't play the sap for you, swe-et-he-art' bit. What a crock." "Hey," Ri-ley sa-id. "Do not cri-ti-ci-ze Sam-" "He spent the who-le story pla-ying the sap for her," Su-ze went on. "She fed him one li-ne af-ter anot-her and he bo-ught them all be-ca-use he wan-ted to sle-ep with her, and then she slept with him and he bo-ught so-me mo-re be-ca-use he wan-ted to con-ti-nue sle-eping with her. If they'd stuck a spi-got in him, they'd ha-ve had map-le syrup." "You cle-arly do not un-der-s-tand the co-de," Ri-ley sa-id. "What co-de?" Su-ze snor-ted. "He was sle-eping with his par-t-ner's wi-fe. That's a co-de?" "Wo-men are tre-ac-he-ro-us-" Ri-ley sa-id. "You're pat-he-tic," Su-ze sa-id. "I ha-ve work to do. You can go." "- but I'm on to you," Ri-ley went on. "I won't play the sap for you, swe-et-he-art." "Oh, su-re you will," Su-ze sa-id and tur-ned back to the com-pu-ter. "Pro-bably," Ri-ley sa-id and went in-to his of-fi-ce.

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Su-ze sat and sta-red at the com-pu-ter scre-en for a mi-nu-te and then she got up and went in-to Ri-ley's of-fi-ce. "Sin-ce you ha-te me an-y-way," she be-gan. "I don't ha-te you," he sa-id, lo-oking an-no-yed. "- I slept with Jack Sun-day night." He was still for a mo-ment, and then he le-aned back in his cha-ir. "Con-g-ra-tu-la-ti-ons." "I fe-el re-al-ly stu-pid," Su-ze sa-id. "I was re-al-ly get-ting over him and-" "Su-ze, you we-re mar-ri-ed to him for fo-ur-te-en ye-ars. You don't just walk away from that. At le-ast wo-men li-ke you don't." "What do you me-an, wo-men li-ke me?" "You lo-ved him for a long ti-me. It ta-kes a whi-le to get over a long mar-ri-age." "Two ye-ars." "What?" "You sa-id two ye-ars. When we we-re tal-king abo-ut Nell." "Right," Ri-ley sa-id. "Most pe-op-le are pretty much back on track af-ter two ye-ars." "I'll be thir-ty-fo-ur," Su-ze sa-id. "And still a ba-be," Ri-ley sa-id. "Re-lax and gi-ve yo-ur-self so-me ti-me." "You are be-ing aw-ful-ly ni-ce abo-ut this," Su-ze sa-id. "What's wrong with you?" "I don't hit pe-op-le when they're down. Ho-we-ver, you se-em to be re-co-ve-ring ni-cely, so watch it from now on." Su-ze nod-ded and tur-ned back to the do-or-way. "So you ca-me in he-re so I'd be lo-usy to you?" Ri-ley sa-id. "Thanks a lot." "No. I had to talk abo-ut it with so-me-body, and for so-me re-ason I pic-ked you." "Okay," Ri-ley sa-id. "You all right?" "Yes," Su-ze sa-id and to-ok a de-ep bre-ath. "I cer-ta-inly am." Nell was sit-ting at her di-ning ro-om tab-le, drin-king her third cup of cof-fee and trying to think of a plan, any plan, when the pho-ne rang. Ga-be, she tho-ught, but when she pic-ked it up, it was Jack. "Hel-lo, Nell," he sa-id with his usu-al I-ha-te-you-be-ca-use-you-bro-ke-up-my-mar-ri-age chill. "Is Su-ze the-re? She's not at ho-me or at The Cup." "No," Nell sa-id. "Can I ta-ke a mes-sa-ge?" You adul-te-ro-us we-asel. "Do you know whe-re she is?" Jack sa-id, and then as an af-ter-t-ho-ught, "Why are you ho-me?" "I qu-it," Nell sa-id, fi-gu-ring it was the easi-est way to get rid of him. "You qu-it." Jack was qu-i-et for a few mo-ments, long eno-ugh for Nell to won-der what the hell he was do-ing. Glo-ating didn't ta-ke that long, at le-ast not for so-met-hing as mi-nor to Jack's exis-ten-ce as her em-p-loy-ment. "I got the im-p-res-si-on you we-re pretty much run-ning the pla-ce," he sa-id fi-nal-ly. "Ga-be got that im-p-res-si-on, too," Nell sa-id. "Don't worry, I'll find so-met-hing." "Of co-ur-se you will," he sa-id auto-ma-ti-cal-ly, and she frow-ned at the pho-ne. He wasn't glo-ating at all. "Well, best of luck," he sa-id fi-nal-ly and hung up, and Nell tho-ught, What was that all abo-ut? Half an ho-ur la-ter, he cal-led her back. "She's still not he-re, Jack," Nell sa-id. "I know," Jack sa-id. "I was just tal-king to Tre-vor, and he sug-ges-ted you co-me work for us. And I think it's a go-od idea." "What?" Nell sa-id. "Jack, you ha-te me." "That's a lit-tle strong," Jack sa-id. "I don't think you hel-ped my mar-ri-age any, but you are my sis-ter-in-law. You're fa-mily. I want to help." Su-re you do. He was up to so-met-hing. Se-ven months ear-li-er, Nell wo-uld ha-ve told him to stuff his lunch, but wor-king with Ga-be and Ri-ley had ta-ught her the be-ne-fits of fin-ding out why pe-op-le did things. "That's so swe-et of you, Jack," she sa-id, ma-king her vo-ice as mel-low as pos-sib-le. "Re-al-ly, I'm to-uc-hed."

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"Fa-mily is fa-mily, Nell," Jack sa-id, equ-al-ly mel-low. "Why don't we ha-ve lunch at the Syca-mo-re at twel-ve and talk abo-ut it?" "The Syca-mo-re," Nell sa-id. "All right. Thank you." "An-y-t-hing for fa-mily," he sa-id. Nell hung up and tho-ught, The lack of sin-ce-rity in that con-ver-sa-ti-on was frig-h-te-ning. What co-uld he pos-sibly want with her? And why the Syca-mo-re? It must be Su-ze. He co-uldn't pos-sibly be ho-ping she was go-ing to talk Su-ze in-to go-ing back to him. Not even Jack was that de-lu-si-onal. But the Syca-mo-re? May-be he was ho-ping it wo-uld get back to Su-ze? Ma-ke her je-alo-us? "This sho-uld be in-te-res-ting," she told Mar-le-ne. She pic-ked up the pho-ne and cal-led the agency, pra-ying Su-ze wo-uld an-s-wer in-s-te-ad of Ga-be. She did. "I just got an in-vi-ta-ti-on to lunch from yo-ur hus-band," Nell sa-id. "At the Syca-mo-re. I'm go-ing." "From Jack?" Su-ze so-un-ded dum-b-fo-un-ded. "He's up to so-met-hing," Nell sa-id. "And I don't ha-ve an-y-t-hing to do to-day." "Well, ta-ke no-tes," Su-ze sa-id. "We'll dis-cuss it la-ter." "Any tips?" "When he's char-ming, he can be re-al-ly tricky. If he's knoc-king him-self out for you, he's go-ing to be hard to re-sist." "This is me," Nell sa-id. "He's a we-asel." "I don't ca-re," Su-ze sa-id. "He's go-od." "Not as go-od as I am," Nell sa-id. "I'll drop Mar-le-ne off on my way." Whi-le Su-ze was on the pho-ne, Ga-be was trying to con-cen-t-ra-te on a re-port. He ga-ve it up gladly when Lu knoc-ked on his do-or and ca-me in. "Nell isn't out the-re," she sa-id, snif-fing. "I know Nell's not the-re," Ga-be sa-id, and then he got a go-od lo-ok at Lu's swol-len eyes and qu-ive-ring mo-uth. "What's wrong?" "J-ase and I are over." Lu swal-lo-wed hard be-fo-re she sat down. "Expla-in men to me." She was trying so hard not to cry that her who-le fa-ce wa-ve-red. "They're all af-ter one thing," Ga-be sa-id auto-ma-ti-cal-ly, hor-ri-fi-ed at how des-t-ro-yed she was. "What hap-pe-ned?" "It can't be that," Lu sa-id. "He got that." "Okay, I'll kill him," Ga-be sa-id. "No, you can't, I lo-ve him." Lu snif-fed. "I know that's dumb, but I can't help it." "What hap-pe-ned?" Ga-be sa-id aga-in, hol-ding on to his an-ger with ever-y-t-hing he had. "I tho-ught this was fo-re-ver." "I tho-ught so, too," Lu sa-id and sob-bed aga-in. "But he won't marry me." "Oh, Christ," Ga-be sa-id, go-ing cold. "You're preg-nant." "I am not!" In-dig-na-ti-on cle-ared Lu's fa-ce. "What do you think I am, stu-pid?" "No," Ga-be sa-id, ta-ken aback. "I got con-fu-sed on the mar-ri-age part." "I lo-ve him," Lu sa-id. "I want to marry him." "You're too yo-ung," Ga-be sa-id auto-ma-ti-cal-ly. "That's what he sa-id." Lu snif-fed one mo-re ti-me and then stra-ig-h-te-ned in her cha-ir. "He sa-id we had to wa-it un-til we'd both gra-du-ated. That's mo-re than three ye-ars." Ga-be si-lently apo-lo-gi-zed to Jason Dysart. "Okay, calm down. You pro-po-sed to him?" "Well, he wasn't," Lu sa-id, lo-oking an-no-yed. "I me-an he's be-en tel-ling me he lo-ved me for months, and he do-es, you know. He re-al-ly do-es. He's won-der-ful. We're won-der-ful to-get-her. Li-ke you and Nell." "Bad com-pa-ri-son," Ga-be sa-id, grimly. "Nell left me." "Did you ask her to marry you?" "No," Ga-be sa-id, ta-ken aback. "My God, no. What are you tal-king abo-ut?" "I tho-ught may-be it was a fa-mily thing," Lu sa-id, mi-se-rab-le. "You know, you start tal-king

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mar-ri-age and they bolt." "Lu, Jase is right on this one. Al-t-ho-ugh I don't see why he dum-ped you," Ga-be sa-id, thin-king, Li-ke mot-her, li-ke son. Why an-y-body ever got in-vol-ved with a Dysart "That was me," Lu sa-id, lo-oking mi-se-rab-le aga-in. "I told him if he didn't marry me, it was over." "That was stu-pid," Ga-be sa-id, and Lu burst in-to te-ars. "Well, I'm sorry, but it was. If you re-al-ly lo-ve him, you don't gi-ve him an ul-ti-ma-tum and walk out the do-or, you stick aro-und and fix things." He tho-ught of Nell, her chin stuck out, wal-king past him. Qu-it-ter. "Are you go-ing to fix things with Nell?" Lu sa-id, gla-ring at him thro-ugh her te-ars. "No," Ga-be sa-id. "I'm go-ing to wa-it un-til she co-mes to her sen-ses and co-mes back on her own. I don't li-ke emo-ti-onal blac-k-ma-il." "You and Jase," Lu sa-id. "You're both wil-ling to lo-se the wo-men you lo-ve rat-her than do the right thing. You're wil-ling to be alo-ne fo-re-ver." She burst in-to te-ars, and Ga-be went aro-und the desk and ha-uled her up out of her cha-ir. She le-aned aga-inst him and he put his arms aro-und her. "Lo-ok, if you're un-hap-py, go get him back." "How?" Lu sa-id wetly in-to his su-it jac-ket. "Un-less he's an idi-ot, if you start with an apo-logy and ta-ke back the ul-ti-ma-tum, I'd say you've got it ma-de." "I'm not go-ing to apo-lo-gi-ze," Lu sa-id. "I'm right." "And alo-ne," Ga-be sa-id, ste-ering her to-ward the do-or. "Be-ing right is cold com-fort, ho-ney. And to tell you the truth, you're not that right. Let me ex-p-la-in the art of com-p-ro-mi-se over lunch." "You?" Lu sa-id, blin-king at him as she let him gu-ide her out. "This sho-uld be go-od." On the way out, he sa-id to Su-ze, "We're go-ing to lunch. Back in an ho-ur." "Lunch?" Su-ze sa-id brightly. "You know, the Fi-re Ho-use do-es a ni-ce lunch." "I want a Re-uben at the Syca-mo-re," Lu sa-id, ben-ding to pat Mar-le-ne who was stret-c-hed out on the co-uch in her tren-c-h-co-at. "Ex-cel-lent Re-ubens at the Fi-re Ho-use," Su-ze sa-id. "And it's qu-i-eter." Ga-be wat-c-hed her smi-le en-co-ura-gingly at Lu. "Sin-ce when are you a fan of the Fi-re Ho-use?" "Oh, I've al-ways be-en a fan of the Fi-re Ho-use," Su-ze sa-id. "It's right aro-und the cor-ner from me. They do an al-mond-en-c-rus-ted tro-ut that-" "What's go-ing on?" Ga-be sa-id. "Not-hing," Su-ze sa-id. Ga-be le-aned on the desk, lo-oming over her. "You are the worst li-ar I ha-ve ever met." "Don't get out much, do you?" Su-ze sa-id and tur-ned her back on him to work on the com-pu-ter. "Is the-re so-met-hing wrong?" Lu sa-id. "We'll find out when we get to the Syca-mo-re," Ga-be sa-id and wat-c-hed Su-ze's sho-ul-ders slump in de-fe-at. When they we-re go-ne, Su-ze buz-zed Ri-ley and sa-id, "Is Ga-be the je-alo-us type?" "In ge-ne-ral, no." "Be-ca-use he's go-ing to the Syca-mo-re with Lu, and he's go-ing to see Jack ha-ving lunch with Nell." "Won-der-ful," Ri-ley sa-id. "If you me-an is he go-ing to go kick sand in Jack's fa-ce, no. If you me-an is he go-ing to co-me back in a lo-usy mo-od, yes. Why the hell is Nell ha-ving lunch with Jack?" "Be-ca-use he as-ked her to. Al-so it's a free lunch." "The-re is no free lunch," Ri-ley sa-id. "You hungry?" "Ye-ah, you and I ha-ving lunch at the Syca-mo-re is exactly what this mess ne-eds," Su-ze sa-id. "I'm sta-ying he-re. So-me-body has to call 911 when the sho-uting starts." "I was thin-king mo-re abo-ut Chi-ne-se ta-ke-o-ut," Ri-ley sa-id. "You co-uldn't pay me to ha-ve lunch at the Syca-mo-re to-day." "Ex-t-ra pot-s-tic-kers, ple-ase," Su-ze sa-id. "Vi-ne-gar with the fri-es, ple-ase," Nell sa-id when the wa-it-ress had ta-ken the-ir or-der. Jack la-ug-hed, and the wa-it-ress smi-led her ap-pre-ci-ati-on of Jack la-ug-hing. He re-al-ly was a go-od-lo-oking man, Nell tho-ught, that rug-ged fa-ce, that sil-ver ha-ir, and tho-se blue, blue eyes. It

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was so un-fa-ir. Men got bet-ter as they aged and wo-men lo-oked wor-se. How did that hap-pen? It had to be per-cep-ti-on, the idea that ol-der men we-re ric-her and smar-ter, may-be. Of co-ur-se, ol-der wo-men we-re usu-al-ly ric-her and smar-ter, too, but tho-se we-ren't sel-ling po-ints for wo-men. High and tight we-re sel-ling po-ints for wo-men. "I'm glad you co-uld jo-in me," Jack sa-id, and Nell re-fo-cu-sed on him. "I know things ha-ve be-en stra-ined bet-we-en us, and that's not go-od for an-y-body. So how abo-ut co-ming to work for Ogil-vie and Dysart?" Nell tho-ught, Me and the OD fi-les. "I'd lo-ve to." "I can't be-li-eve Ga-be let you go," Jack sa-id, pic-king up his wi-neg-lass. "You re-vi-ta-li-zed his pla-ce." "Well, my work the-re was do-ne," Nell sa-id. "Onward and up-ward." "You re-vi-ta-li-zed yo-ur-self whi-le you we-re at it," Jack sa-id, smi-ling at her over his wi-ne. "I've ne-ver se-en you lo-ok this be-a-uti-ful." Oh, ple-ase. "Thank you," Nell sa-id. "I did a lit-tle re-mo-de-ling." "That co-lor's gre-at on you, too," Jack sa-id, ges-tu-ring to her pur-p-le swe-ater. "It's Su-ze's," Nell sa-id and wat-c-hed his smi-le fa-de for a mo-ment. "We tra-ded war-d-ro-bes. She got eno-ugh gray su-its to do a Ver-ti-go re-ma-ke." He sat back and sur-ve-yed her for a mo-ment, and Nell told her-self not to fid-get. What the hell was he do-ing? "It lo-oks bet-ter on you," he sa-id fi-nal-ly. "It re-al-ly do-es." He so-un-ded fa-intly sur-p-ri-sed, which ad-ded a ve-ne-er of ho-nesty to the com-p-li-ment. "You lo-ok gre-at." "Thank you," Nell sa-id, ta-ken aback. "You're fun to lo-ok at," he sa-id and grin-ned at her as he lif-ted his wi-neg-lass. "Thank you for brig-h-te-ning my day." He drank, and Nell tho-ught, He's still a we-asel. "So ni-ne at my of-fi-ce to-mor-row, then," Jack sa-id, put-ting his glass down. "And that's it for bu-si-ness." The wa-it-ress bro-ught the-ir fo-od, and Nell sprin-k-led vi-ne-gar on her fri-es and wa-ited for Jack's next mo-ve. "I wo-uld ne-ver ha-ve peg-ged you as the Re-uben type," Jack sa-id, star-ting on his Ca-esar sa-lad. "I'm not a type," Nell sa-id and bit in-to her cor-ned be-ef. "I'm be-gin-ning to see that," Jack sa-id, his vo-ice warm. "You know, I've be-en dumb." No kid-ding. "I ha-ve to stop cha-sing the-se yo-un-ger wo-men. Start con-cen-t-ra-ting on the smart, sassy wo-men my own age." He smi-led at her over his wi-ne aga-in, and Nell tho-ught, I'm twel-ve ye-ars yo-un-ger than you are, you as-sho-le, but she smi-led back at him to ke-ep him go-ing. "Ye-ah, the-re's a lot to be sa-id for se-aso-ning," she sa-id, pop-ping a vi-ne-gar-so-aked fry in her mo-uth. "And you do lo-ok spicy to-day," he sa-id. "You su-re you don't want wi-ne with yo-ur lunch?" Ye-ah, what wi-ne go-es with a Re-uben and fri-es? "Di-et Co-ke's my drink," she sa-id. And Glen-li-vet. The wa-it-ress had cle-ared off a tab-le next to the wall and now she mo-ti-oned two pe-op-le to it. That lo-oks li-ke Lu, Nell tho-ught and then cho-ked on her fry. "Are you all right?" Jack sa-id. Nell nod-ded, grab-bing her Di-et Co-ke to wash down the rest of the fry as Ga-be stop-ped at the-ir tab-le. "J-ack," Ga-be sa-id, and Jack jer-ked a lit-tle and then tur-ned aro-und. "We don't see you down this way much." Jack sto-od up to sha-ke his hand. "I just ca-me down to ste-al Nell from you. She's wor-king for us now." "Is she?" Ga-be sa-id, and Nell bra-ced her-self for the storm, but the-re wasn't one. "She's a ter-ri-fic

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sec-re-tary." Ga-be sa-id, and nod-ded at Nell. "Best of luck," he sa-id and went over and sat down ac-ross from Lu, which put him right in her sight li-ne. "He to-ok that pretty well," Jack sa-id, sit-ting down aga-in. "I don't think he wants me back," Nell sa-id, fe-eling sick. "We had so-me con-f-licts." "I he-ard that wasn't all you had," Jack sa-id. "Su-ze sa-id you and Ga-be we-re an item." "Well, we got de-le-ted," Nell sa-id, and then, sin-ce Ga-be was wat-c-hing, she for-ced a smi-le and sa-id, "So that's two po-si-ti-ons in my li-fe I ha-ve to fill, boss and lo-ver." "Only one," Jack sa-id, me-eting her eyes. "I'm yo-ur new boss." "Then I'm hal-f-way the-re." Across the ro-om, Ga-be sho-ok his he-ad and tur-ned his at-ten-ti-on back to Lu. "I ha-ve a co-urt da-te this af-ter-no-on," Jack was sa-ying, "or I'd ta-ke the ti-me to show you aro-und the firm myself." "We'll ha-ve plenty of ti-me," Nell sa-id, still smi-ling li-ke a ma-ni-ac. "I'm su-re the-re are lots of things for me to do at OD." "And I'll ma-ke su-re you enj-oy all of them," Jack sa-id. I'm go-ing to throw up now. Nell lo-oked over at Ga-be, tal-king se-ri-o-usly with Lu, and tho-ught, I sho-uld be over the-re. She le-aned for-ward and flir-ted with Jack for the rest of lunch and didn't lo-ok at Ga-be aga-in. Chapter Twelve Su-ze bra-ced her-self when Ga-be got back, pra-ying he'd ke-ep right on go-ing in-to his of-fi-ce, but Ri-ley, the big schmuck, sa-id, "How was lunch?" from the co-uch he was sha-ring with Mar-le-ne. Su-ze gla-red at him over her mu shu pork, and he sta-red calmly back at her over his Ge-ne-ral Tso. "In-te-res-ting," Ga-be sa-id. "Jack and Nell we-re the-re." "Re-al-ly?" Ri-ley sa-id, and Su-ze tho-ught, I'm go-ing to put vi-ne-gar in yo-ur cof-fee to-mor-row. "He hi-red her," Ga-be sa-id, wat-c-hing Su-ze. Ri-ley sat up, not kid-ding aro-und an-y-mo-re, an-no-ying Mar-le-ne, who'd be-en do-ing her abu-sed dog ro-uti-ne in ho-pes of so-me chic-ken. "To work at OD? And you had to go and piss her off. You co-uldn't be ni-ce so she'd tell us things." Ga-be lo-oked at him with con-tempt. "Of co-ur-se she's go-ing to tell us things. Why do you think she to-ok the job? What I want to know is why did they hi-re her? Tre-vor sa-id he'd tri-ed to get her out of he-re be-fo-re be-ca-use of the di-amonds. What if the-re's so-met-hing el-se he-re?" Ri-ley sho-ok his he-ad. "You know, yo-ur fa-ith in yo-ur-self as the cen-ter of her uni-ver-se is to-uc-hing. She to-ok the job be-ca-use she ne-eded the mo-ney. I just ho-pe to hell she do-esn't de-ci-de she ne-eds the boss, too." Ga-be's fa-ce dar-ke-ned and Su-ze sa-id, fast, "You ha-ve a pho-ne mes-sa-ge. So-me-body na-med Gi-na Tag-gart wants you to me-et her at the Long Shot at eight to-night. I told her you'd call her back." She held the mes-sa-ge slip out to him and he to-ok it. He star-ted to say so-met-hing to Ri-ley, and then he sho-ok his he-ad and went in-to his of-fi-ce. "Are you out of yo-ur mind?" Su-ze sa-id. "No." Ri-ley sat back and ga-ve Mar-le-ne a pi-ece of chic-ken. "He's too damn su-re of her." "You know, she pro-bably did ta-ke that job to lo-ok aro-und," Su-ze sa-id. "I know," Ri-ley sa-id. "Then why"Be-ca-use he ne-eds to worry abo-ut her," Ri-ley sa-id. "Ot-her-wi-se he'll just sit in that damn of-fi-ce and wa-it for her to co-me back, the way his dad al-ways did with his mom. He's fol-lo-wing a tra-di-ti-on he-re. Re-mem-ber how long they both wa-ited to mo-ve on each ot-her?" Su-ze nod-ded. "You want to watch that mess aga-in?" Su-ze sho-ok her he-ad. "Well?" Ri-ley sa-id and stab-bed his fork in-to the gar-lic chic-ken. Mar-le-ne mo-ved clo-ser and

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flut-te-red her eye-las-hes. "I don't want him yel-ling at me the way he yel-led at Nell," Su-ze sa-id. "I want him happy." "He's not go-ing to yell at you," Ri-ley sa-id. "You're not scre-wing up his li-fe." "No, he's do-ing that," Su-ze sa-id and Ri-ley grin-ned at her. "I see you're de-ve-lo-ping a ke-en un-der-s-tan-ding of the McKen-nas," he sa-id. "Only one of them. You are still a mystery to me." "Part of my charm." "A se-ven-te-en-ye-ar-old mind in a thir-ty-fi-ve-ye-ar-old body. How do you ke-ep that wor-king for you?" "Thir-ty- fo-ur," Ri-ley sa-id. "And I'm go-od, swe-et-he-art, I'm very, very go-od." Mar-le-ne mo-aned, and he ad-ded, "See?" "Ye-ah, you're hell with dac-h-s-hunds," Su-ze sa-id. "But will she still want you when the chic-ken's go-ne?" "So yo-ung to be so bit-ter," Ri-ley sa-id and went back to his of-fi-ce, Mar-le-ne tra-iling him in her tren-c-h-co-at. Jack had, not sur-p-ri-singly, over-s-ta-ted OD's re-cog-ni-ti-on of Nell's skills. He'd al-so evi-dently not tip-ped his as-sis-tant, Eli-za-beth, that he had ul-te-ri-or mo-ti-ves in hi-ring her, be-ca-use on-ce he'd in-t-ro-du-ced them, smi-led warmly at Nell, kis-sed her on the che-ek with an ex-ten-si-ve grasp on the sho-ul-der, and then left, Eli-za-beth lo-oked at her with lo-at-hing and sa-id, "We've fo-und the per-fect job for you." Who-ops, Nell tho-ught and con-si-de-red clu-e-ing Eli-za-beth in to the fact that Jack's in-te-rest was part of so-me plan. The fa-na-ti-cal light in Eli-za-beth's eyes stop-ped her. Eli-za-beth wo-uld tell Jack im-me-di-ately. So all Nell sa-id was, "Won-der-ful," and fol-lo-wed Eli-za-beth to a win-dow-less ro-om fil-led with mis-mat-c-hed fi-ling ca-bi-nets and over-f-lo-wing car-d-bo-ard bo-xes and a bat-te-red desk with a com-pu-ter on it from the early ni-ne-ti-es. "This is the new-s-let-ter ro-om," Eli-za-beth sa-id tri-um-p-hantly un-der the one wor-king flu-ores-cent light. "We ne-ed it or-ga-ni-zed. I un-der-s-tand you're won-der-ful at or-ga-ni-za-ti-on. So we'd li-ke you to fi-le the-se and then in-dex them." "In-dex them," Nell sa-id. "Go thro-ugh and ma-ke a list of na-mes with is-su-es and pa-ge num-bers," Eli-za-beth sa-id. "Not dif-fi-cult." A re-aso-nably bright third gra-der co-uld do this, Nell tho-ught, but she smi-led and sa-id, "Won-der-ful. I lo-ve to or-ga-ni-ze. Uh, co-uld we get the-se lights fi-xed?" "I'll get right on it," Eli-za-beth sa-id. An ho-ur la-ter, Nell had sco-ped out the si-tu-ati-on. No-body wan-ted the new-s-let-ters in-de-xed be-ca-use no-body in his or her right mind wo-uld ever want to re-ad an-y-t-hing in the new-s-let-ters. They we-re full of badly writ-ten puff pi-eces and badly lit pho-tos of pe-op-le stan-ding stiffly with smi-les pas-ted on the-ir fa-ces. All her dre-ams of tip-to-e-ing thro-ugh OD fi-les to find go-od stuff we-re bu-ri-ed un-der sixty ye-ars of go-od ser-vi-ce award an-no-un-ce-ments and re-ti-re-ment din-ner pic-tu-res. Gi-ven the fu-ti-lity of her task, the-re was only one re-ason Tre-vor had hi-red her: to ma-ke su-re she didn't go back to the McKen-nas. And the light still flic-ke-red. "Abo-ut the light," Nell sa-id, when she fo-und Eli-za-beth aga-in. Eli-za-beth stop-ped ma-king wha-te-ver highly im-por-tant de-ci-si-on she was ma-king and lo-oked at Nell with im-pa-ti-ent con-tempt. "I've cal-led them, Nell," she sa-id. "Now I ha-ve work to do." I'm go-ing to be he-re two we-eks, tops, Nell tho-ught, I don't ne-ed her. "I ne-ed the light fi-xed be-fo-re I can do any kind of re-al work." Eli-za-beth drew her-self up. "I sa-id I cal-led it in." "And I ap-pre-ci-ate it," Nell sa-id. "But they're ob-vi-o-usly not lis-te-ning to you." Eli-za-beth's eyes fla-red open, and Nell wal-ked aro-und her and knoc-ked on Jack's do-or.

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"You can't go in the-re," Eli-za-beth sa-id, but Nell ope-ned it and stuck her he-ad in an-y-way. "J-ack, I don't ha-ve a light in my of-fi-ce," she sa-id, as Jack lo-oked up star-t-led from his con-ver-sa-ti-on with so-me-body in a su-it. "Co-uld you-" "Eli-za-beth han-d-les that," Jack sa-id, cle-arly trying to ke-ep his tem-per. "Yes, but she's not," Nell sa-id. "I'm go-ing blind. They had light at the McKen-nas." "Eli-za-beth, "Jack sa-id, and fif-te-en mi-nu-tes la-ter Nell had light and Eli-za-beth's un-d-ying hat-red. And for the rest of the we-ek, she al-so had the new-s-let-ters, sor-ting them, fi-ling them, set-ting up the in-de-xing system, and typing in one me-anin-g-less na-me af-ter anot-her. She had fo-und the fi-les from 1978 im-me-di-ately, but the only thing of se-mi-in-te-rest was a full-pa-ge obi-tu-ary of He-le-na that must ha-ve ta-xed the wri-ter's ima-gi-na-ti-on: He-le-na re-al-ly hadn't li-ved eno-ugh to fill a full pa-ge. Nell lo-oked in 1993, too, to see if Ste-wart Dysart had got-ten a men-ti-on for lif-ting com-pany funds and de-ser-ting the se-ni-or par-t-ner's da-ug-h-ter, but the-re was not-hing. Only the go-od news got in-to the OD News No-tes. And she was go-ing to get to re-ad all of them. May-be Ga-be co-uld le-arn to com-p-ro-mi-se, she tho-ught as she star-ted with the la-test new-s-let-ter, pre-pa-red to work her way back thro-ugh to the be-gin-ning of ti-me. May-be I'll go sur-ren-der to Ga-be and li-ve with the old bu-si-ness cards. The sur-ren-de-ring part so-un-ded won-d-c-r-ful, right the-re on his desk wo-uld be go-od, but she kept typing an-y-way. The Mon-day af-ter Nell went to work for OD, the new bu-si-ness cards ca-me. Su-ze ope-ned one of the bo-xes and lo-oked at them, and then she to-ok both bo-xes in-to Ga-be's of-fi-ce whe-re he was con-fer-ring with Ri-ley. "Okay," she sa-id. "Yo-ur new bu-si-ness cards are he-re and they're go-od. Very qu-i-et, very classy, and frankly, a hu-ge im-p-ro-ve-ment on yo-ur old cards, which lo-oked ama-te-urish." "Lo-ok," Ga-be sa-id. "We don't ne-ed-" "You ha-ven't even se-en them," Su-ze sa-id. "Nell is go-ne, so this isn't abo-ut who's in char-ge. It's abo-ut the bu-si-ness cards, pe-ri-od, and the-se are bet-ter than yo-ur old ones. So ke-ep an open mind." "Let's see 'em," Ri-ley sa-id, and she han-ded him the box with his na-me on it. He ope-ned it, to-ok out a card, lo-oked at it for a mi-nu-te, and sa-id, "She's right." Su-ze put the ot-her box on Ga-be's desk and left, fi-gu-ring Ri-ley co-uld ta-ke it from the-re. When he ca-me out, she sa-id, "Well?" "He's co-ping," Ri-ley sa-id. "It helps that they're not ge-eky, and it helps a lot mo-re that they re-al-ly are bet-ter." "But mostly it helps that Nell's not he-re," Su-ze sa-id. "He was just bloc-king her." "No," Ri-ley sa-id. "The last cards we-re a nig-h-t-ma-re. This is the first thing she's do-ne that's shown any in-di-ca-ti-on that she un-der-s-tands what this pla-ce is abo-ut." "She me-ans well." "Which is abo-ut the worst thing you can say abo-ut an-y-body," Ri-ley sa-id and went in-to his of-fi-ce. An ho-ur la-ter, Su-ze was fi-nis-hing a pho-ne check on a re-fe-ren-ce when Jack wal-ked in. Every ner-ve in her body fro-ze, but she nod-ded to him and held up a fin-ger to say, Just a mi-nu-te, and he sat down on the co-uch and wa-ited, lo-oking in-s-c-ru-tab-le. Which me-ant he wasn't. The cal-mer Jack lo-oked, the mo-re in-ten-se he was abo-ut so-met-hing. That co-uldn't be go-od, but then the fact that he was sit-ting in front of her wasn't go-od, eit-her. She fi-nis-hed with the check, than-ked the guy she'd be-en tal-king to, hung up, and ma-de a no-ta-ti-on on the fi-le. Then she lo-oked at Jack and sa-id, "Hi." "You so-und just li-ke a pro-fes-si-onal," he sa-id, smi-ling at her. "I am a pro-fes-si-onal," she sa-id. "What's up?" He didn't say an-y-t-hing for a mi-nu-te, just ga-zed in-to her eyes, and she tho-ught, Fat chan-ce, buddy, and won-de-red why that had al-ways wor-ked be-fo-re. Pro-bably be-ca-use she'd lo-ved him. I don't lo-ve him an-y-mo-re, she tho-ught and won-de-red when that had hap-pe-ned. Not when she'd

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fo-und out abo-ut Oli-via. Be-fo-re. Ever-y-t-hing af-ter that had be-en let-ting go of il-lu-si-ons. Li-ke Nell had sa-id, she sho-uld ha-ve left whi-le she lo-ved him. "I've be-en ex-pec-ting a call from yo-ur di-vor-ce law-yer," he sa-id, fi-nal-ly. "J-e-an?" Su-ze blin-ked at him. He was right. She still hadn't told Je-an to fi-le. "Su-ze," he sa-id, le-aning for-ward. "You don't want this di-vor-ce any mo-re than I do." "Well, yes, ac-tu-al-ly, I do," Su-ze sa-id. "You slept with anot-her wo-man. That pretty much did it for me." That and fo-ur-te-en ye-ars of be-ing a child bri-de. "Su-ze, that's not fa-ir," Jack sa-id. "We we-re ha-ving prob-lems, ad-mit it." "J-ack," Su-ze sa-id. "I stop-ped let-ting you tell me what was fa-ir we-eks ago. You knew I was un-hap-py and you had sex with anot-her wo-man so you wo-uldn't ha-ve to ad-mit that I had a right to a li-fe, too. So fi-ne, now I ha-ve the li-fe I wan-ted and you ha-ve the ot-her wo-man. I'm su-re you'll le-arn to enj-oy 'N Sync as much as the Rig-h-te-o-us Brot-hers, you've al-ways be-en go-od at adap-ting to new wi-ves." "This is the li-fe you want?" Jack sa-id, lo-oking aro-und the of-fi-ce. "Ho-ney, this li-fe won't get you di-amonds." "J-ack, I don't li-ke di-amonds. I li-ke this." "This?" Jack sa-id in-c-re-du-lo-us. "Oh, that's gre-at. And what are you go-ing to do if Nell co-mes back? I can't ke-ep her on fo-re-ver. It's be-en a we-ek and she's al-re-ady dri-ving Eli-za-beth crazy." "Nell says Eli-za-beth thinks she owns you when you're in the of-fi-ce," Su-ze sa-id. "Eli-za-beth's just je-alo-us." "You al-ways did lis-ten to Nell be-fo-re you'd lis-ten to me," Jack sa-id, an ed-ge to his vo-ice. "May-be if you'd lis-te-ned to me-" "- you'd still ha-ve me en-tom-bed in that ho-use," Su-ze fi-nis-hed for him. "I no-ti-ce you ha-ven't left that ho-use," Jack sa-id. "Put it on the mar-ket," Su-ze sa-id. "I'll be out by the we-ekend." Jack sho-ok his he-ad. "I don't want you out. Lo-ok, I was trying to be ni-ce, but I've had it with Nell. She's not only bot-he-ring Eli-za-beth, she ke-eps co-ming on to me." Su-ze tri-ed not to let her skep-ti-cism show on her fa-ce, but it must ha-ve be-ca-use he ad-ded, "Ye-ah, I knew you wo-uldn't be-li-eve it, but she's not much of a fri-end, Su-ze, put-ting the ma-ke on yo-ur hus-band. I'm go-ing to let her go, and then she'll co-me back he-re and ta-ke this job away from you and then whe-re'll you be? Stay in the ho-use and let's gi-ve this anot-her chan-ce." "I ha-ve plans for when Nell co-mes back," Su-ze sa-id. "Re-al-ly?" Jack sa-id. "But no-ne of tho-se plans in-vol-ves fi-ling for di-vor-ce." Su-ze got her Palm V out of her pur-se. She ke-yed in Je-an's na-me and got her num-ber, whi-le Jack sa-id, "Cu-te. A Palm Pi-lot just li-ke the big girls." She di-aled Je-an's of-fi-ce, and when she got the sec-re-tary she sa-id, "Hi, this is Su-san-nah Cam-p-bell," and wat-c-hed Jack jerk back a lit-tle at the so-und of her ma-iden na-me. "Right. Wo-uld you tell Je-an to go ahe-ad and fi-le my di-vor-ce pa-pers? I sho-uld ha-ve cal-led so-oner but I for-got. Thanks." She hung up and lo-oked at Jack. "Anything el-se?" "You had it all," Jack sa-id. "I ga-ve you ever-y-t-hing." "Thank you," Su-ze sa-id. "Now you can gi-ve it to Oli-via. I'd send her my best, but I ne-ed it, so I'm just sen-ding her you. Ha-ve a ni-ce li-fe." Jack sto-od up, his fa-ce set and Su-ze tho-ught, I may ha-ve go-ne too far on that last one. Then he left, and Su-ze flop-ped back in Nell's er-go-no-mic desk cha-ir and bre-at-hed aga-in. Well, that was the past, this was the fu-tu-re. She was pretty su-re she had a fu-tu-re. She de-fi-ni-tely had plans, she was just af-ra-id to get star-ted on them. It's ti-me, she tho-ught and sto-od up, stra-ig-h-te-ning her skirt. Then she went to Ri-ley's do-or, which was slightly aj-ar, knoc-ked, went in, and sat down ac-ross from him. "You know, most pla-ces, pe-op-le wa-it for so-me-body to say, 'Co-me in,' be-fo-re they co-me in," Ri-ley sa-id. He was le-aning back in his desk cha-ir with a stap-led re-port in his hand, and he

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ap-pe-ared to be on abo-ut the third pa-ge. "Appe-ared," Su-ze tho-ught, was pro-bably the right word. The-re was no way he'd mis-sed an-y-t-hing in the outer of-fi-ce. The guy had ears li-ke a bat. "May-be they wa-it most pla-ces," Su-ze sa-id, "but not he-re." "Pic-ked that up, did you?" Ri-ley tos-sed the pa-pers on his desk. Su-ze to-ok a de-ep bre-ath, ope-ned her eyes wi-de, and smi-led at him. "Ri-ley, I-" He sat up and po-in-ted his fin-ger at her. "Don't do that." "What?" she sa-id, mysti-fi-ed. "That lit-tle-old-me lo-ok I'm not Jack. Just tell me what you want and we'll talk abo-ut it." "Okay. I want to work he-re." Ri-ley lo-oked ca-uti-o-us. "You do." "No," Su-ze sa-id. "I'm fil-ling in for Nell, and I can't wa-it un-til she co-mes back. This of-fi-ce stuff bo-res me to te-ars. But I li-ke what you do. I li-ke re-se-ar-c-hing and tal-king to pe-op-le and fi-gu-ring out things. And you ha-ve a lot of work he-re, too much, you're tur-ning down so-me pe-op-le. You co-uld tra-in me to do this and I'd be go-od at it. I want to work he-re as an in-ves-ti-ga-tor when Nell co-mes back." Ri-ley sat back aga-in and didn't say an-y-t-hing, so she wa-ited. She'd on-ce tho-ught he was a Ne-an-der-t-hal, but not an-y-mo-re. Now she had a gre-at de-al of res-pect for Ri-ley's tho-ught pro-ces-ses, or for most of them, an-y-way. "Okay," he sa-id and sat up aga-in. He pic-ked up the fi-le he'd be-en hol-ding and han-ded it to her. "Do this one." Su-ze to-ok the fi-le and lo-oked at the he-ading: Chec-kO-ut Girl. "This is Bec-ca Joh-n-son, right? She was in yes-ter-day." "What's she lo-ok li-ke?" Ri-ley sa-id. "Gi-ve me a des-c-rip-ti-on. De-ta-iled." Su-ze cal-led up the best of her me-mory of Bec-ca. "She's abo-ut fi-ve six, a hun-d-red and thirty po-unds, early thir-ti-es, Af-ri-can Ame-ri-can, brown eyes, brown ha-ir, pretty, ner-vo-us, we-aring a brown cot-ton tur-t-le-neck and a brown su-ede jac-ket from last ye-ar's Blo-omin-g-da-le's ca-ta-log-may-be the ye-ar be-fo-re, it's one of the-ir stan-dar-ds-Le-vi's je-ans, brown Aig-ner lo-afers. Her ear-rings we-re pla-in gold lo-ops, but they we-re re-al gold. I'd say she has a mid-dle-class in-co-me and uses it well. She had a mus-tard se-ed nec-k-la-ce, which was very old, so I'd al-so gu-ess she's sen-ti-men-tal, ro-man-tic, and has a strong re-li-gi-o-us bac-k-g-ro-und al-t-ho-ugh she may not be prac-ti-cing an-y-mo-re. She's not stu-pid, but that ro-man-tic stre-ak co-uld ma-ke her vul-ne-rab-le. Al-so, she par-ked in front of the win-dow and she was dri-ving a go-od-con-di-ti-on Sa-turn, so she's prac-ti-cal, and the-re was an OSU par-king tag han-ging from her mir-ror, an A tag, so she's with the uni-ver-sity." She stop-ped. "Tho-se A tags run clo-se to fo-ur hun-d-red bucks; she must re-al-ly ca-re abo-ut par-king." "An-y-t-hing el-se?" Ri-ley sa-id, lo-oking a lit-tle ta-ken aback. "Yes," Su-ze sa-id. "Her bag was Co-ach." "Which me-ans what?" "Qu-ality," Su-ze sa-id. "Bec-ca and I wo-uld get along fi-ne. Why are you lo-oking at me li-ke that?" "The Blo-omin-g-da-le's thing," Ri-ley sa-id. "You know what ye-ar the jac-ket was?" "Well, yes, but I co-uldn't tell you what ye-ar the Sa-turn was." Su-ze ges-tu-red with the fol-der. "So I just re-ad this and then what?" "She ca-me in yes-ter-day be-ca-use she fi-nal-ly con-f-ron-ted her boy-f-ri-end and he told her his na-me is Egon Ken-nedy and he's from Mas-sac-hu-set-ts, a dis-tant co-usin of the Ken-nedys. She be-li-eves him. We're skep-ti-cal. So we're chec-king it out even tho-ugh she just stop-ped by to tell Ga-be ever-y-t-hing is fi-ne." "Okay," Su-ze sa-id. "Any ad-vi-ce on how to do this?" Ri-ley pic-ked up a yel-low le-gal pad and tos-sed it to her. "Ta-ke no-tes." She le-aned for-ward and to-ok a pen from his Wi-le E. Co-yo-te mug, her pul-se pic-king up. "Go ahe-ad," she sa-id, and he star-ted to talk, and she wro-te down ever-y-t-hing, stop-ping him only to ask a qu-es-ti-on when so-met-hing wasn't cle-ar. When he was fi-nis-hed, she sa-id, "My God. You can

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find out an-y-t-hing abo-ut an-y-body." "And it's so much easi-er with the In-ter-net," he sa-id. "Now go and find out abo-ut our boy Randy." Su-ze nod-ded and sto-od up. "Thank you." "Ef-fie, if you can do this, we'll be than-king you," Ri-ley sa-id. "I can do this," Su-ze sa-id. "So you don't li-ke di-amonds?" Ri-ley sa-id. "No, but I li-ke gold and Ar-ma-ni," Su-ze sa-id. "I'm not che-ap, I'm dis-c-ri-mi-na-ting." "Go-od for you," Ri-ley sa-id. "Get to work." She tur-ned to go and he sa-id, "One mo-re thing." "Yes," she sa-id, tur-ning back, wa-iting for wha-te-ver slam he had re-ady for her. "That lit-tle-old-me thing?" She nod-ded. "You may use it on ot-her pe-op-le." "Thank you," she sa-id and es-ca-ped in-to the outer of-fi-ce be-fo-re she grin-ned. She was free. She had a chan-ce at a re-al job. She was go-ing to mo-ve, co-uld mo-ve to-night if she wan-ted to, Nell wo-uld ta-ke her. She pic-ked up the pho-ne di-rec-tory and lo-oked un-der "Mo-ving Com-pa-ni-es." "Yes," she sa-id when so-me-body an-s-we-red. "I'd li-ke to ar-ran-ge for so-me-one to pack a lot of very va-lu-ab-le chi-na. Spo-de." And then she told them to de-li-ver it to Oli-via. Nell ope-ned the do-or that night to find Su-ze stan-ding on her do-or-s-tep with three su-it-ca-ses and a lar-ge box full of egg cups. "You know that ex-t-ra bed-ro-om you ha-ve?" she sa-id. "Can I ha-ve it? I fi-led for di-vor-ce to-day." Nell ope-ned the do-or wi-der. "Co-me on in. It's abo-ut ti-me you ex-pe-ri-en-ced how the ot-her half li-ves." She put Su-ze in her bed for the night and cur-led up on the day-bed in the li-ving ro-om with Mar-le-ne and her che-nil-le throw sin-ce she co-uldn't sle-ep an-y-way. She mis-sed Ga-be, and it wasn't get-ting bet-ter, and she didn't know how to fix it. She co-uldn't go back to the waySo-me-body ham-me-red on the do-or, and for one mo-ment she ho-ped it was Ga-be. She pat-ted a cranky Mar-le-ne and put her on the flo-or in ca-se Ga-be was in one of his swe-eping mo-ods, kno-wing that with her luck it was pro-bably Far-n-s-worth, de-man-ding his Su-gar-Pie back. Which was only his right, she tho-ught gu-il-tily. But when she tur-ned on the porch light and lo-oked thro-ugh the cur-ta-in on the do-or, it was Jase. "What's wrong?" she sa-id, let-ting him in. "It must be mid-night." "This is me, crac-king," Jase sa-id grimly. "I ne-ed jewelry." "What?" "Do you still ha-ve the en-ga-ge-ment ring Dad ga-ve you?" Nell blin-ked at him. "Pro-bably. I think I stuck it in my jewelry box. Why? Oh, no, you're not-" "It's that or she'll le-ave me," Jase sa-id. "We fo-ught a we-ek ago. She's not bac-king down. I'm thin-king I can talk her in-to be-ing en-ga-ged un-til I can gra-du-ate and get a job." "J-ase, you're too yo-ung-" "Mom, I've be-en over this. She wants it now, and she's se-ri-o-us." He lo-oked mo-re mi-se-rab-le than Nell had ever se-en him. "Don't gi-ve me gri-ef on this. You don't want the ring an-y-mo-re an-y-way." "Ne-it-her do-es she," Nell sa-id. "It's a lo-usy ring. Yo-ur dad was re-al-ly po-or when he bo-ught it. Plus, we got di-vor-ced. She's Chloe's kid, she's go-ing to be-li-eve in kar-ma." "Oh, hell," Jase sa-id. "May-be I can get the sto-ne re-set." "J-ase, a jewe-ler wo-uld ha-ve a hard ti-me fin-ding that sto-ne, it's that tiny." Nell le-aned aga-inst the wall and tri-ed to think. "Un-c-le Jack buys Aunt Su-ze di-amonds she ne-ver we-ars," Jase sa-id, thin-king out lo-ud. "May-be she'd let me buy one from her on ti-me."

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"Mo-re bad kar-ma," Nell sa-id. "Yo-ur Aunt Su-ze is as-le-ep up-s-ta-irs. She fi-led for di-vor-ce to-day." "Gre-at," Jase sa-id. "Okay, okay." Nell tho-ught fas-ter. "You don't want Aunt Mar-gie's di-amond from Un-c-le Ste-wart, that go-es be-yond bad. I'm run-ning out of di-amonds he-re." "I'll sell my car," Jase sa-id. "J-ase, you co-uldn't get a zir-co-ni-um for what that car wo-uld bring. Are you su-re this is a go-od idea? Be-ca-use I don't li-ke it that Lu's hol-ding you up for jewelry." "She's not. She do-esn't ca-re abo-ut the ring. She wants to get mar-ri-ed." "Now?" Nell sa-id, fi-nal-ly com-p-re-hen-ding. "At last," Jase sa-id, cas-ting his eyes to the ce-iling. "Yes, now. She wants to be Mrs. Jason Dysart." "You're an in-fant," Nell sa-id, re-al-ly alar-med. "Is she in-sa-ne?" "I'm not an in-fant, and I want that, too," Jase sa-id. "Just not right away. I think I sho-uld be ab-le to sup-port a wi-fe be-fo-re I ta-ke one." "My God." Nell pul-led out a di-ning ro-om cha-ir and sank in-to it. "Mar-ri-ed?" "Get used to it," Jase sa-id, fol-lo-wing her. "It's go-ing to hap-pen. We we-re go-ing to mo-ve in to-get-her this sum-mer an-y-way." Nell jer-ked her he-ad up. "Are you nuts? Do you know what her fat-her wo-uld do to you?" "Boy, do-es this guy ha-ve you sno-wed. Lu's ni-ne-te-en. He can't do an-y-t-hing to me." "That's what you think. And he's in a lo-usy mo-od right now, too. You guys su-re know how to pick yo-ur mo-ment." "Gre-at." Jase lo-oked fraz-zled. "You know, I ha-ve eno-ugh prob-lems wit-ho-ut this. I ha-ve fi-nals, for Christ's sa-ke." Nell la-ug-hed. "Fi-nals. Ye-ah, you're old eno-ugh to get mar-ri-ed." "If I don't pass my fi-nals, I won't gra-du-ate," Jase sa-id grimly. "And if I don't gra-du-ate, I won't find a job. And if I don't ha-ve a job, I can't get mar-ri-ed, and I'll lo-se the wo-man I lo-ve. So yes, fi-nals." "Sorry," Nell sa-id. "You're right. I'm wrong." "The le-ast you co-uld do is go over the-re and jol-ly him out of it," Jase sa-id. "I can't," Nell sa-id. "I left." "You what?" "I qu-it. I qu-it the job and him. It's over." "I am a de-ad man." Jase sat down on the cha-ir next to hers and put his he-ad on the tab-le. Nell smo-ot-hed his ha-ir. "It'll be okay. We'll think of so-met-hing. The-re's my di-vor-ce set-tle-ment. I can gi-ve you-" "No," Jase sa-id, sit-ting up. "I'm not that big a mo-och. You're li-ving on not-hing now. For-get it." "The-re must be so-met-hing," Nell sa-id and then she fo-cu-sed on her chi-na ca-bi-net. "Cla-ri-ce Cliff." "Who?" "My chi-na," Nell sa-id. "The-re's a te-aset in the-re worth so-me mo-ney. I co-uld sell it." "Gran-d-ma Bar-nard ga-ve you that stuff," Jase sa-id. "From En-g-land." Nell lo-oked at him. "So it's my turn to gi-ve it to you." Jase swal-lo-wed. "You don't even want me to do this." "I'd li-ke you to think abo-ut it," Nell sa-id. "I'd li-ke you to do it wit-ho-ut her thre-ate-ning you. But if this is what you re-al-ly want, then I want it for you." "I want it," Jase sa-id. "But don't sell the chi-na yet. Let me talk to Gran-d-ma Dysart." "Cla-ri-ce wo-uld ap-pro-ve," Nell sa-id. "And so wo-uld Gran-d-ma Bar-nard. I'll call the de-aler in the mor-ning." "J-ust wa-it," Jase sa-id. "No," Nell sa-id. "I've spent too many damn ye-ars wa-iting. This is the right thing to do." The next day on her lunch ho-ur, Nell sold the te-aset-thir-ty-fo-ur pi-eces of pris-ti-ne Cla-ri-ce Cliff

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Sec-rets-to the an-ti-que de-aler in Clin-ton-vil-le who had ap-pra-ised it. Then she to-ok the check to Jase, who was im-p-res-sed and apo-lo-ge-tic, and then she went back to OD. "You're la-te," Eli-za-beth sa-id. "Ac-tu-al-ly, I'm not," Nell sa-id. "I left for lunch la-te be-ca-use I was fi-nis-hing up a sec-ti-on." "We ne-ed to know whe-re you are, Nell," Eli-za-beth sa-id, and Nell tho-ught, Why? In ca-se the-re's a new-s-let-ter emer-gency? "It'll ne-ver hap-pen aga-in," Nell sa-id and went back to the new-s-let-ter ro-om, thin-king, I gi-ve her un-til the end of the we-ek be-fo-re she fi-res me. She'd se-en as-sis-tants who we-re pos-ses-si-ve be-fo-re, but Eli-za-beth was ra-ising it to a new le-vel. It didn't help that du-ring the past we-ek Jack had ma-de it cle-ar that he fo-und Nell char-ming, en-c-han-ting, co-lor-ful, funny, swe-et, and in-dis-pen-sab-le. Nell knew that be-ca-use he'd told her all tho-se adj-ec-ti-ves, drop-ping them on her one at a ti-me for the cu-mu-la-ti-ve ef-fect. She hadn't bo-ught it, but Eli-za-beth had, and as Jack had grown war-mer, Eli-za-beth had grown po-si-ti-vely fri-gid. When she'd ta-ken to cri-ti-ci-zing Nell's clot-hing-"T-he pro-per at-ti-re for wo-men at OD is the su-it"-Nell had al-most felt sorry for her. It was pat-he-tic to fall ho-pe-les-sly in lo-ve with yo-ur boss. For one thing, it pla-yed hell with yo-ur job se-cu-rity. Get a grip, Eli-za-beth, Nell tho-ught now, and then tho-ught, Was that me with Ga-be? No, it wasn't. She hadn't be-en pos-ses-si-ve of Ga-be, she'd just wan-ted the right to run the of-fi-ce her way. He didn't want to run the damn of-fi-ce, he just wan-ted it run well. And she'd do-ne that. May-be if I'd sa-id that to him in-s-te-ad of or-de-ring bu-si-ness cards and slap-ping them on his desk… Well, that wo-uld be so-met-hing they co-uld talk abo-ut la-ter. If they ever tal-ked aga-in. She went back to the new-s-let-ter fi-les and pic-ked up a stack from 1992, mis-sing Ga-be and thin-king, I ha-te this job. So fi-ne, may-be she wo-uldn't wa-it for Eli-za-beth to toss her, may-be this we-ekend she'd get her plans to-get-her and fi-gu-re out what she wan-ted to do, and then she'd go do that. She be-gan to scan the old new-s-let-ters auto-ma-ti-cal-ly, ke-ying in the na-mes she fo-und, as she plan-ned. She wan-ted to run an of-fi-ce, she li-ked run-ning of-fi-ces, ke-eping ap-po-in-t-ments stra-ight, ke-eping ot-her pe-op-le or-ga-ni-zed. She re-al-ly didn't want to sell an-y-t-hing or le-ave the of-fi-ce to work with ot-hers, she wan-ted to ma-in-ta-in a small per-fect world for ot-hers to li-ve in. "Car-to-uc-he li-fe," Su-ze had cal-led it, and she was right. So all she had to do was find so-me-body she li-ked and res-pec-ted who was do-ing work she li-ked and res-pec-ted, and or-ga-ni-ze that per-son's bu-si-ness li-fe. Of co-ur-se, she'd al-re-ady fo-und that per-son in Ga-be but… She went on in-de-xing new-s-let-ters un-til, clo-se to fi-ve o'clock, she flip-ped over a new-s-let-ter and re-ad "Ste-wart Dysart." It wasn't the first ti-me she typed a pa-ge num-ber af-ter his na-me, but it was the first ti-me the-re'd be-en a pic-tu-re. It was Ste-wart all right, blond and run-ning to fat and ar-ro-gant as hell, his arm aro-und a pretty blon-de, his sec-re-tary, ac-cor-ding to the cap-ti-on. Kitty Mo-ran. Nell lo-oked clo-ser. Kitty Mo-ran lo-oked fa-mi-li-ar. Ex-t-re-mely fa-mi-li-ar. Nell put her thumb over Kitty's blon-de up-s-we-ep and ima-gi-ned her bru-net-te. Lynnie Ma-son. "I will be dam-ned," she sa-id out lo-ud and to-ok the new-s-let-ter out to the copy mac-hi-ne. When she was do-ne, she put the copy back in the fi-les and stuf-fed the ori-gi-nal in her pur-se, and then she went out to the hall-"Bat-h-ro-om bre-ak," she sa-id to Eli-za-beth, who frow-ned at her-and aro-und a cor-ner to anot-her sec-re-tary's desk. "Can I use yo-ur pho-ne?" she sa-id. "Eli-za-beth is-" The man pus-hed the pho-ne to-ward her. "You don't ne-ed to tell me abo-ut Eli-za-beth," he sa-id, and she grin-ned at him and di-aled Ri-ley's num-ber. "It's me," she sa-id when he an-s-we-red. "Tell me you're co-ming back," Ri-ley sa-id. "No. Lis-ten, I ha-ve so-met-hing you'd li-ke to see." "Ne-ver say that to me in front of Ga-be," Ri-ley sa-id. "I gat-her this is so-met-hing I ha-ven't

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al-re-ady se-en?" "Yes," Nell sa-id. "But I co-uld me-et you in an ho-ur and go in-to gre-at de-ta-il." "I al-so gat-her you are not alo-ne," Ri-ley sa-id. "I'm in the belly of the be-ast. How abo-ut the Syca-mo-re? Say, six?" "How abo-ut the Long Shot at eight? It's a bar on Front Stre-et in the Bre-wery Dis-t-rict. I ha-ve to be the-re an-y-way." "Okay," Nell sa-id, thin-king it was pro-bably just as well sin-ce Ga-be was li-kely to show up at the Syca-mo-re and fe-eling tre-ac-he-ro-usly di-sap-po-in-ted abo-ut that. "I ha-te to so-und me-lod-ra-ma-tic," Ri-ley sa-id, "but this isn't put-ting you in any dan-ger, is it?" Nell smi-led at the sec-re-tary who was bla-tantly lis-te-ning. "Yes," she sa-id. "Eli-za-beth is go-ing to kill me and hi-de my body in the new-s-let-ter ro-om, and let me tell you, it'll be de-ca-des be-fo-re an-y-body go-es in the-re aga-in." The sec-re-tary grin-ned at her. "E-ight, then," Ri-ley sa-id. "Lo-ok hot. I only hang out in bars with hot wo-men." "Li-ke that's news," Nell sa-id, and hung up, smi-ling at the sec-re-tary. "Thank you so much." "My ple-asu-re," he sa-id. "I'm go-od for an-y-t-hing that bugs Eli-za-beth." Nell went back to the new-s-let-ter ro-om and fo-und Jack wa-iting for her. "Ta-king a bre-ak?" he sa-id, smi-ling tightly at her, and she tho-ught, Uh-oh. So-met-hing hap-pe-ned whi-le be was out. "A small bre-ak," she sa-id. "Do you know the boss well eno-ugh to do that?" he sa-id and to-ok a step clo-ser. "Pro-bably not," Nell sa-id, trying not to over-re-act. "I'll just get back to work." "No hurry." Jack lo-omed over her, lo-oking mad as hell be-hind his smi-le. Okay, is he go-ing to bit me or kiss me? Nell tho-ught, and when Jack grab-bed her and kis-sed her, she was so re-li-eved she didn't stop him. He was a pretty go-od kis-ser, even when she knew he was do-ing it so she'd tell Su-ze. Nell he-ard a ble-ating so-und and pul-led back to see Eli-za-beth, stan-ding in the do-or to the new-s-let-ter ro-om. Nell lo-oked up at Jack and sa-id, "Bus-ted." Jack jer-ked back, gla-ring at Eli-za-beth, but be-fo-re he co-uld say an-y-t-hing, Nell sa-id, "You know, I am ab-so-lu-tely ru-ining the wor-king en-vi-ron-ment he-re. I qu-it." She duc-ked away from Jack and grab-bed her pur-se and es-ca-ped in-to the par-king lot, ne-it-her kno-wing nor ca-ring what was hap-pe-ning be-hind her, he-ading back to the Vil-la-ge whe-re she be-lon-ged. Ga-be had just got-ten back to the of-fi-ce when Ri-ley ca-me in and sat down ac-ross from him. "We're mis-sing a sec-re-tary aga-in," Ga-be sa-id. "Spi-nal Tap didn't ha-ve this much tro-ub-le with drum-mers." "She's out on a job," Ri-ley sa-id. "I ga-ve her Bec-ca's Randy." "You did." "She wants to be an in-ves-ti-ga-tor. I think she'd be go-od at it, and we're tur-ning down work. So I'm trying her out, and if she's go-od, she can mo-ve in-to that when Nell gets back." "And whe-re wo-uld we put her?" Ga-be sa-id, trying to ig-no-re the way his pul-se pic-ked up when he tho-ught abo-ut Nell co-ming back. "Chloe's sto-re-ro-om," Ri-ley sa-id. "We get rid of the fre-ezer and put a win-dow in the stre-et wall." "Chloe might ha-ve so-met-hing to say abo-ut that," Ga-be sa-id. "And then the-re's the qu-es-ti-on of whe-re we'd put the fre-ezer fi-les." "The ba-se-ment," Ri-ley sa-id. "Okay." Ga-be tur-ned on his com-pu-ter, not re-al-ly ca-ring. "It's yo-ur call." "She's go-ing to be go-od," Ri-ley sa-id. "She has skills we don't." "I ne-ver do-ub-ted it." He ope-ned his no-te-bo-ok and flip-ped thro-ugh un-til he fo-und the no-tes for his re-port. "By the way, I stop-ped by OD on a bac-k-g-ro-und check and of-fe-red Tre-vor and Jack a re-fe-ren-ce for Nell. I told them she'd or-ga-ni-zed ever-y-t-hing in the pla-ce ex-cept for the Por-s-c-he. We all got a la-ugh out of that." "Very sub-t-le. If the Por-s-c-he gets sto-len it's no-body's fa-ult but yo-ur own."

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"We can only ho-pe they're that dumb. I ha-ve it loc-ked in the ga-ra-ge so they'll ha-ve to ma-ke an ef-fort to get to it." "You are su-re the-re's not-hing in it?" "Po-si-ti-ve," Ga-be sa-id. "I'm not 'that dumb." "J-ury's still out on that," Ri-ley sa-id, "con-si-de-ring yo-ur fi-ne per-for-man-ce with Nell." "Was the-re an-y-t-hing el-se, or are you le-aving?" Ga-be sa-id. "So-met-hing el-se. Chloe cal-led from Lon-don." "Did she?" Ga-be squ-in-ted at his no-tes. "Did you ask abo-ut the ear-rings?" "Yes. Yo-ur fat-her ga-ve them to her in a red box with a de-vil on it when Lu was born. He told her to sa-ve them for Lu when she got mar-ri-ed. She wo-re them for the pic-tu-re, and then she put them away and for-got abo-ut them un-til I as-ked." "I knew she wasn't a di-amond kind of wo-man," Ga-be sa-id. "He ga-ve them to her in that box? The box with the car tit-le?" "Yep. But she put the box on the shelf in the bat-h-ro-om be-ca-use of the pic-tu-re on top of it. The de-vil. Bad kar-ma." "Chloe put it up on the shelf? Did it ha-ve the tit-le in it then?" "She didn't no-ti-ce. But I don't think an-y-body mo-ved it sin-ce she put it up the-re, so my gu-ess is yes." "Then Lynnie ne-ver had it. So what was she lo-oking for?" "The di-amonds," Ri-ley sa-id. "She was a di-amond kind of wo-man. Back to Chloe. She tal-ked to Lu, and Lu's up-set, so Chloe's up-set." Ga-be shrug-ged. "Lu and Jase are ha-ving so-me prob-lems. They'll work it out. I still don't get how Lynnie knew Tre-vor or Jack or why they'd tell her abo-ut the di-amonds." "Pay at-ten-ti-on to the pre-sent for a mi-nu-te," Ri-ley sa-id. "Chloe's wor-ri-ed abo-ut Lu. She's co-ming ho-me." "When?" "Sho-uld be he-re to-mor-row. She was at He-at-h-row when she cal-led." "Okay," Ga-be sa-id and went back to the com-pu-ter. "And Nell cal-led." Ga-be swung away from the com-pu-ter. "Re-al-ly." "She fo-und so-met-hing at OD. The-re we-re pe-op-le lis-te-ning, so she told me she'd tell me the rest to-night at the Long Shot. I'm me-eting her at eight." "The-re's a co-in-ci-den-ce," Ga-be sa-id. "I'm me-eting Gi-na Tag-gart the-re at eight." Ri-ley lo-oked in-no-cent. "I told Su-ze I'd ta-ke her the-re to-night, show her the ro-pes, so I'm me-eting Nell the-re, too. Con-ve-ni-en-ce. Not a co-in-ci-den-ce." "What ro-pes are the-re in a bar?" "I ha-ve my re-asons," Ri-ley sa-id. "I'm su-re you do," Ga-be sa-id. "And you did not tell Su-ze you'd ta-ke her to the Long Shot. You'll tell her that when she gets back. You set this who-le thing up so I'd see Nell." "You're a very sus-pi-ci-o-us man," Ri-ley sa-id. "Am I right?" "Yes." "Thank you," Ga-be sa-id. When Ri-ley was go-ne, Ga-be sat back and tho-ught abo-ut Nell and Su-ze and Chloe and then Nell aga-in. He wan-ted Nell back. "Com-p-ro-mi-se," he'd told Lu. May-be he co-uld cor-ner her to-night and sug-gest a com-p-ro-mi-se. At this po-int, she co-uld pre-sent a list of de-mands and he'd gi-ve her all of them. Ex-cept the win-dow. But an-y-t-hing el-se, she co-uld ha-ve. Oh, hell, she co-uld ha-ve that, too, as long as she ca-me back. He put De-an on and lis-te-ned to "Ever-y-body Lo-ves So-me-body So-me-ti-me," whi-le he ke-yed in the re-port and felt hap-pi-er than he had sin-ce Nell had left. When Nell got ho-me that night at six, she sho-wed Su-ze the pic-tu-re in the new-s-let-ter.

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"We sho-uld ta-ke this to Mar-gie," Su-ze sa-id. "We ha-ve ti-me. We don't ha-ve to be at the bar for two ho-urs. And she'll know abo-ut Kitty, I bet." She put the new-s-let-ter down. "We sho-uld talk to her an3way. She's be-en a lit-tle…s-t-ran-ge at work this we-ek." "Work do-es that to so-me wo-men," Nell sa-id, thin-king of Eli-za-beth. Half an ho-ur la-ter, sit-ting at her kit-c-hen tab-le over a glass of soy milk, Mar-gie squ-in-ted at the pic-tu-re and sa-id, "Yep, that's Kitty. I al-ways tho-ught Ste-wart was sle-eping with her." "You don't so-und too up-set," Su-ze sa-id. "Well, it was Ste-wart," Mar-gie sa-id. "She co-uld ha-ve him. In fact, I al-ways tho-ught she got him in the end." "You think he left with her?" Nell sa-id. "Well, I did. But if she ca-me back, whe-re is he?" Mar-gie sa-id, and then she put her glass down, hor-ri-fi-ed. "Oh, no. What if he's back? What if he ca-me back with her? What if they ran out of mo-ney and ca-me back he-re for mo-re? What'll I do?" "You'll get a di-vor-ce," Su-ze sa-id. "He's the em-bez-zler. He can't ma-ke any tro-ub-le for you." "Yes, he can," Mar-gie sa-id, sta-ring stric-ken at her soy milk. "I tri-ed to kill him." "Stop sho-wing off, Mar-ge," Su-ze sa-id. "I'm not sho-wing off," Mar-gie sa-id. "I hit him hard and he went down, blo-od all over the pla-ce. It was the only part of my mar-ri-age I re-al-ly enj-oyed." She smi-led wis-t-ful-ly, and Nell and Su-ze lo-oked at each ot-her. Then Su-ze pic-ked up Mar-gie's milk and tas-ted it. "Ama-ret-to," she sa-id. "Lots of it." "Mar-gie," Nell sa-id. "You've had eno-ugh cal-ci-um." "It is im-pos-sib-le for wo-men in our age gro-up to ha-ve eno-ugh cal-ci-um," Mar-gie sa-id, her vo-ice tight with pa-nic. "As you stand the-re, cal-ci-um is just drip-ping out of yo-ur bo-nes. Bud-ge says so." "What's he say abo-ut the Ama-ret-to?" Su-ze sa-id. "He do-esn't know abo-ut the Ama-ret-to," Mar-gie sa-id. "And he's ne-ver gon-na. What am I go-ing to do abo-ut Ste-wart?" "Not-hing," Nell sa-id, ke-eping her vo-ice up-be-at. "You did not try to kill him." "Ye-ah, I did," Mar-gie sa-id, snif-fing and sip-ping at the sa-me ti-me so that she cho-ked a lit-tle. "He was le-aving on a bu-si-ness trip and Bud-ge ca-me by and told me he'd ta-ken mo-ney from Daddy. So I told him he had to gi-ve it back or I'd le-ave, and he la-ug-hed and sa-id that I didn't ha-ve the bac-k-bo-ne to le-ave, and even if I did, I wo-uldn't be much of a loss be-ca-use I was bo-ring." "Uh- oh," Su-ze sa-id. "And then he tur-ned his back on me and I hit him with my Fran-cis-can De-sert Ro-se milk pit-c-her." "Oh," Nell sa-id, be-li-eving her now. "It was on the buf-fet, full of Qu-e-en An-ne's la-ce." She nod-ded in-to the dis-tan-ce. "That pit-c-her was a big suc-ker, and I ca-ught him right ac-ross the back of the he-ad with it. He went down li-ke a rock. Qu-e-en An-ne ever-y-w-he-re." "Okay," Nell sa-id, reg-ro-uping as fast as she co-uld. "Well-" "Then Bud-ge ca-me in, and I cal-led Daddy, and Daddy cal-led Jack, and I went up-s-ta-irs, and they got him to the air-port. And he ne-ver got on the pla-ne." She sho-ok her he-ad as if this we-re just one mo-re exam-p-le of Ste-wart's per-fidy. "So I fi-gu-red he was with Kitty and the mo-ney." "Bud-ge was the-re when you hit him?" Su-ze sa-id. "He was in the next ro-om," Mar-gie sa-id. "When Ste-wart ca-me ho-me, I ma-de Bud-ge go hi-de." "Ste-wart didn't see Bud-ge's car?" "He al-ways par-ked over on the si-de stre-et," Mar-gie sa-id. "Al-ways?" Su-ze sa-id, stra-ig-h-te-ning. "Mar-gie?" "Well, Ste-wart was re-al-ly aw-ful," Mar-gie sa-id. "In bed and out. And Bud-ge is re-al-ly go-od." Nell got up and po-ured her-self a milk and Ama-ret-to. "Okay. You we-re sle-eping with Bud-ge whi-le Ste-wart was ali-ve?" "It se-emed li-ke a go-od idea," Mar-gie sa-id. "Daddy do-esn't be-li-eve in di-vor-ce. He thinks Jack

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is a scan-dal." "So do I," Su-ze sa-id and po-ured her-self a glass, too. "So I was stuck. And then Ste-wart left, and the-re was Bud-ge. I owe him, so I ha-ve to stay with him. Most of the ti-me it's all right, but so-me-ti-mes he ma-kes me crazy. Li-ke he ha-tes me wor-king at The Cup. And the ve-ge-ta-ri-an thing. I me-an, I do think be-ing a ve-ge-ta-ri-an is im-por-tant, but ever-y-body ne-eds to che-at a lit-tle. I ha-ven't had a ham-bur-ger sin-ce he mo-ved in. So-me-ti-mes I'd kill for a ste-ak." "That shat-te-ring so-und you just he-ard was our il-lu-si-ons," Su-ze sa-id to Nell. "So then what hap-pe-ned? Af-ter Ste-wart left." Nell nod-ded at Mar-gie to en-co-ura-ge her. "Bud-ge ca-me back the next day and told me not to worry, that Daddy wo-uld see I'd ha-ve to di-vor-ce Ste-wart on-ce he fo-und out abo-ut the mis-sing mo-ney." Mar-gie lo-oked mu-ti-no-us. "Except he didn't. Daddy sa-id he didn't want any mo-re scan-dal. He sa-id he'd fix it so Ste-wart ne-ver bot-he-red me aga-in." "Hel-lo," Su-ze sa-id. "I think he was go-ing to ma-ke him be a go-od hus-band," Mar-gie sa-id. "Whe-re Daddy got the idea he knew an-y-t-hing abo-ut be-ing a go-od hus-band is be-yond me." "So you hit Ste-wart with the De-sert Ro-se pit-c-her," Su-ze sa-id, the won-der still in her vo-ice. "Ke-ep up," Nell sa-id to her. "We don't ha-ve ti-me to stop and re-vi-ew." "And he left and now I ha-ve Bud-ge. Sex isn't ever-y-t-hing. And he re-al-ly wants to get mar-ri-ed now." Mar-gie put her no-se back in her glass. "You know, you're go-ing to ha-ve to hit Bud-ge with the milk pit-c-her, too," Su-ze sa-id. "Su-ze." Nell smac-ked her with her fo-ot. "Hey, if I co-uld be-at Jack to de-ath with that damn Spo-de, I wo-uld," Su-ze sa-id, and Nell to-ok her glass of milk away from her. "I re-al-ly tho-ught that if I just didn't tell an-y-body, may-be no-body wo-uld ever know," Mar-gie sa-id sadly. "But that ne-ver works." "It's okay, ho-ney," Nell sa-id, pretty su-re it wasn't. "I ha-ve to go to the bat-h-ro-om," Mar-gie sa-id to no-body in par-ti-cu-lar and wan-de-red off to-ward her pow-der ro-om. "So Ste-wart's co-me back an-no-yed be-ca-use Mar-gie pas-ted him with her Fran-cis-can-wa-re se-ven ye-ars ago?" Su-ze sa-id. "That do-esn't ma-ke sen-se." "You're for-get-ting the two mil-li-on in in-su-ran-ce Bud-ge wants her to col-lect," Nell sa-id. "That wo-uld bring a lot of pe-op-le back from the de-ad." "Mar-gie bet-ter ke-ep that pit-c-her handy," Su-ze sa-id. "Gi-ve me back my milk." "Ga-be and Ri-ley are not go-ing to be-li-eve this." Su-ze to-ok her milk back. "You think we sho-uld tell them?" "Of co-ur-se we sho-uld tell them. Mar-gie's off the ho-ok. Ste-wart got up and wal-ked away." "Okay. But may-be you sho-uld le-ave out the part abo-ut her cloc-king him with the pit-c-her. And sle-eping with Bud-ge." "Which me-ans I tell them what? That Ste-wart fell down on his way to the air-port?" Su-ze lo-oked con-f-lic-ted. "She's our fri-end and she was mar-ri-ed to a son of a bitch." "She did not kill him with ear-t-hen-wa-re," Nell sa-id. "She's cle-ar even if he's de-ad. And he do-esn't ap-pe-ar to be de-ad. Al-t-ho-ugh Lynnie didn't so-und li-ke she was wor-king with an-y-body. She wan-ted me to work with her, so he co-uldn't be with her." "She was al-so the qu-e-en of the cons," Su-ze sa-id. "May-be it was a co-me-on." "No," Nell sa-id. "I trust her." "You trus-ted Tim, too," Su-ze sa-id, and Nell drank so-me mo-re milk. Mar-gie ca-me back. "I fe-el kind of sick." "Soy po-iso-ning," Su-ze sa-id. "Lay off the milk for a whi-le." "Okay," Nell sa-id, pus-hing the rest of her own milk away. "We ne-ed to con-cen-t-ra-te on the im-por-tant stuff he-re. Mar-gie, Ste-wart can-not hurt you, so stop wor-rying abo-ut him. And you

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don't ne-ed to marry Bud-ge if you don't want to." "Nell," Su-ze sa-id, war-ning in her vo-ice. "Stop do-ing wha-te-ver he says," Nell sa-id. "Ne-il," Su-ze sa-id, and Nell lo-oked up to see Bud-ge stan-ding in the li-ving ro-om do-or-way, lo-oking li-ke the Sta-Puf Mar-s-h-mal-low Man at the end of Gbos-t-bus-ters, re-ady to ta-ke out a city. "Bud-ge, she do-esn't want to get mar-ri-ed," Nell sa-id. "Yes, she do-es," Bud-ge sa-id. "She just thinks she do-esn't be-ca-use you're not. She thinks she wants ever-y-t-hing you do, li-ke an apar-t-ment in the Vil-la-ge, but she'd be mi-se-rab-le if she mo-ved." He ca-me up to the tab-le and put his arm aro-und Mar-gie, and his vo-ice ro-se as he went on. "You've up-set her. You're al-ways up-set-ting her. Every wo-man do-esn't ha-ve to be li-ke you. Every wo-man do-esn't want a job and an apar-t-ment. Apar-t-ments are dan-ge-ro-us. Ter-rib-le things hap-pen to wo-men in apar-t-ments, ra-pes and bur-g-la-ri-es and mur-ders. Mar-gie ne-eds to stay he-re with me whe-re she's sa-fe." Su-ze sa-id, "Mar-gie?" but Nell knew it wo-uldn't do any go-od. Mar-gie wo-uld fight back abo-ut the ti-me she threw out her din-ner-wa-re. "I think you'd bet-ter go," Bud-ge sa-id. The last thing they he-ard as they went out the do-or was Bud-ge sa-ying, "You know yo-ur daddy do-esn't want you tal-king to them, es-pe-ci-al-ly Nell. You sho-uld ha-ve told them you co-uldn't see them," and Mar-gie sa-ying, "I ne-ed so-me mo-re milk." On the way back down High Stre-et, Su-ze sa-id, "He ma-kes me ill." "That might be the soy and Ama-ret-to," Nell sa-id. "That might ha-ve be-en me," Su-ze sa-id. "I used to lis-ten to Jack li-ke that." "I let Tim pre-tend I was just the of-fi-ce help," Nell sa-id. "We do it be-ca-use we want to ke-ep the mar-ri-age go-ing." "I don't think I'm do-ing that an-y-mo-re," Su-ze sa-id. "Of co-ur-se, I'm pretty gul-lib-le. I be-li-eve an-y-t-hing I think." "I'm lying to myself abo-ut one thing," Nell sa-id. "Ga-be?" "Mar-le-ne," Nell sa-id, sta-ring at the dog on her lap, and Mar-le-ne pic-ked up her he-ad and lo-oked at Nell to see if an-y-t-hing go-od was abo-ut to hap-pen. Su-ze frow-ned at her, in-c-re-du-lo-us. "Mar-le-ne? Co-me on-" Then she bro-ke off. "You're not back on that I-sto-le-a-dog-from-its-lo-ving-mas-ter thing, are you? He cal-led her Su-gar-Pie, for he-aven's sa-ke. For that alo-ne the AS-P-CA sho-uld ha-ve tag-ged him." "I lo-ve her," Nell sa-id. "I can-not tell you how much I lo-ve this ne-uro-tic dog. But she is ne-uro-tic. I ado-re her and she lo-oks li-ke I be-at her da-ily. And if so-me-body to-ok her from me-" "I don't be-li-eve this," Su-ze sa-id. "It's be-en nag-ging at the back of my mind," Nell sa-id, hol-ding the dog clo-ser. "I know," Su-ze sa-id. "I just don't know why." "We've be-en car-rying gu-ilt for so long," Nell sa-id. "You re-sen-ted Jack, and Mar-gie ha-ted Ste-wart, and you both felt gu-ilty abo-ut it. You fa-ced Jack and you're free. Mar-gie won't fa-ce Bud-ge so she's stuck." "So you're go-ing to fa-ce Far-n-s-worth?" Su-ze sa-id. "Go-od luck on that one." "I was thin-king mo-re of ta-king Mar-le-ne back to the yard," Nell sa-id, "and let-ting her go. And then if she trot-ted off to-ward the ho-use and was happy, I'd know I'd do-ne the right thing. And if she sta-yed with me, then I co-uld ke-ep her wit-ho-ut gu-ilt." "And if she rolls over on her back and mo-ans pat-he-ti-cal-ly?" "Sa-me thing," Nell sa-id. "That's what she was do-ing when I dog-nap-ped her. It'll be get-ting dark so-on. We co-uld do it now be-fo-re I lo-se my ner-ve." "Now?" Su-ze sa-id. "Lis-ten, I'm aga-inst this. I lo-ve this damn dog, too. Plus, she has that war-d-ro-be. Will Far-n-s-worth get her a le-at-her bom-ber jac-ket for the chilly nights?"

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"Bud-ge is hol-ding on to Mar-gie be-ca-use he lo-ves her," Nell sa-id. "He re-al-ly do-es. I tho-ught he was aw-ful back the-re, but he wasn't be-ing me-an. He was re-al-ly ten-der with her. He thinks its okay be-ca-use he lo-ves her. I can't con-demn him for that and ke-ep Mar-le-ne for the sa-me re-ason." "I think it's dif-fe-rent," Su-ze sa-id, but her vo-ice wasn't su-re. "Mar-gie's go-ing crazy from the frus-t-ra-ti-on and the gu-ilt. I al-ways tho-ught it was funny the way she sol-ved ever-y-t-hing with 'may-be he'll ne-ver know,' but that's how I am with Mar-le-ne. I want a cle-an sla-te, no gu-ilt." She to-ok a de-ep bre-ath. "I ha-ve to do it. And then we ha-ve to tell Cu-be abo-ut Mar-gie." "Gre-at," Su-ze sa-id flatly. "Not-hing li-ke et-hics to ru-in a per-fectly go-od eve-ning." A lit-tle af-ter eight, when the sun had gi-ven up for the day, Nell wal-ked a na-ked Mar-le-ne down the lot li-ne to her old bac-k-yard. When they got the-re, she cro-uc-hed down and un-did Mar-le-ne's le-ash and col-lar, and lo-oked de-eply in-to her eyes. "I lo-ve you, Mar-le-ne," she sa-id. "I'll al-ways lo-ve you. But this is yo-ur ho-me. So if you want to go, it's okay." Mar-le-ne didn't mo-ve, and Nell sa-id, "Of co-ur-se, if you want to co-me back with me, that's okay, too." Mar-le-ne yaw-ned and lo-oked aro-und and then, evi-dently spot-ting so-met-hing of in-te-rest, she trot-ted in-to the yard. So much for the old if you lo-ve so-met-hing, set it free bit, Nell tho-ught as she sto-od and wat-c-hed her. Of co-ur-se, the depth of Mar-le-ne's fe-eling had al-ways be-en a mystery. Nell wan-ted to yell af-ter her, "You're lo-sing the che-nil-le throw he-re, did you think abo-ut that?" but the only word that Mar-le-ne re-al-ly knew well was "bis-cu-it," and it didn't se-em ap-prop-ri-ate un-der the cir-cum-s-tan-ces. Mar-le-ne exa-mi-ned the yard for a whi-le and then sat down, bo-red, and Nell re-ali-zed the flaw in her plan. Far-n-s-worth was go-ing to ha-ve to let Mar-le-ne in, but the-re was no way Nell was go-ing to knock on the do-or and say, "Hi, I sto-le yo-ur dog se-ven months ago and the gu-ilt fi-nal-ly got to me. He-re she is. Bye." Mar-le-ne con-ti-nu-ed to sit in the mid-dle of the yard, lo-oking dis-g-run-t-led. Wha-te-ver had pi-qu-ed her in-te-rest was over. Okay. Nell pic-ked up a rock from the back of the lot and threw it at the back do-or. It hit low and ma-de a go-od, so-lid thun-king so-und. She fa-ded back in-to the tre-es, but not-hing hap-pe-ned. Fi-ne. She pic-ked up anot-her rock and threw it. Thunk. Not-hing. Mar-le-ne ob-ser-ved the pro-ce-edings with in-te-rest, mo-ving her he-ad from Nell's pitch to the im-pact on the back do-or twi-ce wit-ho-ut sho-wing the slig-h-test in-te-rest in cha-sing an-y-t-hing. "One mo-re," Nell sa-id and threw the third rock, and this ti-me, a wo-man ope-ned the do-or, and the big-gest Ger-man shep-herd Nell had ever se-en bo-un-ded out, bar-king li-ke the Ho-und of the Bas-ker-vil-les. Mar-le-ne tur-ned on her butt and ra-ced for the lot li-ne, zap-ping past Nell be-fo-re she co-uld catch her, and Nell fol-lo-wed her al-most as fast, pra-ying that Far-n-s-worth still put tho-se elec-t-ro-nic col-lars on his dogs and that the shep-herd wasn't mo-ving too fast to stop. She saw Mar-le-ne stre-ak in-to the stre-et and Su-ze open the do-or of the Be-et-le. Mar-le-ne scrab-bled in-to the car and then up and ac-ross Su-ze just as Nell ope-ned the pas-sen-ger do-or and slid in, grab-bing Mar-le-ne and pul-ling her on her lap. "Dri-ve," she sa-id. Su-ze to-ok off wit-ho-ut qu-es-ti-on, and Nell ca-ught her bre-ath. "I am so sorry abo-ut that," she sa-id to Mar-le-ne, who was he-aving in her lap. "I had no idea." Mar-le-ne lo-oked up at her with blo-od in her eye. Then she bar-ked on-ce, a short, sharp, fu-ri-o-us aa-arp so-und that co-uld ha-ve cut glass. "My God," Su-ze sa-id. "Gar-bo spe-aks. What hap-pe-ned?" "Far-n-s-worth got a new dog," Nell sa-id. "A Ger-man shep-herd the si-ze of a hor-se." Su-ze la-ug-hed, and then as she tho-ught abo-ut it, la-ug-hed har-der. "Oh, God," she sa-id fi-nal-ly. "That is so per-fect." Mar-le-ne mo-aned her an-ger and Su-ze sa-id, "I can re-la-te, Mar-le-ne. I was

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rep-la-ced, too." Mar-le-ne bar-ked at her, in-c-lu-ding her in the night of in-famy. "Hey, it wasn't my idea," Su-ze sa-id, ke-eping her eyes on the ro-ad. "I bo-ught the che-nil-le and the bom-ber jac-ket. It was Mot-her Te-re-sa he-re who wan-ted to do the right thing." Mar-le-ne lo-oked at Nell aga-in, who sa-id, "I'm sorry," and then she cur-led up grum-b-ling in Nell's lap. "You know, on-ce you lo-se the-ir trust, you ne-ver get it back," Su-ze sa-id. "Oh, ple-ase," Nell sa-id. "One bis-cu-it and she's mi-ne for li-fe." Mar-le-ne lo-oked up at her and bar-ked aga-in, a bark that spo-ke vo-lu-mes abo-ut her con-tempt for and dis-t-rust of the wo-man she'd on-ce mo-aned at da-ily. "Can we stop and get so-me dog bis-cu-its?" Nell sa-id. "I think I'd bet-ter do so-met-hing fast he-re." "It'll ha-ve to be pla-in old gro-cery sto-re bis-cu-its," Su-ze sa-id. "We're very la-te." "One mo-re bet-ra-yal," Nell told Mar-le-ne, but la-ter, when Su-ze had run in-to Big Be-ar to get the bis-cu-its, Nell gat-he-red the dog up to her and hug-ged her and sa-id, "Mar-le-ne, I'm so sorry. And I'm so glad we get to ke-ep you. You didn't re-al-ly want to go back the-re, did you? You we-re just cu-ri-o-us abo-ut the yard, right?" Mar-le-ne re-gar-ded her ma-le-vo-lently and bar-ked. "As long as we're still com-mu-ni-ca-ting," Nell sa-id. Mar-le-ne was grumpy abo-ut be-ing left in the car with the win-dows rol-led down the pres-c-ri-bed inch, and on-ce Nell got in-to the Long Shot, she was wil-ling to tra-de pla-ces. The bar was pretty much the norm in yup-pie drin-king ho-les-gre-at be-er, go-od wings, and me-di-oc-re mu-sic and Nell co-uldn't think of a pla-ce she wan-ted to be less. "You know," Su-ze sa-id, "this is the kind of pla-ce I al-ways wan-ted to go to and Jack wo-uld ne-ver ta-ke me. Now I see his po-int." "Who-se idea was this pla-ce, an-y-way?" Nell sa-id. "I'll get the drinks," Su-ze sa-id brightly. "You grab a tab-le." Nell fo-und a tab-le ne-ar the do-or and sat down to watch Su-ze thre-ad her way thro-ugh the crowd to the bar, gat-he-ring se-cond glan-ces from men as she went and not no-ti-cing any of them. Nell lo-oked aro-und, ho-ping to spot Ri-ley, and stop-ped cold when she got to the bar. A man the-re who lo-oked a lot li-ke Ga-be was tal-king to a very at-trac-ti-ve bru-net-te who lo-oked a lot li-ke the Hot Lunch. She squ-in-ted thro-ugh the smo-ke. Yep, Ga-be and Gi-na. She felt sick for a mo-ment, as if she'd be-en pun-c-hed in the sto-mach, and then she tur-ned away. If Ri-ley had set this up so she'd get je-alo-us and go back, she was go-ing to hurt him. And if he hadn't…Gi-na Tag-gart, she tho-ught. What was Ga-be, stu-pid? He, of all pe-op-le, knew what she was li-ke. Of co-ur-se, if he wasn't lo-oking for a per-ma-nent re-la-ti-on-s-hip, what Gi-na was li-ke was pro-bably just what he wan-ted. Men. Nell sat back de-fe-ated and let the dar-k-ness and the mu-sic wash over her. The mu-sic was fa-irly lo-usy but the dark was go-od. It hid the fact that she didn't ca-re whe-re Ri-ley was and that she ca-red des-pe-ra-tely what Ga-be was do-ing with Gi-na. She lo-oked over at the bar, and they we-re go-ne. That hurt a lot mo-re than it sho-uld ha-ve. She lo-oked at her watch. It was only qu-ar-ter to ni-ne. Ga-be mo-ved fast. But then she knew that. "So what've you got to show me, kid?" Ri-ley sa-id, pul-ling out the cha-ir be-si-de her and ma-king her jump. "What? Oh. Ni-ce to see you, too." Nell fum-b-led with her pur-se, trying to for-get Ga-be and Gi-na. "This." She han-ded him the new-s-let-ter and po-in-ted to the pic-tu-re. "That's Ste-wart and his sec-re-tary." Ri-ley squ-in-ted at the pic-tu-re. "And if the-re was light in he-re, I co-uld pro-bably see them." "His sec-re-tary was Lynnie Ma-son," Nell sa-id, and Ri-ley stop-ped lo-oking su-pe-ri-or. "J-esus. Lynnie and Ste-wart?" Nell nod-ded. "If you we-re won-de-ring who fi-gu-red out the em-bez-zling thing, that wo-uld be Lynnie. She sa-id she was go-od with mo-ney, and she cer-ta-inly did a ni-ce job on yo-ur pla-ce."

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"Ga-be wo-uld li-ke to see this," Ri-ley sa-id, lo-oking aro-und. "He left with Gi-na Tag-gart," Nell sa-id, trying not to so-und pat-he-tic. "He's not that dumb." Ri-ley pe-ered at her thro-ugh the glo-om. "You okay?" "Yes. You don't ne-ed to sa-ve me from my bro-ken lo-ve li-fe aga-in." "I didn't sa-ve you the first ti-me. You did. I just pro-vi-ded so-me dis-t-rac-ti-on." "Well, thank you for that," Nell sa-id, and on an im-pul-se, she le-aned for-ward and kis-sed his che-ek. "You are so-met-hing spe-ci-al, you know?" "Me? Nah," Ri-ley sa-id, but he lo-oked flus-te-red and ple-ased. Then he lo-oked past her and frow-ned. "Oh, fuck." He han-ded her the new-s-let-ter. "Stay he-re." Nell lo-oked whe-re he had be-en lo-oking and saw Su-ze bac-ked aga-inst the bar by so-me tall guy. "She can ta-ke ca-re of her-self," she be-gan and then the guy le-aned for-ward and she re-ali-zed who he was. "Go," she sa-id, and Ri-ley went. Su-ze had go-ne to the bar and or-de-red two Di-et Co-kes, scan-ning the ro-om for Ri-ley whi-le she wa-ited. The pla-ce was pac-ked, but Ri-ley was now-he-re. The Co-kes we-re a long ti-me co-ming, and when she pa-id for them and tur-ned to go back to Nell, she fo-und a tall, scow-ling man in her way. "Ex-cu-se me," she sa-id as he pe-ered clo-ser at her. Ter-ri-fic, just what I ne-ed, a pic-kup. "Lo-ok, I'm not in-te-res-ted, okay? No of-fen-se, but-" "I tho-ught so," the man sa-id, slur-ring his words a lit-tle. "It was hard to tell from ac-ross the ro-om, but I tho-ught so." "Did you?" Su-ze sa-id, trying to mo-ve past him. "Go-od for you. Now if you'll ex-cu-se me-" "You sto-le my dog," the man sa-id 'and to-ok a step clo-ser, and Su-ze tho-ught, Far-n-s-worth, and to-ok a step back, bum-ping in-to the bar. "I don't know what you're tal-king abo-ut," she sa-id, lo-oking aro-und for the bar-ten-der. The pla-ce must ha-ve bo-un-cers. The guy was drunk. "I'm go-ing to ha-ve you ar-res-ted," he sa-id. "You sto-le my dog." Men on both si-des of them tur-ned to sta-re ap-pre-ci-ati-vely at her, but no-body se-emed in-c-li-ned to in-ter-fe-re. Gre-at, Su-ze tho-ught, trying to sli-de away down the bar. No-body wants to be a he-ro an-y-mo-re. Far-n-s-worth slap-ped his hand down on the bar, bloc-king her sli-de, step-ping even clo-ser, al-most to-uc-hing her, and sa-id, "You're not go-ing an-y-w-he-re-" "Oh, su-re she is," Ri-ley sa-id from be-hind him, and he swung aro-und scow-ling, whi-le Su-ze slid the ot-her di-rec-ti-on and away from the bar. "Who are you?" Far-n-s-worth sa-id. "I'm with her," Ri-ley sa-id easily. "Stop put-ting the mo-ves on my wo-man." Su-ze lost her in-te-rest in Far-n-s-worth com-p-le-tely. "Mo-ves?" Far-n-s-worth la-ug-hed. "She sto-le my dog." "No, she didn't," Ri-ley sa-id, put-ting his sho-ul-der bet-we-en her and Far-n-s-worth. He had gre-at sho-ul-ders. "Yes, she-" "No," Ri-ley sa-id. "She didn't." Ye-ah, Su-ze tho-ught from be-hind him. Don't push us aro-und. Far-n-s-worth snor-ted. "To-ugh guy." "Not re-al-ly," Ri-ley sa-id. "But I do get ten-se when pe-op-le bot-her the blon-de. Go away." "She sto-le-" Far-n-s-worth be-gan aga-in, and this ti-me Ri-ley step-ped clo-ser, bac-king him in-to the bar. "Let me put this anot-her way," Ri-ley sa-id, his vo-ice even. "You don't know her, you ne-ver saw her, and you're ne-ver go-ing to see her aga-in." Far-n-s-worth ope-ned his mo-uth aga-in and then lo-oked at Ri-ley's fa-ce. Su-ze co-uldn't see what he saw be-ca-use she was be-hind Ri-ley, but she saw Far-n-s-worth's scowl di-sap-pe-ar. "I'm su-re if you lo-ok at her clo-sely," Ri-ley sa-id in a re-aso-nab-le to-ne, "you'll re-ali-ze you've ne-ver se-en her be-fo-re. The-re are a lot of thir-ty-so-met-hing blon-des in this city." "Not li-ke her," Far-n-s-worth sa-id, lo-oking at Su-ze over his sho-ul-der.

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"Di-me a do-zen," Ri-ley sa-id, with un-mis-ta-kab-le me-na-ce in his vo-ice this ti-me. "You just ma-de a mis-ta-ke, that's all." Far-n-s-worth lo-oked from Ri-ley to Su-ze and back aga-in. "I didn't li-ke the damn dog an-y-way," he sa-id and sho-ved him-self away from the bar, and Su-ze let out her bre-ath. "Don't even start with me on the di-me-a-do-zen thing," Ri-ley sa-id, tur-ning to her. "I think you're won-der-ful," Su-ze sa-id. "Oh." He lo-oked ta-ken aback, but he al-so lo-oked so-lid and sa-ne and ho-nest and on her si-de. "And not just for him," Su-ze sa-id. "Thank you for gi-ving me the Bec-ca thing." "Well, you're go-ing to be go-od," Ri-ley sa-id, still thrown. "We ne-ed you." "And for tre-ating me li-ke an adult." She to-ok a chan-ce. "A par-t-ner." Ri-ley frow-ned at her. "Well, hell, Su-ze-" "And for lo-oking at me the way I am now and not thin-king of me in that che-er-le-ader uni-form and sa-ying 'You're not yo-ung an-y-mo-re, ba-be.'" "What?" Ri-ley sa-id. "I saw the pic-tu-res you to-ok," she sa-id, not lo-oking at him be-ca-use it was so em-bar-ras-sing. "I saw what Jack mar-ri-ed and why he left." "Oh," Ri-ley sa-id. "Ye-ah, you we-re pretty." Su-ze win-ced. "But not-hing li-ke you are now," he sa-id, and the cer-ta-inty in his vo-ice ma-de her lift her he-ad. "And not-hing li-ke you're go-ing to be to-mor-row.You've got one of tho-se fa-ces that get shar-per and brig-h-ter every day. When you're eighty, pe-op-le are go-ing to ha-ve to we-ar sun-g-las-ses to lo-ok at you." Su-ze ga-ped at him. "What?" he sa-id. "Don't gi-ve me that. You ha-ve a mir-ror. You know you're be-a-uti-ful. Stop fis-hing for com-p-li-ments." "Why do you spend ti-me with me?" she sa-id. He frow-ned at her. "What is this?" "Why?" He shrug-ged. "It fe-els go-od." She nod-ded. "It do-es, do-esn't it?" No stress, no worry, no ten-si-on, no fe-ar. She lo-oked up at him and tho-ught, I co-uld lo-ok at that fa-ce for the rest of my li-fe. I co-uld li-ve with that fa-ce. "What?" he sa-id, still wary. "I think I just got it," she sa-id, and smi-led at him, fe-eling her he-art lift. He lo-oked at her for a long mo-ment, and then he bent and kis-sed her. It was a soft kiss, the way first kis-ses are sup-po-sed to be-the one on the porch didn't co-unt, Su-ze tho-ught, it hadn't be-en re-al, she hadn't known then-and she put her hand on his che-ek and kis-sed him back, lo-ving and wan-ting him this ti-me wit-ho-ut any mo-ti-ve at all. His mo-uth fit hers so per-fectly that when he pul-led back, she sa-id, bre-at-h-less with dis-co-very, "That's why Jack was so je-alo-us all tho-se ye-ars. It was sup-po-sed to be you all the ti-me." "I don't want to he-ar abo-ut Jack," Ri-ley sa-id and kis-sed her aga-in, and Su-ze fell in-to her fu-tu-re. Back at the tab-le, Nell wat-c-hed them and tho-ught, Well, so-met-hing's wor-king out the way it's sup-po-sed to. May-be I'll bunt Ga-be down and pull Gi-na's ha-ir. That was her fa-ult. It had ta-ken her twen-ty-two ye-ars to blow her first re-la-ti-on-s-hip and only three months to des-t-roy her se-cond. If she de-ci-ded to let Jack ha-ve his way with her, it'd be over in a we-ek. She put her chin in her hand and con-tem-p-la-ted a Ga-be-less fu-tu-re. It was too ble-ak to fa-ce, she'd just ha-ve to get him back, and she'd be-gun to plan when so-me-body sat down next to her. She tur-ned to see Ga-be sli-ding a drink her way. "You lo-ok li-ke you ne-ed this," he sa-id, and her he-art lur-c-hed a lit-tle as she fa-ced him. "Thank you," she sa-id, ig-no-ring the drink, whi-le she tri-ed to bre-at-he nor-mal-ly. "Whe-re's Gi-na?" "I just put her in a cab. Whe-re's Ri-ley?"

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"Cha-sing Su-ze," Nell sa-id. He le-aned to-ward her and ma-de her bre-ath go away. "What are you do-ing?" "Cha-sing you," Ga-be sa-id and kis-sed her, ta-king her back to the be-gin-ning, and she tho-ught, Yes, thank you, and kis-sed him back. When he pul-led away, he sa-id, "I just wan-ted to ma-ke su-re I still had a chan-ce." "I lo-ve you," she sa-id, hol-ding on to him. "I lo-ve you, too," he sa-id. "If you want to talk, I'll lis-ten." He lo-oked won-der-ful, dan-ge-ro-us and hot and swe-et and so-lid and go-od and ever-y-t-hing she'd ever wan-ted in a man. Then she re-mem-be-red that "just a sec-re-tary" crack, and for a mi-nu-te, he lo-oked li-ke Tim. "Okay." She to-ok a sip of her drink-Glen-li-vit and ice, li-ke old ti-mes-and then cen-te-red her glass in front of her, cho-osing her words ca-re-ful-ly. "You ha-ve to un-der-s-tand this. Tim and I had a go-od mar-ri-age. We re-al-ly did. I met him my first ye-ar in col-le-ge and fell in lo-ve right the-re, at ni-ne-te-en. We got mar-ri-ed, and I drop-ped out of scho-ol to help him at his un-c-le's in-su-ran-ce agency, and he told me every day how he co-uldn't li-ve wit-ho-ut me. He was a gre-at guy, Ga-be. I re-al-ly lo-ved him. He re-al-ly lo-ved me. It wasn't a mis-ta-ke." Ga-be nod-ded, and Nell to-ok a de-ep bre-ath. "His un-c-le di-ed and left us the bu-si-ness, and we star-ted to get ahe-ad, star-ted win-ning an Icic-le every ot-her ye-ar or so, and Tim didn't chan-ge at all."' "But you did," Ga-be sa-id, and Nell sig-hed with re-li-ef. "Yes," she sa-id. "I ma-de all the of-fi-ce de-ci-si-ons and Tim ma-de all the sa-les and in-su-ran-ce de-ci-si-ons, but he still tho-ught of me as that fres-h-man he'd mar-ri-ed." She le-aned for-ward. "I don't want to tell this wrong. He was go-od to me, he just wo-uldn't ad-mit I was a par-t-ner. So I ma-ni-pu-la-ted him so he'd think he was ma-king the de-ci-si-ons, and the agency re-al-ly to-ok off. For ni-ne ye-ars af-ter that, we won the Icic-le every ye-ar. Tim was a le-gend in the com-pany." "But you we-ren't," Ga-be sa-id. Nell sat back. "I don't know if I re-al-ly ca-red that I wasn't for ot-her pe-op-le. But I ca-red that Tim didn't see it. I star-ted to get slop-pi-er abo-ut ma-ni-pu-la-ting him, I think be-ca-use I'd be-en so mad for so long. We star-ted to ar-gue, and du-ring one of tho-se ar-gu-ments, I told him he co-uldn't run the pla-ce wit-ho-ut me." She shif-ted in her cha-ir. "He told me that I did a go-od job, but not to get ide-as abo-ut who was the boss. He pat-ro-ni-zed me. So I went back to ma-ni-pu-la-ting, but I was so angry, and that kind of an-ger ust po-iso-ned us. And then one Chris-t-mas, he sto-od up and sa-id, 'I don't lo-ve you an-y-mo-re,' and wal-ked out." "And you think we we-re get-ting the-re, too," Ga-be sa-id. "I think we might ha-ve," Nell sa-id. "I don't know, we're so dif-fe-rent from what Tim and I had. I ne-ed you in ways I ne-ver ne-eded him. Not to do an-y-t-hing for me or be an-y-t-hing for me, just to be you. And I don't want to des-t-roy us. Be-ca-use the thing is, Ga-be, when I see Tim now, I ha-te him. I me-an acid, se-et-hing ha-te. And it's not be-ca-use of Whit-ney. It's be-ca-use he to-ok me for gran-ted for twen-ty-two ye-ars and I let him. It's twen-ty-two ye-ars of frus-t-ra-ti-on and re-sen-t-ment and ma-ni-pu-la-ti-on and de-ni-al. And I don't think he de-ser-ves it, he's not a bad guy at all. But I still re-al-ly ha-te him and I ho-pe the agency go-es dow-n-hill and his li-fe cor-ro-des and he's left empty and wan-ting." She sat back. "I ne-ver want to lo-ok at you the way I lo-ok at Tim now." Ga-be rub-bed his fo-re-he-ad. "I was sort of ho-ping you we-re go-ing to gi-ve me a list of de-mands. This is har-der." "Yes," Nell sa-id. "Be-ca-use I'm not exactly su-re how to do this. You're li-ke Tim, you ha-ven't chan-ged. You'll say what you ha-ve to say so I'll co-me back, you'll hu-mor me, but you won't re-al-ly be-li-eve I'm im-por-tant." "You're im-por-tant," Ga-be sa-id. "I know you're mo-re than a sec-re-tary, I was just trying to slow you down." "I don't want to slow down," Nell sa-id. "Which do-esn't me-an I think it's my way or the hig-h-way. The-re's got to be a way we can ma-ke this work, I want to co-me back, but if I do, I'll start ma-ni-pu-la-ting and you'll start yel-ling and-"

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"You're right," Ga-be sa-id. "Lo-ok, we don't ha-ve to sol-ve this to-night. Su-ze is do-ing a gre-at job for us, so we're not in tro-ub-le, and when you're re-ady to co-me back, she'll be re-ady to work on ot-her things." "Okay," Nell sa-id, trying not to fe-el je-alo-us. Ga-be let out his bre-ath. "We can do this." "We ha-ve to," Nell sa-id. "I can't li-ve wit-ho-ut you, but I can't stand the way we we-re." She sto-od up. "And now I'm re-al-ly ti-red. Mar-le-ne has be-en sul-king in the car for an ho-ur now, and I've had a ro-ugh day, and this pla-ce stinks on ice." "Ri-ley sa-id you fo-und so-met-hing," he sa-id. "Oh, God yes," Nell sa-id, re-mem-be-ring. "A new-s-let-ter." She dug it out of her pur-se, and he squ-in-ted at it in the dim light. "It's a pic-tu-re of Ste-wart and his sec-re-tary. Lynne." "J-esus," Ga-be sa-id. "Lynne?" He sto-od up. "Let's go find Ri-ley." "So what ha-ve we got?" Ga-be sa-id an ho-ur la-ter at the Syca-mo-re as he pus-hed his empty pla-te away. "We've got Ste-wart kil-ling He-le-na in 1978, pro-bably fol-lo-wing a plan by Tre-vor or Jack, and then ste-aling the di-amonds." "And em-bez-zling from OD fif-te-en ye-ars la-ter with Lynnie," Nell sa-id, over her vi-ne-gar and fri-es. "And then Mar-gie hits him with her pit-c-her and he di-sap-pe-ars," Su-ze sa-id. "Un-be-li-evab-le," Ri-ley sa-id, lo-oking at the new-s-let-ter aga-in. "And Lynnie hits the ro-ad be-ca-use she thinks Ste-wart will call her to jo-in him and be-ca-use she do-esn't want to ta-ke the he-at for the em-bez-zling," Ga-be sa-id. "Then se-ven ye-ars la-ter, she shows up on our do-or-s-tep and con-vin-ces Ri-ley's mot-her to ta-ke a va-ca-ti-on. And she be-gins to blac-k-ma-il Tre-vor and Jack and Bud-ge and Mar-gie for Ste-wart's di-sap-pe-aran-ce." "She got Bud-ge for em-bez-zling," Nell sa-id, frow-ning. "That do-esn't fit." "Bud-ge is the one who bus-ted Ste-wart and Lynnie for em-bez-zling," Ri-ley sa-id. "He al-ways tat-tles. It fits." "Why'd she co-me back now?" Nell sa-id. "Se-ven ye-ars," Ri-ley sa-id. "They we-re go-ing to dec-la-re Ste-wart de-ad and col-lect the in-su-ran-ce. Ex-cept Mar-gie kept sto-ne-wal-ling." He grin-ned. "Li-ke fat-her, li-ke da-ug-h-ter." "So she blac-k-ma-ils Mar-gie and Tre-vor go-es to me-et her?" Nell sa-id. "Is that it?" "Or Bud-ge," Su-ze sa-id. "Or Bud-ge might ha-ve told Jack. Bud-ge tells Jack ever-y-t-hing." "And who-ever it is tells her that the-re's be-en a snag in the in-su-ran-ce and to back off from Mar-gie, but the-re are di-amonds at our pla-ce," Ri-ley sa-id. "The-re is a way this ma-kes sen-se." "Why do-es Tre-vor ca-re abo-ut the di-amonds?" Su-ze sa-id. "He has plenty of mo-ney." "Be-ca-use they we-re the last lo-ose end," Ga-be sa-id. "My dad di-ed wit-ho-ut tel-ling him whe-re they we-re. And he co-uldn't co-me to me to lo-ok for them wit-ho-ut tel-ling me ever-y-t-hing. So he-" "Wa-ited," Nell fi-nis-hed for him. "Did he kill Lynnie?" "It co-uld ha-ve be-en Jack," Su-ze sa-id, her vo-ice small. "He co-uld ha-ve met her and do-ne the sa-me thing. He'd do an-y-t-hing to pro-tect that law firm." "We ha-ve to gi-ve this to the po-li-ce," Ga-be sa-id. "Let them track it down." Ri-ley nod-ded. "Co-uldn't ag-ree with you mo-re." "So is the-re a chan-ce that Ste-wart's back?" Su-ze sa-id. "Is Mar-gie in tro-ub-le?" "No," Nell sa-id. "Lynnie sa-id she was wor-king alo-ne. She didn't lie to me." "Yo-ur fa-ith in her is to-uc-hing," Ga-be sa-id. "She li-ed to ever-y-body." Not me, Nell tho-ught, and sto-od up. "I'm ti-red. I'm cal-ling it a night. Su-ze?" "I think I'll stay a lit-tle lon-ger," Su-ze sa-id, not lo-oking at Ri-ley. Go-od for you, Nell tho-ught. "I'll gi-ve you a ri-de," Ga-be sa-id to Nell, and her pul-se kic-ked up when he smi-led. His hand felt go-od un-der her arm aga-in as he wal-ked her out to the car, and when he was sit-ting be-si-de her in the dark, she sa-id, "I mis-sed you." He le-aned over and kis-sed her, and she sa-id, "I

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mis-sed the car, too. Do you think-" "Not a chan-ce," he sa-id and star-ted the car. When they pul-led up in front of the dup-lex, Nell sa-id, "Are you ever go-ing to let me dri-ve this car?" and he le-aned over and kis-sed her aga-in, a long slow kiss this ti-me, and then he sa-id, "No." "This re-la-ti-on-s-hip ne-eds work," she sa-id, but she kis-sed him aga-in be-fo-re she went in-si-de. She was as-le-ep when she first he-ard the yel-ling, li-ke part of a dre-am. Then Mar-le-ne bar-ked, and she wo-ke up and he-ard Su-ze scre-aming her na-me, and she sat up and in-ha-led smo-ke and he-ard mu-ted crac-k-ling out-si-de her do-or that co-uld only be fla-mes. She rol-led out of bed and the flo-or was warm, and she grab-bed Mar-le-ne, who yel-ped and tri-ed to squ-irm out of her arms, and went to the do-or, her he-art po-un-ding. The only way out was the sta-irs, so she ope-ned the do-or slowly when she saw smo-ke and then all the way when she didn't see fi-re. She drop-ped to the flo-or, Mar-le-ne un-der one arm, and be-gan to crawl, one-han-ded, to-ward the he-ad of the sta-irs, trying to stay un-der the worst of the smo-ke. She co-uld he-ar Su-ze out-si-de scre-aming, "Nell," but she was af-ra-id to yell back, she ne-eded all the ox-y-gen she co-uld get. At the top of the sta-irs, she co-uld see an oran-ge glow from be-low, and Mar-le-ne squ-ir-med har-der and fis-h-ta-iled out of her arms to run back in-to the bed-ro-om. Nell scram-b-led af-ter her and fo-und her back on the bed, pus-hing her no-se un-der the che-nil-le throw, and she gat-he-red the dog up so that the throw wrap-ped aro-und her and co-ve-red her eyes, and this ti-me she ma-de a dash for the sta-irs. She stum-b-led down thro-ugh the oran-ge light, af-ra-id to lo-ok be-hind her un-til she got to the do-or. Then she tur-ned aro-und just for a se-cond and stop-ped, hor-ror-st-ric-ken. The cen-ter of the apar-t-ment was an in-fer-no, her gran-d-mot-her's di-ning set glo-wing oran-ge be-fo-re her eyes. The glass crac-ked in the hutch, the Su-sie Co-oper fi-gu-ri-ne fell for-ward, al-most in slow mo-ti-on, as the Cla-ri-ce fi-gu-re fol-lo-wed, lo-oking over her sho-ul-der as she slid down the glass do-or and the glass shelf col-lap-sed un-der her. The kes-t-rel te-apot fell down on-to the Stro-ud tu-re-en and crac-ked the car-to-uc-he, and the Sec-rets pla-tes pit-c-hed for-ward and cras-hed on-to fra-gi-le bo-ne chi-na, which shat-te-red on im-pact, bub-ble tre-es and ho-uses and cres-cents and swirls, shat-te-ring in front of her Then Ri-ley was the-re, fran-tic, yel-ling, "Co-me on," and she sa-id, "My chi-na," and he pul-led her out in-to the spring night, ac-ross the stre-et to Su-ze who was crying and Do-ris who was swe-aring. The fi-re trucks we-re the-re, and she re-ali-zed she'd he-ard the si-rens all along. She lo-oked over Ri-ley's sho-ul-der to the apar-t-ment, to the fur-na-ce that had be-en her li-ving ro-om, and tho-ught of Cla-ri-ce and Su-sie, mel-ting and crac-king, all tho-se me-mo-ri-es, all that be-a-uty, mur-de-red and go-ne. "So-me-body did this," she sa-id to Ri-ley when she was stan-ding ba-re-fo-ot in the cold grass. "So-me-body-" Su-ze pus-hed Ri-ley out of the way and hug-ged her. "Oh, thank God you got Mar-le-ne, I tho-ught you we-re de-ad, I tho-ught you we-re both de-ad." "I think you sa-ved me," Nell sa-id, ke-eping her back to the ho-use as a car fis-h-ta-iled to a stop be-yond them. "I wo-ke up when I he-ard you scre-am, I-" She he-ard a car do-or slam, and then Ga-be sa-id, "What the fuck is go-ing on?" and she tur-ned and went to him, let-ting him wrap his arms aro-und her and Mar-le-ne both, and only then did she re-ali-ze that Mar-le-ne was strug-gling to get out of the che-nil-le. She le-aned back a lit-tle and pul-led the blan-ket off Mar-le-ne's he-ad, and Mar-le-ne bar-ked, three ti-mes, sharp high barks on the ed-ge of hyste-ria, but she didn't try to get down. "This is what I sa-ved from the fi-re," she told Ga-be. "Mar-le-ne and a blan-ket. Ever-y-t-hing el-se is go-ne. All my chi-na. My gran-d-mot-her's di-ning ro-om set. The rest of it I don't ca-re abo-ut, but, Ga-be, all my chi-na. My gran-d-ma's chi-na is go-ne." Even as she sa-id it, she knew she was be-ing fri-vo-lo-us, she was sa-fe and Mar-le-ne was sa-fe and so was Su-ze, they we-ren't lo-sing an-y-t-hing re-al-ly im-por-tant, but she knew when she clo-sed her eyes aga-in, she'd see Cla-ri-ce, flir-ting back over her chi-na sho-ul-der, fal-ling in-to the per-fect world

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of the Stro-ud car-to-uc-he, ever-y-t-hing shat-te-ring. Two ho-urs la-ter, Nell sat ex-ha-us-ted at Ga-be's kit-c-hen tab-le in one of Lu's nig-h-t-gowns, still over-w-hel-med, whi-le Mar-le-ne do-zed in her lap. "You ne-ed sle-ep," Ga-be sa-id. "I'll ne-ver get the smo-ke out of tho-se blue pa-j-amas." "No," Ga-be sa-id. "I wo-uldn't even try." "You used to li-ke them." "I li-ked what was in them. If you re-mem-ber, I got rid of them as so-on as pos-sib-le every ti-me." "Right," Nell sa-id and tri-ed to smi-le. An ho-ur la-ter, she was in bed sta-ring at the ce-iling, lis-te-ning to the com-for-ting so-und of Mar-le-ne's sno-res, he-aring that crac-k-le aga-in, and the crash of the chi-na. Su-sie's cres-cent bowls and kes-t-ral te-apots, Cla-ri-ce's Stro-ud and Sec-rets. The chi-na had rung with her mot-her's and her gran-d-mot-her's vo-ices. Tim had bo-ught her the pi-eces to the Sec-rets te-aser one by one when he still lo-ved her. Jase had gi-ven her the su-gar bowl when he was ten, his fa-ce lit with ex-ci-te-ment. Her thro-at grew tight. The son of a bitch who'd tor-c-hed her apar-t-ment had dis-sol-ved her past, mel-ted it down in-to slag. It was al-most mo-re than she co-uld be-ar, and she rol-led over and bu-ri-ed her fa-ce in the pil-low and wept un-til she gas-ped. Even-tu-al-ly she re-ali-zed the-re was so-met-hing cold on her neck, and she pul-led back from the pil-low to find Mar-le-ne, po-king at her with her no-se, pro-bably tel-ling her to ke-ep it down. "Sorry, puppy," she sa-id, and Mar-le-ne lic-ked the te-ars from her che-ek, and then Nell bro-ke down aga-in, cud-dling the dog to her whi-le Mar-le-ne lic-ked her fa-ce. When she fi-nal-ly stop-ped crying, Mar-le-ne flop-ped down on the bed, ex-ha-us-ted, and Nell kis-sed her furry lit-tle he-ad and went in-to the bat-h-ro-om to wash off the te-ars and the dog spit. She scrub-bed her fa-ce hard and then lo-oked in the mir-ror. Her fa-ce was full, her che-eks ruddy from the to-wel, her eyes ti-red but bright. She'd sur-vi-ved di-vor-ce and dep-res-si-on and ar-son and li-fe in ge-ne-ral, and now she was go-ing to sur-vi-ve the loss of her chi-na, too. She was sud-denly so ti-red, she wan-ted to sle-ep on the bat-h-ro-om flo-or. She plod-ded back to Lu's bed-ro-om and saw in-to Ga-be's ro-om. He'd left his do-or open so he co-uld he-ar her if she cal-led, and in the mo-on-light from the skylight, she co-uld see him as-le-ep in his bed, his dark ha-ir a slash aga-inst the whi-te pil-lows. She went in and craw-led un-der the co-vers with him, and he wo-ke and ma-de ro-om for her, cir-c-ling her with his arm as she sank in-to his bed. "I al-most di-ed to-night," she sa-id. "I know." He tig-h-te-ned his arm aro-und her. "I lost ever-y-t-hing." "You've still got me." "Thank God," she sa-id and bu-ri-ed her fa-ce in his sho-ul-der. "I think we sho-uld get mar-ri-ed," Ga-be sa-id af-ter a mi-nu-te, and she pul-led away from him. "What?" "Af-ter I drop-ped you off, I tho-ught abo-ut what you sa-id, abo-ut me not chan-ging, that I'd tell you you're a par-t-ner just to get you back. And you're right. I wo-uld. I'd tell you damn ne-ar an-y-t-hing to get you back." "I know," she sa-id. "I'd be-li-eve damn ne-ar an-y-t-hing to get you back." "So let's ma-ke it le-gal and bin-ding," he sa-id. "Let's get mar-ri-ed for the re-ason mar-ri-age was in-ven-ted, to ma-ke su-re we ta-ke each ot-her se-ri-o-usly and stick with each ot-her thro-ugh the bad ti-mes and don't qu-it be-ca-use that's easi-er than ma-king it work. I sign over half of my half of the agency to you. You put the mo-ney from the in-su-ran-ce agency in-to the bu-si-ness. We di-vi-de up the res-pon-si-bi-li-ti-es three ways with Ri-ley, and we ma-ke the big de-ci-si-ons to-get-her. No wis-hy-washy fe-el-go-od pro-mi-ses. We put it down on pa-per and sign it." Nell felt dizzy. "Ri-ley will ha-ve fifty per-cent. That's a con-t-rol-ling sha-re. Can you stand that?" "Aga-inst you and me? In his dre-ams. He wo-uldn't want con-t-rol an-y-way. And be-si-des, two

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ye-ars from now, he's go-ing to gi-ve half of his half away, too." "You'd gi-ve me half of yo-ur sha-re," Nell sa-id, her he-art po-un-ding. "Even tho-ugh you don't-" "If I don't, you'll ta-ke all of it," Uabe sa-id. "And then we'll both be mi-se-rab-le. Lo-ok, I can't cre-ate an epip-hany he-re. You're right, I still don't see how you can de-mand an equ-al vo-ice in an agency you've wor-ked at for se-ven months and I've run for twenty ye-ars. But you've su-re as hell got an equ-al vo-ice in my per-so-nal li-fe, so I'm wil-ling to ta-ke the rest on trust." This is it, Nell tho-ught. Wha-te-ver she de-ci-ded, he'd ta-ke her se-ri-o-usly. If she mar-ri-ed him, she'd be a par-t-ner, but she'd be an-s-we-rab-le to him fo-re-ver. He swo-re now it was what he wan-ted, but now he was sha-ken and des-pe-ra-te. She'd ha-ve to trust that when the apar-t-ment fi-re was just a me-mory, when pas-si-on co-oled, when he was ti-red and they di-sag-re-ed abo-ut work and he reg-ret-ted gi-ving up what he'd had, that then he'd still ho-nor his pro-mi-se, that he'd be fa-it-h-ful to it even tho-ugh he didn't want to be, that he'd pay the pri-ce for the de-al he ma-de to-night. That was a lot to ta-ke on trust. "Will you marry me?" Ga-be sa-id. "May-be," she sa-id. "Not the an-s-wer I was lo-oking for," he sa-id, "but it's a start," and she cur-led aga-inst him in the cir-c-le of his arm, her arm ac-ross his chest, and felt sa-fe as she fi-nal-ly fell as-le-ep. Chapter Thirteen Nell met the fi-re mar-s-hal at eight the next mor-ning and told him ever-y-t-hing she knew. "It lo-oked li-ke so-me-body set out to burn yo-ur chi-na ca-bi-net," he sa-id. "Sho-ved a lot of pa-per on the bot-tom shelf and lit it. What I can't fi-gu-re out is why an-y-body wo-uld want to burn a bunch of dis-hes." "Symbo-lism," Nell sa-id. "It's per-so-nal. I don't know who did it, but it was so-me-body who knew I lo-ved that chi-na." "The po-li-ce fo-und a van-da-li-zed car a co-up-le blocks from yo-ur pla-ce with ke-ro-se-ne cans in the bac-k-se-at. Lo-oks li-ke so-me-body sto-le it, and then so-me-body el-se slas-hed the ti-res whi-le the first guy was at yo-ur pla-ce. It be-longs to a Jack Dysart. Ring any bells?" "A few," Nell sa-id and ex-p-la-ined the si-tu-ati-on to him. When he was go-ne, she went back up-s-ta-irs and tho-ught abo-ut Jack, abo-ut how much he ha-ted her. Wo-uld he torch her hutch just for re-ven-ge on the sa-me day he'd tri-ed to kiss her? And then le-ave his car sit-ting aro-und with ke-ro-se-ne cans in it? That ma-de no sen-se. But Bud-ge might. He ha-ted her that much for Mar-gie. Wo-uld he fra-me Jack for it? That was such a ri-di-cu-lo-us tho-ug-ht-Bud-ge was a lot of things, but he wasn't de-vi-o-us-that she knew she was ti-red. She to-ok off Lu's swe-ats and craw-led back in-to Ga-be's bed, and Mar-le-ne jum-ped up be-si-de her. She was go-ing to ha-ve to call Tim and say, "You know that ren-ter's in-su-ran-ce I bo-ught from you? Pay up." Nell lay back and tri-ed to ima-gi-ne Tim's fa-ce when he re-ad the ite-mi-za-ti-on of Mar-le-ne's war-d-ro-be: one dac-h-s-hund an-gel cos-tu-me, one dac-h-s-hund cas-h-me-re swe-ater with he-art, one dac-h-s-hund tren-c-h-co-at…t-hat stuff hadn't be-en che-ap. She he-ard Ga-be co-me in the apar-t-ment and for-got Mar-le-ne's tren-c-h-co-at. "Nell?" he cal-led, and she cal-led back, "In he-re," and wa-ited for him with her he-art be-ating fas-ter. "Ti-red?" he sa-id sympat-he-ti-cal-ly, and she sa-id, "Not exactly." "I ran in-to Su-ze on the sta-irs and told her you we-re mo-ving in he-re," he sa-id. "In fact, you're in sin-ce you've got not-hing left to mo-ve." Nell nod-ded. "I didn't even ask, whe-re did Su-ze spend last night?" "Ri-ley's bed," Ga-be sa-id. "He was on the co-uch. Don't ask me what they're do-ing, I don't know. I don't ca-re as long as you're in he-re with me." The-re was so-met-hing in his cer-ta-inty that hum-med in her ve-ins. It was li-ke a tu-ning fork, when you he-ard the right no-te from the right per-son, it vib-ra-ted in-si-de you.

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She smi-led at him. "Do you know how long its be-en sin-ce an-y-body ma-de lo-ve to me?" "To the mi-nu-te," he sa-id, co-ming to-ward her. "I think I'm go-ing to be bet-ter so-on," she sa-id, and then he craw-led in-to bed with her and put his arms aro-und her and she was. When she wo-ke up, Ga-be was go-ne, and Su-ze was sha-king her. "Co-me on, Sle-eping Be-a-uty. It's fo-ur. Mar-gie didn't show up to run The Cup to-day, and she so-un-ded funny when I cal-led her. I think Bud-ge is pus-hing her over the ed-ge. I qu-it work early so we co-uld go get her out of the-re. We ha-ve to go up the-re to get our old clot-hes an-y-way." "What?" Nell sat up and yaw-ned, squ-in-ting at Su-ze who was lost in a gray T-shirt that sa-id "FBI" on it in big black let-ters and a pa-ir of black swe-ats that po-oled aro-und her an-k-les. "Cu-te." "One of the many re-asons we're go-ing to Mar-gie's," Su-ze sa-id. "Right," Nell sa-id and got out of bed. "She so-un-ded funny when you cal-led her?" "Very," Su-ze sa-id. "So we'll hurry," Nell sa-id. "The bo-xes of yo-ur clot-hes are all down in the ba-se-ment," Mar-gie sa-id, af-ter she'd be-en hor-ri-fi-ed abo-ut the fi-re and wept for Nell's chi-na, all in the spa-ce of abo-ut fi-ve mi-nu-tes. "Gre-at," Nell sa-id ca-uti-o-usly. "You know, Mar-gie, you sho-uld co-me back to the Vil-la-ge with us. It'll be li-ke a slum-ber party." "Oh, I can't pos-sibly. I'm sel-ling my Fran-cis-can De-sert Ro-se on eBay. If I sell it all this we-ek, I can start bu-ying the Fi-es-ta-wa-re wit-ho-ut fi-ling for Ste-wart's in-su-ran-ce. Isn't that a go-od idea?" Mar-gie's che-eks had two bright cir-c-les on them, and her eyes glo-wed, and her milk glass was full. "Su-per," Su-ze sa-id, cas-ting a do-ub-t-ful lo-ok at Nell. "And you can help!" "Okay," Nell sa-id. "What do you ne-ed?" "You bring up the ex-t-ra pi-eces from the ba-se-ment," Mar-gie sa-id. "I've do-ne all the pi-eces up he-re, but I got ti-red run-ning up and down tho-se sta-irs." She stop-ped and smi-led at them. "And dizzy." "Stay off the sta-irs, Mar-ge," Su-ze sa-id, and they went to the ba-se-ment. "We ha-ve to do so-met-hing abo-ut her," she sa-id when they re-ac-hed the bot-tom. "She hasn't stop-ped drin-king sin-ce we left her yes-ter-day. It's that damn Bud-ge, pres-su-ring her abo-ut the in-su-ran-ce, not let-ting her mo-ve out of he-re. She has to get out of he-re and start over aga-in. Wit-ho-ut him." "For right now, we get our clot-hes back and ta-ke her the Fran-cis-can-wa-re." Nell pul-led the cha-in on the light and Mar-gie's ba-se-ment sprang in-to vi-ew: an old bic-y-c-le, a lop-si-ded plas-tic Chris-t-mas tree, a chest fre-ezer with the bo-xes of the-ir clot-hes stac-ked on it next to an ugly golf trophy, and flo-or-to-ce-iling shel-ves with box af-ter box af-ter box la-be-led "De-sert Ro-se." It was a sad com-ment on the ex-tent of Mar-gie's exis-ten-ce: her ex-hus-band's fre-ezer, her in-laws' clot-hes, and her stoc-k-pi-le aga-inst an ear-t-hen-wa-re shor-ta-ge. My ba-se-ment used to lo-ok li-ke this, full of chi-na and ot-her pe-op-le's things, Nell tho-ught. Of co-ur-se, now she didn't ha-ve a ba-se-ment. Or chi-na. "How much of this stuff do-es she ha-ve?" Su-ze sa-id, ap-pal-led. "Mo-re than God." Nell squ-in-ted at the bo-xes that fil-led the shel-ves on the far wall. One was la-be-led "san-d-wich sets," anot-her "ca-ke pla-te," anot-her "pit-c-her," and anot-her one just sa-id "cups." The-re must ha-ve be-en twenty bo-xes the-re, all with "Fran-cis-can De-sert Ro-se" prin-ted at the top in Mar-gie's ne-at lit-tle script. "Did you find the bo-xes?" Mar-gie cal-led from up-s-ta-irs. Nell lo-oked at the wall of Fran-cis-can-wa-re. "Yes." An ho-ur la-ter, they had the-ir clot-hes in Su-ze's Be-et-le and most of the Fran-cis-can-wa-re up-s-ta-irs, and Mar-gie was much cal-mer, typing in des-c-rip-ti-ons and pos-ting to the auc-ti-on si-te. "It's li-ke the-rapy," Su-ze sa-id when they went down for the last of the bo-xes. "It's min-d-less," Nell sa-id. "May-be if we let her go for a whi-le lon-ger on the com-pu-ter, we can get her out of he-re wit-ho-ut a fight, and she'll be okay." She lo-oked aro-und the now al-most bar-ren

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ba-se-ment and ad-ded, "We just ha-ve to get her out of he-re." Su-ze pic-ked up a box and re-ad the si-de. "An en-ti-re box of cups?" She put it down, pus-hed the golf trophy out of the way on the fre-ezer, and bo-os-ted her-self up on the dus-t-s-me-ared top. "I'm ex-ha-us-ted. No sle-ep last night, I wor-ked all day, and now I'm schlep-ping two tho-usand pi-eces of this stuff. How long ago did she lo-se her grip?" "Oh, ple-ase, how many run-ning egg cups did you own?" Nell sa-id. "You don't even eat eggs in cups. Co-me on. Let's get the last of this up-s-ta-irs be-fo-re she chan-ges her mind and de-ci-des to ke-ep it." "She can't," Su-ze sa-id, sli-ding off the fre-ezer. "She ne-eds the ro-om for her in-co-ming two tho-usand pi-eces of Fi-es-ta-wa-re." Su-ze dus-ted off the se-at of Ri-ley's swe-ats. "You know, whi-le she's at it, she sho-uld get rid of Ste-wart's golf trophy and Ste-wart's fre-ezer. Af-ter all, she got rid of Ste-wart." "Let's just get her out of the ho-use." Nell slid a box la-be-led "bre-ak-fast set" off the shelf and then, as she tur-ned, ca-ught sight of the fre-ezer chest with the golf trophy sit-ting on top li-ke a tom-b-s-to-ne. Don't be ri-di-cu-lo-us, she told her-self. "What?" Su-ze sa-id. You're just sen-si-ti-ve abo-ut fre-ezers, Nell told her-self. Lynnie wo-uld ma-ke an-y-body mor-bid abo-ut ice cu-bes. "Why are you lo-oking at the fre-ezer li-ke that?" Su-ze sa-id. Nell put her box down on the con-c-re-te flo-or, her he-art po-un-ding li-ke mad. "You're bre-at-hing funny," Su-ze sa-id, bre-at-hing a lit-tle funny her-self. Nell swal-lo-wed and wal-ked over to the fre-ezer. She pic-ked up the trophy ca-re-ful-ly and set it on the flo-or, and then she to-ok a de-ep bre-ath and tri-ed to lift the lid. It was loc-ked. "We ne-ed a key," she told Su-ze. "I'll get it," Su-ze sa-id and ca-me back a mi-nu-te la-ter with the key, sa-ying, "Mar-gie didn't even ask me why." The lid stuck at first, and then ga-ve way with a cre-ak, as if it hadn't be-en ope-ned in ye-ars, li-ke a cas-ket in a Vin-cent Pri-ce mo-vie. But when Nell lo-oked in-si-de, it was full to the brim with ever-y-day whi-te pac-ka-ges la-be-led in black mar-ker "por-ter-ho-use, 6/93" and "sir-lo-in, 5/93." "Thank God." Nell le-aned on the si-de of the fre-ezer in re-li-ef. "Talk abo-ut a mor-bid ima-gi-na-ti-on." "They're all from 1993," Su-ze sa-id, her vo-ice so-un-ding odd. "They ha-ven't used this fre-ezer sin-ce Ste-wart left." They lo-oked at each ot-her, and then they be-gan to un-lo-ad the top la-yer of whi-te pac-ka-ges. "This stuff sho-uld be thrown 'out an-y-way," Nell sa-id, stac-king be-ef. "It can't be any go-od an-y-mo-re." "If it was, Mar-gie wo-uldn't eat it," Su-ze sa-id. "It's not-" Her bre-ath went out on a who-osh, and Nell for-ced her-self to lo-ok at Su-ze's end of the fre-ezer. The-re, wrap-ped in gre-en plas-tic, one che-ek aga-inst a pac-ka-ge la-be-led "gril-led ham-bur-gers 6/93" and the ot-her next to a pac-ka-ge la-be-led "gril-led por-k-c-hops 5/93," was so-met-hing the si-ze of a man's he-ad. Nell swal-lo-wed and to-ok a de-ep bre-ath and then she to-re the brit-tle plas-tic away. Be-ne-ath it was an un-p-le-asantly blue, pudgy fa-ce top-ped by blond ha-ir with a lot of brown stuff crus-ted in it. "Ste-wart," Nell sa-id. Chapter Fourteen Su-ze sa-id, "Oh, God," and tur-ned her back and slid down the si-de of the fre-ezer ca-se, and Nell shif-ted eno-ugh of the pac-ka-ges to see that the rest of Ste-wart's body was the-re, that no-body had de-ca-pi-ta-ted him or ot-her-wi-se chop-ped him in-to ste-aks. "He's all he-re."

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"Oh, go-od," Su-ze sa-id fa-intly from the flo-or. "So," Nell sa-id, trying to ke-ep her vo-ice calm. She be-gan to re-pack the fre-ezer, ta-king pa-ins to rep-la-ce the me-at as ne-atly as be-fo-re. "Uh, Nell?" Su-ze sa-id, her vo-ice still un-na-tu-ral-ly high. "We ha-ve to think," Nell sa-id, still sto-wing me-at. "So we'll just put this all back and think." When she had the last of the pac-ka-ges back in pla-ce and the lid clo-sed aga-in, Nell sat down be-si-de Su-ze, who had put her he-ad bet-we-en her kne-es. "He's be-en in the-re sin-ce 1993." Su-ze lif-ted her he-ad. "That's Mar-gie for you. 'May-be they'll ne-ver know.' My God." "Mar-gie didn't know," Nell sa-id. "She's a ve-ge-ta-ri-an. You know how she fe-els abo-ut fresh fo-od. She'd ne-ver lo-ok in he-re." "It has to be Mar-gie who put him the-re. An-y-body el-se wo-uld ha-ve do-ne so-met-hing with the body in the last se-ven ye-ars." "Li-ke what?" Nell sa-id. "Lo-ok, Mar-gie co-uldn't ha-ve put him in the fre-ezer. Ste-wart out-we-ig-hed her by a hun-d-red po-unds." "She co-uld ha-ve drag-ged him down he-re. By his fe-et." Nell win-ced at the pic-tu-re of Mar-gie drag-ging Ste-wart down in-to the ba-se-ment, his he-ad bo-un-cing on the sta-ir tre-ads. "Co-uld you ha-ve kept Jack in the ba-se-ment that long?" Su-ze til-ted her he-ad. "Yes. But then I'm re-al-ly mad at him." Nell tri-ed to pic-tu-re Tim wrap-ped in plas-tic in the ba-se-ment in the-ir old ho-use. It wasn't en-ti-rely im-pos-sib-le. The-re had be-en a ti-me not too long ago that she wo-uld ha-ve po-si-ti-vely enj-oyed it. A lit-tle pay-back for fre-ezing her out. "May-be. But I think I might ha-ve tro-ub-le sle-eping at night." "Soy milk and Ama-ret-to," Su-ze sa-id. "We ha-ve to call Ga-be," Nell sa-id, and then she stop-ped, he-aring vo-ices up-s-ta-irs. "What is it?" Su-ze sa-id. "Bud-ge," Nell sa-id. An ho-ur la-ter, Ga-be was scow-ling over the fi-re mar-s-hal's re-port when Chloe knoc-ked on the do-or, mar-c-hed in, and plop-ped her-self down in the cha-ir ac-ross from him. "O-ur da-ug-h-ter is get-ting mar-ri-ed," she an-no-un-ced. She was tan and he-althy and happy in spi-te of the con-cern on her fa-ce. "Wel-co-me back," he sa-id. "Lu's not get-ting mar-ri-ed. He tur-ned her down." "What?" Chloe was, if an-y-t-hing, mo-re up-set. "How co-uld an-y-body turn her down?" "He's sa-ne," Ga-be sa-id. "Also he's a go-od kid, and he lo-ves her. He's not go-ing to screw up her li-fe, al-t-ho-ugh she's do-ing her dam-ne-dest to screw up his." "You li-ke him," Chloe sa-id. "I li-ke him," Ga-be sa-id. "I'd li-ke him bet-ter if he wasn't sle-eping with my da-ug-h-ter, but so-me-body's go-ing to do it, so it might as well be him." "He's a Pis-ces." "Is that go-od?" Ga-be sa-id. "You're a Pis-ces, right?" "For you, it was aw-ful. You're a Ta-urus. For Lu, it's ex-cel-lent. She's a Cap-ri-corn. What do we know abo-ut him?" "He's Nell's kid." "Re-al-ly?" Chloe sat back, calm aga-in. "Ha-ve you re-ali-zed Nell is yo-ur so-ul ma-te?" "Yes. Try not to glo-at." "I'm not glo-ating, I'm happy. Even with the stars be-hind you, you co-uld ha-ve scre-wed that up." She sto-od up. "I'm go-ing to go ho-me and call aro-und un-til I find Lu. I want to me-et this Jason." "You'll li-ke him," Ga-be sa-id. She tur-ned to go and he sa-id, "Hey. It's go-od to see you aga-in." "It's go-od to see you, too," she sa-id. "I'm go-ing to Ti-bet next. You know an-y-body who'd li-ke to buy The Cup?" "Pos-sibly," Ga-be sa-id. "Put Nell on it."

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She nod-ded and left, and he tho-ught, Ti-bet? and then dis-mis-sed her from his mind. Half an ho-ur la-ter, the-re was anot-her knock on his do-or and this ti-me Lu stuck her he-ad in. "Can we co-me in?" "We who?" he sa-id, and she pus-hed the do-or open far-t-her and ca-me in, pul-ling Jason Dysart be-hind her. "Oh." He felt sud-denly gu-ilty be-ca-use he hadn't cal-led Jason the night be-fo-re. If he'd go-ne to see his mot-her and fo-und that bur-ned-out apar-t-ment "We're en-ga-ged," Lu sa-id, her eyes bright, da-ring him to ma-ke a sce-ne, ma-king him. for-get the fi-re for a mo-ment. "See?" She held out her hand, and Ga-be was ta-ken aback at the si-ze of the ring. "You knock over a jewelry sto-re?" he sa-id to Jase, wan-ting to smack the kid for tying Lu down so yo-ung. "My mot-her's chi-na ca-bi-net," Jase sa-id, lo-oking fa-irly mi-se-rab-le for a newly en-ga-ged man. "Do you want this?" Ga-be sa-id to him, ig-no-ring Lu. "Or are you just ca-ving in be-ca-use she cut you off?" "I want this," Jase sa-id, his fa-ce dar-ke-ning at Ga-be's to-ne. "We're go-ing to wa-it to get mar-ri-ed un-til I gra-du-ate, but not un-til Lu gra-du-ates. Com-p-ro-mi-se." "And we're mo-ving in to-get-her," Lu sa-id, hol-ding on to him tig-h-ter. "Next qu-ar-ter. Jase has an apar-t-ment right on High Stre-et. It's so co-ol, with a sun porch and ever-y-t-hing." "And you're ex-pec-ting me to help pay for it," Ga-be sa-id. "No," Jase sa-id be-fo-re Lu co-uld say an-y-t-hing. 'I've got it co-ve-red." "You've got a job," Ga-be sa-id, te-aning back in his cha-ir. "I've al-ways had a job," Jase sa-id. "I'll just work so-me ex-t-ra ho-urs. Not to men-ti-on what I'll sa-ve by not da-ting." He lo-oked down at Lu. "I do ha-ve to gi-ve up da-ting, right?" She grin-ned back at him. "Only if you want to li-ve." Jase shrug-ged. "See? Plenty of mo-ney." Ga-be sho-ok his he-ad at Lu. "You sho-uld be span-ked for what you're do-ing to this kid." "I didn't do an-y-t-hing," Lu sa-id, her smi-le dwin-d-ling. "You held yo-ur bre-ath and tur-ned blue un-til he ga-ve you what you wan-ted," Ga-be sa-id. "And now he's go-ing to work ex-t-ra ho-urs to ma-ke su-re you ha-ve ever-y-t-hing you ne-ed. I'm as-ha-med of you." Lu's smi-le di-sap-pe-ared com-p-le-tely. "Wa-it a mi-nu-te," Jase sa-id. "And for the rest of yo-ur li-fe," Ga-be sa-id, sta-ring his da-ug-h-ter down, "you're go-ing to re-mem-ber that this is how he as-ked you to marry him. Not be-ca-use he wan-ted to, but be-ca-use he didn't want to lo-se you." He stop-ped, ca-ught by the re-ali-za-ti-on that he was do-ing the sa-me thing with Nell. "I wan-ted to," Jase was sa-ying, but Lu was lo-oking up at him, hor-ror-st-ruck. "That's not what I wan-ted," she sa-id. "Then why did you do it that way?" Ga-be sa-id. "So what if he sa-id no, he didn't want to get mar-ri-ed right away. Obvi-o-usly, he lo-ves you. That wasn't eno-ugh?" It wasn't eno-ugh for Nell. He chil-led a lit-tle bit at the re-sen-t-ment that ca-me with the tho-ught. "I just- " "If lo-ve isn't eno-ugh, Lu," Ga-be sa-id, "you don't de-ser-ve him." Lo-ve sho-uld al-ways be eno-ugh. "Hey, you're sup-po-sed to be yel-ling at me," Jase sa-id, step-ping in front of Lu. "I'm sle-eping with yo-ur da-ug-h-ter, re-mem-ber?" "Don't push yo-ur luck, kid," Ga-be sa-id, wat-c-hing Lu. Lu tug-ged Jase back be-si-de her. "He's right." "Oh, gre-at," Jase sa-id, gla-ring at Ga-be. "I knew we sho-uld ha-ve just sent you an e-ma-il. Do you ha-ve any idea of the hell I went thro-ugh to get this?" "Be-ca-use I blac-k-ma-iled you," Lu sa-id. "That's wrong. Daddy's right, I don't want to spend the rest of my li-fe fe-eling li-ke I ma-de you pro-po-se." Ga-be nod-ded at him. "And trust me, kid, you don't want to spend the rest of yo-ur li-fe trying to

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con-vin-ce her you wo-uld ha-ve pro-po-sed an-y-way." Li-ke I did. Li-ke I'm go-ing to. Lu lo-oked at him, star-t-led. "Mom did that?" Ga-be sho-ok his he-ad. "Yo-ur mom was gre-at, al-ways. But we had to get mar-ri-ed. So I had to work a lit-tle har-der to con-vin-ce her I'd ha-ve mar-ri-ed her an-y-way. It wasn't al-ways fun." "But you wo-uld ha-ve," Lu sa-id, and Ga-be sho-ok his he-ad. "No. I wo-uldn't ha-ve. I wasn't re-ady." Lu swal-lo-wed. "Are you sorry?" "No-pe. Yo-ur mom and I had a go-od mar-ri-age for a whi-le. We had you. It was ne-ver bad. But she ne-ver bo-ught it that I mar-ri-ed her be-ca-use I wan-ted to. And right now you don't be-li-eve Jase pro-po-sed be-ca-use he wan-ted to." "I wan-ted to," Jase sa-id. "I ho-nest to God did." "J-ust not right now," Lu sa-id. "Well," Jase sa-id. "No. Al-t-ho-ugh now that we did it, I li-ke it. We're go-od." "No, we're not." Lu to-ok off the ring and han-ded it back. "Oh, that's just fi-ne," Jase sa-id, and he so-un-ded so much li-ke his mot-her that Ga-be flin-c-hed. "Now lo-ok what you've do-ne," he sa-id to Ga-be. "Do you ha-ve any idea how hard it's go-ing to be to talk her in-to this aga-in?" "Yes," Ga-be sa-id. "That was my plan." He lo-oked at Lu. "I'll pay yo-ur half of the rent and ex-pen-ses. He do-es not work ex-t-ra ho-urs for you. Not yet, an-y-way." "Thank you, Daddy," Lu sa-id, and blin-ked back te-ars. "I think." "I want to talk to Jase alo-ne," he sa-id. "Go next do-or and say hel-lo to yo-ur mot-her. She's ho-me." "Ma-ma?" Lu snif-fed and left, and Ga-be wat-c-hed Jase watch her go. The po-or bas-tard was re-al-ly in lo-ve with her. That me-ant he was the one who was go-ing to ha-ve to co-pe with her from now on. The-re was al-ways a sil-ver li-ning. Jase tur-ned back to him. "I re-al-ly do-" "I know, I know," Ga-be sa-id. "And you pro-mi-se to ta-ke go-od ca-re of her. I got it. Go-od luck, kid, you're go-ing to ne-ed it." "Okay," Jase sa-id wa-rily. "So?" "Tell me what that ring has to do with yo-ur mot-her's chi-na." "That's bet-we-en my mot-her and me," Jase sa-id stiffly. "She sold her chi-na to get the ring," Ga-be sa-id. Jase sat down in the cli-ent cha-ir, lo-oking even mo-re mi-se-rab-le. "I told her not to, but she ca-me over the next day and told me she'd sold it-" "I know," Ga-be sa-id. "Be-li-eve me, I know how yo-ur mot-her works. Who did she sell it to?" "You don't-" Jase be-gan, and then his fa-ce cle-ared as he be-gan to catch Ga-be's drift. "Oh. This de-aler in Clin-ton-vil-le." He be-gan to se-arch his poc-kets. "I've got the card right he-re. I tho-ught may-be I co-uld ask him to hold on-to it un-til I co-uld…He-re it is." He held up a bu-si-ness card. "Go-od," Ga-be sa-id, ta-king it. "The-re was a fi-re last night. Yo-ur mom lost ever-y-t-hing." Jase fro-ze. "Is she-" "She's fi-ne," Ga-be sa-id. "Go next do-or and me-et Lu's mot-her and then la-ter we'll all ha-ve din-ner." "Lu's mot-her," Jase sa-id and to-ok a de-ep bre-ath. "Any ad-vi-ce?" "You're in, kid," Ga-be sa-id. "You're a Pis-ces." Jase lo-oked mysti-fi-ed. "Okay." "One mo-re thing," Ga-be sa-id. "If you hurt my lit-tle girl, I'll ha-ve you kil-led." "Right." Jase sto-od up. "If you ma-ke my mot-her cry aga-in, I'll kick yo-ur ass." Ga-be nod-ded, and Jase nod-ded back, still wary but lo-oking much hap-pi-er "Don't tell an-y-body abo-ut this," Ga-be sa-id. "Who'd be-li-eve it?" Jase sa-id and went out to me-et Chloe. Ga-be sat back and tho-ught abo-ut Nell. He wan-ted her, he'd do an-y-t-hing to ke-ep her, but she was right: the re-sen-t-ment co-uld po-ison them. He sho-ok his he-ad and pic-ked up the pho-ne and

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di-aled the de-aler in Clin-ton-vil-le, who was de-lig-h-ted to he-ar from him. He tra-ded his Vi-sa num-ber for the pro-mi-se of next-day de-li-very and tho-ught, Well, that's one thing I've do-ne right. Then he hung up the pho-ne and it rang aga-in right away. When he an-s-we-red, it was Nell. "We ha-ve a prob-lem," she sa-id. No kid-ding. "What now?" "We fo-und Ste-wart," Nell sa-id. "He was in Mar-gie's fre-ezer. Then Bud-ge ca-me by and threw us out. We're at a pay pho-ne at the Ma-rat-hon sta-ti-on on Hen-der-son, and Mar-gie's back at her ho-use with her dumb boy-f-ri-end and her hus-band's cor-p-se. We're okay, but we've be-en bet-ter. He re-al-ly lo-oked aw-ful." Her vo-ice was high and much too flip-pant to be nor-mal, but she so-un-ded li-ke she was co-ping. Nell al-ways co-ped. Ga-be ex-ha-led. "Okay. Do-es Bud-ge know you fo-und the body?" He lo-oked up to see Ri-ley stan-ding in the open do-or-way, his eyeb-rows ra-ised at "body." "I don't know," Nell sa-id. "But he wasn't happy to see us. He thinks we up-set Mar-gie. Mar-gie's drunk and sel-ling Fran-cis-can-wa-re on eBay." "Stay the-re," Ga-be sa-id. "We're co-ming." He hung up and sa-id to Ri-ley, "They fo-und Ste-wart in Mar-gie's fre-ezer." "Of co-ur-se they did," Ri-ley sa-id. "Jesus." "Mo-re com-pany," Mar-gie sa-id, when she an-s-we-red the do-or, not ple-ased. "Bud-ge was he-re and so was Daddy. I told them you we-re co-ming back to help me cle-an the ba-se-ment, but they didn't get the hint so I had to throw them out." She lo-oked se-ve-rely at Ga-be and Ri-ley. "If you're sta-ying, you ha-ve to help. I'm very busy." Then she went back to typing, Su-ze be-si-de her, whi-le Ga-be and Ri-ley went down to the ba-se-ment with Nell and ope-ned up the fre-ezer. It was half full of pro-te-in from 1993, but no Ste-wart. "Bud-ge," Ga-be sa-id. "Bud-ge is a wuss," Ri-ley sa-id. "You think he got a fro-zen cor-p-se out of a chest fre-ezer by him-self wit-ho-ut thro-wing up or fa-in-ting? And Tre-vor is old." "Well, for-get Mar-gie hel-ping," Nell sa-id. "She wo-uldn't be typing if she'd just se-en Ste-wart." "J-ack," Ri-ley sa-id. "What are they go-ing to do with him?" Ga-be sa-id. "Lo-ok for anot-her fre-ezer?" "J-ack has a fre-ezer li-ke this in his ba-se-ment," Nell sa-id. "The-re's a fre-ezer at our pla-ce, too," Ri-ley sa-id. "The town's full of them." Ga-be clo-sed the fre-ezer lid. "If Ste-wart's be-en in he-re sin-ce 1993, he didn't kill Lynnie." "Mar-gie hit him and went up-s-ta-irs," Nell sa-id. "Jack and Tre-vor and Bud-ge han-d-led it from the-re." Her eyes went to the fre-ezer and then slid away. "Do you think they all knew he was in he-re?" "No," Ga-be sa-id. "I'm fin-ding it hard to be-li-eve one of them left him he-re, let alo-ne all of them. And at this po-int, I don't ca-re. I just want to know whe-re that body is, and who kil-led him and Lynnie. We can fill in the de-ta-ils la-ter." By mid-night, the po-li-ce had co-me and go-ne, less skep-ti-cal abo-ut the mis-sing-body-from-the-fre-ezer story than they had be-en be-fo-re Ga-be fil-led them in on the bac-k-g-ro-und. By then, Mar-gie had pos-ted all her Fran-cis-can-wa-re and was wor-king on the rest of the ho-use, ob-li-vi-o-us to the fact that her hus-band had be-en li-ving with her lon-ger than she'd tho-ught. "I think she's dis-co-ve-red a way to get out of the ho-use," Su-ze told Nell. "She's go-ing to sell it out from un-der Bud-ge on eBay." When they'd con-vin-ced Mar-gie that she co-uld check her auc-ti-ons on the agency com-pu-ter and that Ga-be wo-uld watch the ho-use for her, she went to pack a bag so she co-uld spend the night at Chloe's. Ga-be han-ded Nell his keys as they left. "I get to dri-ve yo-ur car?" she sa-id. "You get to clo-se the of-fi-ce," he sa-id. "Check all the locks, ple-ase. You may al-so let yo-ur-self in-to my apar-t-ment so you can sle-ep in my bed. I will be dri-ving my car." "How, if I ha-ve the keys?" "I ha-ve a spa-re key. Do not to-uch my car." "Right," Nell sa-id. "You know, if we got mar-ri-ed, you'd be en-do-wing me with all yo-ur worldly

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go-ods." "All of them ex-cept my car." "And I tho-ught you we-re in-ca-pab-le of chan-ge," she sa-id and went to help Su-ze po-ur Mar-gie in-to the Be-et-le. "She's go-ing to be okay," Su-ze sa-id to Nell when they we-re ha-uling a sle-epy Mar-gie up Chloe's sta-irs, Chloe flut-te-ring be-hind them in con-cern. "We just had to get her out of that ho-use." "And off the soy milk," Nell sa-id. When Mar-gie was as-le-ep, Nell went back to the agency with Mar-le-ne to clo-se the of-fi-ces. Ga-be was pro-bably sta-ked out at Mar-gie's for the night, but she left her desk light on for him, just in ca-se, and then he-aded for his of-fi-ce to lock it, only to turn back when she he-ard a we-ird pur-ring snarl. Mar-le-ne was grow-ling. Nell went cold. Get out, she tho-ught and to-ok a step to-ward the do-or, and then she he-ard so-me-body say, "Nell," from the sto-re-ro-om be-hind her. She tur-ned back and saw Tre-vor stan-ding in the do-or-way, smi-ling at her as be-ne-vo-lently as ever. "I was ho-ping yoq co-uld help me," he sa-id. "Gee," Nell sa-id. "I was just on my way to bed." "I ne-ed the fre-ezer key," Tre-vor sa-id. "It do-esn't se-em to be on Mar-gie's key ring." "Oh, well, Ga-be pretty much holds on to that," Nell sa-id. "But I'm su-re to-mor-row he'll be glad to-" "Tho-se are his keys," Tre-vor sa-id. "In yo-ur hand." "The-se?" Nell sa-id brightly, sho-ving them in her jac-ket poc-ket. "No. Tho-se are mi-ne. I-" "Nell, I ga-ve Pat-rick that key ring," Tre-vor sa-id ti-redly. "I know tho-se are Ga-be's keys. I've had a very long day, and I want to go ho-me. Open the fre-ezer for me." Nell to-ok a step back. "I re-al-ly don't ha-ve the aut-ho-rity-" Tre-vor to-ok a gun out of his co-at poc-ket, and he was clumsy eno-ugh that Nell ga-ve up any tho-ught of ma-king a run for it. She didn't want to be the one who fi-nal-ly prod-ded Tre-vor in-to an im-pe-tu-o-us stre-ak, es-pe-ci-al-ly if he was ar-med and aw-k-ward. "You're the one who runs this pla-ce," Tre-vor sa-id, all the ge-ni-ality go-ne from his vo-ice. "You know whe-re ever-y-t-hing is. I want the fi-les from 1982." "What?" Nell sa-id, in-c-re-du-lo-us. "That's all?" He wasn't lo-oking for a pla-ce to stash Ste-wart? May-be she'd mi-sj-ud-ged him. She lo-oked at the gun wa-ve-ring in his hand. On the ot-her hand, he was pretty se-ri-o-us abo-ut tho-se fi-les. "What's in the fi-les?" "You didn't find it then," Tre-vor sa-id. "I tho-ught you co-uld find an-y-t-hing." "I didn't lo-ok in 1982," Nell sa-id, in-dig-nant. "Not-hing hap-pe-ned in 1982." "Oh," Tre-vor sa-id sadly, "so-met-hing hap-pe-ned in 1982." He wa-ved the gun at her, nod-ding to-ward the fre-ezer, and Nell nod-ded back, eager to ple-ase. "Su-re." She ed-ged aro-und him ca-re-ful-ly, and he pi-vo-ted as she mo-ved, ke-eping the gun on her. She went in-to the sto-re-ro-om with him clo-se be-hind-too clo-se-and un-loc-ked the fre-ezer. "The-re you go," she sa-id, ope-ning the do-or. "Ha-ve at it. All yo-urs." "Find the fi-les from '82 and bring them out." Tre-vor held out his hand. "I'll ta-ke the keys." "Uh, the-se are Ga-be's." "But I ne-ed them," Tre-vor sa-id gently and ra-ised the gun a lit-tle. "Okay." Nell han-ded them over, fa-irly su-re that was a mis-ta-ke but not se-e-ing an al-ter-na-ti-ve. Ga-be wo-uld ha-ve se-en an al-ter-na-ti-ve. If she to-ok his of-fer to di-vi-de up the agency work, he was go-ing to get ever-y-t-hing in-vol-ving pe-op-le with guns. "Lis-ten, the-re are go-ing to be two or three bo-xes from 1982. You want to help?" "No," Tre-vor sa-id, and wa-ved the gun to-ward the do-or. "You want to gi-ve me a hint of what we're lo-oking for?" "No." "Is this what Lynnie was lo-oking for?" "Nell."

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"Be-ca-use I was just won-de-ring what it was. We tho-ught it was the di-amonds, you know." She ed-ged away from the fre-ezer a lit-tle, bab-bling to dis-t-ract him. "We had no idea the-re was an-y-t-hing in the 1982 fi-les. Is that what you we-re lo-oking for when you bro-ke in-to my apar-t-ment that night? Boy, that must ha-ve gi-ven you a start, to find me in the-re. You pro-bably tho-ught the pla-ce was empty. So what we-re you-" "Nell," Tre-vor sa-id. "Shut up and get the fi-les." Nell to-ok a de-ep bre-ath. "Okay, lo-ok, you're not go-ing to sho-ot me. That's pro-bably the gun Ste-wart shot He-le-na with. You me-ant to get rid of it, and then put it off, right? I think that's wi-se. Pe-op-le ma-ke mis-ta-kes when they hurry. We sho-uld think this over. Be-ca-use, you know, if you sho-ot" -me- "the gun, the po-li-ce will get the bul-lets" from my body- "and tra-ce the gun right back to you. So let's just put the gun down-" "Calm down," Tre-vor sa-id. "I don't want to ha-ve to get rid of anot-her body. They're top damn he-avy. At le-ast, hu-man bo-di-es are." He mo-ved the gun from her to Mar-le-ne, who sat on her ha-un-c-hes and lo-oked up at him with her usu-al con-tempt as he to-ok aim bet-we-en her eyes. "No," Nell sa-id, go-ing cold. "A dog body," Tre-vor sa-id, "wo-uld be easy to get rid of." "Wa-it," Nell sa-id aga-in and step-ped in-to the fre-ezer. "Much bet-ter," Tre-vor sa-id, ke-eping the gun on Mar-le-ne. "Now get me the fi-les." "J-ust gi-ve me a mi-nu-te." Nell sho-ved the bo-xes from the ni-ne-ti-es out of the way to get to the eig-h-ti-es, de-ter-mi-ned to not pa-nic. "De-fi-ni-tely two bo-xes at le-ast," she cal-led back to Tre-vor. She bro-ught the first box out, thin-king fast. As long as she bro-ught him the bo-xes, he wo-uldn't sho-ot Mar-le-ne. And of co-ur-se he wasn't go-ing to sho-ot her, eit-her. Ste-wart shot pe-op-le but Tre-vor didn't. Tre-vor put them in fre-ezers. She went back in and got the se-cond box. "That's it," she sa-id as she bro-ught it out and put it on the flo-or in front of him. She re-ac-hed for the fre-ezer do-or to clo-se it, but he was stan-ding in the way. "If you'd just back up, I'll clo-se this up and help you go thro-ugh the fi-les," she sa-id, trying to ed-ge her way aro-und him. "They'll be a mess-" Tre-vor sho-ved her hard and she trip-ped back, fal-ling flat thro-ugh the fre-ezer do-or as Mar-le-ne went crazy be-hind him. She tri-ed to roll to her fe-et, but he kic-ked at her and, when she rol-led away from him, he slam-med the fre-ezer do-or, cut-ting off Mar-le-ne in mid-bark, le-aving Nell en-tom-bed in the dar-k-ness. "Tre-vor, you son of a bitch," Nell scre-amed and stum-b-led to her fe-et to open the do-or as the dar-k-ness set-tled aro-und her li-ke a shro-ud, im-pe-net-rab-le. He'd loc-ked the do-or. He'd loc-ked her in-si-de and he was out-si-de with Mar-le-ne. He wo-uldn't kill Mar-le-ne now. The-re was no re-ason to. Mar-le-ne was sa-fe, she was su-re of it. But she co-uld die. Tre-vor was go-ing to fre-eze her li-ke he'd fro-zen Lynnie, so he co-uld ke-ep his li-fe the sa-me on-ce he'd fo-und wha-te-ver he was lo-oking for in 1982. "Tre-vor, you dum-bass, " she yel-led at the do-or. "You'll ne-ver find an-y-t-hing in tho-se fi-les." She co-uldn't re-mem-ber if the fre-ezer was so-un-d-p-ro-of, and she didn't ca-re. It felt go-od to yell at him. It felt bet-ter to re-mem-ber that Ri-ley's mot-her had be-en do-ing the fi-ling in 1982 whi-le Chloe was on ma-ter-nity le-ave. Tre-vor didn't ha-ve a ho-pe in hell of fin-ding an-y-t-hing in tho-se fi-les un-less he went thro-ugh them pa-ge by pa-ge. Of co-ur-se, he was go-ing to ha-ve a lot of ti-me to lo-ok if he to-ok the fi-les with him. And in the me-an-ti-me, she was fre-ezing. She wrap-ped her arms aro-und her-self to ward off the cold. Okay, the way not to fre-eze to de-ath wo-uld be to ke-ep mo-ving un-til Ga-be sho-wed up and let her out. She had one mo-ment of do-ubt-that was put-ting a lot of fa-ith in Ga-be's po-wers of de-duc-ti-on-and then re-ali-zed that she didn't ha-ve to rely on de-duc-ti-on. When Ga-be got ho-me and she wasn't in his bed, he'd te-ar the city apart un-til he fo-und her.

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So all she had to do was not fre-eze to de-ath un-til then. Mo-ve-ment, that was the key. She be-gan to pa-ce up and down the fre-ezer in the blac-k-ness, stum-b-ling over fi-le bo-xes, fla-iling her arms, trying to think hot tho-ughts, an-y-t-hing to ke-ep her blo-od from fre-ezing in her ve-ins, chec-king the do-or pe-ri-odi-cal-ly to see if Tre-vor had un-loc-ked it yet. He-avy bre-at-hing, she tho-ught and be-gan to jump up and down. Hurry up, Ga-be. She swit-c-hed to wal-king aga-in when the jum-ping got pa-in-ful, thin-king that it must be mid-night, that Ga-be wo-uld gi-ve up wat-c-hing Mar-gie's when the sun ca-me up, that she'd only ha-ve to walk for six ho-urs-co-uld she walk for six ho-urs?-and then she'd be out. Or she co-uld bre-ak out. That's what Ga-be wo-uld do. How did you bre-ak out of a loc-ked fre-ezer? The-re sho-uld ha-ve be-en a sa-fety latch on the damn do-or, but you co-uldn't ac-ci-den-tal-ly lock yo-ur-self in-to this fre-ezer, so-me-body had to de-li-be-ra-tely lock you in with a key, so the-re was no sa-fety latch be-ca-use that dum-bass Pat-rick hadn't re-ali-zed that his best fri-end wo-uld be tur-ning his fu-tu-re da-ug-h-ter-in-law in-to a Pop-sic-le thirty ye-ars la-ter. Think, she told her-self. Be li-ke Ga-be. Stop whi-ning and think. What did she ha-ve to work with? Twenty ye-ars of fi-les. If she had a match, she co-uld set them on fi-re. Then at le-ast the-re'd be so-me light. Of co-ur-se, then she'd be trap-ped in a fre-ezer full of fla-mes. And car-bon di-oxi-de, sin-ce fi-re ten-ded to use up ox-y-gen. Oxygen. Fre-ezers we-re air-tight. How long did she ha-ve? Six ho-urs un-til Ga-be got ho-me, how much lon-ger af-ter that un-til he fo-und her, how much air did she bre-at-he an ho-ur, how much air had she al-re-ady bre-at-hed in, wal-king fast? If she slo-wed down, she'd fre-eze to de-ath. If she spe-eded up, she'd suf-fo-ca-te. Why wasn't the-re ever a mid-dle gro-und? God-damn Tre-vor. He was go-ing to kill her, the sa-me way he'd kil-led Lynnie. Lynnie. The-re was a ro-le mo-del. Lynnie hadn't gi-ven in to him, hadn't let him run her. She'd be-en a to-ugh wo-man, hadn't com-p-ro-mi-sed, hadn't let men get her down. Of co-ur-se, Lynnie was de-ad. May-be "What wo-uld Lynnie do?" wasn't the in-s-pi-ra-ti-on she ne-eded at the mo-ment. I ne-ed help, she tho-ught. I can-not get out of he-re alo-ne. I ne-ed bac-kup. I ne-ed Ga-be. She felt sick at the tho-ught. She sho-uldn't ne-ed an-y-body, she sho-uld be ab-le to sa-ve her-self, a strong wo-man wo-uld sa-ve her-self and not rely on any man. For the next half ho-ur, she fum-b-led thro-ugh the blac-k-ness for any ope-ning, any pos-si-bi-lity, stac-king bo-xes to get to the ce-iling, gro-wing col-der and mo-re des-pe-ra-te, and with the cold sic-ker and sle-epi-er. I am not go-ing to gi-ve Tre-vor Ogil-vie the sa-tis-fac-ti-on of my de-ath, she tho-ught and re-pe-ated it in her he-ad, li-ke an af-fir-ma-ti-on whi-le she se-ar-c-hed for so-met-hing, an-y-t-hing, a switch, may-be she co-uld turn the fre-ezer off, the-re was a tho-ught. She'd still suf-fo-ca-te but The do-or ope-ned and the light ca-me on, and Mar-le-ne bar-ked hyste-ri-cal-ly as Ga-be sa-id, "Nell?" "Oh, thank God," Nell sa-id and stum-b-led ac-ross the fre-ezer in-to his arms. "What the hell?" Ga-be sa-id but he ca-ught her at the do-or and pul-led her out, slam-ming the do-or be-hind them. "Ta-ke the do-or off of that damn thing," Nell sa-id, shi-ve-ring un-con-t-rol-lably aga-inst him. "Ta-ke the who-le thing out. It's hor-rib-le." Ga-be tig-h-te-ned his arms aro-und her. "God, you're li-ke ice. Who-" "Tre-vor," Nell sa-id. "Get me out of this sto-re-ro-om." "He loc-ked you in? Whe-re is he?" "I don't know." She re-ali-zed she was sha-king, the cold, she tho-ught, and the ad-re-na-li-ne and the ex-ha-us-ti-on and the fe-ar. "He wan-ted the '82 fi-les. He must ha-ve ta-ken them. He to-ok yo-ur keys, too. I don't know what-" Out-si-de, a mo-tor erup-ted, and Ga-be sa-id, "That's my car." He let go of her and ran for the

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re-cep-ti-on ro-om, and Nell fol-lo-wed in ti-me to see him go out the do-or. "Hey, it's all right, I'm fi-ne," she sa-id, still shud-de-ring from the fre-ezer, and then she he-ard ti-res squ-e-al and a crash that so-un-ded li-ke an ex-p-lo-si-on, short and sharp and hard and lo-ud. "If the-re's a God," she told Mar-le-ne, "that was that bas-tard, Tre-vor." "That was my car," Ga-be sa-id, when they'd all gat-he-red in the of-fi-ce two ho-urs la-ter, af-ter the pa-ra-me-dics had ta-ken Tre-vor off to the hos-pi-tal and the po-li-ce had ar-ran-ged to tow the re-ma-ins of the Por-s-c-he. "Ye-ah, it was sel-fish of him to try to com-mit su-ici-de in yo-ur car," Nell sa-id, cud-dling a to-as-ty-warm Mar-le-ne to her. "He didn't try to com-mit su-ici-de," Ri-ley sa-id. "He was ta-king the car to se-arch it. Ga-be's bright idea." "Don't re-mind me," Ga-be sa-id. "Yo-ur idea?" Nell sa-id. "It was the last pla-ce you hadn't lo-oked," Ga-be sa-id. "I told him that last we-ek, thin-king he'd try to get in-to it. And of co-ur-se, be-ing Tre-vor, he wa-ited." "So what hap-pe-ned?" Su-ze sa-id. "Why'd he crash in-to the park?" "A Por-s-c-he 911 is not yo-ur ave-ra-ge car," Ri-ley sa-id. "The tur-bo lag is in-sa-ne." "He lost con-t-rol," Ga-be sa-id. "It was just his bad luck he was he-aded for the park and tho-se sto-ne pil-lars." "Tur-bo lag?" Su-ze sa-id to Ri-ley. "It he-si-ta-tes," Ri-ley sa-id. "And for on-ce, Tre-vor didn't. He must ha-ve stom-ped on that ac-ce-le-ra-tor. Which me-ant af-ter the he-si-ta-ti-on, he was air-bor-ne." "I don't ca-re abo-ut Tre-vor or tur-bo lag," Nell sa-id, hol-ding Mar-le-ne clo-ser. "What the hell hap-pe-ned in 1982 an-y-way?" "My dad di-ed," Ga-be sa-id. "Oh," Nell sa-id. "I don't want to think any mo-re to-night." Ri-ley sto-od up. "You can all stay up and lo-ok for Ste-wart and the '82 fi-les if you want, but I'm go-ing to bed." Su-ze sto-od up, too. "I'm go-ing to go next do-or to stay with Mar-gie. I don't even want to think abo-ut ex-p-la-ining all of this to her to-mor-row." Ri-ley held the do-or open for her, and Su-ze sto-od clo-se to him for a mo-ment and then left. When Ri-ley had go-ne up-s-ta-irs, Ga-be sa-id to Nell, "You su-re you're okay?" "No," Nell sa-id, cud-dling Mar-le-ne clo-ser. "What wo-uld you ha-ve do-ne if Tre-vor had loc-ked you in the-re?" "Ha-ven't a clue," Ga-be sa-id. "Why?" "I kept thin-king you'd ha-ve known what to do," Nell sa-id. "I felt stu-pid, fre-ezing to de-ath in the dark: You'd ne-ver ha-ve let him put you in the-re in the first pla-ce." "May-be. De-pends on the cir-cum-s-tan-ces." "He thre-ate-ned to sho-ot Mar-le-ne." Ga-be was qu-i-et for a mo-ment, and then he sa-id, "He has a con-cus-si-on and mul-tip-le frac-tu-res." "Go-od," Nell sa-id. "How did you know I was in the-re?" "I cal-led to ma-ke su-re you'd clo-sed the of-fi-ce, and Su-ze sa-id you'd co-me over he-re, and when the-re was no an-s-wer he-re, I ca-me back and fo-und Mar-le-ne thro-wing a fit at the fre-ezer do-or. So I got the spa-re key out of my desk and-" "Mar-le-ne?" Nell kis-sed the top of Mar-le-ne's furry lit-tle he-ad. "Mar-le-ne, you he-ro-ine, you sa-ved me." "Well, I hel-ped," Ga-be sa-id. "Ye-ah, you did." Nell lo-oked at him in the lam-p-light, the he-ro who'd sa-ved her. That kind of guy was dan-ge-ro-us, she tho-ught. A wo-man co-uld start de-pen-ding on that kind of guy. He smi-led at her, his con-cern for her pla-in, and she tho-ught, The hell with it. For to-night, she was

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that kind of wo-man. "You get a re-ward, too," she sa-id and pul-led him up-s-ta-irs, de-ter-mi-ned to be warm aga-in, one way or anot-her. The next mor-ning, Nell and Su-ze hel-ped a shoc-ked and so-ber Mar-gie pack the things she hadn't ma-na-ged to sell on eBay and mo-ve in-to Chloe's. As they'd car-ri-ed the last of her things out, Bud-ge had put his fo-ot down, for-bid-ding her to go, and Mar-gie had sta-red at him for a mo-ment and then sa-id, "I'm sorry, Bud-ge, I think you just was-ted se-ven ye-ars," and left whi-le he'd sput-te-red be-hind her. That af-ter-no-on, Su-ze to-ok Mar-gie to the hos-pi-tal to see Tre-vor, and Nell ca-me down to the of-fi-ce wrap-ped in Ga-be's thic-kest swe-ater. She wasn't cold an-y-m-p-re, but it was still go-od to ha-ve so-met-hing warm wrap-ped aro-und her, es-pe-ci-al-ly so-met-hing warm that was Ga-be's. It was all of a pi-ece with be-ing res-cu-ed, she tho-ught. At le-ast Ga-be didn't res-cue li-ke Bud-ge did, ex-pec-ting a li-fe-ti-me of gra-te-ful ser-vi-ce in re-turn. With Ga-be, it was mo-re all in a day's work. She co-uld li-ve with that. She went in-to his of-fi-ce and sa-id, "Okay, I've be-en thin-king." He was sit-ting be-hind his desk, lo-oking ti-red, sta-ring in-to spa-ce as if in de-ep tho-ught, and she to-ok the se-at ac-ross from him whi-le Mar-le-ne fo-und a sunny spot on the rug and stret-c-hed out. "You we-re right," she sa-id. "Abo-ut me be-ing he-re se-ven months and you be-ing he-re a li-fe-ti-me. I didn't con-t-ri-bu-te one thing last night, didn't even le-ave a tra-il of bre-ad crumbs-" "What the hell are you tal-king abo-ut?" he sa-id, frow-ning as he fo-cu-sed on her. "You we-re loc-ked in a fre-ezer." "That equ-ality thing," Nell sa-id. "I want it so I won't get left with not-hing aga-in. But I ha-ven't ear-ned it. My se-ven months is a drop in the buc-ket com-pa-red with what you know. It's okay. We don't ne-ed to get mar-ri-ed to work to-get-her. I can wa-it un-til I've le-ar-ned mo-re." "You think too damn much," Ga-be sa-id. "I saw Tre-vor this mor-ning." "I do not think too damn much," Nell sa-id, an-no-yed at be-ing dis-mis-sed. "I'm ca-pi-tu-la-ting he-re, you dum-bass." "My dad wro-te a let-ter in 1982," Ga-be went on as if she hadn't sa-id an-y-t-hing. "One of tho-se in-the-event-of-my-de-ath things. He con-fes-sed to hel-ping Tre-vor co-ver up He-le-na's mur-der." "Oh," Nell sa-id, mo-men-ta-rily si-det-rac-ked. "In 1982." "Ye-ah. The sa-me ye-ar my mom di-ed, and Lu was born, and his he-art star-ted gi-ving him tro-ub-le. I think he…" Ga-be sho-ok his he-ad. "Oh, hell, I don't ha-ve a clue what he was thin-king. I want to be-li-eve he was fi-nal-ly trying to do the right thing. In the let-ter, he sa-id he was go-ing to the po-li-ce, but first he was go-ing to tell Tre-vor and Ste-wart what he was go-ing to do, so they'd be pre-pa-red. He al-so sa-id he was go-ing to tell them that he'd writ-ten the let-ter, to pro-tect him-self." "And then he di-ed of a he-art at-tack," Nell sa-id. "And then Ste-wart loc-ked him in the fre-ezer," Ga-be sa-id, "and wa-ited un-til he was de-ad, and put him in his bed up-s-ta-irs, and we ne-ver knew the dif-fe-ren-ce. The doc-tor sig-ned the de-ath cer-ti-fi-ca-te wit-ho-ut an autopsy." Nell felt her bre-ath go. "How-" "Tre-vor told me," Ga-be sa-id. "Abo-ut an ho-ur ago. The po-li-ce fo-und the let-ter in the fi-les and to-ok it to him this mor-ning. They al-so fo-und Ste-wart tha-wing in the trunk of his Mer-ce-des. He's trying to ex-p-la-in ever-y-t-hing away by bla-ming it on ever-y-body el-se: Ste-wart kil-led my dad, Mar-gie kil-led Ste-wart, Jack kil-led Lynnie and bur-ned yo-ur apar-t-ment, and Tre-vor's just trying to ke-ep the scan-dal qu-i-et so the fa-mily won't suf-fer." All that de-ath, Nell tho-ught, all be-ca-use Tre-vor didn't want to be mar-ri-ed an-y-mo-re. He-le-na, get-ting re-ady to kill her-self be-ca-use she didn't know who she was if she wasn't mar-ri-ed. Mar-gie, ha-ting Ste-wart but stic-king be-ca-use they we-re mar-ri-ed, and fif-te-en ye-ars la-ter, smac-king him with a pit-c-her be-ca-use she co-uldn't stand be-ing mar-ri-ed. Lynnie, ma-ri-na-ting in re-sen-t-ment be-ca-use Ste-wart hadn't kept his pro-mi-se to co-me back so they co-uld get mar-ri-ed. She and Tim, mu-ti-la-ting each ot-her be-ca-use they we-re stuck to-get-her, mar-ri-ed. Jack im-p-ri-so-ning Su-ze and Su-ze not even trying to es-ca-pe for fo-ur-te-en ye-ars be-ca-use they we-re mar-ri-ed. It sho-uld be har-der to get mar-ri-ed, she tho-ught. You sho-uld ha-ve to ta-ke tests, get a le-ar-ner's per-mit, you

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sho-uld ne-ed mo-re than a pul-se and twenty bucks to get a li-cen-se. "You wo-uldn't be-li-eve so-me of the ex-p-la-na-ti-ons he's be-en gi-ving," Ga-be sa-id. "How much do you be-li-eve?" "I be-li-eve Ste-wart kil-led my dad. Mar-gie didn't kill Ste-wart, tho-ugh. When the co-ro-ner un-w-rap-ped him, his fin-ger-na-ils we-re torn. Tre-vor put him in the fre-ezer ali-ve and then went back and wrap-ped him up and bu-ri-ed him un-der his own gril-led por-ter-ho-use when he was de-ad. I think he did it on pur-po-se. I think it was pay-back for my dad." "Ele-ven ye-ars la-ter," Nell sa-id. "Tre-vor wa-ited a long ti-me for that re-ven-ge." "It's what he's go-od at," Ga-be sa-id. "I think he kil-led Lynnie, too. I think she pus-hed him too far and he hit her and put her in the fre-ezer and then wa-ited to see if an-y-body wo-uld find her. I think he tri-ed to fra-me Jack for the fi-re in yo-ur apar-t-ment. And I know he tri-ed to kill you." Nell tho-ught of be-ing hel-p-less in that fre-ezer aga-in. "How's he ex-p-la-ining that one?" "Ac-ci-dent. He didn't re-ali-ze you we-re still in the fre-ezer when he shut the do-or." "You are kid-ding me." "Well, he has a con-cus-si-on. Al-so, no-body ever cros-ses him. He's be-en get-ting away with mur-der for ye-ars. No-body's ever ma-de him ac-co-un-tab-le." Ga-be met her eyes. "He didn't ha-ve an-y-body li-ke you." "I mis-sed a step the-re," Nell sa-id. "I've be-en thin-king," Ga-be sa-id. "That let-ter got lost be-ca-use my aunt was such a lo-usy sec-re-tary. If my mom had be-en he-re, she'd ha-ve tur-ned the let-ter over to the cops as so-on as my dad di-ed. The-re'd ha-ve be-en an autopsy. Ste-wart wo-uld ha-ve go-ne to ja-il, so Mar-gie wo-uldn't ha-ve sta-yed mar-ri-ed to him for fif-te-en ye-ars and then hit him with a pit-c-her, and Tre-vor wo-uldn't ha-ve fro-zen him to de-ath. Or Lynnie. Or bur-ned yo-ur pla-ce and tri-ed to kill you. Or wrec-ked my car." He so-un-ded most bit-ter abo-ut the last one. "Not just a sec-re-tary," Nell sa-id. "And the re-ason she wasn't he-re," Ga-be sa-id, "is be-ca-use she and my dad had fo-ught over what he was do-ing, over the car, over his not tel-ling her what was go-ing on. If he'd co-me cle-an to her in 1978 when He-le-na di-ed, if he'd lis-te-ned to her, Ste-wart wo-uldn't ha-ve be-en aro-und to kill him fo-ur ye-ars la-ter." "If you we-ren't so con-t-rol-ling," Nell sa-id, "you wo-uldn't ha-ve cal-led to ma-ke su-re I'd loc-ked ever-y-t-hing up. You wo-uldn't ha-ve res-cu-ed me. I'd be de-ad. You can play the 'if ga-me fo-re-ver. It's the past. Let it go." "You're not lis-te-ning." Ga-be got up and ca-me aro-und to fa-ce her, ben-ding over her to put his fa-ce clo-se to hers, his hands on the arms of her cha-ir. "It do-esn't mat-ter, se-ven months or twenty ye-ars, that do-esn't me-an a damn thing. We're not equ-al par-t-ners. We're ne-ver go-ing to be. We ba-lan-ce each ot-her. We ke-ep each ot-her in check. We're ne-ces-sary to each ot-her's sur-vi-val." "Oh," Nell sa-id. "We can get mar-ri-ed," Ga-be sa-id. "I get it now. No re-sen-t-ment. I ne-ed this, too. I don't want to be my dad." "You're not yo-ur dad," Nell sa-id, out-ra-ged that he'd think he was. "Go-od." Ga-be stra-ig-h-te-ned. "We ne-ed an of-fi-ce ma-na-ger. Ri-ley's out on a bac-k-g-ro-und check, and Su-ze went to gi-ve Bec-ca the go-od news. If you want the job, it's yo-urs." "I want the job," Nell sa-id, and re-mem-be-red the last ti-me she'd sa-id it, in a glo-omy of-fi-ce with the blinds pul-led down, thin-king he was the de-vil. She lo-oked aro-und the spot-less of-fi-ce at the res-to-red le-at-her fur-ni-tu-re and gle-aming wo-od, at Mar-le-ne bas-king tren-c-h-co-at-less in the sun, at Ga-be, lo-oking as ti-red as he had then but dif-fe-rent now. Hap-pi-er, she tho-ught. Be-ca-use of me. "What go-od news?" "Oh. Bec-ca's guy was tel-ling the truth. Su-ze ran the check yes-ter-day. Bec-ca will be va-ca-ti-oning at Hyan-nis Port." "You're kid-ding," Nell sa-id. "Well, go-od. So-me-body de-ser-ves a happy en-ding." "Hey," Ga-be sa-id.

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"Be-si-des me," Nell sa-id. "And you. And Su-ze and Ri-ley. "That one re-ma-ins to be se-en." "You're such a cynic." Nell lo-oked aro-und the ro-om aga-in and tho-ught, The rest of my li-fe. "I, on the ot-her hand, am an op-ti-mist. I've de-ci-ded it's a go-od thing Tre-vor bur-ned my chi-na." Ga-be lo-oked ta-ken aback. "You ha-ve. And that wo-uld be be-ca-use…" "It was my past," Nell sa-id. "And you ha-ve to let go of yo-ur past to ma-ke a fu-tu-re. Sa-me way with yo-ur car. Tre-vor did you a fa-vor by des-t-ro-ying it, it was a bad me-mory. Now you can for-get it and go on." "I li-ked that car," Ga-be sa-id, so-un-ding a lot mo-re exas-pe-ra-ted than the si-tu-ati-on de-ser-ved. "I li-ked my chi-na, too," Nell sa-id, equ-al-ly exas-pe-ra-ted sin-ce on-ce aga-in he wasn't get-ting the po-int. "But it's go-od that it's go-ne." She frow-ned at Ga-be. "You ha-ve to stop mo-ur-ning that car." "I'm over the car," he sa-id, "but I just drop-ped se-ven grand on a wed-ding pre-sent you don't want. You ha-ve to ke-ep me in the lo-op on this stuff." "Wed-ding pre-sent?" Nell sa-id, and Ga-be sig-hed and po-in-ted to a lar-ge car-d-bo-ard box next to his desk. "UPS just de-li-ve-red it. Wel-co-me to the past." She sat on the flo-or and ope-ned it to see a lot of bub-ble-wrap-ped chi-na, and when she un-w-rap-ped the first pi-ece, it was her Sec-rets su-gar bowl. "You bo-ught it back," she sa-id and her bre-ath went. "You bo-ught my chi-na back." He sat on the ed-ge of the desk be-si-de her. "So the past is okay?" She ran her fin-gers over the flat si-de of the bowl, over the two ho-uses sit-ting clo-se to-get-her, lo-oking down over the hill at the ri-ver run-ning blue and free. "This isn't the past," she sa-id, kno-wing that every ti-me she lo-oked at it, she'd re-mem-ber Ga-be had res-cu-ed it for her, had be-en the-re when she'd ne-eded him. "This is you." She lo-oked at the ho-uses aga-in, ba-lan-cing each ot-her at the top of the hill, the smo-ke stre-aming from the-ir chim-neys si-de by si-de to-ward the sky. "This is us." "Go-od," Ga-be sa-id. "Be-ca-use I don't think the guy is go-ing to ta-ke it back." His vo-ice was light, but when she lo-oked up at him, his eyes we-re dark and su-re. "I lo-ve you," she sa-id. "I lo-ve you, too," he sa-id. "Let's ma-ke it le-gal." He sat the-re in the sun-light, the de-vil ma-de flesh, tem-p-ting her in-to an eter-nity of he-at and light. Mar-ri-age is a gam-b-le and a sna-re and an in-vi-ta-ti-on to pa-in, she tho-ught. It's com-p-ro-mi-se and sac-ri-fi-ce, and I'll be stuck fo-re-ver with this man and his damn ugly win-dow. Ga-be smi-led at her and ma-de her he-art clutch. "Chic-ken." "Not me," Nell sa-id. "I'm get-ting mar-ri-ed." This fi-le was cre-ated with Bo-ok-De-sig-ner prog-ram [email protected] 6/14/2008

This file was created with BookDesigner program [email protected] 6/14/2008

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