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not even the Lake District. It was here
with this enigmatic, but still dear, man.
    I wrinkled my nose at the sheer sentimentality of
that thought, but there was no point in lying to myself. This was
what I had wanted, what I had been waiting for, longing for. It
didn’t make sense, but I felt that all was right with my world
again.
    I could feel his body relaxing as he slipped into
slumber. His breath was light and cool against my face. I listened
to the steady, reassuring thump of his heart beneath my ear, the
even tenor of his breathing.
    A thought suddenly occurred to me. “Did they say
anything?” I asked, and I felt him start into wakefulness.
    “Who?” He sounded half-drugged.
    “The men who attacked you.”
    “As I recall...bang, bang,” he murmured. A few
moments later I could tell by his breathing that he slept.

Chapter Four
     
    “G uess who’s coming to
dinner?” I said, speaking softly into the phone receiver. The
shower was still running in the hotel bathroom, but I lowered my
voice anyway.
    “The mysterious Peter Fox?” my sister-in-law Laurel
inquired gleefully. “I heard. I can’t wait to meet him!”
    “How are they taking it?” By “they” I meant my
mother. My dad was the epitome of the relaxed and occasionally
absentminded professor of literature—an excellent foil for his
highly strung spouse. Not that Dad was a pushover; there was never
any doubt who wore the pants in our family.
    “The house is now in session. Nora called for a
quorum—which unfortunately took place behind closed doors. I’d have
loved to have been the fly on that wall. Your dad seems to
be taking it all in stride, but you know Frank. When will you be
here?” Laurel was married to my older brother Clark. The mother of
two active twin girls, not much threw Laurel off her stride. In
fact, most things amused the heck out of her, including,
apparently, my love life.
    “Not till this evening. I’ve got a slew of things to
do today.”
    “Chicken. Oh, your movie producer friend called.
Apparently you’re having lunch with the guy writing the screenplay
of your life. And here I thought you were just making it up as you
went along.”
    “You couldn’t make this stuff up,” I told her. “Did
Roberta leave a number?”
    Laurel recited the number and I jotted it down. “Not
that I mind,” I said, “but how is it you’re answering my parents’
phone?”
    “We had a date to go jogging, remember?”
    “No. I’m happy to say I totally forgot about it.”
    Although I had learned to love walking during my stay
in the Lake District, I was never going to be a fitness nut, and as
far as I was concerned, jogging was an activity mostly popular in
one of those inner rings of hell.
    Laurel made tsking sounds.
    I asked, “Where’s Mother?”
    “She’s busy grinding the glass for tonight’s dinner.
Is there anything your Mr. Fox is allergic to? I’m sure she’d be
happy to add it to the menu.”
    I laughed nervously. “You’re going to be there
tonight, right? Just for moral support?”
    “Gracie, we’re all going to be there. I’m
surprised Callie isn’t filming it for one of her sociology
courses.” Calliope was the college girlfriend of my younger
brother, Colin. “Does that poor man have any idea of what he’s
getting into?”
    “ He’s very brave,” I
said.
    “He must be. Turkish prison will seem like a picnic
compared to interrogation by Nora.”
    I was not a woman giving to squeaking, but I couldn’t
help the sound of distress that escaped me. My heartless
sister-in-law only laughed.
    *****
    If one more sales associate told Peter he had “such a
cute accent” I was going to commit murder.
    After the first hour I had decided that clothes
shopping with the great love of one’s life should be an exercise
required of any and all couples intending…coupling. Given Peter’s
care and attention to details great and small, it shouldn’t have
come as a surprise to me that he was not willing to just