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right over Cassidy on her climb to the top. This was no time for shirking. “No.”
    “Okay, on your backs, everyone, fingertips on either side of your head. Abs in.” Elizabeth lifted her hands, fingers spread, to demonstrate, revealing a slice of her flat belly. Then she shot her arms out, punching the air with fingers straight, miming legs. “The legs go in and out. Don’t forget to breathe. And we’re on our way to 100. One, two, three . . .”
    Cassidy complied, although curled up from the floor as she was, her chin kept getting stuck in her cleavage. Which was all hers, no matter what the viewers who left stupid comments on Channel Four’s website said.
    By the time the hour was finished, Cassidy wanted to die. Or possibly she already had, although she had thought that when you were dead you were beyond the reach of pain. She lay on her back, spent, and felt the sweat run into her ears. Around her, women picked up their mats and gathered their things.
    She couldn’t move. She couldn’t even twitch.
    Then a hand entered her line of vision. Cassidy managed to look up without moving any other muscle in her body. With a groan she raised her own hand and Elizabeth, smiling, pulled her to her feet.
    Even though Elizabeth had done most of the exercises right along with the class, not a drop of sweat darkened her color-coordinated outfit. “Did you survive?” she asked as she wiped off Cassidy’s mat and hung it on the wall.
    Cassidy managed a smile, although she guessed it looked as fake as it felt. “Barely.”
    “So, Cassidy, what do you do when you’re not donkey kicking?”
    Cassidy was taken aback. Her face was on billboards along I-5 and I-84. Granted, it was just one of four faces, but still. She hoped that it was just that dressed down, she was somewhat incognito. “I’m a TV crime reporter.”
    Elizabeth tilted her head. “For which channel?”
    “Channel Four.”
    Elizabeth seemed to be doing a rapid calculation. “Oh, that’s where I’ve seen you. And you’re even prettier in person. I guess it’s true what they say about the camera adding ten pounds.”
    Cassidy forced a smile.
    “Want to grab a cup of coffee or something to eat?” Elizabeth asked. “My treat.”
    Cassidy looked at her watch. The morning story meeting wasn’t for another hour and a half. She guessed that was the bright side of getting up before the sun. “Sure, I’d love that. Just let me take a quick shower, and I’ll meet you in the café.”
    Ten minutes later Cassidy let her teeth sink into a buttered bagel. After all that exercise, she could afford it.
    Elizabeth was only drinking a cup of Earl Grey tea. Pulling her tea bag from the water, she said, “Too bad they don’t have loose tea here.”
    “Why?”
    “When I was a kid, I learned how to read tea leaves.”
    “Cool!” Cassidy had been to a psychic, had her palms and her aura read, and checked her horoscope every day. She thought of it as getting a leg up on the future. “About the only thing I learned when I was a kid was how to hide the school cafeteria spinach in my milk carton. Did you grow up here?”
    Elizabeth waved one hand. “Oh, here, there, and everywhere. My mom was kind of a free spirit.”
    “And your dad?”
    “Have you heard of—” And Elizabeth named a famous rocker who had made a name for himself in the early seventies. When Cassidy nodded—who hadn’t heard of him, even if he looked more like a lizard every year—Elizabeth said, “I don’t tell many people, but that’s my dad.”
    “Your dad?” The guy, as far as Cassidy knew, had never been married.
    Elizabeth shrugged. “One-night stand with my mom after a concert. But he was always good about paying child support.”
    “Do you ever spend any time with him?”
    “Now and then.” Elizabeth smiled, a little mysteriously, which whetted Cassidy’s appetite even further. Elizabeth could probably tell a million stories about the rich and famous people her father hung out