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then spoke directly to Scott, ignoring her sister.
    “Sarah Cherrington broke the heart of someone I loved and just about ruined my wedding day. Reason enough for a little dislike, don’t you think? Reason enough.”
    “Maggie!” said Kat fiercely. She looked at her sister with annoyance. Maggie returned her look, then added stubbornly:
    “Plus, she stole my boyfriend.”
    “Not Paul?” Scott asked.
    “Of course not Paul. Jason. The boy before Paul.”
    Maggie was clearly not going to be deflected. Kat, sitting up on the edge of the bed, tried to lighten her voice.
    “Well, think of it this way—if she hadn’t lifted Jason, you might never have married Paul.”
    “ Lifted Jason?” Scott asked.
    “Yep. That’s how she operates,” Maggie said. “Light-fingered. She’d take every male in sight if she could, especially if he seemed happy with someone else.”
    “Come on, Maggie, that’s not fair,” Kat said. “A lot of guys made a play for her. No surprise, considering her looks. She was stunning. It wasn’t all her fault.”
    “Oh, get out. She got away with a whole bunch of crap because she was beautiful, and I bet she gets away with a whole bunch of crap now because she’s rich. And Sven? You can’t say that wasn’t deliberate. And she even came on to Paul, you know, at a party once, out of sheer vindictiveness to get at me. Just after we got engaged. I thought he hadn’t noticed, because he just ignored her. You know how vague he is about such things. But years later, we were talking about predatory women and I mentioned her and said, ‘Of course you didn’t notice that she was coming on to you.’ And he laughed and said, ‘Maggie, naturally I noticed. How could I not? I was enormously flattered.’”
    All three smiled at this. Maggie took another sip of her coffee, then looked at Scott.
    “She’s a nasty person. Don’t trust her.”
    “Noted,” Scott said.
    Maggie said nothing more, and Scott, after glancing at his wife’s face, began folding up the newspaper and packing files into his briefcase.
    “Okay. Here’s the plan,” he said. “Why don’t we get going and have a real breakfast on the road? That way you’ll have time to rest and pack before your flight, Maggie.”
    “Fine with me,” said Maggie, looking at Kat in a conciliatory way. “I wish I had more time. Just a few more days.”
    “We can’t keep you here forever,” Kat said. “Paul must be missing you.”
    “I expect he is. And I’ve got business stuff to do. And Paul wants to take a long weekend in Paris to see Adam. Otherwise . . .”
    A sharp pain, an arrow through the heart, shot through Kat. It was such an innocent sentence, she didn’t know if Scott, sipping his coffee, even noticed it. Paris to see Adam. She and Scott would never say Paris to see Chris. Or even Berkeley to see Chris. It should have been possible. They raised him, educated him, loved him; above all, they had loved him. He was ready. He had been accepted. He had an academic scholarship, a dorm room, classes chosen. To Berkeley to see Chris.
    Kat held the coffee cup so tightly with both hands that it began to tremble. She placed it down carefully, telling herself: Breathe slowly, control it. She must learn not to break down every time the knife twists. Maggie said something else. Kat did not hear it clearly, but she felt herself calming. Scott and Maggie did not seem to have noticed.

    Maggie left for LAX an hour after their return home. As she watched the taxi pull away, Kat heard a voice calling her name and saw Brooke, in a loose wrap and black bikini, across the street at her mailbox.
    “Been away, sweetie?” Brooke called.
    “Palm Springs.”
    “Love that place,” Brooke said. “I guess you’re tired. I won’t keep you. I made some of that date loaf Scott likes. Hang on, I’ll get it.” She disappeared into her house.
    Brooke had been baking date loaves as small gifts for them since both Chris and Scott, at a barbecue at