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on the back porch, smoking. Four plates with clam rolls and fries were on the counter. I put the four of them on a tray, added little containers of tartar sauce, and carried them into the dining room. I handed them around and left before the men could ask for anything else or grab me again.
    I sat down at the table and put my head down on my arms, shaking from exhaustion and pent-up anger. Two days ago, a bride in a glorious dress. Now a waitress being mauled by Neanderthal customers. It was my own life and I could hardly keep up with the changes. I wanted to go upstairs and sob into my pillow, climb in my car and run away, but I had nothing to run to. The door slammed as they came back inside. I didn't look up. I wanted to snatch a little more rest before it was time to go risk my life delivering pie to those pigs in the other room.
    "Hey," Roy's voice boomed. "Hey! Can we get a little service out here?"
    Reluctantly, I raised my head. "You stay sitting down, Dora," Kalyn said. "I'll go see what those jerks want."
    "They want their pie," I said, gesturing to the plates I'd prepared.
    I lowered my head again. A warm hand rested lightly on my shoulder. Clyde had a very light touch for such a big man. "You haven't eaten anything since breakfast," he said. "Can I fix you something?"
    I considered. What were Mason or Oliver or Claudine in the mood for today? I was too tired to even think about eating. "Whatever you fix is fine," I said. "Surprise me." I laid my head down again and closed my eyes. My feet were throbbing and my legs ached from top to bottom. My arms trembled from the weight of all the trays I'd carried.
    I'd come into this thinking I was in pretty good shape. Fresh from Coach Lemieux's training camp. Andre was a fitness nut. Well, Andre was a nut about all sorts of things physical. He loved running and swimming and skiing and in-line skating. Weight training. Dancing. Sex. And eating. Andre would have been in heaven here in Clyde's kitchen. And for six months, I'd been right beside him, becoming as buffed and tough as he was. I had the arms and shoulders not of a beauty queen, but of a fitness queen. They had looked gorgeous rising out of the lace and satin of my dress. Now they were good for carrying trays. At least I'd stay in shape until my coach came home. If my coach came home. I took a deep breath, ashamed of myself. There could be no "ifs." He was coming home.
    I heard the clink of ice and a thunk as something was set on the table near my ear. A tall, frosty glass of lemonade, followed by a fork and a napkin. Then a plate. I sat up. Lobster roll and fries. Chunks of juicy lobster meat, mayo and celery in a buttery, toasted roll. I smiled over at Clyde. "You are an angel," I said. "I love lobster rolls."
    "I can only do it when Theresa's not around. She practically counts the pieces. But after what happened?" He shrugged. "We don't want you to quit on us."
    I took a deep drink of lemonade. Icy cold, tangy, and refreshing. I could feel it chill my empty stomach. I smiled at Clyde. "Thanks. This is perfect." I watched him moving around, getting things ready for dinner, cleaning up the grill, hauling in a replacement tank for the soda machine. "Don't you ever rest?"
    "Three months every winter. In Florida. Sitting on the beach. Going to baseball games. Catching fish. I don't even cook. Eat out every night."
    Kalyn came in, deposited the dirty plates, picked up the four slices of pie, and went out again. Her energy made me feel guilty, but I wasn't ready to get up and start bustling about. Didn't yet feel like filling little paper cups with tartar sauce or applesauce. Natty and the other boy were gone. Despite the air-conditioning, the kitchen was warm. "Clyde, Theresa didn't tell me anything about my schedule. Do you think she'd mind if I went upstairs for a while?"
    He shook his head. "That's a good idea. Get some rest before dinner." He reached down under the table and handed me a big enamel basin. "So you can