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reaching you. He sounded quite ... concerned. Have you called him?"
    "I have no desire to talk to the man. Except to tell him where to go and not to call you." Which of course would accomplish his mission of getting her to call.
    "He said you always expect the worst from him."
    "He rarely disappoints."
    "I think he's changed this time."
    David change? Renata took the phone from her ear and stared at it. Had her mother gone senile? Had she forgotten their disastrous marriage?
    Renata had met David her first year of med school, had been flattered by his attention and awed by his status as a surgeon. She'd been willing to overlook a lot. Like the way he pressed her to pursue a career in surgery because the money and prestige were better. Or the remarks he made about her being gorgeous and smart, as if they were mutually exclusive. She had been in love. Or thought she had.
    A week after their honeymoon, the late night hangups started. They'd been married two months when she caught him cheating; learned it hadn't been the first time. Nor had it been the last. In the four years since their divorce David had remarried numerous times. The man was a gifted orthopedic surgeon; he was equally gifted when it came to adultery.
    "Let me guess." Renata made no attempt to disguise her sarcasm. "He and Lisa broke up."
    "It's Shawna," her mother corrected. "He and Shawna broke up."
    "So let him call Shawna. Or Karen. Or Jean. Or one of the others. God, you'd think even Nevada would have a per capita limit on divorces."
    Her mother ignored the remark. "David says he's finally realized you're the only one who's ever been right for him. And there's an opening at his clinic you'd be perfect for."
    So that s what this was about.
    She sighed again, only louder. She'd heard through the grapevine about David's latest disaster. The woman, a staff practitioner, had threatened a sexual harassment lawsuit.
    This wasn't the first complaint. Or the second. And to pacify his business partners, David needed to come up with a replacement physician. Fast. Did he figure Renata would be safe? Or fair game?
    "I've already accepted a position that's perfect for me."
    Her mother took a deep breath. "But—"
    Renata cut her off. "No buts. Look, I've asked David not to call me. And I'll make sure he gets the message not to call you."
    "He doesn't call that often."
    "That often?" Exactly how frequently did they talk? She rubbed her forehead, determined to ward off a headache. "He shouldn't call ever."
    "He thought I could help persuade you. Do you know how much closer Nevada is to Denver?"
    The muscle above Renata's left eye ticked. Twice. "I need to go. We'll talk about it this weekend, okay?"
    Her mother's voice raised. "You're off this weekend? You could fly home."
    "I work Saturday but I'll call Sunday. I promise."
    "You work too much. How will you ever meet someone?"
    "Mama, please."
    "Or give me grandchildren?"
    Renata heard her stepfather intervene, warning her mother to mind her own business. Bless him.
    It did little to deter her mother, though. When Renata finally hung up she was in an awful mood. Blast David. Now it would take half of Sunday to convince her mother to drop the subject.
    It seemed all their conversations ended off-key. No matter what her accomplishments, her mother saw a half-empty glass. Renata lived too far away, pursued her career too aggressively, studied too hard, earned too little. Especially when compared to her older brother and sister.
    Her prior desire to join her friends had waned, but she didn't want to go home and stew alone in her tiny apartment. She had a theory that anger dissipated more quickly in larger spaces. Better to stay and work.
    She headed to the lobby where the television still aired twenty-four hour news. But instead of shutting it off, she switched channels—to MTV—and punched up the volume to test yet another theory: If music truly soothed the savage beast, then livid beasts needed even louder music.

    From his