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brought her from Ireland crashed against a wall. Her beloved new rug being carried in a fat roll out the front door .
    She listened to the hammering of her heart. “It was only a nightmare,” she muttered aloud. “I never really saw them smashing things.”
    She tried to summon strength to open her eyes. When she did, they met a blank space that used to hold a small landscape Tom had bought her in Greece. A deep, piercing cold penetrated her bones. Shivering in spite of the spread on her bed, she sat up and pounded the mattress with one fist. “Dammit!” she shouted. “This has got to stop!”
    She slung back her covers, strode to the window, pulled the blinds all the way to the top, shoved up the window, and lifted her face to the pulsing heat of July. When her bones thawed, she showered and dressed in white capri pants, a lemon cotton shell, and a sheer big shirt decorated with gold, yellow, and turquoise geometric designs. Beach-going clothes.
    “I will get over this,” she vowed to her reflection as she dabbed on a little concealer to cover her summer dusting of freckles.
    She packed quickly, but before she could leave her room, she had to remove a chair from underneath her doorknob. “Silly,” she told herself every night. “You sleep in a house with an excellent security system.”
    Yeah, a mocking voice invariably replied in her head, and in spite of that, people got in twice this summer.
    It is not actual safety but the illusion of it that permits any of us to lie down in a hostile world and sleep each night. In the past few weeks, Katharine had accepted the fact that a chair under her doorknob was the only way she would get any sleep at all in the empty house.
    “Hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s to the beach we go,” she caroled as she hefted her small bag in one hand, picked up her yellow sandals in the other, and headed downstairs in bare feet.
    An hour later she opened Tom’s end of the garage to let Dr. Flo park her five-year-old Volvo where his Lexus stayed the few nights a month it was home. It had not been hard to persuade Dr. Flo that Katharine’s SUV would be more appropriate if they had to explore any off-road tracks.
    While she loaded her bag, a few groceries, and a cooler into the back, Katharine conducted the conversation she always had with her father when she used the SUV. “See? This will be real practical for driving on back roads looking for a country cemetery.”
    Sure, her father replied, but this is the first time you’ve ever taken it on any back roads, and a number of other vehicles would maneuver back roads equally well, consume less gas, and create less pollution. Most of them would also have saved you enough money to feed a family of four for a year. And hon? Tuck in a shovel. You might need it.
    “Tom bought the car,” she muttered as she went to fetch the shovel.
    “I beg your pardon?” Dr. Flo, pulling a wheeled suitcase and carrying a smaller cosmetics bag, gave Katharine a curious look.
    Katharine flushed as she stowed the shovel and reached for Dr. Flo’s case. “I was talking to my dad. He and Mother were big on saving the environment and taking care of the poor, so every time I drive this car, I feel I have to justify it to him, even though he’s been dead fifteen years.”
    “I like it.” Dr. Flo gave the shining finish a little pat then looked skyward. “It’s real classy, sir.”
    “You look pretty classy yourself.” Katharine cast an admiring look over the petite pantsuit of beige linen. With it, Dr. Flo wore a silk shell in a subdued beige, brown, and white print and tiny beige sandals with high heels. The last few times Katharine had seen her, the professor had favored flowing cotton skirts, cotton tops, and flip-flops. This looked more like the Dr. Flo Katharine had always known—except for her hair. The sleek chignon had been replaced by a short silver afro.
    “Thank you.” Dr. Flo brushed invisible lint from the jacket. “This is my lawyer-visiting