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be interested in the houses, she had privately begun reviewing her financial position, and making plans for cuts in her budget For the moment, the situation wasn’t perilous—she had three closings coming up over the next couple of months, and those commissions, if she was careful, would see her through a year. Then what?
    Over lunch, she discussed the matter with Bob Owen, who was not only her employer, but her friend. She’d known Bob since childhood, and he’d seen her through a lot.
    When her marriage had begun to sour, Bob had been there, listening to her complaints with a sympathetic ear, finally telling her that at some point she was going to have to stop complaining and take some action. Whenthe crunch had at last come, she’d gone to Bob for advice.
    The problem, at the time, had been twofold. She was pregnant, and her husband had walked out on her. In fact, she’d admitted to Bob, Jim Corliss had walked out on her
because
she was pregnant, accusing her of trying to tie him down with a baby.
    “Did you?” Bob had asked. It had taken Lucy a long time to come up with an answer. At last she had admitted that perhaps, subconsciously, she had. Perhaps she had thought that the responsibilities of fatherhood would calm Jim down, make him see that there was more to life than fast cars and dreams of quick money.
    Bob—practical Bob—had advised her to file for a divorce and prepare to go to work. It had even been his idea for her to learn real estate while she was pregnant, so that after the baby was born she would have a way to earn a living. For nine years she had worked out of Bob’s office, and she was good at her job. At first she had hired a sitter to come in and look after Randy, but last year she had decided that Randy was old enough to stay by himself for the two hours between the end of the school day and the end of her work day. Margaret Willis, who lived next door, had agreed to keep an eye on Randy. So far it had worked out Except that today she had a vague sense of unease.
    “What’s the matter with my girl?” Bob asked, pushing the menu aside and making up his mind to settle for a salad. He looked enviously at Lucy, who ate enormous lunches and dinners and never gained an ounce.
    “Your girl—and I don’t think your wife would like to hear you call me that, even though she knows it isn’t true—is feeling worried today,” Lucy replied. She put the menu aside.
    “Anything in particular, or everything in general?”
    “Well, the market isn’t doing a lot for my mood. I can’t see who’s going to buy the overpriced dogs we saw this morning.”
    “Someone will,” Bob said complacently. “People haveto buy houses. Well just have to think up new ways to finance them.”
    “But the houses aren’t worth it,” Lucy complained.
    Now Bob frowned, his bushy eyebrows plunging toward the bridge of his nose. “With an attitude like that, you’re certainly not going to be selling any of them.”
    Lucy smiled wanly and brushed a strand of her pale blond hair out of her eyes. “I’m not sure I want to. Lately, every time I sell someone a house, I feel like I’m making him an indentured servant for the next thirty years.”
    “Then maybe you’d better do something else.”
    “Forget it. Besides, it’s not really the market that’s bothering me—it’s Randy.”
    “Randy? Is something wrong with him?”
    “Nothing new. It’s just that he seems so unhappy. He doesn’t seem to have many friends anymore, and he hates school and home and me and everything else. Sometimes I think maybe I should let Jim take him, for a while at least. Except I don’t trust him.”
    “You don’t even know him anymore,” Bob pointed out. There were times, every now and then, when Lucy suspected that Bob was trying to get her back together with Jim. Lately, he seemed to be pushing her to see her ex-husband more often than she had to. So far, she had resisted him. “Hasn’t it occurred to you that he might