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the house of the various pieces of new and shiny furniture. Three hours later, delivery men from the warehouse brought in bureaus, tables, and sofas from a life Anna had presumed gone. Under her careful direction, the warehouse delivery men returned each item to its rightful place, beginning with the upstairs and ending with the first floor rooms. Anna signed the service agreement and led the head warehouse delivery man to the door.
    “Thank you,” she said.
    “Hope you have better luck selling your house later,” he said.
    She smiled and after shaking his hand, she closed the door.
    Feeling an internal pull, she detoured from heading to the kitchen and instead entered what used to be Edward’s study. Seated at the desk, she ran her fingers along its edge and observed the mahogany surface now void of papers and folders. She grew sad as she recalled the loneliness that had filled the house and driven her to seek divorce. So many times she had wished to lay Edward upon the desk, climb onto his body, and force him to make love to her. His countless absences had fertilized her empty sense of longing that was rooted in her childhood with Elena. Anna yearned to greet love simmered by a flame of passion as intense as her commitment to giving.
    Anna closed her eyes in response to her body growing moist and warm. During the last six months while feeling doomed to fighting Edward for the divorce and trying to sell the house, Anna had been intimate numerous times with Inman. Paradoxically, her body now ached for Edward. As a fifty-three-year-old mother of four and grandmother of two, she felt ashamed of the twists and turns of her desires.
    Sixteen months had passed since Anna had last entered the study and observed Edward at his desk. She had brought him a cup of coffee, decaf since it was after dark, and lowered it carefully to the surface. Engrossed with the documents he’d been reading, he never looked up. Neither had he acknowledged the coaster she had moments later slid underneath the cup just inches from his hand. He continued to review the documents, never thanked Anna. She had wanted so much for him to see her and the new negligee revealing her new figure minus the pounds she had worked hard to shed.
    He stood up and announced, “I’m going to bed.”
    He had nearly reached the stairs when Anna called after him, “So this is just a holding place for you, this house?”
    He stopped, and with brows knitted, turned and faced her.
    “You know, like the airline clubs for frequent fliers, a place in the airport where you go during a layover. I hear they’re very nice. None of the noise from the regular travelers. Clean . Members like you don’t have to worry about running into anyone you don’t want to see. Then, again if anyone you know is also a member—”
    His amber eyes had grown cold, piercing like that of a hungry eagle holding a wellspring of anger edging toward the boiling point. Then, as if losing vitality, he resumed his trek to the staircase and started the climb.
    “I want a divorce,” Anna called out. “I want to sell the house.”
    “Don’t even try.” He whipped around.
    “I should think you’d be happy to get rid of me and this prison, this holding cell. Then you can be—”
    “I’ve given you everything I own. This house and the life in it.” Edward rushed down the stairs. “This house is mine.” He pointed to the floor and then aimed his finger to the ceiling.
    “You’re never around.”
    “There’s nothing to be around for.”
    “More the reason I want a divorce and to sell the house.”
    “You won’t sell a goddamned thing,” he ranted, inches from her face.
    “This house is part mine.” It was the only thing Anna wanted money from. With their children now adults and either working or married, she needed no child support. She would work. Anna needed no alimony. She wanted a clean break.
    “My blood, sweat, and tears went into this house,” Edward said. “You will not sell