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told you it was a secret,” she said lightly as she swept from the room.
    It must have taken Sarah a few moments to realize what Vicky had said, to discover that now she didn’t know which story was true, if either.
    As Vicky made her exit, she was followed by a long, wailing, “ Whaaaaat ?”

Chapter 4
    The following morning, Vicky was in her bathroom, wrestling with a fluffy pink thing that refused to give up its hold on the toilet seat, when she heard a knock on her bedroom door. After a last futile tug, she uttered a wrathful “I shall return,” and retreated, temporarily. Opening the door only slightly, she peeked through the crack to see a slight young man with a blond wave sweeping across his forehead, and a hint of a cleft in his chin. He was dressed in a denim suit; his shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, to reveal a spray of russet chest-hair.
    Gorgeous , she thought, and wondered just what services the Sanctuary did provide.
    “Yes?” she asked. “Can I help you?”
    The young man cocked his head to one side, paralleling Vicky’s, and smiled. “Ms. Banning?”
    She nodded.
    “I’m Roger Grant,” he said. “I was dropping off a few things for one of my clients here, and Doris said you might want to see me.”
    Clever girl , thought Vicky. She’d like to see a great deal of this cute young thing, but how would Doris know? She eyed him up and down before asking, “About what?”
    “I’m an interior decorator,” Roger said.
    “Oh!” Vicky exclaimed and chuckled at what she’d been thinking. She studied him even more closely. “But you don’t look gay !” she said, with accusing brusqueness.
    Roger’s blue-gray eyes widened with surprise. “Who said I was ?”
    “No one, darling,” said Vicky. “But all my decorator friends—the best ones at least—are all gay…some of them real screamers. So? What’s your story?”
    An amused smirk crooked one corner of Roger’s mouth. “I don’t mean to sound rude, Ms. Banning,” he said. “But frankly, it’s none of your business.”
    Vicky laughed delightedly. “You’re absolutely right, my dear, it is none of my business, and I love people who have the gumption to tell me so.” She paused. “Well,” she continued, “if you’re a decorator, what do you think of”—she swung the door open wide—“this?”
    Roger gasped. “Jesus Christ,” he blurted. “It looks like the change room at a drag ball.”
    “Good enough, honey,” Vicky said and, grabbing his hand, led him into the room. “I think we’re going to get along just fine. Wait here a minute while I get dressed.” She retrieved a blue pantsuit from the closet. “And don’t touch anything; I think some of it might be catching.”
    When she emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, Roger was still standing in the center of the room, rotating slowly, his face incredulous. “This may sound terribly unprofessional,” he said, “but who…did this?”
    “Flora Flounce,” Vicky quipped. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get out of here. I don’t want you to be affected by whatever caused this.” Slipping her arm into his, she led him from the room and down the hall. She found the close proximity that the tiny elevator forced them into quite pleasurable and wished the ride would last longer. “I’d like to see what kind of work you do,” she said as they stepped out onto the main floor. She didn’t add aloud that was thinking of more than just decorating work. “Can you show me any rooms you’ve done?”
    “Quite a few,” Roger said, after a moment. “But I can’t really drop in on my clients without giving them notice. They might not appreciate it. However, I’ve done some of the rooms here at the Sanctuary. Maybe…”
    “No,” Vicky said quickly. “I don’t want to get too involved with the people here yet. If and when they want me to see their rooms, they’ll invite me.”
    Doris strolled in from the veranda, sorting through a stack of mail, as Vicky