"Terrifying." He pulled her against him, held her hard. "I've never had another woman in my life who's given me as many bad moments as you."

"I'm delighted to hear it."

"I thought you would be." He laid his cheek on top of her head. "I'd like to stay here, just like this, for an hour or two." He replaced his cheek with his lips, then eased back. "But I've things I have to do, and so do you. Which I knew before I walked in here and used it as an excuse to pick a fight."

"I don't mind a fight. Not when the air's clear afterward."

He framed her face with his hands, kissed her softly. "Your hot chocolate's getting cold."

"Chocolate's never the wrong temperature."

"The one thing I said before? Absolute truth. I missed you."

"I believe I can arrange some free time in my busy schedule."

"I have to work tonight. Maybe you could stop in. I'll give you another bowling lesson."

"All right."

"Quinn, we-all of us-have to talk. About a lot of things. As soon as we can."

"Yes, we do. One thing before you go. Is Fox going to offer Layla a job?"

"I said something to him." Cal swore under his breath at her expression. "I'll give him another push on it."

"Thanks."

Alone, Quinn picked up her mug, thoughtfully sipped at her lukewarm chocolate. Men, she thought, were such interesting beings.

Cybil came in. "All clear?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"No problem." She opened a cupboard and chose a small tin of loose jasmine tea from her supply. "Discuss or mind my own?"

"Discuss. He was worked up because I told him I love him."

"Annoyed or panicked?"

"Some of both, I think. More worried because we've all got scary things to deal with, and this is another kind of scary thing."

"The scariest, when you come down to it." Cybil filled the teakettle with water. "How are you handling it?"

"It feels...great," she decided. "Energizing and bouncy and bright, then sort of rich and glimmering. You know, with Dirk it was all..." Quinn held out a hand, drawing it level through the air. "This was-" She shot her hand up, down, then up again. "Here's a thing. When he's telling me why this is crazy, he says how he's never been in a position-or so he thinks-to let himself think about love, marriage, family."

"Whoa, point A to Z in ten words or less."

"Exactly." Quinn gestured with her mug. "And he was rolling too fast to see that theM word gave me a serious jolt. I practically just jumped off that path, and whoops, there it is again, under my feet."

"Hence the jolt." Cybil measured out her tea. "But I don't see you jumping off."

"Because you know me. I like where my feet are, as it turns out. I like the idea of heading down that path with Cal, toward wherever it ends up. He's in trouble now," she murmured and took another sip.

"So are you, Q. But then trouble's always looked good on you."

"Better than a makeover at the Mac counter at Saks." Quinn answered the kitchen phone on its first ring. "Hello. Hello, Essie. Oh. Really? No, it's great. It's perfect. Thanks so much. I absolutely will. Thanks again. Bye." She hung up, grinned. "Essie Hawkins got us into the community center. No business there today on the main level. We can go in, poke around to our hearts' content."

"Won't that be fun?" Cybil said it dryly as she poured boiling water for her tea.

ARMED WITH THE KEY, CYBIL OPENED THE MAINdoor of the old library. "We're here, on the surface, for research. One of the oldest buildings in town, home of the Hawkins family. But..." She switched on the lights. "Primarily we're looking for hidey-holes. A hiding place that was overlooked."

"For three and a half centuries," Cybil commented.

"If something's overlooked for five minutes, it can be overlooked forever." Quinn pursed her lips as she looked around. "They modernized it, so to speak, when they turned it into a library, but when they built the new one, they stripped out some of the newfangled details. It's not the way it was, but it's closer."

There were some tables and chairs set up, and someone had made an attempt at some old-timey decor in the antique old lamps, old pottery, and wood carvings on shelves. Quinn had been told groups like the Historical Society or the Garden Club could hold meetings or functions here. At election times it was a voting center.

"Stone fireplace," she said. "See, that's an excellent place to hide something." After crossing to it, she began to poke at the stones. "Plus there's an attic. Essie said they used it for storage. Still do. They keep the folding tables and chairs up there, and that kind of thing. Attics are treasure troves."

"Why is it buildings like this are so cold and creepy when no one's in them?" Layla wondered.

"We're in this one. Let's start at the top," Quinn suggested, "work our way down."

"ATTICS ARE TREASURE TROVES," CYBIL SAIDtwenty minutes later, "of dust and spiders."

"It's not that bad." Quinn crawled along, hoping for a loose floorboard.

"Not that good either." Courageously, Layla stood on a folding chair, checking rafters. "I don't understand why people don't think storage spaces shouldn't be cleaned as regularly as anyplace else."

"It was clean once. She kept it clean."

"Who-" Layla began, but Cybil waved a hand at her, frowned at Quinn.

"Ann Hawkins?"

"Ann and her boys. She brought them home, and shared the attic with them. Her three sons. Until they were old enough to have a room downstairs. But she stayed here. She wanted to be high, to be able to look out of her window. Even though she knew he wouldn't come, she wanted to look out for him. She was happy here, happy enough. And when she died here, she was ready to go."

Abruptly, Quinn sat back on her heels. "Holy shit, was that me?"

Cybil crouched down to study Quinn's face. "You tell us."

"I guess it was." She pressed her fingers to her forehead. "Damn, got one of those I-drank-my-frozen-margarita-too-fast-and-now-have-an-ice pick-through-my-brain headaches. I saw it, her, them, in my head. Just as clear. Everything moving, like a time-action camera. Years in seconds. But more, I felt it. That's the way it is for you, isn't it-going the other way?"

"Often," Cybil agreed.