Ashley doesnt blame Meg for hating her. She herself would probably hate having a stepmother, too.

Unless it was somebody nice. Like Megs mom, Cynthia.

Wouldnt it be cool if we could get my mom to marry your dad? Meg asked once. Then we could be sisters.

Ashley agreed that it would be cool, and she and Meg spent a couple of days cooking up matchmaking plans.

They gave up, eventually. Her dad and Megs mom are friendly, but they dont seem like theyre in love. Megs mom isnt that pretty, either. Not like Ashleys mother. So maybe thats why Daddy isnt interested in her.

Anyway, as much as Ashley would like to have Meg as a sister, if she was going to have a stepmother, she would rather have Brynn than anyone else.

Too bad Brynn is married to Mr. Saddler.

If she wasnt, Ashley would definitely try to get her to marry Daddy.

Mom probably wouldnt like that, though. Even though she hates Daddy. Something tells Ashley she wouldnt want her friend marrying him.

Especially if Ashley would rather live with Brynn than with her. Which she would.

What are you thinking about, Ash? Daddy asks, glancing up from the griddle.

Im thinking sometimes I wish I didnt live with Mom, she blurts.

Daddy immediately sets aside the spatula. Why is that?

No, I Ashley shrugs. I dont know. Shes just not home that much.

This weekend, of course, Mom has a good reason to be away. One of her old friends died in Boston. Ashley doesnt know the details, but it must have been a car accident or something, because it seems like it happened unexpectedly.

Even Daddy was nice to Mom about it. He actually hugged Mom when he picked up Ashley last night.

Mom looked pretty stiff when he did it, though.

Like she didnt even want him to touch her.

Which Ashley thought was rude, because Daddy was only trying to be nice.

Ash, do you want to come here and live with me? Daddy asks now. Is that what youre saying?

Not really. Well, maybe she wants to livesomewhere with himnot necessarily here. And maybe she wants Brynn to be her stepmother Anything you want in this life can be yours, Ashley,Mom always says.All you have to do is be willing to work for it.

But shes talking about careers. Not impossible fantasies.

Daddy is still watching her, waiting for an answer.

Behind him, on the stove, the griddle is starting to smoke.

Dad! Ashley points toward it.

He turns away, but he doesnt change the subject.

If you want to live with me, Ashley, you can, he tells her, as he slides the tip of the spatula beneath a singed pancake and flips it. All you have to do is say the word.

She remains silent, once again hearing her mother say,Ashley will live with you, Pat, over my dead body.

Fiona marvels at the irony that shes driving to Boston on this glorious October morning, while James Bingham is traveling in the opposite direction. She knows his current whereabouts because he called her as he was leaving his house in Wellesley about an hour ago, just as she was leaving hers in Cedar Crest.

At some point, shes sure, theyll pa.s.s each other on the Ma.s.sachusetts Turnpike.

In fact, shes actually been keeping an eye on the oncoming traffic, hoping for a glimpse of his sleek black Mercedes.

Which is ludicrous, because there are hundreds of black Mercedes driving on the Ma.s.s Pike this morning.

And because youre a grown woman, not a high school girl. Or did you forget?

Theres just something about James that makes her feel decidedly girly-giddy.

Right,a sardonic voice pipes up in her head,that would be his power and money.

She wont deny that those things first drew her to him, but its beyond that now. Shes falling for him, for real.

Next thing you know, youll be calling his house and hanging up.

Rolling her eyes, she lights a cigarette and cracks the window. Then, realizing its warm enough out there to lower it further, she does, relishing the wind in her hair.

James loves her hair.

That was how it went a step further between them than it should have, really, the other night. There they were, having a 2AM after-dinner drink in an elegant Back Bay martini bar, and James commented that he would love to see her let her hair down for a change.

Her laugh fluid with top-shelf vodka, she protested, Im relaxed right now.

I mean literally let your hair down, Fiona, he said, and reached out brazenly toward the clip at the back of her head.

In one swift move, he had it unfastened and her hair was falling down her back.

The next thing she knew, he was taking her hand and leading her out of there, and she was casting professional decorum to the wind Not a brilliant move on her part. Not just because hes her client and she cant afford to lose his account, but because hes her future. Shes already decided that.

And, as she likes to tell her daughter,Anything you want in this life can be yours .All you have to do is be willing to work for it.

Well, shes going to work to win James Bingham.

Luckily, she nipped things in the bud before they went too far that time. Next time, she might not be able to muster enough willpower to leave him and make the solitary wee-hour drive from Boston back to her own bed.

Provided there is a next time.

For now, because hes miles away and because she isnt an infatuated teenager, she should put him out of her head.

That plan lasts all of the few seconds it takes her to switch the car stereo from radio to CD and pressPLAY .

The CD that comes on is the same one she was listening to as she drove home after leaving James that night, the night Tildy died.

She turns up the volume and the opening drums reverberate through her as she exhales a stream of smoke into the warm breeze.

U2; its an old CD, a relic of her high school days. And her college days. And her life with Pat.

Youd think she would have long since given up anything a.s.sociated with her ex-husband, but she doesnt know new music, doesnt have time for it. She just sticks with the tried and true.

Anyway, she still loves U2. She and Deirdre had major crushes on Bono when they were kids, arguing over who would get dibs on him if they ever crossed paths.

As if two scrawny preteens from a working-cla.s.s household had a chance of hooking up with rock superstars.

But they spent a lot of time arguing about it. Fee always maintained that she should get Bono because shes a few minutes older than her twin, and Deirdre could have The Edge. Deirdre protested that she had the lead singers name tattooed on her arm in ink.

Of course, it was from a Bic pen. But she refused to wash it off for a whole year, hiding it from their parents and going over it again whenever it started to fade.

When her twin confessed her true s.e.xual preference years later, Fee even brought that up, unable to shed her disbelief.

Deirdre snorted. Believe it or not, Fee, I never slept with Bono.

But you wanted to! Fiona clung to her flimsy evidence out of what? Shock? Dismay? A sense of betrayal? They were supposed to share everything. Deirdres secret was huge.

We were, what, twelve? And even then, I knew. I just talked about Bonoand boysbecause you did. I wanted to be normal, and I didnt think I was.

Coming to her senses, Fiona a.s.sured her sister that it didnt matter who she slept withunless, of course, it was Bono.

I get permanent dibs on him now, she reminded Deirdre with a laugh.

And the air was clear again.

Deirdre was grateful for her support, and it was the only family support she had. Mom and Dad had kicked her out, and she couldnt live with Fee in the sorority house. She crashed there for a couple of nights, but Fee had to tell her she couldnt stay. It was against house rules.

So Deirdre went from there to Europe, where she had adventures and fell in lovea few timesand even saw U2 play live, in Dublin.

They play live over here, too, Fiona couldnt help telling her sister during that fleeting, long-distance phone call.

I know, but Have you seen them?

No, she hadnt. That was back in the bad old days when she was stuck in a dive apartment with a new baby, flat broke, fighting nonstop with Pat.

She sat at home, wistful, resentful, as her twin sister traveled all over Europe. She brooded and she played her U2 CDs, including this one. The music helped get her through that unhappy time in her life.

Now, listening to Bono wailing A Sort Of Homecoming, Fiona is struck anew by the lyrics, and she isnt thinking of her turbulent marital past with Pat.

See the sky, the burning rain Nor is she even thinking of James Bingham, though she certainly was when she drove home after she threw caution, and professional decorum, to the wind, that night in Boston.

She will die and live again No, as she drives to the funeral of her sorority sister, unmercifully slain on her birthday, she isnt thinking of anyone but Rachel Lorent.

Isaac waits to turn his cell phone back on until hes in the rental car and safely on his way to Brookline. Boston isnt an entirely familiar city to him; it was tricky to negotiate the network of roads leading away from Logan Airport.

But now hes on the right track, and he can relax if only for a few minutes.

Or, maybe not, he thinks as he realizes theres a message from Kylah.

I woke up, and you were gone. Her tone is unmistakably brittle. I thought maybe you were out for a run or something, but who am I kidding? I know somethings up with you, Isaac. And Im sick of feeling like youre avoiding me or lying to me, which is even worse. So dont call me until youre ready to tell the truth about whatever it is youve been up to lately. Im not stupid.

No, she isnt stupid.

And she deserves better than this.

He dials her numbertheir numberwithout even thinking through what hes going to say.

She answers on the third ring.

Its me. Im in Boston.

Boston?she echoes. On business?

For once, he doesnt hesitate. No. Not on business.

Theres a pause.

I didnt think so.

Im sorry, Kylah.

Shes silent.

We should probably talk She snaps, Ive been trying to.

I know and Im sorry.

Im sorry. Im sorry.

Everything else he can possibly tell her; but every single line that comes into his head about this sounds like a lousy cliche.

I can explain Its not what it looks like You have to trust me He says none of that.

Only, I promise to make it back to New York for the wedding.

Why would you?

Because you want me there dont you? And because I want to be there, he adds hastily, more decisively.

But he can tell she doesnt believe him.

Understandable, since he doesnt believe him either.

He doesntwant to get dressed up in a tux and go to a fancy catering place out in Great Neck. He doesntwant to sit at a table with an eclectic a.s.sortment of strangers whose dates and spouses are also in the wedding party.