She turned to Holly. "We have a funeral to get to."

"Yes, we do." And we're walking away from one now, Holly thought.

No one followed them, though the rumble of voices was audible the moment the door was closed.

"That was sort of both barrels, wasn't it?"

"They're irrelevant, but they don't know it. I don't know what I'm going to do if he left me that b.l.o.o.d.y position."

"He didn't." She recounted her conversation with Paul and handed her the business card once they were in the car.

"Seth Miller, well, he's not a bad choice. He's not so much a policy wonk as he is a data wonk. Let the data speak for itself. Well, I'm glad I won't be mired in it. It's not good for me." She held out shaking hands. "I think my blood pressure was off the charts."

"Well, there's just a funeral to get through now."

"I know. And the press. The reading of the will tomorrow. I don't know if he'll have left me any money, but I can think of lots of ways to get rid of it that he would simply loathe and I would love-and that my mother would have loved."

Holly focused her eyes on the road, but she reached over to rest her hand on Reyna's thigh. The gulf between father and daughter was enormous, Holly thought, and Grip Putnam's position was now final. She thought of Paul and the gulf between him and a life of freedom. His choices were complicated by a wife and children, and the pressure from people like Dobson to "be a man" was endless, regardless of the damage it caused.

If she made the gulf between the two sides the equal sign, and each side of the gulf the equation that must match the other, then what variables could adjust the constants so that the equal sign became a bridge? So many students derided the philosophy requirements in their math degree curriculum, but she loved looking at social problems that way-and it gave her distance, which was sometimes useful.

The difficulty was that as long as hate was a constant for people like Hobson, she didn't see how the sides could ever reconcile. Well...time would solve that. Eventually, the Hobsons of the world died. Perhaps they would all be better off making sure he had no heirs to his kingdom of hate. She had hope in her students, who cared far more about her power over their marks than they did who she was sleeping with.

The rental car wipers were still inadequate, but the rain seemed to finally be letting up. As they approached the Irvine community center she clasped Reyna's hand. "One of the variables in this is the power you give it to worry you."

"I know," Reyna said softly. "This is temporary. It is the last of him. He did his best to take you away, but I won. I have you. I have our life. We are not a variable."

One Degree of Separation.

Published: 2003.

Characters: Marian Pardoo, librarian Liddy Peel, researcher.

Setting: Iowa City, Iowa.

Fourteen and Fortunately no longer a Felony.

Twenty-One.

(5 years).

"Swear to freakin' G.o.d, look at this place!" Liddy did a little dance as she ogled the big roulette wheel, the recessed area where poker tables were lined up like green jewels and the gleaming rows of clanging slot machines. Over there they were playing baccarat, c.r.a.ps, everything. "Kid. Candy store. Me!"

Marian laughed and gave her an indulgent look. "I'll go to my workshop-remember? Work-related conference that's paying our hotel bill? You play the tables. But stick within your budget, okay?"

"I know." She gave Marian her most innocent look. "I can stretch a dollar a long, long way." She glanced around-they were a long way from the openness of Iowa City. They were surrounded by librarians, though, who were a mostly liberal lot. She seized her courage and gave Marian a resounding smooch, then bounded away to the change machine.

Video poker was her first stop.

Twenty minutes and twenty dollars later, she thought if she wanted to just throw her money away, she could play keno. Buy an Edge or Top-Bottom ticket and kiss ten bucks goodbye. Or she could buy tickets to one of the many shows. The ones she could afford were likely still more entertaining than slot machines that ate her quarters like Marian's dog ate kibble, and that supposition included the Engelbert Humperdinck imitators. She wished she could win something and afford tickets to Melissa or Madonna tonight.

Banish that thought, she told herself. Feeling desperate to win attracted losing. It wasn't logical, but it was true. She had her employer's hundred dollars, a gift for "research," Dana Moon had said. She was to spend it on blackjack, then write down every last impression she had of being an unskilled player at a middle stakes table. Dana's next thriller was a high stakes casino heist.

Ten minutes later, she tapped Loser from Loserville, that's what it feels like into her Blackberry. Swear to freakin' G.o.d, she'd never seen cards so bad. She'd been dealt twelve, three times in a row, and gotten a ten as the next card every time. n.o.body busts with twenty-two three times in a row, ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching. The dealer had even looked a little chagrinned.

She glanced at her watch. Marian would be another hour at least. She would have gone along to watch her mostest favorite librarian partic.i.p.ate on a panel discussion of cultural sensitivity in the labeling and display of young adult t.i.tles, but she was sort of more-or-less banned from the proceedings because of last year. Not officially banned, but really, that idiot guy had so not known what he was talking about, and in her opinion any librarian who supported a censorship position ought to go to work at the department of motor vehicles alphabetizing license plates.

Marian had tried to calm her down after the, uh, intense debate. Really, the people who called it an altercation had exaggerated. "Liddy, sweetie, I know you love to ask questions, and I have never seen anyone who loves a good debate like you-"

Liddy had snarled in the general direction of petty fascists the world over. "Debate? I was kicking his a.s.s, and if he calls you little lady one more time, I'm gonna kick his a.s.s for real."

"Sweetie, I know you feel strongly about it, and I know you really can kick his a.s.s because I saw you get your black belt, but you can't go around kicking the a.s.ses of the members of the a.s.sociation's board. Especially when you're not a librarian and you aren't even a paid attendee at the conference."

When Marian was right, she was right, and Liddy had learned to accept it. And when she'd asked Liddy not to go into any of the sessions this year, and hinted she was just pa.s.sing on a more or less official request, Liddy had promised to be good.

She wandered away from the slot machines and watched the roulette wheel spin and spin. n.o.body was winning. Poor Marian-the panel was probably boring her out of her mind. She could hear her love right now explaining that librarians did not act in loco parentis, and that any so-called child with the wherewithal to find a book ought to be able to check that book out, and any parents who wanted to keep a firm grip on what their children were reading had the flawless recourse of not agreeing to give their children their own cards. It was that simple. But no, parents wanted to park their children at the library after school for a couple of hours, and then they got upset when their children actually used the library to look up stuff that interested them. Number one search for males aged twelve to eighteen was s.e.x.

Number two: s.e.x.

Number three: cars.

Number four: s.e.x in cars.

The information you pick up as the girlfriend of a librarian was amazing.

Bored by the roulette wheel, she mosied toward a noisy c.r.a.ps gathering, but the moment she walked up the shooter lost. Wow-she was the kiss of death for everybody today.

So, she could see about making her next twenty dollars last an hour-unlikely-or she could think of something else to amuse herself.

Text messages were free, she thought. She punched up Marian's number and asked her if she was able to get texts.

Marian replied that her bit was over and she was seated in the audience and asked what was wrong, all with the economically phrased message, Done, off dais, okay?

Liddy texted back, 1 A walk in a thunderstorm.

2 Your shirt soaked to your skin. There was no reply, and Liddy was pretty sure she had Marian's attention. 3 My shirt soaked to my skin.

Well, maybe she should play a little bit more video poker. Her next twenty bucks lasted longer because she stopped after every dollar or so lost to send Marian another text.

4 Chasing drops of rain down your throat with my tongue. She quickly found that it was ill-advised to attempt to draw to an inside straight.

She had drawn a spade to go with four diamonds when a reply from Marian arrived.

She smiled fondly as she read: 5 You make love like you eat.

Maybe she could find a pint of ice cream and a spoon and invite Marian upstairs for a memorable lunch. A couple of clicks on the poker machine brought her a modest return in the form of three of a kind. For ten minutes, she played happily, not quite losing, then her fortunes took another turn for the worse.

6 Against the door.

Immediately she got back: 7 You naked. Me not.

She shivered. Five years and that still turned her on. Marian the Librarian was really playful, and the best part was n.o.body suspected, so there were no nympho-femmes trying to poach her girl. Liddy hadn't known she was a nympho-femme until Marian.

She looked down when her phone buzzed.

8 Shower?

9 Your favorite word, yes.

Marian didn't answer, so it was possible she had to actually talk to people or something. Liddy cashed out what was left of her money in the poker machine and carried the quarters to a good ol' Lucky 7 slot machine. Plink-plink-plink, spin-whirl-click, gone-gone-gone.

Maybe she should try a different casino, but she didn't want to leave. It was rather nice to have more women than men in the hotel, and there were librarians everywhere. Attendees for the Escort Services International group were also in evidence, and there were even some faces she recognized as famous romance writers.

Marian said that writers and librarians were natural pairings, and even if Liddy wasn't a writer, she did research for one, which made them even more ideal as mates. What Liddy couldn't find, Marian could. They'd lie in bed at night talking about search strings and cataloging, total geeks, then Marian would take off her gla.s.ses, take off Liddy's clothes, and in the morning there were towels and sheets to wash. Marian's favorite flannel sheets hadn't survived their first year.

Her phone buzzed.

10 All my fingers, all over you.

Well, okay, Liddy had started her little game thinking to make Marian crazy, but at the moment, Marian was getting the upper hand. She laughed, startling the man on the stool next to her. What else was new? Marian always had the upper hand, and they both really liked it that way. 11 plus your tongue.

12 Our first night together, you.

Oh, Marian was not playing fair. Liddy abandoned the slot machine as the memories of that first night washed over her. She'd not known just how multi-o.r.g.a.s.mic she could be. She'd not been that way with anyone else, and wonderful Marian had decided that just because Liddy didn't know she could, that wasn't the same as knowing she couldn't.

Marian, again. 13 the next day and night.

Now she was just showing off. 14 hours it took you to call me after.

15 times I've said sorry.

16 times I've said sorry for bringing it up. Oh dear, things were not going the way she intended.

17 Favorite thing: Make up s.e.x?

Liddy laughed, relieved. Her steps turned toward the conference center. 18 Yes, please. Now.

19 minutes I have left in this session.

20 minutes till I see you in our room.

21 this afternoon, you.

Liddy blushed and was so glad no one else could see the display. When Marian got in these moods and wanted to see how often Liddy could... Nympho-femme, she thought, and don't say that like it's a bad thing.

She sent back: Game over. I've won all I need, all I want.

"What I love," Marian whispered against Liddy's b.r.e.a.s.t.s, "is feeling like I make your fantasies come true."

Liddy was incredibly pleased with the status of the world, the cosmos, and the praline truffle ice cream that had not quite melted all the way. It had made for a wonderful snack before Marian decided they should shower and go back to bed. "You make fantasies come true that I didn't even know I had. That's the really amazing part."

"Want some more to come true?"

"Not right now-I mean, yes, actually." Liddy grinned at her lover.

"You have the most amazing eyes," Marian said. "The G.o.ddess was playing with the most beautiful blues and greens when she conceived you."

Liddy redirected Marian's hand from between her legs to her breast.

"If you don't want that, what do you want?" Marian tweaked Liddy's nipple, which responded as it always did even after the hours of fun.

"You." Liddy ruffled the short hair that curled ever so slightly on Marian's forehead. "You don't need the way I do, but I know that you need. I told you the first time we were together I wasn't a pillow queen."

"You never have been. That you let me play with you the way I do is one of the ways you make love to me."

Liddy tweaked Marian's nipple exactly the way Marian was touching hers. She'd learned that the confident lover who could be so aggressive and so thorough needed a few minutes to fade before a more vulnerable woman emerged, one who could let Liddy see her need.

Tapping into a patience she did not normally possess but had learned to nurture, Liddy stroked Marian's hair. They had already had five years of pa.s.sion-pa.s.sion for their work, their friends, each other. Learning to take and give had been so important.

"We're going to miss out on baseball theme night," Marian said. Her playful tone was at odds with the need now showing in her eyes.

"Don't let me be selfish," Liddy whispered. "It's not good for me." She touched the tip of her tongue to Marian's earlobe, then rubbed her lips along Marian's cheek and jaw.

Marian exhaled, a small sound that Liddy knew was surrender to Liddy taking control. With a purr of pleasure, Liddy peeled Marian's T-shirt off, glad that the skittishness that she had first encountered when making love to Marian was long gone.

"I love you," she said, knowing Marian needed to hear it. She slid one arm under Marian's shoulders, pulling her close while her other hand explored the wonderful, full b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She wanted to say, "Beautiful," but Marian's gentle butch objected to the word. Instead, she held the word in her mouth as she kissed Marian slowly, luxuriously. No one had ever made her feel as if she could read minds, interpret the most subtle body language the way Marian did. It was a powerful feeling that sprang from intimacy, not the mind games they had both endured in their exes.

Marian loved her touch, and it still went right to her head, a different kind of dizzy arousal than what she'd already experienced. She stayed close, drowning them both in kisses while her hand finally dipped between Marian's legs. The explosion of wetness made her whimper. She drenched her fingers with it, brought them to her mouth, tasted and licked, then painted Marian's lips with the wonderful essence. More kisses, her fingers again dipping, pressing, then finally, sliding inside.

"Oh, yes." Marian arched into their kisses, shuddering under Liddy's hand.

"I'm right here, darling." Liddy breathed out the rea.s.surance, felt it unknot the tension in Marian's shoulders, spreading down her body until her legs parted. She was suddenly so wet that Liddy's hand was swimming. "I know this is what you need."

She pressed inward, smooth and steady, drawing a hoa.r.s.e, sharp cry out of Marian that turned into an ecstatic, exultant, "Yes!"

My favorite word too, Liddy thought. Our favorite word.