"That may be true, but it's no excuse for turning your back on the people who love you."

"Well, maybe we'll finally get the whole story tonight. Maybe he'll explain everything."

Bree seriously doubted it, but she decided against sharing that with her friend-her friend who seemed so willing to forgive, even though she had probably suffered more than any of them over Sloan's remorseless exit from their lives.

Mind you, her turmoil had hardly been Sloan's doing. She had suffered because his leaving had effectively put an end to the fantasy she'd cultivated for close to ten years-ever since her seventeenth birthday party when Sloan had gotten more than a little drunk and kissed her a little too hard and a little too long. For him the incident was lost in an alcohol-induced fog, but it was forever etched into the archives of Franki's heart. Barely six months later Sloan and Bree's friendship had evolved to the next level. They had finally slept together, and Bree had sensed something shrivel inside Franki when she shared her wondrous news.

The foursome had remained intact-grown closer. Stronger. But Franki's heart had cracked down the middle and never quite mended. Bree still marveled that Franki never seemed to resent her for stealing Sloan's heart. But perhaps the fact that she had never been able to keep it for long, and had finally lost it forever, could account for the lack of animosity. Shared suffering did tend to overcome differences.

"You said he was bringing a guest," said Franki, suddenly more animated than she had been all afternoon. "Who'd he show up with? Anybody I'd recognize?"

"No. He brought some guy. I think he said he's like a partner. His name must be on the credits beside Sloan's but I've never noticed it."

Franki stared at her for a moment. "Oh. Really? No woman in his life, then? Ain't that...interestin'?"

"Franki..."

Franki merely batted her long, blonde eyelashes in bogus contrition.

Bree stood up and stalked toward her. "I just might have to-"

"Hello!" Bree's lecture was interrupted by a jaunty voice and a deep throaty chuckle. "Bree, I swear you're shooting fire out of those green eyes of yours."

Bree dragged her eyes away from Franki's irreverent expression, and addressed the man who managed the hall. "Hi, Perry. You're just in time to keep me from strangling my best friend in the whole wide world."

Perry Elliott shuffled his way across the room on a pair of short stubby legs. His five-foot-eight frame seemed to be mainly made up of a long egg-shaped torso that teetered on top of those unlikely appendages, making him look like he was always on the verge of toppling over. Bree hated herself for it, but whenever she saw him she couldn't help but think of her childhood image of Humpty Dumpty. However, despite appearances, Perry seemed to have eluded dear Humpty's tragic fate. If Perry sat on such a wall, he might fall and break something. But he would very likely sue the construction company for damages and win a million-dollar settlement.

It didn't matter what project or cause Perry Elliott undertook, it always worked out for him. Everything he touched seemed to turn to gold. And, of course, that extended to the estate auction business he was gradually taking over from his father. Since he had joined the organization, Lakeside House had expanded, drawing clientele from as far away as Florida and Vancouver, and raking in unparalleled profits.

He stopped a few feet away and propped his hands on those ample hips. "Now what's the trouble? I'd rather avoid having a felony committed in my fine establishment. Murder can be so bad for business, you know." His eyes twinkled with good humor, but despite his jovial manner and relaxed attitude, Bree could never feel completely relaxed around him. No matter how hard she tried, and how much she wanted to get past it, her loyalty to Troy stood between them.

"Oh, Perry, you know how infuriating she is," teased Bree. "No jury would convict me. But for your sake, I'll restrain myself."

"Gee," groaned Franki. "With friends like you, who needs enemies."

Perry surveyed the room as he dug a hand absently into a bag of nacho corn chips. His gaze cruised over the streamers and tables, before finally touching on Franki. His eyes lingered there for just a moment, and he stuffed a chip into his mouth before returning his attention to Bree.

"So? How does it look?" she asked.

"Great. How many people are you expecting?"

"Oh...couldn't say an exact number. But there will be enough. I'm sure there'll be no lack of excitement tonight."

"I might have to stop in and make sure everything's going smoothly." Perry dropped his gaze to his shoes, although Bree didn't really believe he could see them over the bulge of his belly. "I have to say, I was a little surprised I didn't receive an invitation."

Bree smiled uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, Perry. I didn't think you'd be interested. You and Sloan were hardly kindred spirits. In fact, I seem to recall a few nasty names and insults flying between you on occasion."

He smiled. "Sloan does have a knack for bringing out the worst in me. But, you'd think I deserved some sort of compensation for all those sleepovers when he and Troy would laugh and carry on until three in the morning." He raised his eyebrows hopefully. "So? How about making it up to me?"

Bree chewed on her lower lip and then proceeded to lie through her teeth. "If you must know, it just tends to put a damper on a party when the owner of the place is home. We always had our best parties when our parents were away. Surely you can understand that."

He grimaced. "All right. You don't have to beat me over the head with it. I'll stay away."

Bree knew they were both skirting around the real issue. While Sloan and Perry had had their share of disagreements and tiffs, that particular tension had nothing to do with Bree's reluctance to invite Perry. Not only would it screw up her plan for Sloan's surprise, but coming to the party would involve Perry and Troy occupying the same space for a significant amount of time. And that kind of tension could dampen even the most boisterous party crowd.

"How's your mom doing, Bree?" asked Perry as he settled down in a chair that seemed barely able to hold him.

"The same, I'm afraid."

"Is there any chance of her making it out to see the wayward son?"

Bree's smile felt unnatural. "I really doubt it. But maybe I can talk him into popping out there to visit her.

She's missed him, too."

"And his mother, no doubt," said Perry with a mournful shake of his head. "She and Janelle always

seemed the closest out of our mothers, and then she goes and takes off without a word..." "Like mother, like son, I suppose." "I guess we're all destined to follow in our parents' footsteps, aren't we?" "God, I hope not," moaned Franki. "I've made a very conscious effort to be nothing like my mother." Bree quirked a half-smile. "And you've succeeded admirably. But from what I remember, you're father was quite the free spirit...and quite the flirt." Franki tipped up her chin. "Are you implying, my dear, that I am a flirt?" "No, I would never imply that. I'd much rather say it outright. Franki Waters is a tease." Franki's jaw dropped but her eyes glittered. "Well, I never." Perry laughed, but there was no humor in his eyes that remained fastened on Franki. "Now, that I sincerely doubt."

"How about your parents?" asked Bree, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and not really sure why. "Anything new with them?" Perry shifted his gaze back to her. "Oh, Dad's still working himself to an early grave buying and selling things that used to be useful. Mom mentioned that she picked up a very nice piece in your shop the other day. She was quite impressed with your taste and your stock. She's always liked you, Bree. She's so glad you've made a go of that place."

"That's high praise from someone of her caliber. Your mother's taste is impeccable." Bree's face felt like it might shatter if she had to maintain the facade of sincerity another moment. Perry's expression turned thoughtful, and for a moment Bree worried that she hadn't lied as well as she thought she had. The last thing she wanted to do now was draw attention to her dispute with Lois and Vance Elliott. She had purposely not mentioned the vases to them for almost two years, in the hopes that they would forget she had ever had a complaint. She didn't want to blow it now, by reminding their son of her resentment.

"Yes, she certainly does. Although my father would heartily disagree."

"Their tastes are just different."

"Yes. In many things." Perry glanced at his watch. "Speaking of my father, I should get over to

Lakeside. There's an auction tomorrow afternoon, and there's always so much to do." At last he eased

himself out of the chair and drew himself up to his full, unremarkable height. "And I suppose I should let you two finish your preparations."

"Preparations? The hall is done," said Franki, who was busily filing her fingernails. "Oh, I know you two will want to make yourselves beautiful for the man of the hour. Have to be at ourbest for the return of Mister Hollywood. Mister Popularity."

The sudden edge to Perry's voice startled Bree. She bit her lip. She hated to hurt him, but she just

couldn't allow him to come and throw a wrench into her plans. "Perry, I'm really sorry but I just can't-"

He held up a hand. "No, no. Don't be silly. I don't know where that came from. I must need a sugar fix or something. Mother has me on a new diet, and it's wreaking havoc with my moods." He stood and started walking toward the doors. "You all just have fun tonight, and I'll catch Sloan later."

"Thanks, Perry," called Bree as he reached the entrance. "And thanks for the break on the rental."

He waved off the thank you and a moment later they heard the outside door bang shut.

"Whew," said Franki as she wiped imaginary sweat from her brow. "Am I glad that's over."

"What?" Bree reached for her purse. "What do you mean?"

"He always makes me nervous." She dropped the file into her purse and snapped it closed. "He's so

responsible and upstanding. If Sloan's Mister Popularity, then Perry is Mister Pillar-of-the-Community. What with all his work with the Optimist Club and running a business, he makes me feel...I don't know...inadequate."

"You intimidated by someone?" Bree shook her head. "I don't buy it." "All right. If you must know, he gives me the creeps. When he looks at me I feel like a two-bit whore." "Oh, come on. That's a little extreme. You're worth a lot more than fifty cents. I bet you'd bring in at least a buck."

Franki's only response to that was a muffled snort.

The duo stepped out the door into late afternoon sunshine, and a silky breeze off the lake.

Franki hugged herself despite the warmth. "I don't know for sure what it is. Maybe I'm just nervous

around someone who has so little sex appeal. It's not natural. I bet the only woman he's ever slept with is his wife."

Bree stopped in her tracks. "Perry's never been married."

"Exactly."

Chapter Six.

"Are you sure about this?" Craig cast a wary glance at the heavy double doors. Loud music blared from inside the hall and a soft yellow light glowed from a bank of high windows.

"Yup. This is the place," said Sloan. "It hasn't changed a bit. At least not on the outside." Mrs. Middleton had asked them to arrive at nine o'clock in order to allow all the other guests to arrive first. She thought he might like to make a fashionably late entrance. Sloan had complied, but mainly because he figured that approach would shorten the amount of time he would have to spend under the spotlight.

"That's not what I mean." Craig was hanging back, looking a little lost and forlorn.

"Oh..." said Sloan with a knowing nod. "You've got stage fright."

"Despite what I said, I'm no actor. And even if I were, I don't care one bit for this role."

"Don't give me that crap. You should've won an Oscar for your performance this afternoon."

Craig closed his eyes and hung his head. "I'll regret that moment of inspiration for the rest of my life."

"You can't possibly be any more nervous than I am. Nobody knows you. You're not the one that's going to be held up for all to look upon in scrutiny and judgment." Sloan felt the sweatiness in his own palms as he grabbed Craig's sleeve. He started to drag him toward the doors. "Let's go and get this over with."

Craig followed but continued to grumble. "See? Already you think you're free to put your hands all over my studly body."

"Don't forget you get to touch me too," teased Sloan. "How about a nice slow dance to convince the crowd? You know how I love to dance."

"God. If you kiss me I swear I'll slug you one."

"I'll try to restrain myself." He stopped with his hand on the knob. "Now, remember, don't overdo it. We're not supposed to be advertising this. We're not proud of our...lifestyle." He hesitated, suddenly realizing how difficult this was going to be. But he couldn't back down now. "It's supposed to be difficult to share with these people. We're feeling awkward about it. They're going to have to drag it out of us. Out of me, actually. Got it?"

"Do you have delusions of director-hood, Sloan? Because you're starting to sound like Spielberg."

"Got it?" repeated Sloan.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it. I think I can do awkward," said Craig ironically. "I might even manage anxious. In fact I think I might be able to throw up on cue."

Sloan ignored him and took the plunge. He pushed through the outer doors into a small foyer. The deep bass beat of Smashing Pumpkins pulsed from behind a second set of doors. Sloan could feel the vibrations in his gut. At least he thought that was what it was. It was difficult to distinguish the throbbing beat of a heavy bass from the legion of fluttering butterflies that had besieged his innards.

He glanced at the vacant coat-check booth. The absence of an attendant didn't surprise him. Few people sported jackets this time of year, and it would have been a waste of money. But still...something struck him as being out of place. "Don't you think it's weird that they didn't send an escort to come get us, or at least meet us at thedoors?" asked Craig. "I mean the party is in your honor."

"I don't know. This is a small town, you know. My hometown. They probably figured I'm a big boy and I could find the place on my own."

"Mmm," was all Craig said. But Sloan couldn't deny that he, too, had thought it a bit strange in light of

all the trouble they'd gone to to get him there.

Sloan paused with his hand on the door.

"How many people do you figure?" asked Craig.

Sloan shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe fifty or sixty, if she didn't go overboard."

Craig blew out a slow breath. "I certainly hope she didn't go overboard."

"Well, there's only one way to find out." Sloan plastered a smile on his face as he pushed through the

doors, expecting to be hit with the familiar heat of crowding bodies and the scent of booze and cigarettes.