Having overheard some of the conversations as well as what Ruth had told him, Corban had gleaned that most of these young women with whom she hung out were from broken families, as was she. Two girls had been sexually abused by male relatives. He could understand how they might hate the men who had abused them, but did that group all males in the brutal category? Or give them due cause for becoming lesbians? Three of the ten who met had "come out of the closet." Two of those were "comfortable" with their alternative lifestyles, their families having come to terms with them; the third was an emotional mess, swinging from frothing hostility to despair.

"Someday she'll kill herself," Ruth had said flatly after one particularly distressing evening in which the girl had monopolized the meeting in venting her anger. "And it'll be her parents' fault for not allowing her to be herself. They should be forced to see it's perfectly natural for some people to be homosexual. She was born that way."

"Hogwash! She's the one who isn't accepting things."

Ruth's eyes had flashed. "She's happy as what she is."

"Happy? You call that happy?"

"Well, if you had people calling you terrible names, maybe you wouldn't be happy either!"

"The only names I heard this evening were the ones coming out of her mouth."

"You're so close-minded, Cory. It's pathetic. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were homophobic."

"I'm close-minded? Well, maybe they ought to meet somewhere else since it's my apartment they're coming to in order to vent their spleens against all males."

They had digressed from there. It had been one of their worst arguments ever. After they finally shouted themselves out and spent the night sleeping apart, they had agreed to let the subject drop. For two weeks, Ruth had gone elsewhere to meet with her friends. And then they were back again, his digs apparently being more comfortable than wherever else they'd been.

They made him nervous, these women who sat around talking about intolerant men and patriarchal society and equal rights for women. Equal to them meant women should get the first chance at the best jobs. Another case of affirmative action gone awry. More militants who wanted to use discrimination to end discrimination.

"We're just going to meet for an hour or two on Saturday morning," Ruth said, serving him the dinner she had prepared, Prego poured over boiled noodles with some parmesan sprinkled on top.

"Any Tabasco?"

She set the bottle down in front of him. "There's going to be a march in San Francisco in a couple of weeks, and we want to prepare for it."

"What's it about this time?"

"Funding for AIDS research. We thought we'd make a banner."

Sloshing Tabasco over his spaghetti, Corban decided to be elsewhere on Saturday.

The bell rang on Friday afternoon shortly after Annie finished getting ready for work. She pressed the intercom. "Who is it?"

"Sam."

"Come on up." She pushed another button, releasing the lock on the front door of the building. "Suz. Your brother's here."

"Tonight? He wasn't supposed to get here until tomorrow."

"Well, he's here." Annie plumped the pillows and tossed them onto the couch, gathered up some of Susan's clothing, and quickly folded and stuffed the items into a dresser. Hurrying across to the kitchenette, she gathered glasses and plates and put them in the sink, squirting in liquid soap and running water over them. They'd have to soak for now. It was Susan's turn to do them, and they were both on their way to work.

Susan appeared from the bathroom, dressed in her straight, black skirt and white blouse. The doorbell buzzed as she frantically brushed her hair on the way to answer. "What are you doing here? It's Friday. You said Saturday."

"Chill out, Suzie Q. I just came by to let you know I'm checked in . . ."

Annie turned from the sink and felt his gaze fixed on her. Susan laughed, looking from him to her. She winked. "You remember Annie Gardner, don't you, Sam?"

"This is Annie? What happened to the Pippi Longstocking replication?"

Annie blushed. "Nice to see you, too, Sam." She was embarrassed at the reminder of how she had worn her carrot-red hair in pigtails. The red had faded some, along with the freckles that had once dotted her nose.

His eyes warmed, and a wolfish smile spread across his handsome face. "All grown up . . ."

"But she's got someplace to go."

"Bad boys, bad boys," Barnaby sang out loudly, and they all laughed.

"We're on our way to work, Sam, but you're welcome to hang out here if you'd like."

"No way. I came to the city to have some fun."

"Whatcha gonna do . . . ? Whatcha gonna do . . . ?" Barnaby sang loudly, bobbing his head.

"Sounds like the bird'd like to go with me." Sam grinned.

"You want him?" Susan said brightly. "You can have him with my blessings."

Sam laughed. "No way."

Annie took her jacket from the back of a chair. "I hate to break up the family reunion," she said with a smile, "but we'd better go, Suzie. We're going to be late."

"You know, I haven't eaten yet," Sam said, following them out. "Why don't I come to the Smelly Clove?"

"You hate garlic."

"Hate's a strong word. Besides, it has medicinal value, I hear."

"It does."

"Well, I think I might be developing a cold. I need a little preventive medicine. What do you say?"

Susan gave him the address and directions as they went down the stairs and out to Annie's car.

"See you there." Sam lifted his hand in a casual wave, then crossed the street to his van.

Susan slid into the bucket seat and snapped on the seat belt. "Well, well. I've got the feeling we're going to see a lot more of my brother." She looked at Annie and grinned.

Annie figured Sam had changed his mind when he didn't follow them to the restaurant. She was more relieved than disappointed. Though his obvious flirtation had been heady and a decided boost to her self-confidence, she knew he was dangerous in more ways than one.

At fifteen, she had thought Samuel James Carter, rebellious and delinquent, was some kind of romantic hero. She had fantasized about being like the heroine in a Harlequin novel, whose love and purity would melt the arrogance and cynicism of the hero.

But she had grown up over the last three years. She had learned how devastating and heartbreaking Sam's rebellion had been to his family. They could joke about it now, but she remembered Suzie's anger and Mrs. Carter's tears. He'd had to crash and burn before his life turned around. Sam was deep water, and where the world was concerned, Annie didn't know how to swim.

"He must've tipped Hal," Susan said in passing.

"Pardon me?"

"Sam. He's being seated in your area."

Annie collected several dishes of food and delivered them to patrons, asking if there was anything else they needed. She saw Sam sitting at a small table in the corner, where he could watch everything going on in the room. The bar waitress had just left his table, and several young women seated nearby were looking at him. He didn't appear to notice them. All his attention seemed fixed on her. His smile was roguish and challenging.

She passed him by once. "I'll be with you in just a moment, sir."

"I'm not going anywhere, ma'am."

She replenished coffee for several tables and then went back to his. "Have you decided what you'd like this evening, sir? Or would you like a little more time?"

"I've decided." His eyes twinkled in amusement.

Taking the leather pad with pencil from the pocket of her short, black apron, Annie flipped it open.

"Why don't you tell me what the specials are anyway." He leaned back, studying her at his leisure.

There were six dishes posted on the chalkboard at the restaurant entrance. Part of her job was to memorize them. She described each with all the succulent adjectives the management provided, aware of Sam's amused perusal throughout her recitation.

He grinned. "Very nicely done."

"So, what'll it be?" She spoke to him as though he were a perfect stranger who had just come into the restaurant for the first time.

"The twenty-clove rabbit."

"A good choice," she said, jotting down his order. "Soup or salad?"

"What kind of soup?"

"Gazpacho garlic."

"Salad. Ranch dressing. Plenty of pepper."

"I'll bring you some bread."

"Bring plenty of water, too, please, while you're about it."

She gave a soft laugh and flipped her order book closed and tucked it into her pocket.

Friday was always busy. She was working eight tables and moving fast to make sure everyone had what they wanted. One table would no sooner empty and be bused than another party would be seated. After two hours she had made enough in tips to buy groceries for a week.

And Sam was still there.

Replenishing his water glass for the third time, Annie noticed his plate. "You don't like the rabbit?"

He grimaced. "Let's just say I don't think I'm going to have any trouble with vampires. I'm going to have garlic coming out my pores for the next week."

She managed to fight off a grin. "You won't get a cold."

"No, but I'm getting the cold shoulder." His brows lifted in a teasing question.

"I don't think you'll have a problem about that. There are three ladies at the table just behind me who have been trying all evening to get your attention."

"Is that a brush-off, Annie? I'm wounded."

"You have the skin of an armadillo, Sam."

"And I thought you used to have a crush on me."

"Before I knew any better."

He grinned. "I'll try anything at this point." When she started to turn away, he said, "By the way, what's your sign?"

It was the oldest line in the book, and he knew it. Obviously it was time a few things were clarified. Perhaps when they were, he wouldn't waste his time. "The fish."

"Pisces." The roguish grin was back, along with a decidedly wicked gleam in his eyes. "Good sign."

"Yes, it is. But not Pisces."

He frowned. "No?"

"Nope. Ichthus. Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior."

The teasing demeanor evaporated, and he looked straight into her eyes with an intensity she hadn't expected. "There's a message for me in those words, I take it."

"I hope so."

His mouth curved ruefully. "Worried the lion wants to lie down with the lamb?"

Heat surged into her cheeks. She expected him to laugh, but he didn't. His expression grew serious, contemplative. She felt the pull of his charm, the stirring inside at his intense look. With slow deliberation, she placed his check on the table, closed her order pad, and tucked it in its place. "Have a nice evening, Sam. Try to stay out of trouble."

Nora sat in her family room, a white throw wrapped around herself. She stared at the television but could make no sense of the movie. Her mind kept drifting.

It was ten o'clock, and Fred wasn't home yet. He'd left a message on the answering machine that he was taking clients out to dinner. Surely it didn't take this long, unless he'd gone to the city.

Thinking about dinner in the city made her think about Anne working in a restaurant. Maybe Fred had taken his clients where she worked and would put in a word to her about the distress she was causing her mother. No, Fred wouldn't do that. He had left Anne's upbringing entirely to her. He had felt his position as stepfather left him out of the loop where Annie was concerned. As long as she didn't interfere with his life, he would stay out of hers. They had a congenial relationship.

Sometimes it bothered Nora that Fred refused to become more involved. "It's up to you how you handle things," he would say. "She's your daughter, Nora, not mine."

She needed an ally this time. She needed someone strong to back her up.

Why wouldn't Anne listen to her anymore? Why was her daughter turning against her now and running to her grandmother?

When eleven rolled around, Nora began to feel unease in the pit of her stomach. The past reared its ugly head once more, haunting her as it always had with people's previous mistakes. She'd fallen in love with Bryan Taggart when she was sixteen. He was four years older, had a job, and was going to college. He was handsome, bright, and charming. She had been convinced he would fulfill all her hopes for a better life.

What had started as a romantic adventure had quickly turned into a nightmare of fights, bills, sleepless nights, and broken dreams.

She had been so desperate to make the marriage work and thought a baby would force Bryan to keep the job that seemed to offer the most promising future. However, her announcement that she was pregnant hadn't held the marriage together; it had shattered it. Bryan had been furious, calling her deceitful and selfish. He'd said she had done everything to ruin his life and he was sick of her. He deserted her before Michael was born, leaving her with no other choice but to move back in with her mother and father.

She still remembered what her mother had said to her the first evening she had come home. It had been the greatest cruelty of all after all she had been through in over two years of marriage. "You expected too much too soon." Crushed and feeling dismissed, she'd sought solace from Grandma Helene, who had agreed with her about everything. Bryan Taggart hadn't been good enough for her.