Josie didn't like this, but she let Amelia tear open the brightly wrapped presents. Her daughter ripped into them like a young lioness opening an antelope.

"My hoodie!" Amelia said. "It's exactly what I wanted! And a cell phone. This is the cool RAZR phone, too. Even Zoe doesn't have one."

Josie didn't like the greed gleaming in her daughter's eyes.

"Thank you," Amelia said. "Thank you, thank you." She threw her arms around her father.

"Aren't you going to open your present, Josie?" Nate asked. He handed her a flat box about the size of a floor tile. It was Tiffany blue. Josie was relieved to see the box was too big to hold an engagement ring.

"I have something to do first," Josie said. She went straight to Amelia's room and switched on her daughter's computer, then studied the SENT MAIL queue. Amelia had written to an e-mail address Josie didn't recognize. She opened it.

"Dear Daddy," Amelia's e-mail began.

I'm so happy you came home 4 me. I'm having a big problem-o. Mom is dating this plumber, Mike, and I think she's going 2 marry him. He has a loser face daughter named Heather. If Mom marries him I'll be like Cinderella, and have 2 do all the work and wait on horrible Heather. Mike lets her do whatever she wants. She's mean.

You have 2 save me. I could live with you in Canada. I like cold weather.

My fave color is purple and my fave ice cream is cotton candy. What's yours? Do you like chocolate? I like the chocolate snowmen with extra sauce at Elsie's Elf House, but I can't go there now that Heather's mom owns the Christmas shop nearby. She gets crazy if we spend money there instead of at her lame place, and her gingerbread sucks out loud.

All the girls at school are rich except me. I'm the poor kid, and they laugh at me. They laugh at Mom's car, too. Zoe says it looks like something her house-keeper drives.

I wouldn't look so poor if I had a new Love hoodie like all the girls wear but it's sixty dollars and Mom won't buy it. E-mail me soon and tell me all about yourself.

It was signed "Love, Amelia, your daughter."

Josie was so furious that she wanted to smash the computer screen.

Cinderella indeed. Where did Amelia get this fairy tale? It's true Josie was serious about Mike and hoping for marriage, but not at Amelia's expense. She would never turn her daughter into Heather's servant. Servant, h.e.l.l. Josie could barely get Amelia to set the table, much less wait on Heather.

Josie called Jane from her own room. Her hands shook so badly, Josie could hardly punch in her mother's number.

"Josie, what's wrong?" her mother said. "You don't sound like yourself."

Josie said in a low voice, "Mom, Nate's here. We have problems we need to hash out, and one of them is Amelia. Can she stay with you before I kill her?"

"Josie, send the child up here this instant."

"Will do," Josie said.

"And be careful with that man. He can make trouble for you. He never signed over his parental rights."

"He was in jail when Amelia was born."

"But he's out now and you don't know why," Jane said.

"He said it was a technicality," Josie said.

"If he was pardoned, he could sue for custody and take Amelia back to Canada. Then where would you be? You need a lawyer. Nate could take her now and just disappear. Don't upset him."

"Thanks, Mom, that's good advice. I'll find someone who knows international law. I'll ask Alyce's husband, Jake, for help. He owes me."

Josie took a deep breath to calm herself, then called Amelia way too sweetly. "Can I see you a minute, dear?" she said.

Amelia came in wearing the pink hoodie over her robe and danced around her room, showing it off. "It's perfect, Mom," she said. "It's just what I wanted. It's the right size, too."

"And how would your father know that?" Josie asked through clenched teeth. She wanted to tear the pink sweatshirt off her daughter. It took all her strength to restrain herself.

"I don't know," Amelia lied.

"It wouldn't have anything to do with an e-mail you sent your father, would it?"

"You read my e-mail," Amelia said, outrage in her voice.

"That's my privilege as long as you live in this house. Where did you get Nate's e-mail address?"

"He gave me his card last night, while barfing Heather took a shower," she said. "Daddy said I could e-mail him anytime."

"Give me that hoodie," Josie said.

"It's mine," Amelia said.

"Give it to me, or I'll rip it off your back and put it in the Goodwill donation box."

Amelia reluctantly peeled off the hoodie.

"You're grounded, young lady," Josie said. "No computer except for schoolwork. Now get dressed and go upstairs to your grandmother. You have exactly five minutes to be out the door."

Amelia was furious at her mother. "I hate you. You're a liar," she said. "I'm going to live with my father."

Suddenly, Josie felt like a hostage in her own home.

Chapter 8.

Deep breaths, Josie told herself. You can't come out screaming at Nate. That will only drive Amelia closer to her newfound father.

When she felt calmer, Josie went out to face her ex. Nate was pacing her tiny living room. Suddenly, the room that had seemed so homey looked small and shabby. Was the couch starting to sag? She spotted a cobweb on the table lamp and brushed it away. Amelia's pink backpack was still abandoned by the front door, and the new stain Heather had added to the worn carpet seemed radioactive.

Josie wondered if she looked slightly worn, too, and then brushed that thought away like the cobweb. Concentrate, she told herself. You have to save your daughter. What if Nate wants to take Amelia back to Canada? If he sues, you can't afford a good lawyer. Your mother will have to get a second mortgage on this place.

"Is Amelia okay?" Nate asked.

"She's fine," Josie said too cheerfully. "She has to see her grandmother now."

Nate looked disappointed. "Oh," he said. "I thought we could spend some time together."

"When we work out some ground rules," Josie said.

"Wait a minute," Nate said. "She's half mine."

"That's what we need to talk about," Josie said.

"How about lunch at O'Connell's Pub?" Nate said.

That's where Josie and Nate had first met. Josie didn't want to encounter the ghost of their former romance-or any of their old friends. Too many of them would be happy to start Nate on a Sat.u.r.day bender.

"What if we grab a burger at Ruley's Tavern on Manchester?" Josie said.

"I've never been there," Nate said.

"It's a neighborhood joint," she said. "Very quiet." With no painful memories.

They walked two blocks to the little bar. The day was growing chilly. Nate wore a leather jacket. Josie wondered if it was the same bomber jacket he'd had when they were dating. She doubted Nate could zip it over his belly.

"The area looks good," Nate said.

"Believe it or not, Maplewood has become hip," Josie said.

"I believe it. It's like a small town in the middle of a big city."

Ruley's was an old-fashioned tavern, with a pool table, a pinball machine, and beer cases piled almost to the ceiling. Regiments of booze glowed in the backbar mirrors. A fat bartender wearing a stretched-out T-shirt was polishing gla.s.ses. An old man dozed on a barstool. He was the only customer.

The sun lit the dust-filmed windows, and Josie saw that her nice neighborhood place was sliding into a dive. The old tin ceiling was yellow with grease. The bathroom doors had dog silhouettes marked POINTERS and SETTERS. The air was scented with sour beer and Pine-Sol.

Nate and Josie took a battered table in the corner. The large, bra.s.sy-haired waitress said, "What can I get you, hon?"

"A draft Bud," Nate said.

"c.o.ke for me," Josie said.

They both ordered cheeseburgers. "Lots of onions on mine," Josie said, hoping that would kill any lingering thoughts of romance.

It didn't. As soon as the waitress disappeared through the kitchen door, Nate pulled out the blue Tiffany & Co. box and handed it to Josie.

"Open it," Nate said.

Inside was a diamond and platinum Elsa Peretti teardrop necklace, so finely made it was like a miniature sculpture. Josie did enough mystery-shopping to know she was looking at ten thousand dollars' worth of jewelry.

"It's lovely," she said.

The necklace glowed in the dingy bar.

"Put it on," Nate said. "I want to see how beautiful you look wearing it."

Josie carefully closed the velvet-lined box and said, "Nate, I can't accept it. I'm seeing someone else. I'm serious about him."

She handed back the box.

"And what does that mean for us?" Nate asked. He finished half a beer in one gulp.

Us? Josie thought. There hasn't been any "us" for a decade. You didn't even send me a letter in all that time. You never called. You just disappeared. In the dark bar, she could see vestiges of the man she had once loved, but Josie was a different woman now, too worldly-wise to fall for Nate again.

"We've both moved on, Nate," Josie said gently. "We're different people now. We live in different countries. Let's stay friends for the sake of our daughter."

"You mean the daughter I just found out about?" Nate had a belligerent edge to his voice. He downed the beer and signaled for a second one.

Josie hoped the waitress had tunnel vision. But the woman put another cold gla.s.s near Nate's hand. Nate drank it in two gulps.

"Remember when we flew to New York?" Nate asked. "It was a day almost like this one."

Josie dreaded playing "remember when." But now it all came flooding back. In her mind's eye, she saw Nate the way he was then: young and strong, before alcohol ruined him. It was a crisp fall St. Louis morning, and they were walking in Forest Park. The grand old trees were a blaze of orange and yellow and the sky was china blue. Josie was crunching dry leaves.

"What a gorgeous day," Josie had said.

"Not as gorgeous as you," Nate had said, and kissed her.

"Oh, Nate, I know what I am," Josie had said. "I'm no Vogue model. I'm plain old Josie."

But Nate was in one of his reckless moods. "You're not plain," he'd told her. "Not by a long shot. You need to be treated like a Vogue model. Let's go to New York for dinner at the Four Seasons."

And so they did. Josie made a quick phone call to her mother and told her she'd be home late. Josie didn't add that they were going to New York. She didn't want to hear the "you're heading for trouble, young woman" lecture again. Jane disapproved, but she always disapproved Josie and Nate were in Manhattan by three that afternoon, and Nate took Josie on a shopping spree.

"You always thought you were plain," Nate said, bringing her back to the present. "I never understood that." He gave her hand a squeeze.

"Nate, there's nothing distinctive about me. It's why I make a good mystery shopper. I can melt into the crowd as Mrs. Ordinary."

"That's not how I remember it. You were worried you didn't have a dress for dinner. I bought you that black dress in Manhattan. You were a knockout."

Josie looked around the dingy neighborhood bar and couldn't believe she was the same woman who'd run off for a magical night in Manhattan. She still remembered the dazzling interior of the Four Seasons, with its mid-century s.p.a.ciousness. Nate had whispered in her ear, "Did you see that fat guy by the window? His eyes are bugging out, staring at you in that dress. Vogue should be so lucky."

Josie did notice. She also noticed that Nate ordered a steak that cost more than her poly-sci textbook. Nate paid cash for their meal and their suite at the Pierre Hotel, but that barely registered. Josie was bewitched.

The magic was gone when she arrived back in St. Louis. Jane was waiting at home, arms crossed, body bristling with indignation. She immediately spotted Josie's dress bag.

"So, you let a man buy you expensive clothes like a kept woman," Jane had said. "I bet you were drinking, too."

"Only wine," Josie said.

"Well, isn't that sweet," Jane had said. "Only wine. You broke your engagement to a good, decent man so you could live like a drunken tart."

"I broke up with Andy because he was boring. He loved his job better than he loved me," Josie said.

"All men are like that," Jane said. "The rest will leave you in the lurch."