"No argument from me."

"And you're pregnant." She smiled.

"With twins?"

"Lively twins."

"I can't wait to tell my kids they're finally going to have cousins.

Where are you staying? "

"At the house."

Abigail frowned.

"Alone?"

"It seems that way. I got back this afternoon."

"I meant to visit you in Camden," Abigail said.

"Oh, Sig--are you sure you're up to staying by yourself? You're welcome to stay here with me."

"I'll be fine."

Abigail seemed dubious. She was so different from her brother--more formal, more mannerly.

"Let's have a drink and catch up, shall we?

Coffee, tea, whatever you'd like. Have you had dinner yet? "

"No, but the thought of food..." Sig shuddered.

"A drink would be great, though."

"Then come downstairs. You can leave your groceries right here in the hall. Is there anything we need to stick in the freezer?"

"No, it'll be fine."

She set her grocery bag on the floor, ambivalent about having stopped in. There were so many questions about the fire. Mart's behavior, Riley, Emile-even John Straker and his role. Sig didn't want to get into any of them. She just wanted Matt to come to his senses.

Abigail started down the hall.

"Henry and I were just making coffee."

"Henry's here? Don't let me interrupt" -Abigail blushed, tried to cover for it.

"You're not interrupting anything. He'll be delighted to see you."

With that, she led Sig down a flight of stairs to the kitchen, a cozy mix of modem and nineteenth century with its brick fireplace, copper pots, granite countertops and cherry cabinets. Henry got up from the table, greeting Sig warmly.

"Thank God you're all right. You and Riley gave us all quite a scare."

She smiled.

"We gave ourselves quite a scare."

"I imagine so. Have the police--well, let's not talk about that right now. There's fresh coffee. Can I pour you a cup?"

"I can put water on for tea if you prefer," Abigail said.

"I didn't drink coffee during either of my pregnancies, but I doubt one cup'll hurt someone who survived a burning building."

Sig laughed, relaxing.

"Put that way, I'll say yes to coffee. I'll just add a lot of milk."

Henry poured the coffee, moving about Abigail's kitchen as if he were comfortable there, familiar. He filled a small pitcher with milk, set it and the heavy mug on the table.

"I'll let you add your own milk.

I'm sure you and Abigail have a lot to talk about. I'll scoot upstairs for a bit. "

"That's not necessary," Sig said.

He held up a hand, smiled.

"It's fine, Sig. You two catch up."

When he was gone, Abigail put her hands on her hips and scrutinized her sister-in-law. "Are you positive you're well enough to stay alone?

You still look pale to me. I think you should have stayed with your mother a few days at least to recuperate."

"I'm just tired. It was a long drive." Sig poured milk into her coffee, sipped it. It was hot, not too strong. She avoided Abigail's eyes.

"I'll be fine."

"Mara must have hated seeing you go off on your own under these circumstances. Wait until you have those babies, Sig. Then you'll understand. There's no off button when you're a mother."

"You were divorced when your children were young. Do you think" -She cut Sig off with a firm shake of her head. "You and Matt are not going to divorce. Don't even think about it. This is just a bump in the road. You'll see."

"Don't pay any attention to me, Abigail. I'm not thinking straight.

I.

" She sighed.

"I'm just worried about him. I wish I understood what he's trying to accomplish."

"Matt has a good head on his shoulders, Sig," Abigail said gently, sitting across the table from her.

"He's not stupid. He sometimes asks a lot of the people who love him, but you have to have faith."

"For how long?"

"For me, it's forever. But I'm his sister."

Sig bit her lip, refusing to cry. She'd cried too much already.

"By the way," Abigail continued, "you must be wondering if there's anything between Henry and me. There is. Sort of. We're trying to be low-key because of our roles at the center, and now with Sam's death--well, I'm sure you can understand our reluctance to become a subject of gossip and speculation."

Sig suddenly felt enervated, as if she wouldn't even make it back out to Louisburg Square. She drank more of her coffee, nodded.

"You're both entitled to your privacy."

"We've only been seeing each other a few weeks. Henry was very nervous at first, especially since we were beginning to see signs that some of the rawness of the Encounter ordeal was easing. Then it just..." She smiled, her eyes not quite meeting Sig's.

"It just seemed so natural."

"I won't say anything if you don't want me to," Sig said.

"We should probably wait until Sam's death, the fires..." Abigail groaned, as if it were all too much to articulate.

"Until this whole mess is sorted out."

"I understand. Abigail, everyone only wants happiness for you. You've done so much for the center, and your family, too. Matt likes Henry, and I'm sure Caroline's fond of him. Of course, that shouldn't matter.

You just need to follow your own heart. "" Ah, Sig. You make everything sound so wonderfully simple. I've missed you. " Her expression clouded, and she leaned forward.

"Sig, what do you think's going on with Emile?"

"I wish I knew. That's why Riley and I were at his cottage. We wanted to find him, get him to talk to the police."

Abigail sighed, got up to pour herself a cup of coffee.

"He's always had a very fine opinion of his own abilities. I wouldn't be surprised if he thinks he can sort out Sam's death better than the police. Either that or he's gone completely nuts."

"To be honest, I've never been very good at figuring out how Emile thinks. Riley's much better. Me--I can't even figure out what my own husband's thinking."

"Don't be too hard on yourself."

Abigail returned to the table with her coffee. Sig noticed her slender fingers and manicured nails, looked down at her own unpolished, blunt-cut nails. She needed to take better care of herself.

Ultimately, she realized, that was why she'd come home. Not to do her nails--to focus on her, on Matt, on their marriage, on the family they were in the process of creating.

"Henry's waiting for you," Sig said, struggling to her feet.

"I'll head on back. I just wanted to stop in and say hello."

"I'm glad you did. Are you sure you won't join us for dinner? We're just ordering out. Nothing fancy."

But Sig was sure, and when she walked back out to Mount Vernon, she found herself feeling a little foolish. Even in her confusion over whatever was going on with her brother, Abigail was confident, poised, well-mannered and in her element. Sig constantly felt as if she were spinning out of control. She had no plan of action, no clear course she was following. She simply responded to events as they happened.

She'd call Riley when she got back. Find out what her wild little sister was up to and whether the sparks were still flying between her and Straker. Find out if she was safe. If she'd learned anything more about Emile and the fire.

"There," she told herself as she unlocked her front door.

"You're taking action."

She pushed open the door, saw the shadow of a man in the front room and screamed, her bag of groceries crashing to the floor. The milk carton split open, soaking the bag.

"Sig..." Matt stepped out of the shadows.

"I didn't know it was you."

She was shaking, far more terrified than she would have been if she hadn't just escaped death in Emile's loft. Her knees went out from under her and she sank to the floor. She couldn't stop herself. Her head spun. Her stomach lurched, and she thought she'd pass out.

Matt caught her by the elbows and lifted her into his arms. She ached to lean into him, let him take her weight, but she stopped herself, stiffening against her own attraction to him, her own need.

"Are you all right?" He sounded panicked, tortured.

"Sig, what can I do?"

She had to look at him. At those blue eyes, that square jaw, that lean body. He still held her.

"I'm not going to pass out. I'm okay."

"You're sure?"

She nodded, and he took her face in his hands and kissed her cheeks, and she realized he was crying. So was she. She'd started to say something, she didn't know what, when his mouth found hers.

"Oh, Sig," he whispered.

"I love you."

She wanted this, had dreamed of it for months. Her mouth opened to his kiss. He slid his palms over her shoulders, and she quaked when he touched her breasts, swollen from pregnancy. It had been so long.

"I've missed you," she said.

"I've missed you so much."

He smoothed a hand over her lower abdomen.

"Twins. My God." His voice cracked.

"I want to be a good father, Sig. I'll do my best. I promise."

She covered his hand with hers.