"We were going to list it Monday with this realtor. That is, if we weren't going to rent it out."

119.

"Save me some pancakes and I'll drop by around ten and let you know, okay? It could be an easy answer-no way."

"Okay." Amy gave her a crooked smile. "I am going to miss you.

I know Hemma's the one you're extra close to, but we're tight, too."

"Yeah." Marian was surprised that her eyes stayed dry. Maybe she was finally all cried out. "It's going to be a huge adjustment, but thank goodness for e-mail, huh?"

She locked the door behind Amy and wearily started up the stairs.

But the notion wouldn't let her sleep quite yet. She trod on Hill's paw when she turned back, but he panted happily after her into the study. She found her last mortgage statement while her computer booted up, and minutes later ran a simple mortgage qualification calculator off the Web.

"Okay, Hill, if I can get a loan for that much and I sell this house for what Marva sold hers for-comparable, I think. Pay off the mortgage and I'm . . . okay. Well, that's good to know. Twenty-five thousand short. And that kind of money just grows on trees, doesn't it?"

She swallowed hard while she scratched Hill's ears. Stupid idea.

"When I finish my degree and get promoted I could probably swing it. But not this year. I'd have to find a Californian with more money than sense to buy this house."

California made her think of Liddy. What if it worked out somehow between them? What had she been planning to do? "Hi, come on in. Make love to me in the shrine I'm keeping for the love of my life."

Right.

"Oh, s.h.i.t, Marian, don't cry." She dabbed at her eyes. "Not again."

She settled into bed, hardly able to find the energy to pull up the sheet. "Hear that, Trombone? We're going to have new neighbors.

Nothing I can do about it. I told Liddy this morning that I don't like not having control over things, but this one I'll have to accept, huh?"

Unbidden, Inner s.l.u.t suggested that if she couldn't have the one Very Bad Idea of buying Hemma's house, why not give in to the Very Bad Idea of sleeping with Liddy?

120.

"I'm bleeding," she muttered. "I can't believe she kissed me, I'm a walking oil gland." What could she possibly see in me, Marian wondered. I'm a wreck.

But Liddy had kissed her. Just before sleep washed over her, Marian was comforted by the fact that she knew where Liddy lived.

It's hard, she thought early the next morning, to think about the future before that first cup of coffee.

The paper, in a rarity of same-day relevance, predicted a storm front due in by late afternoon. That's what she needed, a thunder-storm. Maybe it would be a jolly good one. Hill hated them, but Marian liked to sit on the screened porch and listen.

"You get it, don't you, Hill? The future matters more than the past, and Hemma's the past. I'll always love her. f.u.c.k Robyn anyway." She'd fooled herself into thinking she was in love with Robyn because she was never going to have Hemma. "It'd be rotten to do that twice in one life, wouldn't it? Some mistakes are so bad, learning from them is the only way to go on."

Hill laid his head on her feet as she pushed her mug under the coffeemaker drip.

"It's not like Liddy wants me. I don't know what she wants, but she can't know enough about me for it to be me. I'm just, I don't know, her type?" Her first thought when she'd woken up hadn't been a wish to see Hemma next to her, as she had done for years. Instead, she'd abruptly been in Liddy's arms, standing on that silly nature trail.

Mug in hand, she plodded up the stairs to pick out clothes for the day. She was tempted to get back in bed, but she needed to be semi-alert at Hemma's, and she hoped to get in an errand before then.

Thunderstorm weather. Highs in the nineties. Shorts, socks, the waterproof Jungle Mocs, a tank for the humidity, with an overshirt for the air conditioning. She sighed. Only the socks seemed to vary day-to-day. Still, she knew what she looked good in, and a new 121 wardrobe wasn't going to change a thing. If she threw out all of her khaki shorts, she'd replace them with khaki shorts. She was actually proud of the fact that her clothes were nowhere near the tweedy baggy sweaters, long skirts and tights that made up the usual librarian chic.

"You know, Trombone, I've never seen one of those makeover shows ever take on a short butch type with-" She poked herself.

"With a bit of a tummy. I think it's because they know there's no point. Not like a Dior gown is going to make me anything but a short butch type with a bit of a tummy. But I could get a haircut.

Tomorrow for sure."

She watched Trombone stretch her flexible feline spine and wished idly she could do the same. It sure looked like it felt good.

Perhaps she should take up yoga. Perhaps she should take up some form of exercise. Maybe exercise was better for sublimation than chocolate.

Inner Therapist reminded her that with Liddy she wouldn't have to sublimate her s.e.x drive. Liddy was single and available, unlike a certain woman with whom Marian was never going to have s.e.x. Inner s.l.u.t insisted that s.e.x was more crucial to life than chocolate.

That s.l.u.tty little voice had nothing to do with why Marian was going to Hy-Vee so early on a Sunday for a bundle of flowers and a small box of pastries. Nothing at all.

The flower selection was a little thin. She finally selected a bundle of orange-tipped carnations with a showy pale pink lily the shade of Liddy's nail polish. The pastries were harder to select. Liddy had had strawberry jam on her pancakes, but that was the only clue Marian had as to preferences. She settled for cream cheese buns topped with raspberries. Two fit perfectly in the smallest of the bakery boxes.

The greeting card aisle was her last stop and she pondered the right message. There weren't any cards that said, Can we do it like rabbits and still be friends? Not one read, Ignore what I'm saying and jump me, now! There wasn't even a cheerful Sorry that we've had no luck arranging for a happy f.u.c.k. She did think Forgive me, I've been a 122 b.u.t.thead was okay except it featured a guy with a six-pack and a real b.u.t.t for a head. Not her style.

Nothing she'd seen in Liddy's house was Liddy's, so that was no help. She'd mentioned Wyeth yesterday, but none of his paintings was featured. What was the world of greeting cards coming to?

When in doubt, she thought, stick with cute. A card featuring two little girls, one wearing most of a cake on her face while the other sobbed, was blank inside, so that would work if she could think what to write.

She heard her named called and looked up to see Sandy walking toward her. "Hey, how's your dad?"

Sandy scratched her tousled hair sleepily. Marian had never seen her looking less than neatly combed and every bit of clothing pressed and tucked. "He's doing okay. But everyone is worried because he's getting weaker." She shrugged.

"Honey, how about-oh. Hey, Marian."

"Morning," Marian said to Ellie. In spite of looking as sleepy and disheveled as Sandy, Ellie had a don't-say-a-word look of warning on her face. "You two are up early," she observed mildly.

Sandy colored. "I need jelly." She hurried up the aisle. Marian realized then that she was wearing one of Ellie's T-shirts.

"Don't say it," Ellie muttered. "Just don't say it. We had dinner with her mom and when we got home it felt like old times and she's afraid her dad's gonna die and, well, we . . . just don't say it."

"You're both single."

"And getting over each other. Like we needed more breakup s.e.x.

We had plenty of that."

"Are you sure it's breakup s.e.x?"

Ellie's eyes abruptly filled with tears. "It was too good not to be."

"I'm sorry," Marian said automatically.

Ellie shook her head, then studied the contents of Marian's cart.

"Who are the flowers for? Pastries?"

"Just a sort of an aI'm sorry' gift."

"You had a fight with Fresh Meat-Liddy-already?"

123.

"Not exactly. I was not myself though."

"Must be serious, given how early it is."

"I've got to be at Hemma's and Amy's by ten, work at noon."

"I see."

Marian fought down a blush. She wasn't the one who'd spent the night with her ex. "Tell you what, I won't tease you if you won't tease me."

"That's hardly fun." Ellie had a masterful pout. "But okay. Deal.

It's about time you got over Robyn, that s.h.i.t."

"I suppose," Marian murmured. She realized she'd never been closer to telling Ellie about Hemma. But she couldn't do that standing in Hy-Vee. The sensation of being very alone and abandoned washed over her again. She felt like a defenseless child.

"Sandy was at least clear about us not being back together. Last night was just . . . old times."

Marian noticed the uncertainty in Ellie's voice. "Good thing that's all clear, huh?"

Ellie gave her a wounded look. "Stop, okay? I don't know what I'm doing here. She can't even find the apple b.u.t.ter. Look at her."

"I never understood what was wrong, you know? And she's just leaving us to talk."

"I never understood it either," Ellie admitted. "I just knew something wasn't right. See ya later."

Marian wrote the card while drinking a chilled Frappuccino, then drove to Deb's old house. Liddy was likely not up, so she took care to turn off the engine as soon as she was in the driveway. On the porch, though, she hesitated. Liddy would leave by the back door now that she parked behind the house. Perhaps she should put it all on the back porch.

She picked her way as quietly as possible around the house and went stealthily up the rear steps. She set down the flowers and the pastry box and tucked the card inside the flowers. Satisfied, she gave the arrangement one last pat.

The door opened.

124.

Liddy yelped, "Holy s.h.i.t, you scared me!"

Marian told herself to look up but her eyes did not want to stop gazing at Liddy's ankles, her calves, knees . . . thighs. It was a long, long journey to the hem of a faded T-shirt that was not quite long enough.

By the time she met Liddy's gaze, she was certain her skin had invented a new shade of red. "Sorry, I just wanted to be sure you saw these."

Liddy abruptly clutched the front of the T-shirt, pulling it down.

"I-what are they for?"

"I was rude yesterday. I thought-"

"Oh, h.e.l.l, let me put on some clothes. Come in, come in."

Marian stood awkwardly in the kitchen, cradling the flowers and not certain if she should put the pastries on the table or the counter or someplace where they wouldn't suddenly seem like a big deal.

Liddy returned with a pair of running shorts under the T-shirt and Marian abruptly felt as if there was air in the room again. She took the flowers from Marian and sniffed. "Thank you. I mean, you didn't have to."

Marian tried to slip the card into her back pocket. She hadn't wanted to be present when Liddy read it. But Liddy saw it, so she handed it over with what she hoped was a confident flourish.

"Should I read this now?"

"If you like."

"Maybe I should read it later. You meant me to find it alone."

Marian shrugged. "I do need to go. I'm having breakfast with friends and I need to be at work by noon."

Liddy cracked a sideways smile. "So I don't have to share the pastries. They look yummy."

"They are all yours."

"n.o.body has ever brought me breakfast before. I mean . . .

n.o.body who hadn't spent the night. Not that there have been that many, I mean, just . . ." Liddy sniffed the flowers appreciatively.

"Thank you."

125.

There was no air again. It had been a long time since Marian had been so aware of another woman, physically. Yes, she ached for Hemma, but she'd had years of learning to ignore it if she had to, to channel it from her moment-to-moment reality and save it for those nights at the window. All the sensible reasons she ought to channel away these feelings about Liddy were getting weak.

Instead, she let herself notice the delicate red that stained Liddy's neck now, and the unquestionable beauty of Liddy's full lips and luminous turquoise eyes. Inner s.l.u.t lingered on the long, tapered fingers tipped in short but shapely pink nails. And she could not help but notice the scent of Liddy's perfume. It was not the kind that had ever been applied from any bottle.

Seeing Liddy first thing in the morning, smiling softly, blushing mildly, left Marian feeling dizzy, weak and undeniably needy. It would only take one push to . . .

Liddy looked at her with concern. "Are you okay?"

Say something, or she'll know how bad off you are.

She might have been able to lie if Liddy's nipples hadn't hardened. She knew she was red, but it wasn't a blush. Her flush of desire was a match to the one obviously running through Liddy's body as well.

Only a few feet separated them and Marian swore her skin was trying to pull off her bones to be within reach of Liddy's fingertips.

Her scalp p.r.i.c.kled and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s ached to be touched. "I think I should go."