He shrugged. 'Sure. I'm in charge, I can do anything. Just don't let my boss find out. He'll cream me.'

'Okay,' she readily agreed. 'But what's the catch?'

'No catch,' said Spencer. 'But...' He became flustered and trailed off. Kristina watched him turn red. Inquisitively she peered into his face. He became redder and stammered for words. 'What I was trying to say, was - I was wondering if you - you and I maybe could - you know - grab some dinner or something.'

Kristina smiled. 'Dinner, huh?'

'Yeah, if you wanted to.' He lowered his eyes.

'Dinner where?'

'At Jesse's. They have the best steak there. You like steak, don't you?'

'I love steak,' Kristina said. 'I don't get to eat it too often.'

'Is that a yes?'

'It's an I don't know,' she replied, her heart beating a little faster. She almost wanted to touch his shorn hair. 'I'm so busy around here...'

'It's an evening. What's an evening?'

She bowed her head. 'When were you thinking?'

'Friday?'

'What, this Friday?'

He scratched his head. 'Yeah, why not? Oh, wait, it's Thanksgiving weekend.'

'Yeah,' she said. She really wanted to go out with him this Friday, but she didn't want him to think she had no life.

Then he made it easy for her. 'How about the following Friday?' he said.

'Okay,' Kristina said, grinning. 'Okay, Spencer O'Malley. You can take me out to dinner in exchange for not putting me in the slammer.'

'Don't be silly. No one was going to put you in the slammer. It's procedure. We live and die by procedure at Hanover. Will you be able to come next Monday? Or do you want me to swing by and pick you up?'

'No, no, don't worry. I'll get there myself.'

Spencer smiled. Kristina noticed he had a beautiful smile. Perfect teeth. 'You're not going to come, are you?' he said, obviously trying to hide the pleasure at her saying yes.

'No, I will, I will.' She was thinking it would give her another chance to see him but saw that he remained unconvinced. 'Uhh... about next Friday - what time?'

'Any time that's good for you. I get off at five.'

'Well, we're playing Crimson - the game should be over at ten. Is that too late? We can go at, like, ten-fifteen.'

'You're going to the game?'

'What do you mean, going?' said Kristina. 'I'm playing.'

Spencer shook his head. 'Not with that shoulder you're not.'

Kristina felt a stab of fear. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean - you're not going to be able to play with that arm.'

She didn't want to talk about it. Not even with him. 'It'll be all right,' she said dismissively.

He was looking at her with an amused expression. 'Should I pick you up here?'

'Depends. Are you going to come in a police vehicle or an unmarked car?'

'Whichever you prefer, Kristina.'

She smiled, unable to hide her pleasure. 'Come in a police vehicle then. With sirens. Okay?'

'Okay,' he said. 'I'll bring an extra siren, just for you.'

'And I'll get dressed up,' she said. 'Just for you.' I'll have to buy a dress, she thought.

'Deal,' he replied, and then impulsively reached out and touched Kristina's face. Before he went, he said, 'It looked like a terrible accident. Your car was in bad shape.' He looked her over. 'Worse than you. You're lucky to be alive, you know.'

'Aren't we all?' she said, but inside Kristina knew he was right.

'Listen,' Spencer said. 'Promise me something. If your arm doesn't get better by tomorrow, you'll go and have it checked out.'

Kristina said sheepishly, 'Does it look that bad?'

Nodding, Spencer said, 'It looks bad. Looks sprained. You can't move it, can you? You never know. Sometimes it's something more serious. Promise me.'

'Okay, Detective O'Malley,' said Kristina, trying to move her arm. 'I promise.'

She extended her right hand, and he held it briefly. His hand was warm and strong. As he backed away toward the fire doors, Spencer said, jokingly, uncertainly, 'And no standing me up. Or I'll have to arrest you for lying to a police officer.'

'Oh, is that a misdemeanor, too?'

'Capital crime.'

Laughing, Kristina said, 'Don't worry. I'll be here with bells on.'

'See you later.'

'See you, Spencer.'

She watched him go through the doors and then turn around and sneak a look at her. Kristina's body stopped throbbing for a moment after seeing that. The heat of pleasure soothed her aching skin.

She closed the door behind her, then went back and locked it. She sat in front of her Macintosh and opened a new document. She quickly typed in the date - November 23, 1993 - and the time - 2:29 p.m. - and the, To Whom It May Concern. Deleting that, she typed, Dear Sir or Madam. Yes, that was better. She wrote a short note, printed it, and closed out of Word. When the computer prompted her to save the file, she clicked NO.

It was snowing when Kristina went outside. Steady flutters were building momentum. Kristina wondered if Albert and Conni and Jim had left for the weekend. No, they couldn't have, she reasoned. Aristotle's not in my room. They wouldn't just take Aristotle without letting me know first.

Cold in her faded blue track pants, Kristina hobbled to the bank. She could have put on a second sweatshirt, but what Kristina wanted was her mother's coat back. Maybe she could call Spencer O'Malley and ask him to drive her up to Fahrenbrae. No. Too many questions. Fahrenbrae wasn't real to anyone but her and Albert, and she wanted to keep it that way.

The bank was closing at three. She had to hurry.

But hurrying was difficult; in the accident she had banged her knee on the underside of the front panel and now it hurt like hell. At East Wheelock, across from the Hanover Inn, she slowed down to a limp and waited for the cars to pass. Why am I in such a hurry? she thought. So I don't make it. There is always tomorrow. The banks are open tomorrow, aren't they? And there is going to be hardly anybody around. I can go then. It really doesn't matter. But she wanted to have her note notarized immediately.

'Sorry, closed,' said a guard holding the keys in the door.

'Listen, I just want to put something in my safety deposit box and check my balance, that's it. Please,' she panted.

He called over an accounts representative, who reluctantly let her in.

'Please be quick,' she told Kristina.

I'll be nimble, I'll jump over a candlestick, Kristina thought. 'I'll be just a sec. Thanks.'

She waited to be let into the back vault room.

'Hi, Mr Carmichael. Would you be able to notarize something for me?'

Mr Carmichael, a thin, gray-bearded man of fifty-five, rolled his eyes, then smiled at Kristina with kindly expression.

'Closed, Kristina,' he said patiently. 'Do you understand closed?'

'I do. Mr Carmichael, you can do it, can't you?'

He sighed. 'What do you need?'

'Just notarize my signature here.' She took out her paper, but folded it so that he couldn't see the contents of the letter.

'I have to see the whole document, Kristina,' he said. 'You know the rules. I've notarized stuff for you before.'

Kristina had no choice but to show him the contents of the letter.

After reading it, Mr Carmichael glanced at Kristina, who hoped her face was blank.

Mr Carmichael said, 'Okay, sign right here.' She did, and he got his notary stamp and notarized her signature, and then they used their keys to open her safety deposit box and Mr Carmichael left her alone.

She put the notarized letter carefully into the manila envelope containing the divorce papers and then quickly rummaged through the contents of the box. She thought a moment, then took out a pencil and scribbled on the back of an old letter. She buried it in the box and left.

'Have a nice Thanksgiving!' Kristina called out to Mr Carmichael. 'And thank you!'

He waved. 'Anytime, Kristina. Have a nice holiday.'

Yes, it's going to be just peachy, she thought, wishing she had her coat, wishing she had a drink, wishing her head would stop throbbing. She was glad she had made it to the bank. Tomorrow she intended to sleep till the sun went down.

It was now snowing hard. The snow was no longer coming down in little flakes, but in thick clumps that looked like snowballs. They fell out of the sky and onto Kristina's hair and face and the ground. The cars on Main Street moved slowly, quietly burrowing their wheels in the snow. The sidewalks had white fur on them, the Dartmouth-green awnings were white, and the trees stood still and black and bare.

Kristina crossed Main Street and debated going to Peter Christian's to buy some carrot cake to take home - there had been a time last summer when she subsisted on carrot cake -but decided it might be better tomorrow when everyone had gone and she could go in and have a nice quiet lunch and read the paper.

Kristina hadn't eaten since last night's cake. In the last twenty-four hours she had had the Red Leaves ice cream cake, the German chocolate cake, and Southern Comfort. Some diet. Still, she wasn't hungry. Her head hurt.

Remembering yesterday made her cold again. Was it only yesterday when I almost died? Why does it feel like such a long time ago? She reached up and touched the swelling on the side of her head. Not that long ago, she thought. No, here it is, right here.

What if something is wrong? What if I have a concussion? Kristina thought, walking slowly back to campus. What if I have a concussion or a hematoma, and I'm going to bleed to death from the inside out? Blood will drip out of the veins in my brain and run down my body until it all collects in my swollen feet and legs, sloshing about in the big slop pot that is me, and then one morning I'm just not going to wake up.

Kristina felt very cold. She went to the Dartmouth chapel and sat in the warmth for a few minutes, thinking of Evelyn, and of babies, and of Albert. She wanted to put a candle up for the little ones, but there was no place to do that. She left.

Kristina spotted Albert near Kiewit. Her mood darkened. He stood in the snow talking to a friend. Kristina sped up reluctantly. Her legs sped up, but her mind was slowing down. Albert began to walk northward to Frat Row. Kristina sped up some more, slightly dragging her right leg behind her.

'Albert!' she finally yelled, out of breath in the falling snow. 'Wait up!'

He turned around and came toward her. Kristina was panting when she caught up to him and found herself with nothing to say. They stared silently at each other.

'Jim stay the night last night?' Albert finally asked, and Kristina felt his palpable question reverberate through her cold bones. She hated it when Albert was this way.

'No, he didn't,' she told him, rubbing her hands together. 'We broke up.'

He was quiet. 'You did? Why? It wasn't working out?'

'Yeah, well, we weren't working out like you and Conni.'

'Who said anything about me and Conni working out?' He fell quiet. 'I'm just glad about you and Jim, that's all.'

'I bet you are.'

'I am. So what now? Should I break up with Conni?'

'Break up with her?' Kristina was aghast. 'What for?'

'So that we could go to Canada. And other things.'

'Look, stop pushing this Canada thing on me. I told you, I can't go. Why are you so persistent?'

'I'm not persistent. So what are you going to do, then?'

'About what?' Kristina said sullenly.

'About you and Jim.'

'Nothing. Maybe start seeing someone else.' She saw a look of pain fly through his eyes. Barely audible, Kristina said, 'Albert, please.' The heaviness inside her chest wouldn't lift; her heart squeezed and shut and hurt. She breathed out heavily and asked, 'Did you take Aristotle out this morning?'

'Yes,' Albert said. 'He loved the new snow.'

'Bet he did.' She realized Albert was the one who had covered her on the floor.

Leaning closer to Kristina, Albert said, 'Remember last year? When we took Aristotle to Fahrenbrae and got snowed in for three days? How much we ran around then. How much we loved the snow. I drank and you made me coffee, and late at night, we would take off our clothes and run naked down the Vermont hills, screaming all the way. You always won -I always got cold first. And back at the cabin, you'd blow on my frozen feet and wrap blankets around them. Remember that, Rock?'