"Hi...I...I'm surprised you called."

"Yeah, well, I've been thinking about last night." I tried to grab at Marcus's shirt to hold him back, but he smacked my hand away and went to meet Donato. So much for watching me grovel.

"I've been thinking about it too. I'm..." Dena hesitated before continuing. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? I'm the one who was wrong! I totally attacked your boyfriend. I accused him of being a psychopath."

"And I accused Anatoly of the same thing, but you had reason to be paranoid and irrational-you're the one that was almost killed. I just got defensive because, well, because that's what I do. You know me, I can never just let things slide."

"I'm not sure anyone would have let that one slide." I tried to give Marcus a thumbs-up sign but he was all the way across the room running his hands through Donato's hair. Somehow his interest seemed more than professional.

"So we're good?"

I relaxed back into the swivel chair. "We're good."

"Great, because we have some celebrating to do."

"What are we celebrating?"

"Your not being killed, for one."

"Oh, yeah, that's a good one." I brushed a stray hair off my jeans. "Nothing too wild, though. I've had enough excitement in the last week to hold me over for the rest of the decade. Although...Marcus did just do my hair, so I should probably be seen in public before I destroy it."

"How about a little private bitch session in the park followed by dinner out?"

"You mean..."

"Yep, Bitches' Circle. I can be there by four. I'll bring the wine."

"God, we haven't been there in forever." I went over to the coatrack to grab my jacket. "Maybe afterward we could get a bite to eat at P.J.'s Oyster Bed?"

"Oysters Rockefeller for everybody. So did Marcus do that cool curly style again?"

"Mmm-hmm." I pressed a curl against my head and watched it spring back to life.

"I think if I ever grow my hair out I'm going to get a perm. Jason's standing next to me and he's nodding his head in agreement."

Oh, right, like she was going to keep Jason around long enough for him to see her hair grow out. "You have time to decide. Since you have company, I won't keep you. I'll see you at four."

"On the dot."

I hung up and interrupted the little moment that Donato and Marcus seemed to be sharing. "Hey, Donato, good to see you."

"And you. I heard about your ordeal. I am so glad to see you are safe."

Marcus took a reluctant step back from Donato to include me. "You're smiling, so I assume that means you and Dena made nice."

"We're meeting at the Bitches' Circle at four. She's bringing the drinks."

"If you're going out afterward you should change-that shirt has a coffee stain on it. And don't let her out-sexy you-you're the diva." Marcus got a mischievous glint in his eye and reached out to play with Donato's hair again. "Speaking of sexy, the salon's owner is on vacation, which means that her upstairs office is all empty right now and she does have the comfiest couch...."

"Okay, well, I'd love to stay and chat but...you two are completely not listening to me."

"Huh?"

"Bye, Marcus. Bye, Donato. Have fun defacing the boss's office." It was a good thing Marcus couldn't procreate. The world would have a population crisis of apocalyptic proportions.

I spent the rest of the day doing mundane things like grocery shopping and renting a car. My insurance had agreed to spring for a medium-size rental while they assessed the damage, but I decided to upgrade to a large cherry-red Mustang convertible. The mental image I had of myself cruising down the streets in some hot little outfit with the wind whipping through my now split-end-free hair was just too tantalizing to resist. Of course, this was San Francisco, so I'd have to throw a parka over the hot little outfit, and for the first day I'd have to wear a scarf on my head because no way in hell was I going to put my new hairstyle in jeopardy, but other than that the image would be complete.

I was driving along the harbor in the Marina district feeling happy, glamorous and cold when my cell phone started playing "Frere Jacques." I fumbled around in my purse for it before pressing it to my ear. "Bonjour, c'est Sophie."

"English is still the official national language, right?" Anatoly asked.

"What, you're the only one who can be bilingual? I may not have lived in three different countries, but I'm not completely unworldly."

"Right. When you answer the phone in French you're supposed to say 'allo,' not 'bonjour.'"

"Did you call for a reason?"

His laughter was cut up by the static on the line. "As a matter of fact, I called for two reasons. One was to find out how you're doing."

"Well, let's see. Thanks to Marcus, my usual frizz has been replaced by some lovely curls, I rented a pretty new car and at the present moment no one is trying to kill me, so I guess I'm just ducky."

"Your throat feels better?"

"I was just getting ready to belt out the score from Les Mis."

"Not that I don't want to hear what I'm sure would be a very original rendition of the musical, but for the sake of expediency, let's cut to my second question-what are you doing tonight?"

What did I want to do tonight? Let's see, I could strip him down, throw him on my bed, or vice versa... Shit, what was I thinking? "I'm meeting my friend Dena at the park."

"I'm sorry, Sophie, but I can barely hear you."

I pulled back the phone and looked at the screen. It had been days since I had recharged the thing and I probably had all of three minutes before it died on me. "I said I'm going to meet my friend in the Botanical Gardens. We're going to make like Snow White and feed the squirrels among the redwoods. We're very earthy that way."

"Ah, I can hear you a little better. So what's the game plan when you're done with the tree-hugging stuff? You can't stay in the park all night."

"We're going out to dinner afterward."

"You're not putting me off, are you?"

No, I'm trying to get it on. "Anatoly, I would really like to see you, tomorrow. I just can't do it tonight."

I could make out some grumbling on the other end of the line and it took him a good thirty seconds to come back with an intelligible response. "Does seven o'clock dinner tomorrow work for you?"

"Seven o'clock is beautiful."

"Great, I'll meet you at your place. And, Sophie?"

"Mmm?"

"Don't overdo the Snow White stuff. I see you more in the role of Catwoman."

"You mean like from Batman?"

"That's the one."

"Huh. Catwoman was sexy."

"Yes, she was."

"Right, well, just keep in mind that I have to be much further into a relationship before I'll put on a leather catsuit for a guy."

"I'm very disappointed, to say the least. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Ciao." I hung up the phone and threw it on the adjacent passenger seat. Two seconds later it rang again. I giggled to myself, the man wanted me bad. I picked up the phone without checking the caller ID.

"Allo, c'est Sophie."

"Sophie? Is that you? What's with the French already?"

Shit. "Hi, Mama."

"So it is you. It's been so long since you called that I've forgotten what you sound like."

"You called yesterday, Mama, and I called you just a week before that."

"We live right here in the same city and you have to wait seven days to call me? And how long has it been since I've seen you already? Two months? Three?"

"Three weeks, Mama."

"Three weeks! Wars have been fought and won in three weeks."

I could feel another headache coming on. "Mama, I'm driving, and it's not safe to talk and drive, so if you don't mind getting to the point...."

"You can't pull over for half a minute to talk to your mother who you haven't seen in almost a month?"

Too bad I had a headache. Otherwise I could give in to the temptation to bang my head into the steering wheel. "What can I do for you, Mama?"

"I have a bladder infection."

"Oh, I'm, um, sorry. You know, you should get some rest. Why don't you hang up the phone, get in bed and take care of yourself."

"Don't be ridiculous. I don't need sleep, I need medicine. The shul's ladies senior group is coming over to eat and kibitz and I won't have time to pick up the prescription, so I need you to. Dr. Silverman already called it in. You know the pharmacy I go to."

"Mama, I can't. I'm supposed to meet Dena in forty-five minutes, and if I go to the pharmacy I'll be more than half an hour late. Can't Leah do it?"

"I should ask her to leave Bob and little Jack when they're both sick with the flu?"

The flu. I had to hand it to Leah, that was quick thinking. "Mama, I just can't."

"I understand, dearie. You go have fun with your friends. So I go another day without my medication. God willing the infection won't get worse. One more day won't kill me. I hope."

"Your bladder infection is not fatal, Mama."

"So you're a doctor now? My doctor, the one with the medical degree, he says it can be fatal."

"Dr. Silverman diagnosed you and then told you you might die?"

"He didn't say so exactly, but I know how to read between the lines. I can sense these things."

"Mama, I want to help, I really do but..."

"Good, use the key because I won't be able to hear you over the vacuum, and pick up some antacids while you're at it, Ethel is always bringing a new spicy recipe for everyone to taste."

"Wait, that's not what I... Mama? Mama, are you there?" I stared at the now completely battery-dead phone before throwing it down. Damn it all to hell. There was no way I was going to be able to meet Dena anywhere near on time and now I couldn't even call her to tell her. I wasn't too far from her shop. Maybe I could catch her before she left.

I turned down Chestnut Street. Guilty Pleasures was just coming into view when it happened. An SUV pulled out of a spot directly in front of the store, leaving it vacant.

I struggled to hold back the tears of joy. Getting the antibiotic to cure my mother's bladder infection was truly the right thing to do and this was the Lord's way of telling me so. I slid the Mustang into the holy space. A little cry of joy escaped my lips when I saw that there was still twenty minutes left on the meter. This is what it meant to be truly blessed.

Barbie was putting together a display of exotic oils. Today she actually looked like a Puerto Rican Barbie doll. She had styled her hair into a halo of neat thick curls that brushed the shoulders of a cotton-candy pink top that matched her lipstick. Her bottom half was adorned in a black leather micromini and thigh-high boots. Okay, her ensemble still had a few dominatrix accents, but I was pretty sure the pink canceled them out.

She looked up from her project. "I remember you. You're Dena's friend, um..."

"Sophie, right. Is Dena still here?"

"You just missed her."

Missed her? But I was blessed. All right, the Lord works in mysterious ways, I just had to figure out how he wanted me to work this. "Any chance I could use your phone to try and call her?"

"Go for it."

I walked around the counter and dialed Dena's number. As soon as I did, I heard Nokia's version of The Mexican Hat Dance coming from a drawer underneath the register. I pulled it open and glared at Dena's cell.

Barbie smiled. "She always forgets it there."

If this was God's idea of a joke, it wasn't funny. I slammed the drawer shut and rapidly tapped my fingernails on the counter. So what was plan B?

"Really needed her, huh?"

"I was supposed to meet her at Golden Gate Park at four and I'm going to be half an hour late."

"Where in the park?"

"The Botanical Gardens." I could call my mother and tell her I just couldn't do it-that would go over well. On the flipside I couldn't just stand Dena up.

"I can meet her there."