"He sees everything" "Just waiting for us to slip up."

"Sadist."

Paige dropped her arms. "I'll bet he isn't in half the shape we are."

"He runs, too," one of the girls advised.

"He does?"

"Every morning" "Ten loops around campus" "Like he's the lord of the manor policing his domain."

Paige blew out a breath. aThen we can all feel a bit safer. Come on"she set off for the field house"let's wrap this up."

Moments later she was headed home again, but while she was preoccupied thinking of Jill and yet another addition to the house that had been so quiet and peaceful and all hers such a short time before, her car took her to Mara's.

She sat in the driveway, trying not to look at the garage and think about the agony Mara must have been feeling when she had pulled the car inside. She slipped from her own car, let herself into the house, and closed the door behind her. The click of the latch was followed first by total silence, then by the sound of soft footsteps as Paige moved through the rooms. In time she climbed the stairs ,^nfl found herself at the door to Mara's bedroom.

A large Windsor bed dominated the space. The rest of the furniturenight tables, a dresser, a rocking chairhad been bought at the same time as the bed and matched it in style, but that was as close to coordination as Mara had come. The comforter was teal blue, the cushion on the rocker orange, the rag rug at the foot of the bed a cacophony of dissonant colors that would never show dirt, Mara had sworn.

Given her aversion to cleaning, that had mattered as had the fact that since the rug was a sampler done by a student from the local crafts collaborative, it had been a steal.

Mara loved steals when it came to things like rugs. When it came to children no expenditurebe it of money, time, or lovewas too great.

Paige looked around the room. Her heart broke to think of the dreams that had been nurtured here the long, lonely, dark hours when night thoughts had painted pictures of a happier life, pictures that had been dashed because .

. . because . . . because why? Because Mara had had an abortion when she was sixteen?

Because she had taken Daniel under her wing and failed to cure him, because Tanya John had been abused into a distrust of all adults because a confused employee at Air India had passed on tragically wrong information She sank down on the edge of the bed, fingered the nightstand, slowly opened the drawer. Inside were the remains of a pack of Life Savers, two pens and a pencil several crochet hooks, and wads of scrap paper with jotted reminders. Some had to do with work, some with mundane errands, but the majority, certainly the most recent ones, related to Sami.

A spiral-bound crossword puzzle book lay beneath the scraps. Paige flipped through it.

Nearly every puzzle had several words filled in, never more than seven or eight before the puzzle had hepn abandoned. A few of the puzzles had a line scrawled diagonally across, suggesting frustration. Paige could imagine Mara pulling the book out in the middle of the night in an attempt to distract herself from the voices in her head and growing annoyed when the voices prevailed.

Why didn't you say anything, Mara? I knew how much you wanted Sami.

If I'd known she was coming so soonif I'd known what the Air India fellow saidI might have helped.

But Mara had kept it all to herselfthe excitement and the despair, along with the Valium, the abortion at sixteen, and God only knew what else.

"Damn it, Mara, that wasn't fair," Paige cried, shoving the puzzle book back into the drawer. When it wouldn't go, she pushed harder. "You had no business keeping secrets.

We were supposed to be friends!" She swore again, this time tossing the puzzle book aside and reaching into the drawer to see what was blocking the way. Her fingers closed on something and pulled, then continued to pull when that something kept coming. Moments later she found herself staring dumbly at her hand, spilling around which were a pair of paisley suspenders.

She had seen them before, many a time, though not lately, she realized, searching for the label. It, too, was familiar, high profile for cosmopolitan types. Only one person in Tucker wore paisley suspenders, only one person in Tucker was vain enough to value that particular label.

That person was Peter Grace.

SIX.

ANGIE WAS LATE. HURRIEDLY SHE MADE several last minute notes of things for Dottie to see to first thing in the morning. Then she slipped into her blazer, took her purse from the bottommost drawer of her desk, and, with a quick look around to assure that all was in order, strode out the door and down the hall.

The office was silent, in stark contrast with the noise of the day.

Angie thought Peter had left, too until she passed his door and saw him inside. He was at his desk, pencil in hand, though the way he was slouching suggested he wasn't doing much writing.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

He looked up, dropped the pencil, and kicked back in his chair. His eyes were tired, his voice tight. "We need help. This is the first time I've sat down all day.

Something's going on in this town. Asthma's on the rampage. I know we're into that season, but it's never been as bad as this before."

Angie smiled sadly. "We've never been without Marahbefore. How many of those asthma patients "Better than half."

"Asthma attacks can be brought on as easily by emotion as by pollen.

The patients of Mara's who I saw were upset at being without her, and the parents were worse than the kids.

They needed reassurance that the nebulizer would be here with or without Mara. Don't worry, Peter. It'll quiet down."

He looked her in the eye. "This practice is designed for four doctors.

Our caseload is based on four doctors."

Angie held up a hand. "Can't think of that yet. Too soon."

"Christ, Angie, it's six-thirty and we're both still here. You think Ben and Dougie are going to like that for long?"

"Ben and Dougie will be fine. They know things are going to be tight for a while. I have a new schedule posted on the kitchen board."

"If today was a preview of what's to come, we'll be here until six-thirty lots of nights.

It's either that or start turning patients away, and we swore we'd never do that."

"We won't. We'll reorganize and be more efficient, and if that doesn't work, then we'll recruit a fourth. Relax, Peter. We'll work things out. We can't be functioning at full capacity right now, what with Mara's death so raw. I spent a good deal of my day talking about her.

But it won't always be like that."

He made a noise. "How easily people forget."

"No. But after a while, when there aren't answers to some questions, they stop asking them. Life does go on." She caught sight of the clock. "I have to run. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah."

"We'll work things out," she repeated, raising her voice as she went down the hall.

If Peter answered, she didn't catch it, and then she was trotting down f the stairs to the door that opened onto the parking lot. Five minutes later she passed under Mount Court's wrought-iron arch, swung around the drive and parked in front of the library. Students were sprawled in scattered groups on the lawn, but she didn't see Dougie among them. She glanced at her watch. It was six-forty.