"Nonsense," Paige said lightly. "The course is largely through the woods. You'll be in the shelter of the trees, far drier than us."

"But it's cold," Alicia complained.

"Cool, not cold, either of which is preferable to hot," Paige reasoned.

Tia said, "My muscles are rigid."

"Then stretch," Paige urged. "And do an extra set of warm-up runs.

You'll do fine. All of you. Just remember everything I've taught you.

Pace yourselves. Don't let an opponent who jumps out in front get you running so hard at the start that you die on the home stretch. Stay focused."

"We can't beat Wickham Hall," Annie said.

"They're incredible."

"So are we," Paige replied.

"They were undefeated last year."

"That was then, this is now. Come on, girls.

If you don't think positive, you'll be defeated before you begin.

Every one of you has bettered her times in practice this week and by significant amounts."

"When you start at rock bottom," Julie groused.

"You," Paige said, pointing a finger only halfplayfully at Julie, "keep still." She turned to the others. "So much of any battle is believing in yourself. The course is three miles even. If you want to break twenty-one minutesif you tell yourself that you can and keep repeating ityou will. I don't care if we win. What I would like to see is for each of you to run a race you feel proud of. I believe you can do it.

The rest is up to you."

She followed them out of the gym and talked with the visiting coaches while the girls did warm-up sprints. Then, under cover of the umbrella, she moved aside and waited for the race to begin.

"That you, Paige?"

Her heart gave a little pit-pat but settled when she realized the voice was wrong. She peered out at Peter, who was covered with a hooded slicker. The friendly face warmed her into a smile. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "Had nothing better to do." He patted a bulge in the center of his chest.

"Thought I'd snap a few."

"In this rain?"

"Sure. The lousier the weather, the greater the drama. Mud shots are fun."

Paige recalled Mara saying something similar.

Actually, it wasn't mud. It was snow. Mara had l loved taking pictures in the middle of snowstorms, when the snow formed a veil through which the rest of the world was muted.

Now, in hindsight, Paige wondered if that muting was a softening of things Mara had found too harsh.

On a lighter note she asked, "How did it go in the office this morning?

Any interesting visits?"

"You'd have to ask Angie," Peter said. "She took my hours. Said she wanted to get ahead a few, just in case Doug had a sick day, but by my figuring, she's ahead a whole lot. She's been working like a fiend lately."

Paige could understand it. There was nothing like pouring oneself into one's work to obliterate other, more painfui thoughts.

But she figured that Angie hadn't told Peter about Ben, and she wasn't about to do it herself. So she stated the obvious. "Doug is growing up. He's at school longer hours, and when he's home he should be spending more time with his dad."

"Hey, Dr. Grace!" several of Paige's runners called on their way past. They had wide grins for Peter, something Paige rarely saw. It struck her that Julie, for one, was quite striking.

Peter grinned back and flashed them a thumbsup. "Cute girls," he told Paige.

She watched them gO. UYup. They're growing up, too. Those three will be graduating in June. Hard to believe." Time flew. She remembered when they had first come to Mount Court, more innocent and less cynical, albeit spoiled even then. In the short time she had with them each day, she had tried to teach them the concept of mental discipline.

Whether it had taken hold remained to be seen.

The runners took up position. Peter removed his camera from his slicker and snapped a few shots. Paige moved closer to the starting line, thinking, ConEdence, confidence, conEdence, in the hope that a brain wave would carry the message to her runners. The gun went off.

The bystanders cheered, each for his own team. Paige shouted her encouragement. Peter trotted along the sidelines with his camera to his eye, until the runners veered off into the woods.

"Lousy day," Paige heard from just beyond the tip of her umbrella.

The little pit-pat started and didn't stop this time, and it was accompanied by a rise in temperature in the air around her. It was always that way when he came near. There was an energy about him that stirred things up.

She kept her eyes on the woods, into which the last of the runners was disappearing.

"Could be better."

"How are their spirits?" he asked.

She hummed out a high, "Could be better."

"And yours?"

"Just fine," she said in what she thought was a convincing way.

"Dr. Pfeiffer?" It was the race official. ill don't have the placement sticks." As each girl finished, she was given a Popsicle stick with the number of her place on it. When everyone had completed the course, the sticks were turned in, the score tallied, and the winning team named.

Paige spotted her manager talking with friends. "Sheila!" she called, and pointed to the official. The girl dug into her pocket and ran the sticks to the official, who moved off.

Paige should have moved, too, but that didn't occur to her until it was too late and Noah was ducking under the edge of her umbrella.

"I'm not sorry," he said in a voice that was at the same time soft but steely and defiant.