Incredibly, he looked to her for help, but she kept her mouth shut.

Finally he said, "We can tell him that we're letting him do this because he wants it so badly."

Which didn't address the issue at all. Angie remained silent, but her expression must have said somethingeither that or Ben's conscience had because, snappishly, he said, "We can tell him that we'll both be here waiting for him to come home each weekend."

"Will we?" "I will," Ben said. "I wouldn't let him down by not being here."

Which said nothing about what he wanted to do with, for, or about their marriage.

"What about you?" he asked when she didn't respond.

"This is my home. I have nowhere to go. But we're avoiding the issue, I think."

He drew himself up and glanced at his watch.

go pick him up. It's time. I won't mention this until dinner. We can discuss it with him then."

Swinging back out the door, he left her alone and more troubled than ever.

I Peter was similarly alone and troubled when he left the Tavern. He hadn't stayed long, just for a beer. With no one to talk to, all he could think about were the pictures drying in his darkroom.

He had spent hours on them the night before. He had found just the right negative this timeor so he had thoughtand had made every sort of print imaginable. Then he had gone through a day of seeing patients, of talking to parents and suggesting solutions to ailments, all the while feeling extra good about himself because he had been so sure that he had it. Back home, in the light of day, he had seen that none was right. None captured the feeling he wanted. None did her justice.

The beer hadn't eased his disappointment at all. It had only made him aware that he was alone while everyone else was paired up, and that he would have been with Lacey if Lacey hadn't gone holier than-thou on him.

Taking his camera with him, he walked to the end of the block and turned onto Main Street. The sun was lowering in the sky, creating shadows to give depth to the stores there. He took a head-on shot of the bookstore, extended his zoom lens for a shot of the church at the end of the street, retracted the zoom, and took a shot of the whole of the three blocks that made up the center of town.

The amber stone looked more golden in the sunset, the signs more authentically antique, the window displays more quaint.

He parked himself against a trash receptacle, opposite the block that held the drugstore, the card store, the package store, and Reels, and extended the zoom for shots of the latter.

Mount Court kids were in town, he could see them through the store window. They were gathered in groups, some actually searching through the videos for one to rent, some simply talking to each other, some sitting on stools at the back of the store where the soda fountain stood.

He caught sight of Julie Engel. Her head was bent over a videocassette. She read it, replaced it, and picked up another. He crossed the street, stopping where the cars were parked diagonally, and snapped several shots of her through the glass. If striking when she had her hair pulled back and her skin bare, she was even more striking now. Her long hair was shiny and gently waved, her makeup was light but put focus on her eyes, her clothing was demure in ways that suggested the opposite.

As he watched, she separated herself from the group and wandered idly toward the front of the store. Then she saw him. She smiled and waved. After turning to say something to her friends, she came outside.

"Hi, Dr. Grace.

"How're you doing, Julie?"

"Not bad."

"Did you find something to rent?"

"Nah. I've seen everything good three times.

It gets boring after a while." She gestured toward his camera. "Are you taking pictures of anything special?"

He tossed his head back toward the street.

"Just the town. The light's right."

"Take some of me?"

"Of you."

"My stepmom's birthday is next month. I'd love to send her something good. She thinks the worst of me most of the time. Wouldn't it be nice if she could have something angelic?" She glanced toward the church, beside which was a small park. "We could go there," she said, taking his arm and leading him off.

Peter felt a tiny qualm. Julie Engel was as wily as she was beautiful, if the stories he had heard were to be believed. He wasn't sure her stepmother's birthday was in October. He wasn't sure she had a stepmother at all. And he could hear Mara's voice, warning him against wily young women.

Then again, the park was beside the church, which was certainly safe ground.

"What about your friends?" he asked.

"It'll be ages before they pick something and have a soda and maybe even an ice cream across the street. We don't get ice cream at school anymore. Mr. Perrine thinks frozen yogurt is healthier." She slipped her elbow through his.

"He's an incredible bore, don't you think?"

Peter eased her arm from his. Tucker was a small place. People saw things, what they didn't see, they imagined, and what they didn't imagine their neighbor imagined for them. He didn't want anyone getting the wrong idea. He didn't fool around with kids, never had, never would.

"To tell you the truth," he said now, "the man seems fine to me. I like his rules."

"That's because you don't have to live under them. You don't have to be in a dormitory at ten on week nights and eleven on weekendsand that's for the seniors. Let me tell you"she scooped her hair back from her face"it's a bummer. I shouldn't be restricted this way.

I'm eighteen."

Peter didn't believe it for a minute.

Seventeen, maybe. Maybe seventeen and a half.

But not eighteen.

She ran ahead, stopping against the side of a tree on the edge of the park. The sun caught her hair and gave it life, Peter raised his camera and captured the image as he approached, then did it again from different angles close up. He was in the act of refocusing when she trotted deeper into the park, stopping this time on a long wooden bench. She sat there innocently, looking into the camera's eye for one frame and away for the next.

"Lift your chin.... That's it. Great. When did you say your stepmom's birthday was?"

"November. There's plenty of time to get a really good shot. I'll pay you, of course.

You'd be my official photographer." She jumped off the bench. "How about there?" She pointed to a stand of birches. The sun's final rays were snagged on bits of protruding bark, creating the hint of a conflagration in the works.

Peter, who had no intention of charging Julie for one print for her stepmother, whose birthday was in either October or November as the girl's whim went, held her off while he photographed the trees. He had the camera to his eye when she moved in but lowered it when he saw what she had done.

"Julie," he warned.

"Just a few," she whispered, slipping off her shirt as she approached.

"The light is great."