arly the next morning, Tess sat on Welch’s whitewashed pasture fence a hundred yards from the mansion’s front door and brooded. She pulled her navy jacket closer around her and looked out at the rolling landscape: long-muscled horses, lush emerald green grass, a sky too blue to be real, all caressed by a gentle breeze perfumed with honeysuckle.

Bah humbug, she thought. And those damn birds can shut up, too.

“You look like hell this morning,” Gina said from behind her, and Tess jerked in surprise, grabbing the fence post to keep from falling off. She frowned down at her friend, and Gina, swathed in a bulky black turtleneck, leaned against the fence, her face a mask of gloom. “If you’re thinking about ending it all, wait—‘cause I’m gonna go with you.”

“Don’t joke,” Tess said. “It’s a thought.”

“I know why I’m depressed,” Gina said. “I embarrassed myself and Park to pieces last night, and now I’m never gonna see him again, which I knew, anyway, but I still kinda had hopes. You know? Oh, hell.” Gina climbed onto the fence beside Tess and twined her black-clad legs around the fence rails. “Why are you so upset? You and Nick have a fight?”

“No,” Tess said gloomily. “We made love. It was wonderful. Then I woke up and he was gone. But he left a note.” She fished a piece of paper out of her jacket pocket and handed it to Gina.

“Gone to see Welch about the contract,‘” Gina read. “’Things look good. See you at lunch. Nick.‘” She frowned at Tess. “Are you sure you made love? ’Cause if you did, I don’t think he remembers it.”

“Well, I thought so.” Tess sighed. “But I must have been wrong. And I was feeling so warm about him, too.” She kicked her heel against the fence as she remembered. “I was all soft and squishy about it. And then he drops me a line as he leaves. He didn’t even wake me up to kiss me. The contract comes first.” She exhaled a long depressed breath. “I can’t believe I fell for him again. It’s not as if I didn’t know he was like this. So I came out here to forget.” She looked at Gina for the first time. “But I’ll live. How about you? Did Park stop by your room to say goodnight?”

“Yeah,” Gina said. “And then he left.”

“Really?” Tess blinked in surprise. “That seems unlike him. Maybe he respects you too much to make a move.”

“Are you making fun?” Gina demanded. “You know why he didn’t try anything. It was that thing I did with the gravy. I embarrassed him.” She let her head drop lower. “I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to do that.”

“No.” Tess shook her head. “It wasn’t that. He was surprised, but he didn’t care.” Gina groaned, and Tess shook her head again. “Stop it. It was no big deal. He didn’t care. Nobody cared except that obnoxious Sigler woman.” She winced as she thought about Tricia Sigler and her now even-more-distant chances for a job at Decker. Then with an effort she dragged her mind back to comforting Gina. “And I’m serious about the respect part. You were right about the way he treats you. I watched him all last night— ready to kill him if he snubbed you—but you were right. He does treat you like a queen. I’ve never seen him act like that with any other woman. So I think you’re all right.” Tess stopped to consider what she’d said. “If being involved with Park could ever be termed all right.”

“Aw, Tess,” Gina began.

Tess held up her hand. “Okay, okay. Enough of this obsessing about men. We knew they were rats to begin with. We’re liberated women. We don’t need them, anyway. Let’s forget them and go get some breakfast.” Tess climbed off the fence and started to stride away, and Gina dropped off and followed her, walking double time to keep up.

“You really think Park didn’t care?” Gina asked, the pleading clear in her voice. “You really think he’s different with me?”

“Yes,” Tess said reluctantly. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s always been impeccably polite to every woman he’s ever been with, but they’ve always been more—”

“Upper class,” Gina said.

“—like accessories,” Tess finished. “I swear, he picked some of them to go with his ties. But he talks to you. He listens to you. If you seem uncertain, he takes your hand. So maybe the reason he’s not making a pass really is that he has too much respect for you.”

Gina kicked the ground. “I don’t want that much respect.”

Tess sighed with exasperation. “Well, then, do something about it.”

“What’d you do to get Nick to come across?”

“I breathed,” Tess said glumly. “Nick’s a self-starter. And when he’s done, evidently he’s done. I should have known.”

Gina shrugged. “So don’t see him again after this weekend.”

“Oh, I’m not going to, but...” Tess stopped walking, concentrating on trying to put her unhappiness into words. “I’ll miss him. The good Nick. I’ll miss him a lot.”

“The good Nick?”

Tess bit her lip. “Nick...changes,” she said finally. “Back and forth. Deep inside, I think there’s a real Nick, but there’s mostly this plastic Nick who’s climbing to the top of his profession and doesn’t care about anything else. And I hate the way he acts when he’s like that.”

“Like forgetting you exist?”

“Like that, yes, but also—” Tess started to walk again and Gina tagged along beside her “—the way he is with Welch. Respectful all the time so he’ll get the contract. Or the way he goes to the opera because it gets his picture on the society page. And the thing is, for a while I thought it was just a stage he was passing through. That once he’d made it, he’d go back to being himself.” She looked at Gina. “Now, I’m not sure he knows which one is real—the nice guy or the climber. And I love the one and I hate the other and I’m afraid, I’m really afraid that I’ll end up with the other one. Jekyll.”

“Instead of Heckle?” Gina shook her head. “I could never tell them apart.”

“No, instead of Hyde.”

“I thought Hyde was the monster.”

“Take a close look at Jekyll sometime,” Tess said. “Especially if there’s money and a promotion involved.”

“Maybe you should give him another chance,” Gina said. “I mean, he’s really interested in you—” she stopped as Tess gave her a look of contempt “—well, at least part of the time, and last night must have been pretty spectacular or you wouldn’t care what he was, and you like his car, too.” Gina shrugged. “I’d go for it.”

Tess looked at her in disbelief. “Life is more than great sex and a nice car.”

“Well, yeah. But not a lot more.”

Tess glared at Gina in startled indignation, only to find her grinning at her. It was the first smile she’d seen on Gina since they’d come to Kentucky, so she smiled back, relieved that Gina was showing signs of recovering.

“You’re a nice woman, DaCosta,” Tess said, putting her arm around Gina. “But we have to work on your depth. You have none.”

“I’m practicing to be a yuppie.” Gina’s grin faded. “Not that I’ll ever be one.”

Tess frowned. “Listen, I meant it when I told you that the thing at dinner did not matter, but I’ve also got to tell you that lusting after Park Patterson is a bad idea.”

“I know,” Gina said. “Don’t worry about me. You got enough trouble of your own to handle.”

“This is true,” Tess said, and they both turned back to the house, sunk in gloom.

Lunch was not good.

The food, of course, was impeccable, since Henderson had been in charge of that part. But not even Henderson could have saved the conversation between Nick and Tess.

“Just tell me what I did wrong,” Nick said under his breath, trying to look unconcerned so no one would catch on they were fighting.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Tess said.

“If you don’t talk about it, I’ll probably do it again. Although I’m damned if I see what’s so bad about making love to you all night.”

“It wasn’t the night. It was the morning,” Tess said.

“We didn’t make love this morning.”

“Right,” Tess said. “Pass the salt.”

“If you want to make love, just say so. I’m not a mind reader.”

“I didn’t want to make love. Well, actually I did, but that’s not it.”

“Well, then what?”

“Troubles, Jamieson?” Welch called from the other end of the table.

“Not at all,” Nick called back, smiling. “Just enjoying another great meal, sir.”

“You are disgusting,” Tess said to Nick.

“What did I do?” Nick asked, but she turned away from him to talk to the man next to her.

Tess managed to keep the chill on through lunch and up to the reading, but then her curiosity got the better of her. In the living room, Henderson had set up rows of carved walnut chairs, their seats covered in navy-and-brown tapestry, so that the place looked like a lecture hall done by Architectural Digest. The chairs were filling up with people who had clout and prestige and really good tailors, leaving Tess to puzzle over why Welch had chosen these guests. They were so upscale, so obviously unlike him, yet he was gruffly pleased to see them there. The only thing she could come up with was that he was courting them so that they’d push his book, an unlikely motive for a literary icon.

“Does Welch need these people?” Tess asked Nick, forgetting that she was mad at him.

“Honey, everybody needs these people,” Nick said. “There are two senators and a governor here.”

Tess frowned. “I know that. What does that have to do with literature?”

“Nothing.” Nick frowned in thought, and Tess knew he was moving into analytical gear. “I think it’s about public relations. I think Welch wants to move beyond writing. I’ve been watching him all weekend, and I think he’s going after a political career. He was talking to Tricia Sigler about Decker at lunch today, and that’s a high-profile place, a lot of powerful parents send their kids there, and he’s been very tight with Bob O’Donnell all weekends—”

“Bob O’Donnell?”

“Republican party honcho here in Kentucky,” Nick said. “I think Welch sees himself as a right-wing standard-bearer. And you know, it’s not a dumb idea. It’s not a bad time for a neoconservative to make a move. There’s some backlash building up against the Democratic administration. And he’s still fairly young. Plenty of time to start a political career. A Senate seat would be a good move for him.” Nick relaxed back into his chair. “Which also takes care of the other mystery, now that I come to think of it. Park told me that Welch doesn’t like his father, Kent Patterson, and never has, so why is he wining and dining us?”

“Why?” Tess asked, totally confused.

“Because Kent has clout in the social circles that Welch needs if he wants to get elected,” Nick said promptly. “Kent knows people with money who would like Welch’s politics. Kent may be a lousy lawyer, but he knows how to network. So Welch invited Park and me down here to see if we have the brains to do some minimal law work for him. Then he can give us a contract to make the connection with Kent.” Nick shook his head in admiration. “You know, I’m starting to like Welch a lot better.”

“I’m starting to like him a lot less,” Tess said. “All this sucking up. What happened to the good old days when rich white men just bought their way into office?”

“Inflation,” Nick said. “Nobody’s that rich anymore.” He smiled at Tess. “You know, I owe you for this weekend. Welch really likes you, and that’s made points for me.” He patted Tess on the shoulder, and she made a disgusted face at him. “No, I really mean it. I watched the two of you at lunch. He likes the hard time you give him as much as you like giving it to him. I’d be jealous except I know you’re crazy about me.”

“That was last night, this is today,” Tess said, but he grinned at her confidently. She looked away just in time to see Welch come into the room for the reading.

He was imposing as he took his stand behind the massive walnut podium that Henderson had placed at one end of the room, and when he began to speak in general on the ravages that liberalism and feminism had wrought on the country, it was obvious that he was speaking to a mostly receptive audience. It was also obvious that Nick, as usual, was right on the money. Welch was prepping for a move into politics.

“I don’t like this,” Gina whispered to her.

“I know,” Tess whispered back. “I know.”

“If you listen to those people,” Welch was saying, “you’d think life was just a fairy tale where everybody is good and honest and things turn out happily ever after. But you know, I always had my doubts about those happily-ever-afters. Anne Sexton isn’t the only one who wondered about what happened when the chickens came home to roost.” He chuckled and then caught Tess’s eye. She stuck out her tongue at him, and he chuckled again, but this time there seemed to be a nervous edge to his laugh.

“So my book is about what happens after the happily-ever-after,” Welch said. “Which is why it’s called After the Ever After. The prologue is a fairy tale about a young woman who comes of age in the sixties. Her name is Cinderellen—” the audience tittered politely “—and she buys into happily-ever-after in a big way. This is the end of the tale.”

Then Welch began to read a scene in which his heroine stood up at the ball and made a speech defending the importance of the environment over big business, a speech that instantly won the heart of the prince, and Tess’s heart stopped. It wasn’t just the snide tone Welch used—a tone that made people in the audience first smile in sardonic amusement and then laugh in outright derision—it was the words, words that were so familiar to her that she recited them silently in unison with Welch as he read, finishing with: “And from then on Cinderellen and the prince looked for the good in every day and tried to make sure they had a part in creating some of it.”

That got a big laugh, and Tess felt the room swoop around her as her whole body went hot with anger. He was telling the CinderTess story, Lanny’s story, and he was making people laugh at it. It was her story, and he was degrading it, degrading her and everything she believed in. She was so rigid with suppressed rage that Nick turned to see what was wrong.

“Tess?” he whispered.

She shook her head, trying to marshal her thoughts.

Welch then segued into Cinderellen’s story thirty years later. She was swamped with debts, dragged down by the poor people she was trying to help, unable to keep her small family business going because of environmental restrictions and saddled with a prince who had turned out to be a vapid do-gooding fool. As the audience nodded, enjoying the expected disasters that had befallen the naive heroine, Tess reminded herself to take deep breaths, to concentrate, to do anything to control the rising anger that swamped her because of what Welch was doing to her story.

To Lanny’s story.

“I’m going to kill him,” she whispered under her breath, which prompted Nick to shush her.

Welch finished the scene with Cinderellen’s emancipation speech: she was mad as hell and not going to take it anymore. Then Welch stopped reading to sketch in Cinderellen’s transformation. She streamlined her company by laying off workers and saved a bundle by not helping the poor, but that wasn’t enough. She went to the best plastic surgeon in the land and had him transform her back into the beauty she’d been at the ball. Then she set out to tell her story again. Only this time, she was going to do it right, using all her feminine wiles. The last scene he read was a comic seduction scene in which Cinderellen used her newly recovered beauty to seduce the head of the Environmental Protection Agency into exempting her company from environmental controls, manipulating him with a speech on the importance of business over the environment as she slithered first over his desk and then his body. As a piece of satire it was dead-on, a perfect parody of Cinderellen’s original speech. People were falling off their chairs laughing.

Tess was catatonic with rage.

“What’s wrong?” Nick leaned closer as people applauded at the end of the reading. “Are you all right?”

“No.” Tess turned to him. “We have to stop him. He can’t publish this book.”

“Tess,” Nick said warningly. “You are not going to interfere. It’s his book.”

“No, it’s not. He plagiarized.”

Nick closed his eyes. “No. Don’t tell me this.”

Tess shook her head. “He plagiarized. I know that story. It’s not his.”

“All right.” Nick shut the door to Welch’s study behind Tess and Park and Gina. “Explain this to me.”

Tess cast one blindly incurious look around the room, registering expensive paneling, Oriental carpets, a huge leather-and-brass sofa and soulless sets of leather-bound books on walnut bookcases with glass fronts. Money, she thought. It always comes back to money.

“Tess?” Nick prompted.

“He plagiarized,” she replied. “That prologue about Cinderellen? He stole it. Word for word, the whole thing. He stole it.”

“Why would anybody plagiarize that garbage?” Nick asked. “It was god-awful. The good stuff came later. I just hope the critics make it through the early garbage to get to the good stuff.”

“You’re not listening to me,” Tess said. “It’s never going to get to the critics. He plagiarized, and I’m going to stop him.”

“No!” Nick and Park said simultaneously, and Gina said softly, “Oh, no.” Then Nick pushed Tess down into the padded leather desk chair and sat down on the desk in front of her.

“That would not be a good idea,” he said.

“Why not?” Tess demanded.

Park snorted. “Because there’s a lot of money at stake here, that’s why not.”

Nick held up his hand. “Will you let me handle this?” he said to Park. “Please?” He turned back to Tess. “It’s like this. We’re guests in this man’s house, and now you want to accuse him of plagiarism. I know you’ll find this hard to understand, but it doesn’t seem appropriate under the circumstances.”

“The hell with appropriate,” Tess said. “This is a moral issue. No, it’s more than a moral issue. It’s my life he’s trashing. It’s everything Lanny ever gave me, and I’m going to confront him.”

“Confront me with it first,” Nick said.

“Do not let her talk you into this,” Park warned.

Tess appealed to Park. “Doesn’t the fact that he stole part of that book make any difference to you? You’re a lawyer. You’re supposed to uphold the law.”

“That’s the police,” Park said. “Don’t get us confused. We make a lot more money. And we’re going to keep on making a lot more money if you keep your mouth shut about plagiarism.”

“I don’t believe this,” Tess said. “You want him to get away with it.”

“Wait a minute,” Nick said. “We don’t even know what he’s getting away with. Explain.”

“Oh, great,” Park said.

Tess shot him a dirty look, then concentrated on Nick. “When I was about eight, we lived on a commune near Yellow Springs. Here in Ohio.”

“I know where Yellow Springs is,” Nick said. “Go on.”

“Bunch of hippies,” Park put in.

“It was a nice commune,” Tess flared. “Anyway, one day not too long after we got there, this guy showed up.” She bit her lip, the hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach growing as she remembered how special Lanny had been and how Welch had just raped his story. “He was really wonderful,” she said. “He was probably in his early twenties. A big husky guy.” She smiled. “I thought he was a mountain. Big and broad with long brown hair and a big brown beard. Big ears. Everything about him was bigger than life.”

“Great,” Nick said. “Get to the point.”

“His name was Lanny.”

“Is this important?” Park asked. “Because Gina and I are missing cocktails.”

“Shut up, Park,” Nick said.

“He told me that same story,” she said. “The prologue story. Word for word, it’s Lanny’s story.”

“And you remember it thirty years later?” Nick asked. “Come on.”

“He told it to me over and over again the whole summer,” Tess said. “Every time he told it, he added something, another task the heroine had to do, another problem she had to solve, and it got to be really long. When he left at the end of the summer, he wrote it all down for me, and Elise used to read parts of it to me every night for the two years we lived there. I know big chunks of it by heart.” She glared up at Nick. “And your great American author was reading that same story. I could recite parts of it with him. He stole that story.”

“Who’s Elise?” Nick asked, confused.

“My mother.”

“And she read you a story about this Ellen?” Park said. “I don’t believe it.”

“No. My story was about CinderTess.”

Park rolled his eyes.

“Lanny wrote that story for me,” Tess said to Nick, ignoring Park. “And Welch stole it, and I’m going to—”

“Are you sure, Tess?” Nick said. “This is serious.”

“I told you,” Tess said. “He wrote it for me. It was my story. And at the end Lanny always said, ‘And CinderTess and the prince always looked for the best in every day and made sure they had a part in creating some of it’” She stared up at Nick defiantly. “And that’s exactly how Welch ended that part he read to us.”

“Could be the same,” Nick said reluctantly. “So you’re saying that Welch is using parts of the same story.”

“No,” Tess said. “He’s using all of the same story. Word for word. And even worse, he’s making fun of it. He’s making my story sound stupid and...” She caught her breath and tried to slow herself down. “Look, the CinderTess story was important to me. In fact, sometimes I think it had more impact on me than my parents did. I know Lanny did.” She stopped and looked at Nick, her jaw tight with determination. “I know it sounds childish to you, but basically Lanny taught me how to live my life with that story, and I’m not going to let some aging neoconservative with writer’s block turn it into an antifeminist tirade. I’m going to talk to Welch.”

“Wait a minute.” Nick folded his arms and stared down at her with disgust. “Let me get this straight. The reason you’re always rushing in to save the world is that this guy told you a fairy tale?”

“Didn’t you have any book when you were a kid that affected you like that?” Tess asked. “You know, like The Velveteen Rabbit? Love is what makes you real?”

“People should be more careful about what they read to their kids,” Park said. “Some of this stuff sounds dangerous.”

“Well, kids just don’t get caught up in the Wall Street Journal, Park,” Tess snapped. “They tend to be deeper than adults.” She turned back to Nick. “But the important thing is that he’s taken the story and turned it inside out. It’s as if he’d rewritten The Little Engine That Could so that it couldn’t.”

“I had that book,” Park said.

“I did, too,” Gina said.

Park smiled down at Gina. “That was a good one, wasn’t it?”

“Exactly!” Tess said before Gina could mention any other childhood favorites. She glared at Park. “Wouldn’t you be angry if somebody stole that book and made the train fail?”

Park looked startled. “Well, yes. But that’s not—”

“Well, that’s why I’m angry,” Tess said.. “He didn’t just steal Lanny’s story, he made it sound... stupid. Foolish.”

“It was stupid,” Nick said.

“No, it wasn’t. Not if you were a little kid. It still isn’t if you have any values at all.”

“Oh, hell, don’t start,” Nick said. “Let me think about this.”

Park sat down beside him on the edge of the desk. “Don’t bother.” He turned to Tess. “This was a handwritten manuscript, right? Not published in any way?”

“Right. But that doesn’t—”

“And this was in the sixties?” Park said.

Tess counted back. “About sixty-five or sixty-six. I can find out for sure.”

“Then legally it doesn’t matter,” Park said. “According to the copyright law of 1976, any work automatically comes under copyright as soon as it’s written. But before that, which means the sixties, we’re dealing with the 1947 law that says works not produced for sale must be registered with the copyright office, and I don’t imagine your hippie buddy did that. Of course, since he wrote it down and gave a copy to your mother, that could be construed as publication, but not enough to remove it from fair assumption that it was public domain. I think Welch is covered.”

Tess listened to him openmouthed and then turned to Nick. “This is Park? This walking textbook of loopholes is Park?”

Nick shrugged. “I told you—nobody knows contract law like Park.”

Park went on as if he hadn’t heard them. “Plus, part of the 1976 law says that plagiarism is only an issue when the new work affects the potential market of the work in question. Frankly, from what I heard, there is no potential market for that drivel. In fact, if Welch’s book makes it big, your hippie buddy could actually profit because then there might be a market for his stuff. Besides, Welch can’t copyright something that belongs to someone else even if he uses it in a copyrighted book. So your buddy could still claim copyright to his old story and publish it.” Park stopped, struck by a thought. “I wonder if he’s represented by anybody. What did you say his name was?”

“I don’t care what the law says,” Tess said, recovering from her shock at Park’s sudden acuity. “I know Welch stole it and that’s wrong. It belongs to Lanny. The least he could do is give Lanny credit Lanny was wonderful.” She stood up. “And I’m going to tell Welch—”

“No!” both men said again.

“Just wait,” Nick said. “Wait until Park and I can look into it.”

Park scowled. “Why? I just told you, legally there’s no prob—”

“Well, there may be a problem morally,” Nick said. “Especially if a thousand enraged former hippies start writing op-ed pieces and faxing them from their Mercedes.”

“Oh, come on,” Park said. “All from one little Ohio commune?”

“He moved on,” Nick reminded him. “He stayed for a while and then moved on.” He turned to Tess. “How long was he with the commune?”

Tess shrugged, still simmering with anger. “Just for the summer. But then, who cares about Lanny? Let’s protect the great Norbert Welch and all of his millions first.”

“Tess, concentrate,” Nick persisted. “About Lanny. Did other people hear the stories?”

“Of course,” Tess said. “There were a lot of us kids there. CinderTess was one of our bedtime stories that summer.”

Nick frowned. “Where did he go when he left? Did he move on to another commune?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know where he went next. Pennsylvania, probably.”

“So he could have told this story across the country,” Nick said. “Thousands could have heard it.”

Tess smiled, triumphant at this new turn of events. “Yup. Just think of them all out there, waiting to pounce when this thing hits the bookstores.” She looked at the two men virtuously. “We have to confront Norbert Welch. For his own good.”

“No,” they said again, but the vehemence was gone from their voices, and Nick looked thoughtful. Park just looked annoyed.

“Can we sleep on this?” Park said finally. “Welch isn’t publishing this damn thing tomorrow. Can we just wait awhile and give this some consideration first?”

“And then we’ll confront him?” Tess demanded.

“Maybe,” Nick said. “Listen, we don’t want to rush into anything here. There’s a lot riding on this. My partnership, for one thing. If that book doesn’t get published, I’m out in the cold.”

Tess looked at him in disgust. “I can’t believe what a Yuppie scum you are. I should have known you weren’t a prince.”

Park looked at him in equal disgust. “You had to bring her, didn’t you? It had to be Tess.” He shook his head and walked out of the room.

Gina looked after him miserably, turned and looked at Tess in equal misery, and then followed Park.

Nick sighed. “It’s not going to do us any good to go rushing around shouting ‘Plagiarism’ at a crowded book reading. Give it a rest and let me think about it.”

“Until Monday,” Tess said. “I’ll give you until Monday. Then I’m talking to Norbert Welch, and if he won’t see reason, I’m going to the press.”

“You are one hell of a fun date,” Nick said.

“Well, I wouldn’t worry about it, since I’m never going anywhere with you again.” With that Tess stomped out of the room.

“Give me that in writing,” Nick called to her retreating back. Then he leaned back in his chair and groaned.

Tess contented herself with being barely civil to Welch when she said her goodbyes as the afternoon ended. Nick, of course, was more than civil, even though Welch genially told him he needed more time to consider the contract.

“I’ll call you next week, Jamieson,” he said, shaking hands with him and entirely ignoring a confused Park. “Maybe we can have dinner. Bring Tess. I like her.”

“We’d enjoy that, sir,” Nick said, wondering how he was going to talk Tess into a long business dinner when she had just vowed never to see him again.

Tess meanwhile was saying goodbye to the only man in the area she was still speaking to. “I really enjoyed watching you this weekend, Henderson,” she said, and then she stood on her toes and kissed the old man on the cheek. “You’re a wonder.”

“Thank you, Miss Newhart,” Henderson said impassively.

When they were in the car, Nick grinned at her. “You’re going to give that man ideas.”

“At least he doesn’t steal them like his boss,” Tess said, and Nick gave up. She was hopeless. Sleeping with her had been great, well, more than great, and he did care about her, but she was going to be death on his career no matter what he did. As much as he wanted her, as much as he liked being with her, he was going to have to stop calling her.

Which was just as well, since she’d told him she was never going to speak to him again. The last time she’d told him that, it had taken him over a month to get her to talk to him. He didn’t have that kind of time to waste on any woman, let alone one who was a career assassin.

After an hour passed without Tess saying anything, Nick stole a glance at her. She was frowning into the distance.

“What’s wrong now?” he said.

“I need to do something about Lanny.” Tess sounded distracted. “I need to help Gina, too. You were right—she’s leaving the road and trying to get a job at the Charles Theater. I don’t know anyone there, so that’s a problem. But first I need to go home and make some phone calls. I need to try to find Lanny or at least the manuscript, or nobody is ever going to listen to me about this.” She looked over at Nick and all the anger was gone from her eyes. “I know you hate this because of the partnership. I understand. I even understand that you can’t do anything about this just on my word alone. I’m not telling you that I’m going to find that manuscript just to make you mad. I’m not even mad myself anymore. But I want you to know I’m going to find that manuscript. I have to. It’s really important to me.”

“Why is it so important?” Nick asked. “What is this guy to you?” He tried to keep the jealousy out of his voice because it was ridiculous to be jealous of a guy that Tess had known when she was a kid, especially since he was never going to see her again.

“Because I loved him,” Tess said, and Nick felt his jealousy flare in spite of his good intentions.

“You were six—”

Tess interrupted him. “I was eight,” she said. “Not that it matters. At first I just adored him the way kids do movie stars. He was so big and so full of life and so...full of ideas and stories. Wonderful stories. And then after a while, he was a lot more. Like a big brother and a father and a mother and a best friend. He paid attention to me. And he listened to what I had to say, like it was important. He’d ask me questions and listen to the answers. And he made more sense than anybody else around me. He was always really gruff and acted like he was exasperated to be spending time on me, but he wasn’t, and he taught me useful things. I mean, Daniel would tell me it was important to live a peaceful life in harmony with all things.”

“Daniel?”

“My father,” Tess said. “But the thing was, the gang of kids at the commune could be pretty nasty, and it’s hard to live a peaceful life when you’ve got little Nazis pushing you around. And it wasn’t so much that I was afraid to fight back but that I didn’t know how. So I asked Lanny about it, and he said the key to fighting was never to fight unless the cause was so great that you couldn’t bear not to defend it and the losses you were going to suffer were things you could afford to lose. And then he said, if I did decide to fight, the thing to remember was that I was going to get hurt, because that was what happened in a fight, so I might as well get myself reconciled to it in the beginning and then it wouldn’t matter when it happened.”

“Great advice for a kid,” Nick said, trying not to sound as grumpy as he felt.

“It was great advice for anybody,” Tess said. “I actually ended up walking away from most rights because I didn’t care that much about what they were hassling me about. And when I did fight back, I went in no-holds-barred because I knew I was going to get beat up, anyway. After a couple of times, the other kids pretty much left me alone. That was always the way it was with Lanny. He told you good stuff, true stuff that worked. Like the CinderTess story. No matter how many changes he made in it, it always ended with the real happily-ever-after coming from trying to make the world a better place. And that’s what Welch made fun of. He made fun of Lanny. And when he did that, he made fun of everything I believe in.” Tess turned to face Nick again. “I have to fight this one. And I know I’m going to get hurt. I know Welch is tougher than I am and richer than I am and more powerful than I am. And I know you’re going to help him, not me. But I can’t walk away from Lanny. I can’t walk away from everything I believe in.”

Nick was silent for a while. “Look,” he said finally. “If it’s that important to you, I’ll help.” Tess blinked at him. “What about the contract?” Nick shrugged. “I need to know everything I can about this damn book if I get the contract. And if he really has plagiarized, I need to know.” Nick stopped for a moment, trying to imagine the horror that a real plagiarism suit could turn out to be. Maybe he should be grateful to Tess for discovering this early, while he could handle it. “So here’s the deal. I’ll help you when you need help, and I’ll stay out of your way the rest of the time so you can do this your way. Okay?”

She didn’t say anything, and he stole a look at her. “Tess?”

“It’s more than okay,” she said. “I keep forgetting you can be like this. I get so upset over the press-for-success part of you that I forget about this part.”

“That’s me, a man of many parts,” Nick said.

“Thank you,” Tess said. “Thank you very much.”

“Sure,” Nick said. “Think of it as a goodbye gift.”

They finished the drive deep in their own thoughts, and Nick had almost reconciled himself to never being with her again. It was the only logical plan. In fact, it was so obviously logical, he wasn’t sure why he was trying to find a hole in it.

By the time they were on the third flight of stairs to her apartment, he was convinced he was doing the right thing. Just drop off her stuff and escape. Just walk right on out.

“Listen, I can’t stay...” he began, as they neared the top of the flight to her floor.

“You certainly can’t,” Tess said as she reached the landing. “I’m grateful to you for offering to help, but we’re never going to—”

He bumped into her from behind when she froze at the top of the stairs. Then he peered around her.

Her apartment door had been kicked in.