velyn and Aunt Jo had outdone themselves with Sunday dinner, a sort of celebration for Daisy and Jack. There had been a dinner in Gatlinburg the week before, right after their wedding, but that had been at a restaurant and didn't count. Now the table fairly groaned under the weight of all the food. The whole family was there, as well as Todd and his friend Howard, whom Daisy had been astonished to recognize. She hadn't thought Howard was gay, because why would he have been at the Buffalo Club if he was? Of course, Jack was still adamant that Todd was straight, so maybe she wasn't a good judge of such matters.

Midas prowled under the table, unerringly locating her by her scent, and plopped down on her feet. His little tongue lapped at her ankles, and she peeked under the tablecloth to check on him. He had that sleepy look that meant he was settling down for a nap. He'd worn himself out, greeting so many different people,

and of course each had to be played with before he moved on to the next.

Only a few short weeks ago she'd been agonized by how empty her life was, and now it was brimming over. Her family had always been there, of course, but she had found some very dear friends, she now had Midas—and then there was Jack.

How could she ever have thought jocks weren't her type? This particular jock was just what she needed. He always looked so tough, with his short-cropped graying hair and his broad shoulders and thick neck, and the cocky way he had of walking, like a man who took up all of his allotted space and then some. He still crowded her, in bed and out, but she had learned to adjust. If he took up more than his half of the bed, then she had no where else to sleep but on top of him, so if he wasn't getting enough sleep these days, it was his own fault.

She felt almost incandescent with joy; so far her period was four days late. She was stunned by the possibility that she might have gotten pregnant so fast, but then Jack had certainly worked at his appointed duty. She had kept waiting for her period to start, but this morning hope had suddenly overwhelmed common sense and she was almost certain. When they left her mother's, they were going to buy a pregnancy test kit. Tomorrow morning, they would know for sure.

She couldn't decide which she wanted most, a son or a daughter. She thought of Jack throwing a football with a tough little guy, and her heart melted. Then she imagined a little girl, all dimples and ringlets, cradled in her daddy's muscular arms, and she shivered with delight. No matter which she had, though, she'd ask Todd to help her decorate the nursery, because he had such wonderful taste in interior decorating. And she wanted to ask him if he would be the baby's godfather, though she'd have to talk that over with Jack first because he might have another friend in mind.

Todd commented on the lace tablecloth, asking her mother if she knew how old it was. Daisy tilted her head, studying him. He was as neatly dressed as always, today wearing a white silk shirt and pleated forest green trousers with a narrow black belt cinched around his waist.

Under the table, Jack's leg nudged hers, as if he couldn't bear not touching her any longer. She ignored him, her gaze locked on Todd.

Jack realized whom she was watching, and he suddenly shifted restlessly. "Daisy—" he began, but he was too late. Her voice rang out, clear and crisp.

"Todd, do you know what color puce is?"

Caught off-guard, Todd turned to her with a startled look. "You're making that up, right?" he blurted.

Glenn Sykes had been out of the hospital for almost a month when he drove up to Temple Nolan's house, though the former mayor no longer lived there. He was out on bail and supposedly living in Scottsboro until his trial, but Sykes hadn't made any effort to find out where. For now, he was just concentrating on being alive and getting his strength back.

He'd been in an odd mood since getting shot, though maybe it wasn't so odd. Almost dying tended to change your outlook, at least temporarily. He still figured he'd handled things the best way possible for himself, even though it had gone bad there at the end, with Phillips showing up. He allowed himself a cold smile; he still enjoyed thinking about Russo's well-placed shot.

There was one other person who probably enjoyed thinking about that shot just as much as he did, and that was why he was here.

He rang the doorbell and waited. He heard footsteps; then Jennifer Nolan opened the door. She didn't know him, though, so she didn't unlatch the storm door. "Yes?"

She was a beautiful woman, he thought, more than merely pretty. He'd heard she had stopped drinking; maybe she had, maybe she hadn't, but today her eyes were clear, if full of shadows.

"I'm Glenn Sykes," he said.

She stared at him through the screen, and he knew what she was thinking. He had been in her husband's employ, privy to all the dirty secrets; he probably knew about Temple giving her to Phillips.

"Go away," she said, and started to shut the door.

"It doesn't matter," he said softly, and she froze, her hand still on the door.

"What... what doesn't matter?" Her voice was low and strained.

"What Phillips did. It doesn't matter. He didn't touch you, just your body."

She whirled, her eyes full of rage. "Yes, he did touch me! He killed part of me, so don't come here telling me what he did or didn't do."

He put his hands in his pockets. "Are you going to let him win?"

"He didn't win. I did. I'm here, and what's left of him will go to prison, where I'm sure he'll be very popular."

"Are you going to let him win?" Sykes repeated, his cool gaze locked on hers, and she hesitated.

The moment drew out, as if she was helpless to close the door and bring an end to it. Her breath came fast and shallow. "Why are you here?" she whispered.

"Because you need me," he said, and Jennifer opened the door.

The End