he phone rang in the middle of the night. Ruby groaned and glanced bleary-eyed at the bedside clock. One-fifteen.

"Shit," she mumbled. It had to be one of those idiot reporters.

She reached across Max's empty half of the bed and yanked the phone off the hook. Rolling onto her back, she brought it to her ear. "Bite me."

"I gave that up in kindergarten."

Ruby laughed sleepily. "Caro? Oh, sorry. I thought you were one of those bottom feeders from the Tattler."

"They aren't calling me. Of course, I haven't made a career out of dissing Mom."

"It isn't much of a career." Ruby scooted backward and leaned against the rough stucco wall. Through the phone lines, she could hear a baby crying. It was a high-pitched wailing sound, one only dogs should be able to hear. "Jesus, Caro, you must be chewing Excedrin. Does the baby Jesus always wail like that?"

"Mom's been in a car accident."

Ruby gasped. "What happened?"

"I don't know. All I know is that she's at Bayview. Apparently she'd been drinking."

"She never drinks. I mean, she never used to." Ruby threw back the covers and stood up. She wasn't sure why she did it, except that she had a sudden need to be moving. She held the cordless phone to her ear, walking toward the darkened kitchen. There, she stared out the slit in the tattered curtains at the black street below. The pink neon vacancy sign flickered and buzzed. She ran a hand through her sweaty hair. "How bad is it?"

"I don't know. I'm going to drop the kids off with Jere's mom first thing in the morning and go to the hospital. But I don't want to do this alone. Will you come?"

"I don't know, Car-"

"She could be dying. Think of someone besides yourself for a change," Caroline said sharply.

Ruby sighed heavily. "Okay, I'll come."

"I'll call Alaska Airlines and put a ticket on my card. There's a flight at five forty-five. You can pick it up at the counter."

"Uh... you don't have to do that. I have money now."

"You? Oh... well, that's great."

"I'll be there by noon." Ruby hung up the phone. Crossing her arms tightly, she paced her apartment, back and forth, back and forth, unable to stop.

She had been angry at her so-called mother forever. She couldn't really remember not hating her... and the past few days had only added fuel to the fire.

But now... an accident. Horrible images slammed through her mind. Paralysis... brain... death.

She closed her eyes. (it took her a moment to realize that she was praying.) "Take care of her," she whispered, then added a single, unfamiliar word, "Please?"

When Nora woke up the next morning, she had a moment of pure, heart-pumping fear. She was in a strange bed, in an austere room she didn't recognize.

Then she remembered.

She'd been in a car accident. She recalled the ambulance ride... the flashing red lights... the metallic taste of her own blood... the surprise on the young paramedic's face when he'd realized who he was treating.

And the doctors. The orthopedist who'd spoken to her just before and after the X rays. A severe break above the ankle; another, small fracture below the knee... a sprained wrist. He'd said she was lucky.

When he'd said that, she'd cried.

Now, her leg was in a cast. She couldn't see it beneath the blankets, but she could feel it. The flesh tingled and itched and her bone ached.

She sighed, feeling sorry for herself and deeply ashamed. Drinking and driving.

As if the Tattler's photographs weren't enough to ruin her career; she'd added a crime to the list.

It wouldn't be long before the media picked up her scent. Someone would figure out that there was a buck to be made in telling the world that Nora Bridge was in Bayview. The accident report was probably worth thousands.

There was a knock at the door; short and sharp, and then Caroline swept into the room. Her back was ramrod straight, her pale hands clasped at her waist. She wore a pair of camel-colored cashmere pants and a matching sweater set. Her silvery blond hair was cut in a perfect bob, one side tucked discreetly behind her ear. Huge diamond studs glittered in her earlobes. "Hello, Mother."

"Hi, honey. It's nice of you to come." Nora recognized instantly how distant she sounded, and it shamed her. She and Caroline had worked hard in the past few years, trying to come back together in an honest way. Nora had treated her elder daughter with infinite care, always letting Caro make the first move. Now, all that progress had been blown to hell; she could see how far apart they'd fallen again. There was a coldness in Caroline's eyes that Nora hadn't seen in years.

Caroline glanced at her quickly, smiled-or winced. She looked vulnerable suddenly.

Nora couldn't stand the awkward silence that fell between them. She said the first thing that popped into her mind. "The doctors say I'll need to be in a wheelchair for a few days-just until my wrist gets strong enough to make crutches possible."

"Who is going to take care of you?" "Oh... I hadn't thought about that. I guess I'll hire someone. Shouldn't be difficult." She kept talking--anything was better than that silence. "The big question is, where will I go? I can't go back to my condo. press has the place staked out. But I need to stay close to my doctors."

Caroline took a step toward the bed. "You could use the summer house. Jere and I never find time to make it up there, and Ruby won't set foot on the island. The old house is just sitting there..."

The house on Summer Island. A stone's throw from Eric. It would be perfect. Nora looked up at her daughter. "You'd do that for me?"

Caroline gave her a look of infinite sadness. "I wish you knew me."

Nora sagged back into the pillows. She'd said the wrong thing again. "I'm sorry."

"God, I've heard that from you so often, I feel like it's tattooed on my forehead. Quit saying you're sorry and start acting like it. Start acting like my mother." She reached into her purse and fished out a set of keys. Pulling a single key from the ring, she set it down on the bedside table.

Nora could see that her daughter was close to breaking. "Caro –“

Call me when you've settled in." Caroline stepped back, putting distance between them.

Nora didn't know what to say. Caroline was right; Nora hadn't had the courage to act like a mother in years.

"I have to go now."

Nora nodded stiffly, trying to smile. "Of course. Thanks for coming." She wanted to reach Out for Caroline, hold her daughter's hand, and never let go.

"Good-bye, Mom."

And she was gone.

Ruby stepped out of the main terminal at Seattle International Airport. Rain thumped on the sky bridge and studded the street, creating a pewter curtain between the terminal and the multilayered parking garage across the street.

The early morning air smelled of evergreen trees and fertile black earth. Like a dash of spice in a complex recipe, there was the barest tang of the sea; a scent only a local would recognize.

As she stood beneath this bloated gray sky, smelling the moist, pine-scented air; she realized that memories were more than misty recollections. They stayed rooted in the soil in which they'd grown. There were places up north, in the San Juan Island archipelago, where bits and pieces of Ruby's life had been left scattered about like seashells on the shore. Somewhere up there sat the shadow of a thin, bold-eyed girl on a pebbly beach, tearing the petals off a daisy, chanting He loves me; he loves me not. She knew that if she looked hard enough, she would be able to find the invisible trail she'd left behind, the pieces of her that led from the present back to the past.

She wasn't surprised at how fresh the memories were. Nothing could ever dry up and turn to dust in the moist Seattle air. Everything thrived.

Ruby hailed a cab and climbed into the backseat, tossing her carry-on bag in beside her. She glanced at the cabbie's registration (a habit she'd formed during visits to New York) and saw that his name was AviAvivivi.

There was a joke in that, but she was too tired to go digging around for it. "Bayview," she said, thumping back into the smelly brown velour seat.

Avi hit the gas and rocketed into the next lane.

Ruby closed her eyes, trying not to think of anything at all. It seemed like only a few minutes later; Avi was tapping her on the shoulder.

"Mrs.? Ma'am? You are well, yes?"

Ruby jerked awake, rubbing her eyes. "I'm fine, thanks." Fishing thirty rumpled dollars out of her pocket, she handed Avi the fare and tip. Then she grabbed her purse and bag, slung both straps over her shoulder; and headed toward the hospital's double glass doors, where a few people were milling about.

Ruby was almost in their midst when she realized they were reporters.

"It's her daughter!"

The reporters turned to her all at once, yelling above one another; elbowing for position.

"Ruby, look here!"

"Was your mother drunk at the time of-"

"What did you think of the photographs-"

Ruby heard every shutter click, every picture frame advance. She noticed the strand of hair that was stuck to her lower lip, the tiny paper cut on her index finger.

It was as if she were standing miles apart from the crowd, even though she could have reached out and touched the woman from CNN.

"Ruby! Ruby! Ruby!"

For a dizzying moment, she let herself pretend that this was for her; that she had earned this attention.

"Did you know about your mother's affair?"

At that, Ruby turned. She locked eyes with a small, beak-nosed man wearing a KOMO 4 hat. "No." She flashed a bright, fake smile. "I'd make a joke about it, but it's not very funny."

She pushed through the crowd, holding her head up, looking straight ahead. Their questions followed her; rocks thrown at her back, some hitting hard.

She strode through the pneumatic doors. They whooshed shut behind her.

Inside, it was quiet. The air smelled of disinfectant. Boldly patterned chairs dotted the vast white lobby. There were cheery, generic paintings on the walls, placed awkwardly between gilt-framed portraits of sour-looking men and women who'd obviously donated millions to the hospital.

"Ruby!"

Caroline rushed forward. Her hug almost knocked Ruby off her feet. As she held her sister; Ruby could feel how thin Caro had become, could feel the tremble in her sister's body.

At last, Caro drew back. Her mascara had run, ruining the impossible perfection of her face. "I'm sorry," she said, snapping her purse open, fishing for a lace handkerchief, which she found and dabbed at her eyes. Ruby could sense that Caroline was embarrassed by her uncharacteristic display of emotion. If old patterns ran true, Caro would pull back now, distance herself while she whittled her feelings down to an acceptable size.

Caroline closed her eyes for a moment. When she reopened them, she looked at Ruby with a kind of quiet desperation. Ruby recognized that look. Her sister was wondering why everything in life couldn't be easier; why they all couldn't simply love each other.

Silence fell between them, soft and cold as an early morning rain. In that quiet, Ruby heard the echo of a broken family; they were individual pieces, now separate, wanting a wholeness that had been shattered.

"So, how is Nora?" Ruby asked at last.

Caroline gave her a sharp look. "She still hates it when we call her Nora."

"Really? I'd forgotten that."

"I'll bet you did. Anyway, she drove her car into a tree. Her leg is broken; her wrist is sprained. She'll be in a wheelchair for a few days. That makes it pretty tough to do the ordinary bits and pieces of life. She'll need help."

"I pity the poor nurse who takes that job."

Caroline looked at her. "Would you want to be cared for by a stranger?"

It took Ruby a minute to get her sister's drift. When did, she burst out laughing. "You're delusional."

"This isn't funny. You saw the reporters out front. They're ready to tear Mom apart, and she's always been fragile."

"Yeah, in that pit-bull kind of way."

"Ruby," Caroline said in her we're-a-team-and-you're-not-playing-fair voice. "A stranger could sell her out to the tabloids. She needs someone she can trust."

"Then you'd better do it. She can't trust me."

"I have kids. A husband."

A life. The implication was clear; and the truth of it stung. "Doesn't she have any friends?"

"It should be you, Ruby." Caroline looked disgusted. "Jesus. You're going to be thirty in a few years. Mom's fifty. When are you going to get to know her?"

"Who says I'm ever going to?"

Caro moved closer. "Tell me you didn't think about it last night."

Ruby couldn't swallow. Her sister was so close... she smelled of expensive perfume, gardenias, maybe. "About what?"

"Losing her."

The words hit dangerously near their mark. Ruby stared down at the speckled linoleum floor. There was no doubt in her mind what she should do-go out those front doors and fly home. But it wasn't quite so easy this time, especially with the Cache' article out there to write. A little time with Nora Bridge would certainly make the piece better. A lot better.

She took a deep breath, then turned to face her sister. One week," she said evenly. "I'll stay with her for one week."

Caroline pulled Ruby into a fierce hug. "I knew you'd do the right thing."

Ruby felt like a fraud. She couldn't meet her sister's gaze. Weakly, she said, "A week with Nora. You'd better start a defense fund."

Caroline laughed. "Go tell her. She's in six twelve west. I'll wait for you here."

"Coward." Ruby flashed her a nervous smile, then headed for the elevators. On the sixth floor, she began a room-to-room search until she found 612.

The door was ajar.

She took another deep breath and stepped inside.

Her mother was asleep.

Ruby exhaled in relief. The tension in her shoulders eased a little, she unclenched her fists.

She stared down at her mother's pale, beautiful face and felt an unexpected tug of longing. She had to forcibly remind herself that this lovely, red-haired woman who looked like Susan Sarandon wasn't really her mother. Ruby's mother--the woman who'd played Scrabble and made chocolate-chip pancakes every Sunday morning--had died eleven years ago. This was the woman who'd killed her.

Nora opened her eyes.

Ruby felt an almost overwhelming urge to run away.

Nora gasped and scooted up to a sit, self-consciously smoothing the tangled hair from her face. "You came, she said softly, a note of wonder in her voice.

Ruby forced her hands to stay bolted to her sides. It was an old stand-up rule. No fidgeting. The audience could smell a set of nerves. "How are you?"

Stupid question, but Ruby was off-balance, afraid of pitching headfirst.

"I'm fine." Nora smiled, but it was an odd, uncertain smile.

Ruby crossed her arms-another anti-fidget technique. "So, I guess you've lost your good-driver discount."

"That's my Ruby. Quick with a joke."

"I wouldn't say 'your" Ruby."

Nora's smile faded. "I'm sure you wouldn't." She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose, exhaling softly. "I see you still think you know everything... and you still don't take any prisoners."

Ruby could feel the shale of old habits sliding beneath her feet. A few more well-chosen words and there would be a full-scale war going on between them.

"I don't know everything," Ruby said evenly. "I don't think I ever knew my mother."

Nora laughed, a fluttery, tired sound. "That makes two of us."

They stared at each other. Ruby felt a mounting urge to escape; she knew it was a survival instinct. Already she knew she couldn't spend a week with this woman and feel nothing... the anger was so sharp right now it overwhelmed her.

But she had no choice.

"I thought... I'd stay with you for a while. Help you get settled."

Nora's surprise was almost comical. "Why?"

Ruby shrugged. There were so many answers to that question. "You could have died. Maybe I thought of what it would be like to lose you." She smiled woodenly. "Or maybe this is your darkest hour; the loss of everything you left your family for; and I don't want to miss a minute of your misery. Or maybe I got a contract to write a magazine article about you and I need to be close to get the inside scoop. Or maybe I-"

"I get it. Who cares why. I need help and you obviously have nothing better to do."

"How do you do it-slam me in the middle of a thank-you? Jesus, it's a gift."

"I didn't mean to slam you."

"No, you just thought you'd point out that I have no life. It wouldn't occur to you that I've rearranged my life to spend some time with you, would it?"

"Let's not start, okay?"

"You started it."

Nora's hand moved to the bed rail, her fingers slid close to touch Ruby. She looked up. "You know I'm going to the summer house, right?"

Ruby couldn't have heard right. "What?"

"Reporters are camped outside my condo. I can't face them." Nora's gaze lowered, and Ruby saw how hard it was for her mother to face her, too. The past was between them again, a sticky web that caught old hurts and held them. "Your sister offered me use of the summer house. If you want to change your mind, I'll understand."

Ruby went to the window and stared out at the gray, rainy streets of Capitol Hill.

It had seemed doable a few moments ago; go to this woman's house--Nora's house, not really her mother at all-sit with her for a few days, make a few meals. look through a few old photo albums, ask a few questions. Get enough information to write the "where Nora Bridge came from" section of the article.

But... at the summer house.

It was where so many of the memories were buried, both good and bad. She would rather see Nora in some glass-walled high-rise that success had purchased. Not in the clapboard farmhouse where Ruby would remember gardening and painting and the sound of laughter that had long since faded.

Fifty thousand dollars.

That's what she had to think about. She could handle a week at the summer house.

"I guess it doesn't matter where we are...

"You mean it?" There was a disturbing wistfulness in her mother's voice.

Finally, Ruby turned. She meant to close the distance between them, but her feet wouldn't move.

"Sure. Why not?"

Nora was looking at her thoughtfully. She said, "You'll need to rent me a wheelchair-just until my wrist is strong enough for crutches. And I'll need a few things from my apartment."

"I can do that."

"I'll talk to my doctor and get checked out of here. We'll have to leave quietly, through the back way, maybe. We don't want to be followed."

"I'll rent a car and pick you up in--what-three hours?"

"Okay. My purse is in the closet. Get my credit cards. Use the platinum Visa for anything you need. I'll draw you a map to my apartment and call Ken--he's the doorman. He'll let you in. And Ruby... get a nice car; okay?"

Ruby tried to smile. This was going to be bad. Her mother was already making demands--and judgments. "Only the best for you, Nora." She went to the closet, saw the expensive black hand bag, and grabbed it. The wide strap settled comfortably on her shoulder. Without a backward glance, she headed out.

Her mother's voice stopped her. "Ruby? Thank you."

Ruby shut the door behind her.