he beach had become Elizabeth's sanctuary. In plainest terms, it had saved her. In the past week, she'd spent hours sitting on "her" rock, rain or shine. The weather didn't bother her one way or the other. Day by day, hour by hour, she became stronger.

Until today, finally, she was ready to step back into her ordinary world.

According to her planner, tonight--Thursday--was the yearly library auction and dinner dance. It was amazing that she'd forgotten, given the countless hours she'd spent organizing the event.

She picked up the phone and called her cochair, Allison Birch. "Hey, Ali," she said when her friend answered. "It's me, Elizabeth."

"Oh, hi. I thought you'd moved to New York already."

"I came back."

She was trying to tack an explanation onto that when Ali said, "Is Jack back on the air? I haven't seen him."

"Just me. I came back. Jack and I are..."

There was a long pause. "Did you two split up?"

"We're taking a break from each other, that's all."

"Jeez. I never thought he'd leave you. I mean... I know you guys were having problems, but I thought it was... you know. The way we're all unhappy now and then."

Elizabeth didn't know which part to answer. Of course Allison assumed that the separation was Jack's idea. Women like Elizabeth didn't leave men like Jack.

"So, what are you going to do?" Allison asked.

"I thought I'd look for a job."

"In Echo Beach?" Allison laughed. "Doing what?"

"I don't know yet. Anyway, I'm still here and I wanted you to know that. Maybe we can have lunch together next Wednesday, after the site committee meeting?"

"Sure."

"And tonight is the library auction. I guess I'll see you there."

This time, when Allison paused, Elizabeth tensed up.

"It's a dance," Allison said. "Who will you bring?"

Elizabeth had forgotten how paired up the world was. "I didn't think about that."

"You'd have to sit by yourself at our table. Wouldn't that be weird?"

"I guess I have to learn how to go places alone," Elizabeth said, hearing the little catch in her voice.

"Yeah," Allison said on a sigh. "I guess you do. Should Chuck and I pick you up?"

"No," she said quietly, knowing that she wouldn't go now. Couldn't go. She stumbled through a few more moments of awkward small talk, then pleaded a headache and hung up. She slumped down onto the sofa.

This damned separation was a never-ending series of late hits.

She was single now. A woman alone, one who'd blundered daringly into some unfamiliar country without a map or compass.

She started to get that sorry-for-herself feeling and refused to give in to it. She'd been hiding out long enough.

It was time to merge back into the traffic of her old life. So what that there would be no car-pool lane this time. Such was life. What mattered was conquering fear.

She got up and went into the kitchen for a glass of water. It was there, by the fridge, that she noticed the calendar. Today had two things listed.

Library auction: 6:30

Passionless: 7:00

She'd forgotten all about the meeting, which was odd, since she'd actually intended to go.

But tonight, she was going to the auction.

She went upstairs, showered, dyed her hair, and then poured her more-than-healthy body into the elegant DKNY red knit dress she'd bought last month. She put on her makeup with exquisite care, trying to look her very best. At last, she added a single piece of jewelry, an intricate butterfly necklace, handcrafted of sterling silver and onyx.

When she stood back and looked in the full-length mirror, she saw a slightly overweight woman in a clingingly sexy dress. Not a "new" Elizabeth at all.

She paused, debating the whole question again, then reached in her closet for a black pashmina shawl, and left the house.

She drove past several small seaside towns. At Manzanita, she turned off the main highway and followed the twisting, treelined road down to the beach. Here and there, houses glowed against the falling darkness. Finally, the road spit her out in the parking lot of one of the coast's few glittering four-star hotels. As she neared her destination, nerves fluttered in her stomach.

What was she doing? She couldn't go in there alone--

"Yes, you can."

She parked the car and sat there.

It was twenty-five minutes after six. The auction would be starting any minute. If she waited too long, everyone would notice her entrance. Better to slip in quietly.

She took a deep breath. "Okay. I'm getting out of the car now."

She wrapped the cashmere-blend shawl around her body and headed toward the hotel.

In the lobby, she saw several people she knew. Smiling, nodding, she kept moving, but she was certain she heard, Where's Jack? whispered behind her.

She was imagining it, surely.

She hurried up the carpeted stairs toward the ballroom. At the open door, she paused.

Dozens of beautifully dressed people sat at white-clothed tables, chatting with one another.

She knew what they were saying: the same things a group like this always talked about, regardless of what city or town they were in. Men talked about jobs and sports. For women, it was school, kids, and diets.

In the corner, a jazz trio pumped out an uneasy rendition of an old Ella Fitzgerald song.

She didn't need to check her ticket to find her table. There it was, front and center. One of the perks of being Echo Beach's premier volunteer was prime table placement. Of course, it didn't hurt that she was--had been--married to one of the town's very few celebrities.

Allison and Chuck were already seated. Even from this distance, Elizabeth could see that Allison was wearing her usual choice: a black St. John knit. Three other couples were already at the table, talking quietly among themselves and sipping champagne. They were all people Elizabeth knew, some well, some only in passing. In a town this size, everyone knew everyone a little.

There were two empty chairs at the table.

Elizabeth could have done it; she knew that suddenly, certainly. She could have tilted her chin up and walked through the whispering crowd and taken her single place at that double opening.

But why?

This wasn't her life. It was the one she'd taken on by default. The by-product of Jack's life. That was why she had so many acquaintances in this room and so few friends.

Long ago, when the girls had been small and money was tight and they'd moved to a new town every two years, she'd discovered that the quickest way to make friends was to volunteer for everything. Town by town, her pattern had stayed the same. Move in, start volunteering, make fragile friendships, move on.

In Echo Beach, she'd automatically shoehorned her life into Jack's footprint without bothering to question her choices.

Now she did just that.

She didn't want to be the woman she'd been before. Wasn't that the whole point of what she'd done? She didn't want to melt into this crowd, talk about the usual things, and become good-old-Elizabeth, the one to turn to in a pinch. Jack's wife.

She backed away from who she'd been and turned around. Like Cinderella, she ran down the stairs with her shawl fluttering out behind her and got into her car.

A quick glance at the dashboard clock told her it was six-forty.

The Passionless women meeting started in twenty minutes.

She started the car and hit the gas. It was seven-fifteen when she reached the community college.

Wrapping the shawl tightly around her, she walked briskly through the empty corridors and stepped into the classroom.

"Elizabeth!" Sarah Taylor said when she walked into the room. "We were afraid you weren't going to make it this week."

Amazingly, Elizabeth laughed. The welcome was what she'd needed. "I got lost."

Mina chuckled. "We're all lost, sweetie. Come on in."

Elizabeth wound through the circle of women and sat in an empty chair beside Kim.

Kim didn't smile. "You should have stayed away. This group'll just drag you down."

Elizabeth looked at the faces of these women who knew exactly how she felt right now. "I've been dragging myself down lately."

"Really? You look happier," Kim said.

Before Elizabeth could answer, Sarah started the meeting. "Who would like to begin tonight?"

To her own amazement, Elizabeth raised her hand. She felt a flash of fear when everyone looked at her. "My husband and I separated."

"And how do you feel about that?" Sarah asked gently.

Once Elizabeth started talking, she found that she couldn't stop. The whole story came tumbling out. She ended with, "Tonight I tried to go back to my old life, but that's not right, either. I need a new life, but I don't quite know how to start. So I came here."

Mina leaned forward. "I was thinking about you this week. Maybe I'm psychic." She gave Elizabeth a sad smile. "Anyhoo, yesterday, I was reading the college catalog, looking for classes I could take now that I can drive, and I noticed that a painting class is starting soon."

Elizabeth felt a little spark of something. Hope, maybe. "Really?"

Mina reached into her leather-patchwork handbag and pulled out a floppy catalog. "I saved it for you." She walked through the middle of the circle and handed the catalog to Elizabeth.

"Thanks," Elizabeth said, surprised to realize that she meant it.

After that, the discussion moved around the circle, dipping time and again into the kind of intimacy that was marked by sudden emotion--tears or laughter.

The only one who didn't speak was Kim. Throughout the whole meeting, she sat stiffly beside Elizabeth, fiddling with a half-empty cigarette pack, snorting derisively every now and then.

Finally, the meeting broke up. Elizabeth stood around for a few minutes, talking to the women; then she went back to her car.

She was almost to the parking lot when she noticed Kim, standing off by herself, smoking a cigarette.

Elizabeth hesitated for a moment. In her previous life, she would never have ventured into another person's pain. She would have kept her distance, been respectful.

Across the darkness, in the blue-white glare of a streetlamp, she looked at Kim. Their gazes met.

Elizabeth went to her. When she was closer, she saw tear tracks on Kim's pale face. "You want a cigarette?"

"No, thanks."

They stood there, silent, each one staring out toward the parking lot. Smoke scented the cool air.

"You ever go to the sand castle competition on Cannon Beach?" Kim asked, exhaling smoke.

"Sure." She knew the competition well; every local did. People came from miles around to build exquisite, intricate sculptures. Everything from castles to mermaids. Each entry looked beautiful and permanent, but by morning, the sea had taken them all back.

She understood. Kim had thought, as Elizabeth once had, that marriage was solid ground. But it was all sand. Here one minute, shaped into magical forms, and gone the next.

Kim looked at her. "Sarah thinks I'm scared. That I'm afraid to hope."

"We're all afraid."

"I guess." Kim tossed her cigarette down and stomped it out with her boot heel. "Well. See you next week."

"I'll be here."

Kim walked away, got in a pretty blue Miata, and drove away.

Elizabeth followed her. Out on the highway, their paths diverged.

Elizabeth drove down the highway. On Stormwatch Lane, she stopped, pulled her mail out of the box, and then continued down the road for home.

By the time she parked, it was raining again.

Inside the house, she tossed her shawl on the kitchen table and flipped through the mail. There was a big manila envelope from Meghann.

She ripped it open. College catalogs fell out onto the table. Columbia. NYU. SUNY. Three of the graduate programs that had accepted Elizabeth all those years ago.

A Post-it note read: you can't say you don't have time now.

Elizabeth avoided talking to her daughters. She carefully called during school hours or when swim practice was going on, and left cheerful messages that sounded as if everything were unfolding as it always had. Dad was doing great in New York, lighting up the airwaves; Mom was working hard to get the place ready for renters. Lies that stacked like a house of cards.

She glanced at the mantel clock. It was one-forty-five.

Four-forty-five in Washington, D.C.

They'd be in swim practice right now. Saturday was the big meet against UVa.

Coward, Elizabeth thought as she punched in the number. She was so busy devising her pert, upbeat message that it took her a moment to realize Stephanie had answered.

"Hello?"

Elizabeth laughed nervously. "Hey, honey, it's good to hear your voice. I've been thinking about you guys a lot lately."

"Hey, Mom." Stephanie sounded tired. "Your uterine-radar must be working. I'm sick."

"What's wrong?"

A pause slid through the line, and in that split second, Elizabeth imagined the worst. Motherhood was like that; it pushed you out on a ledge and then said, Be careful. Don't look down.

"Don't call nine-one-one or anything. I just have the stomach flu. Everything that goes down comes right back up."

"Is Jamie taking care of you?"

"Oh, yeah, that's her specialty. This morning she said, 'If you think you're going to puke, aim away from my new shoes.' "

Elizabeth laughed. It was so Jamie. "I'm sure you'll be back on your feet in no time."

"I hope so. Hey, Mom, I'm glad you called. I need to talk to you about something. Tim's parents invited Jamie and me to go skiing over spring break. They have a place in Vermont. It's the second week in March."

Thank God.

Elizabeth had been worrying about how she and Jack would handle the separation with the girls at home. It was one thing to avoid the truth by phone. It was quite another to lie to your children in person. "That sounds great."

"It's kind of expensive. Lift tickets--"

"Your dad can afford it." Elizabeth winced. She should have said We can afford it.

"It'd be the first spring break we haven't come home. Are you okay with that?"

Sweet Stephie, always worried about hurting people's feelings. Elizabeth had a sudden urge to say, Break a few eggs, honey, be courageous, but instead she said, "I'll miss you, of course, but you should go. Have fun."

"Thanks, Mom. So, how's it going with the house? You must be going crazy. Every time I call Dad, he sounds so amped about Manhattan. You must really miss him."

"I do," Elizabeth said, flinching at her word choice.

"How much longer will you be in Oregon?"

"I don't know. Nobody seems to want to live this far out, and we can't leave the house empty." She glanced down at her left hand, curled in her lap. The diamond ring was still there. Everything about it, her wearing of it, was both a lie and the deepest truth. Looking at it now, all she saw was the lie.

"So, how're classes going?" she said to change the subject.

It worked. Stephanie told several funny "Jamie stories" about how her sister had gotten into and out of trouble. "As usual," Steph said, "Jamie caused the social equivalent of a ten-car pileup and didn't even notice. Tim says she needs a rearview mirror to see her own life."

Elizabeth laughed. "She gets that from my dad. He never once looked before he leaped. He said it ruined the surprise." Her voice snagged on the thought: He's gone.

"Are you okay, Mom?"

"I miss him."

"I know. Jamie's having a hard time with it. She and Grandad were so close. I think it's affecting her swimming. And she's not sleeping well."

Elizabeth sighed. Her poor little girl. Jamie might be all hard shell on the outside, but inside, she had a soft candy center. "Keep your eye on her for me. I'll call her tomorrow after her physical anthro class."

"I tried getting her to see a counselor on campus, but you know Jamie. She told me to butt out."

"You're a good girl, Steph," Elizabeth said. "Do I tell you that often enough?"

"Yes, Mom."

Elizabeth chose her next words carefully. "Just don't forget how to put Stephanie first. Sometimes, you have to be selfish or life can slip through your fingers."

"Are you okay, Mom?"

"Sure. I'm just a little tired, that's all."

Stephanie was quiet for a moment. In the background, a television was playing. There was a swell of applause. "Is there something you wish you'd done, you know, like besides having kids and getting married?"

It was the kind of question a woman usually came to too late in life, after she'd chosen one road and realized it was a dead end. "What makes you ask that?"

"I'm watching this program about a woman who killed her kids. It seems she always wanted to be a policewoman. Like that would have been a good choice. Anyway, the shrink is blabbing about how women sublimate their own needs. He compares it to loading a weapon. Someday: bang."

Bang, indeed.

It would have been easy to deflect, but she didn't want to take the easy way. There were things she should have told her daughters, advice she should have given them. Unfortunately, some truths she'd learned too late. "Not instead of; then I wouldn't have had you and Jamie. But in addition to, maybe. I used to love painting. It got lost somewhere along the way."

"I didn't know that."

That was, perhaps, the worst of all her failings. She'd been so afraid of her own lost dream that she'd pretended it had never existed. How could a woman who'd clipped her own wings teach her babies to fly? "I don't know why I didn't talk about it. I used to be something special, though."

"You still are, Mom."

"I'm thinking of taking a painting class at the local college." There, she'd said it. Molded a dream into words and given it the strength of voice.

"That'd be awesome. I'm sure you'll blow the shit out of the curve."

Elizabeth laughed at that. She hadn't even thought about grades. "You just remember, Stephie, these are your glory years. No husband, no babies, no one to tell you what you can't do. This is your time to dream big and soar." Elizabeth heard the fierce edge of regret in her voice. It was so easy to see the world in retrospect. She started to say something else, then heard a sound that brought her up short. "Baby? Are you crying?"

"You're not that inspirational, Mom. I just feel lousy. Now I'm getting a headache. I think I'm gonna crash. I'll have Jamie call when she gets back from swim practice."

"Okay, honey. Drink lots of fluids. And tell Tim hi for me. For us," she amended. How quickly she'd begun to think in the singular.

"Tell Dad I love him."

"I will."

"And tell him to call me tonight. I want to hear how his big interview with Jay went."

(Jay who?)

"Okay," she said. "I love you."

"Love you guys, too. Bye."

For the last few days, Jack's life had been a full-speed running game. Drew Grayland's arraignment had been broadcast on Court TV. The young man had admitted nothing and pled not guilty, but that didn't matter. The whole sordid, sorry story had come front and center. All across America, students and parents were protesting the lack of athlete accountability. Female students from dozens of universities had filed rape charges against football and basketball players.

At the heart of the story stood Jack Shore. By luck and chance--and a ton of Fox advertising money--he'd become the national poster boy for change. Everyone knew who he was again.

Now he was on the edge of his seat. Literally.

Sally sat beside him, her foot tapping unevenly on the floor as she pawed through the fruit basket on the coffee table. "You're going to be great," she said for at least the fifteenth time in as many minutes.

To be honest, he needed her to say it, again and again. That was a big part of why he'd hired her. She was great for his ego--and, of course, she was a damned fine assistant. She'd organized every nuance of this opportunity, hadn't she?

There was a knock at the door. In walked Avery Kormane, the woman who'd shown him to the small, windowless waiting room and conducted his pre-interview. "How're you doing?"

"Has anyone ever puked on the Tonight Show, or will I be the first?"

"A bird caller from Kentucky took one look at the audience and fell face-first onto the floor." She smiled. "Everyone's nervous in this room. I've seen your tapes. You'll do fine once you're in front of the camera. Just focus on Jay if you get nervous. He's a nice guy. He'll catch you if you fall."

Sally had chosen Leno for that very reason. When the offers started pouring in last week, Jack had instinctively gravitated toward Letterman. It was Sally who'd reminded him that Leno was a hell of lot easier.

Avery consulted her clipboard. "As I told you earlier, your seat is the one closest to Jay. The others should be empty. George Clooney has to catch a flight to D.C. for the next leg of his press junket."

Jack glanced up at the television monitor on the wall. On screen, Thea Cartwright was laughing with Jay. She was the most beautiful woman in Hollywood, bar none. "What about Thea?"

Avery looked up sharply. Behind the world's ugliest black frame glasses, her eyes narrowed. "Do you know her? I don't have that in my notes."

Sally was frowning at him.

"No, no. I just think she's great. That's all." He felt like a complete idiot.

Avery's nose crimped up. "Oh, that. Well, she'll be long gone. She has an opening tonight. You just shake Jay's hand, wave to the audience, and take your seat." She glanced at her watch. "Follow me."

Jack did as he was told. Sally stuck to his side like glue. They walked through the industrial maze of backstage hallways, passing several closed doors that had red on air signs above them. Finally, they came to the edge of the stage.

A narrow vertical sign lit up the word Hollywood beside him. The lights buzzed softly.

Jack's palms were sweating like geysers. He was wetter than the goddamn Man from Atlantis.

"You'll be great," Sally said again.

He wished Elizabeth were here. It only took a look from her, a feather touch, to calm him. He'd wanted this--national exposure--for years, but now that it was here, he was as jumpy as a rookie on the starting line.

This wasn't like reading the news from a teleprompter. He was supposed to be relaxed and witty. Avery had mentioned funny personal anecdotes as a good thing.

Had anything even remotely funny ever happened to him?

My wife dumped me last month... ba dump ba. Funny enough?

Applause thundered, shook the soundstage. On the wall, a red light flashed.

Avery tapped his shoulder. "You're on, Jack. Break a leg."

He mumbled something--he had no idea what--and stumbled around the corner. The lights were Broadway bright and aimed at his face. He could barely make out the stacked rows of people. He blinked suddenly, realized the lights weren't aimed at him; he was staring right into one.

Idiot.

His smile felt awkward, as if he'd borrowed it from a bigger man.

Jay was coming toward him, hand outstretched.

"Jumpin' Jack Flash," he said, smiling.

And just that easy, Jack's nerves dissipated. He'd forgotten that: he was The Flash. "Hey, Jay." He waved at the crowd, who applauded wildly.

He followed Jay across the brightly lit stage. He was at the big wooden desk when he saw her. At the same time, he heard Jay's voice.

"... Thea wanted to stay. She says football is her second favorite sport."

There was a whoop of approval from the audience.

Thea got up from her seat and walked toward him. Her thin, leggy body was barely covered by a strapless black top and a hot pink miniskirt. She wore almost no makeup; her wheat-blond hair looked as it if had been hacked with a Weed Eater. It was sexy as hell. In heels, she was as tall as he.

For a split second, he was sixteen years old again, a kid pinning Farrah Fawcett posters to his wall.

Thea grinned at the crowd. "Now, this is a good-looking man, am I wrong, ladies?"

He almost passed out, honest to God. The lights overhead felt interrogation-hot all of a sudden. He smelled her perfume, musky and sweet at the same time. He nodded and forced himself to turn away, afraid he'd look at her too long.

He took his seat.

"So," Jay said, sitting behind his desk, "you've been stirring up the sports world a bit."

"I was in the right place at the right time when the story broke." He'd had to practice humility in the mirror. It didn't come naturally.

Jay grinned. "I'll bet it's good to be back in the limelight."

"It is."

"What were the nonfootball years like?"

Every celebrity asked him that. Nothing scared a famous person more than the thought of a sudden plunge into obscurity. "Like trading in a Ferrari for a used Volvo."

"Ouch," Jay said, and the audience laughed. "What made you do it? A lot of athletes are plenty pissed off."

"I'm a father," he said simply. "It could have been one of my daughters in that room with Drew Grayland. We need to go back to the days when good sportsmanship mattered, on and off the field."

The audience erupted into applause again. A few "boos" rose above the noise.

The interview lasted another few minutes. Jay was a genius at pulling a funny remark out of serious statement, while not making light of the subject.

Then, suddenly, it was over. The music started, the lights came up, and Jay stood. He clapped Jack on the back. "You were great."

Jack felt like he'd just led his team to a Super Bowl victory.

Thea walked over to Jay and kissed his cheek. "Thanks." She lowered her voice, said something else. Jay laughed, then waved at Jack and left the stage.

Still smiling, Thea walked over to Jack. A slow smile curved her full, puffy lips. She was certain of her effect on men; took it for granted, he'd say. "You were good," she purred, leaning closer.

"Thanks."

"Would you like--"

Sally came up beside him. "You were great," she said breathlessly. To Thea, she said, "I'm Sally. Jack's assistant. It's an honor to meet you."

Thea looked at Sally's hand, placed possessively on Jack's forearm. "How lucky for you. I'd better run. I've got a premiere tonight." When she smiled at Jack, he felt a rush of pure heat. "It was nice to meet you. I hope to see you again."

"Uh, yeah. Me, too."

When she was gone, he looked down at Sally, who was staring up at him as if he were a god.