"Thanks a lot," he said stiffly. "After all these years, it's nice to know what you really think of me."

She tipped up her chin, unwilling to back down or hide from her horrible suspicions, though she longed to. "Are you, Richard? Cheating on me with Julianna?" A brittle laugh bubbled to her lips. "Or anyone else, for that matter?"

"I can't believe what I'm hearing. I can't believe it's you saying this to me." He took a step toward her. "What's happened to you? Ever since Emma…you've changed, Kate."

"I haven't." She shook her head. "You're the one who's-"

"I'm not the one who never wants to go anywhere. I'm not the one who's tired all the time, or the one who thinks people are sneaking into her house and stealing photographs but leaving the jewelry behind. I'm not the one who's calling a perfectly innocent and hardworking kid dishonest and manipulative. And I'm certainly not the one who just accused my spouse of more than ten years of being unfaithful."

He started toward the living room. She stared after him, tears blinding her. He was right, she realized. She was paranoid and suspicious and acting every bit the possessive, jealous woman he accused her of being. The kind of woman she had always looked at with pity and had promised herself she would never become.

"Richard," she called, taking a step toward him, "wait, please."

He stopped and looked back at her. "You used to be fun, Kate. You used to feel good about yourself and our life together. You used to feel good about me. About us. What's happened to you?" he asked again. "I don't even know you anymore."

Kate awakened to the sound of thunder. Rain slashed against the windows and pounded on the roof, and as she dragged herself into a sitting position, a flash of lightning illuminated the gloom.

Richard was already up, she saw, though she hadn't been aware of his rising or leaving. She reached out and touched his pillow; it was cold. She sighed, wondering if he would even speak to her today. Wondering if their marriage would survive another week, let alone a month.

She had slept poorly, and now felt every moment of the wakeful night. She had tossed and turned, tormented by her and Richard's fight. Horrified by the accusations she had hurled at her husband. By what had become of her life and marriage.

The night before, Richard had lain so stiffly beside her. Several times she had reached out to him, whispering her remorse, begging his forgiveness. Each time he had pulled away, rejecting her.

It had hurt almost more than she could bear.

Kate climbed out of the bed, heading for the bathroom. No sleeping in today. Even though Richard's mother had insisted on taking Emma for the day and had picked her up late the evening before, Kate was scheduled to open The Bean. Rainy days, far from keeping customers away, seemed to draw more in. What better way to spend a rainy morning, than inside with a friend or book and a good cup of coffee?

Kate passed a hand wearily across her eyes. Thank goodness she didn't have Emma to contend with this morning. Exhausted and heartsick as she was, she didn't think she could have handled both her daughter and the Saturday rush. Not competently, anyway.

Aware of time slipping by, she showered, dressed and went down for coffee. There, she discovered that Richard was not only up, but gone as well.

He hadn't left a note.

Her eyes filled with tears. That small omission spoke volumes. Suddenly, the house was too quiet, the sound of the rain agitating rather than soothing, the thunder disturbing.

Deciding she would get her coffee at The Bean, she grabbed her purse and raincoat and hurried out into the storm.

Minutes later, Kate drew to a stop behind The Uncommon Bean. She made no move to leave the car, instead choosing to wait a few moments for a momentary break in the downpour. The wipers flew back and forth across the windshield, unable to keep up with the driving rain, and Kate squinted, visibility so poor she could hardly see The Bean's back door though she was nearly on top of it.

The lull came-she threw open the car door and keys in hand, made a dash for it. Her foot landed smack in a puddle, soaking her shoe and the bottom of her pants leg. Swearing, she reached the door, but as she went to fit the key in the lock, it swung open.

Kate froze. Not only had the door been left unlocked all night, it hadn't even been fully shut. She frowned, working to recall who had been scheduled to close the night before.

Tess, Kate remembered. The young woman had been complaining about it the previous afternoon and trying unsuccessfully to con Beanie into switching shifts with her.

Kate made a sound of annoyance and stepped inside. On a Friday night, in her eagerness to hit the bars, Tess had compromised The Bean's security. What if someone had tried to break in? What if the wind had blown the door open? In this rain, the storage room would have been flooded.

Kate shut the door behind her, checking to make sure it was latched. She was going to have to have a talk with her employee. Usually Tess could manage her ditziness, but this was too much.

As she stepped farther into the storage room, Kate made a sound of dismay and brought her hand to her nose. What was that awful smell? Like a garbage can left open in the sun. Or sewage.

She made her way toward the front of the café, the smell becoming stronger as she went. She peeked inside the bathrooms and her office, looking for the source of the odor but finding nothing amiss in either place.

Frowning, she pushed through the louvered door that separated the dining room from the other parts of the café, then stopped, a cry slipping past her lips. Every piece of her stained glass had been yanked from the windows and smashed. The colorful fragments littered the tile floor like an obscene mosaic.

She rushed forward, tripping on something in the aisle. She lowered her gaze. A scream flew to her throat. Tess lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, wedged behind the counter area, arm jutting into the walkway. Her head was twisted in an unnatural angle-her mouth and eyes gaped open. As with surprise. Or terror.

Kate's stomach lurched to her throat. She brought a hand to her mouth to hold the sickness back. From behind her came a stirring. A footfall. She whirled around, the scream ripping from her, shattering the stillness.

It was Blake. Thank God.

Sobbing, Kate fell into his arms.

The police came. The coroner. The forensics team. They questioned Kate and Blake, The Bean's other employees. Eventually, the regulars. They ruled out a bungled robbery as the motive; a careful search revealed nothing missing but Kate's Rolodex.

Tess's neck had been broken, they said. She had died instantly. Judging by her injury and position on the floor, her attacker had come up from behind, taking her by surprise. They surmised that she never even knew what hit her.

At least she hadn't suffered, Kate thought, grabbing on to that one, small comfort. At least she hadn't lain dying, alone and afraid, praying for help that never arrived.

The hours, then days, passed in a sort of waking nightmare for Kate. She closed The Uncommon Bean indefinitely, then managed to go through the motions-talking to the police and the press, listening to the condolences and reassurances of friends, caring for Emma and even managing to eat and sleep occasionally.

She couldn't believe such a terrible thing could happen at her coffeehouse, to someone she had known and cared for. That such violence could occur so close to her shattered her every illusion of safety.

At night as she rocked Emma to sleep, she gazed down at her beautiful and sweet face and struggled to come to grips with it all. She longed to feel safe again. To have her cozy illusion of indestructibility back.