Karen methodically tore the note into tiny bits and flushed them down the toilet. Then she threw the piece of chocolate cake she had been about to eat into the disposal and went out and jogged for four miles.

She did not see or hear from Mark. She didn't expect to. (At least that was what she told herself.) Nor did she expect the encounter that took place one afternoon toward the end of the week.

Julie had left early, to finish shopping for her approaching vacation. Not five minutes after Julie took her departure Rob followed her, with a look that dared Karen to object. She was at the back of the shop, checking a shelf of costume jewelry over which one customer had lingered long without buying-it was all right, everything seemed to be there-when the door chimes rang. Half concealed by a hanging tapestry, she looked up to see the girl who had been with Mark on his first visit.

She knew she should emerge at once, smiling and helpful. Instead she hunched her shoulders in a half-crouch, hoping the shadows would hide her, while her thoughts raced in uncontrolled confusion.

He's not with her. Of course not-he won't come again. It's probably the armoire she wants. She's attractive, but not as glamorous as I thought…Her hair is beautiful-lovely curling red-gold. It looks real, too. Get out there. Stop skulking. She'll see you in a minute and you'll feel like a fool. Say something. Something witty, intelligent…

She edged out from behind the tapestry. "Hello."

The girl turned with a start. "Hi. I didn't see you at first. It's so dark in here."

It was a common complaint, and Karen seized with relief on the memorized response. "I'll be glad to turn on more lights if there is something you want to examine closely. I'm afraid Julie has stepped out for a moment, but if you need help-"

"I know she isn't here, I saw her leave. I wanted to see you. You are Karen, aren't you?"

"Yes."

The girl came toward her, smiling, her hand out. "I'm Cheryl Reichardt. Mark's sister."

"Sister," Karen repeated blankly.

Cheryl laughed. "I don't blame you, everybody reacts that way. We don't look one bit alike."

The statement was certainly correct. Cheryl was as fair as Mark was dark, and her round face and dimpled cheeks were the antithesis of Mark's austere features.

Karen gathered her scattered wits and took the outstretched hand-just in time, for Cheryl, flushing slightly, had started to withdraw it. "I'm glad to meet you. Are you visiting, or do you live in Washington?"

"I live with Mark, actually. He asked me to come and keep house for him after my husband died."

"I'm so sorry." Karen's response was genuine; it seemed impossible to think of this cheerful young woman as a widow.

"It's been a couple of years," Cheryl said, her lifted chin and determinedly matter-of-fact voice assuring Karen that sympathy would be unwelcome. "But I don't know what I would have done if it hadn't been for Mark. Joe left a few thousand in insurance, but we didn't have much saved, and my folks are living on Dad's pension, and with a baby to support…"

She paused to draw breath. "You have a child?" Karen asked.

"Little Joe. He's not a baby, he's four now. Want to see his picture?" Without waiting for a reply she reached in her purse and took out her wallet. "This was taken on his last birthday."

Karen's heart gave a queer, painful lurch. The little boy had his mother's mop of fair curls and a funny turned-up nose, but his shy smile reminded Karen of a look she had sometimes seen on Mark's face.

"Do you have any kids?" Cheryl asked.

"No." Jack had not wanted children. He never actually said so, but somehow it was never the right time.

"That's too bad. I was hoping I could borrow one." Cheryl giggled. "One of these days I'm going to be arrested. Whenever I see a kid in a grocery store or someplace, it's all I can do not to grab it and squeeze it. I miss Little Joe so much."

"He isn't with you?" Karen returned the wallet, adding, "He's adorable. I don't see how you can stand to be away from him."

"I didn't have much choice. He'd just got comfortable with Mom and Dad and I didn't want to uproot him again. Besides, it wouldn't have been fair to Mark. He's renting a town house in Foggy Bottom, all neat and shiny and modern, but not very big; and he's always having people in for drinks and talks and dinner and stuff. I'm pretty busy myself, trying to adjust to Mark's schedule and going to school. I'm studying bookkeeping and computer science."

"Good for you."

"Well, I don't want to be a checker in a grocery store all my life." Cheryl leaned against the counter, arms crossed; she seemed quite prepared to stand there for the rest of the afternoon. "I never went to college and I don't have any training-"

"No marketable skills," Karen said with a wry smile.

"Yeah, doesn't it make you feel small when they say that? Like you were a sack of potatoes that's gone bad. I'm doing pretty good in school, though. I think I'm going to get an A in accounting."

Karen offered appropriate congratulations; Cheryl's beaming smile of pride was as irresistible as her cheerful chatter. "So you don't want to become a Washington hostess?" she said.

"Hell-I mean, good heavens, no. All this protocol and formality drives me crazy. Besides, Mark is sure to get married someday. He's got women chasing him all the time."

Karen could think of nothing to say to this. Cheryl realized that she had been tactless and she flushed again, and said awkwardly, "Say, isn't it just about closing time?"

"Don't let that worry you. Take your time-"

"I came to see you. I was glad when that other woman left. I know I shouldn't talk about a friend of yours, but she gives me the pip. I thought maybe if you had time we could have a cup of coffee or a drink or something."

"I'm afraid…" The refusal was instinctive, but the words were scarcely out of her mouth when Karen realized, with some surprise, that she didn't want to refuse.

Cheryl was too sensitive to miss the implication. She blushed more deeply. Her skin had the translucent pallor that goes with red hair and that shows every emotion in the ebb and flow of the blood.

"Mark said I shouldn't come. He said I'd open my big mouth and put my fat foot in it. But I thought… well, she's like me in a lot of ways, she hasn't lived here for a long time and probably most of her friends have moved away, and could be she's a little lonesome-like me…"

She stuttered to a stop, her cheeks flaming. She's shy, Karen thought in surprise, shy and a little insecure, under that chatty facade of hers. That was something else they had in common. And although Cheryl had described herself as tactless, she had not mentioned another thing they shared-their loss, by one means or another, of the men who had dominated their lives.

"I'd love a cup of coffee," Karen said. "But why don't we go to my house? I only live a few blocks away, and the cafes around here charge an arm and a leg."

SHY was not exactly the word for Cheryl. She was acutely aware of her inadequacies as a hostess for Mark, but the rueful humor with which she related some of her funnier faux pas made it clear that they didn't keep her awake nights. Since her failures had been the result of a blunt tongue, a kind heart, and a complete lack of hypocrisy, Karen was inclined to agree, and to hope, that her new acquaintance would never become a successful political wife.

It was obvious that Cheryl wanted to become a friend, not just a casual acquaintance. Her confession that Mark had tried to talk her out of visiting the shop removed one of Karen's reservations; she was damned if she wanted Mark to think she was running after him, trying to pick up their former relationship, but she was also damned if she was going to let him decide with whom she could associate. After the rudeness of her old classmates, and Julie's barbed malice, Cheryl's candor and lack of false pride was very refreshing.