"It's not libel," Tony said. "That's why the author is safe from the heavy hand of the law. Most of the information comes from old newspaper stories and other published sources; the rest is innuendo, and the author was smart enough to skirt the edge of the actionable. Besides, nobody seems to know who he is."

"Pat is just as likely to consider it the best joke since Watergate," Mark added. Rising, he stretched and yawned. "Feel free to call at any hour, girls, if you find the diamonds."

"Don't worry," Cheryl said. "We will."

"Is someone going to escort us to the door?" Mark inquired.

Cheryl flatly refused, with a few pointed remarks about big strong men and little helpless dogs. Karen offered to do guard duty. Tony lingered; she heard him say something to Cheryl, who replied with a peal of laughter and a comment whose tone was decidedly caustic.

As they descended the stairs Karen said, "I'm sorry you were dragged into this, Mark. It wasn't my idea."

"I'm sure it wasn't."

"If you could persuade Cheryl to leave-"

"No one can talk Cheryl out of, or into, anything. She's a grown woman; she makes her own decisions." They had reached the door; Mark turned to face her. "Are you seriously suggesting that I remove Cheryl and walk away, leaving you to the tender mercies of some wandering lunatic-or that muscle-bound chauffeur whose pretty face you admire so much? What kind of cold-blooded bastard do you take me for?"

His voice cut like a knife. Before Karen could reply, Tony came running down the stairs, and Mark turned away.

Tony took Karen's hand. "Thanks for an interesting evening. It isn't often I get a chance to search for lost diamonds and literary manuscripts."

Without turning, Mark opened the door. "If you're going to start quoting, keep it short and snappy," he said, and went out, leaving them alone.

"I want to hear the key turn and a lot of clattering of chains and bolts," Tony said softly. "Not that I think there's anything to worry about-"

"I know. Thanks, Tony."

Abruptly he bent his head and touched her lips with his. Brief though it was, the kiss had nothing tentative about it; the brush of his mustache along her upper lip sent a tingle through her body. Then he was gone, closing the door after him. She heard a soft voice say, "Locks."

Karen did as she was asked. There was no further comment from Tony. Peering through the spy-hole, she saw only his broad back, retreating.

Mark was waiting for him on the sidewalk, strategically situated in the light of a street lamp. Karen's view was limited and distorted, but as she watched she realized Mark was putting on the promised performance with the jewelry case. He did everything but drop-kick it, and although his gyrations were exaggerated to the point of farce, Karen was not particularly amused.

She made a detour into the kitchen and prepared a pot of tea. The rumble of Alexander's snores followed her up the stairs; really, she thought, there must be something wrong with his sinuses. Considering that his entire face was wildly out of sync, it would not be surprising.

Cheryl looked up from the ledger she was inspecting and smiled. "I was just thinking a cup of tea would hit the spot. Are you tired? Want me to get out of here so you can go to bed?"

"I'm still keyed up. I need to unwind. But if you're sleepy-"

"We've got to stop being so damned polite," Cheryl said. "To tell the truth, I'm dying to go over your records. Unless you mind-"

"Who's being overly polite now? I'd be delighted to have you take over the damned books. I'm absolutely hopeless about keeping records; I keep forgetting to write things down." Karen curled up in the chair Mark had occupied. "What I really want to do is sit here and watch you work."

"That's right. You're the artistic half of the team and I'm the business end." Cheryl frowned at one of the entries. "Did you itemize Mrs. MacDougal's dresses? All I can find is an entry that says, 'Misc. clothes, Mrs. Mac.'"

"Oh, dear. I meant to do it right, only…"

"You've been distracted," Cheryl said, with a wry smile. "Let's start with the two dresses you sold that friend of yours."

After she had made the entry she asked, "When did you tell her you'd have them ready?"

"I didn't. But we must get at it right away. Some of the beads are loose, and then they have to go to the cleaners'."

"I'll do that tomorrow afternoon. What cleaner do you use?"

"It's someone Mrs. Mac recommended. What's more," Karen added, "I had to be recommended to him. He is not, if you please, taking new customers. But he knows how to handle delicate things. Be sure you explain to him-"

"I get it. Throw Mrs. MacDougal's name around and insist he handle these items personally."

"While you're at it, you could pick up the things I took in a few days ago. I think the ticket is here somewhere." Karen rummaged in her purse and finally came up with the receipt. "Be sure you keep track of the cost. And speaking of money-"

"Why talk about something we don't have?" Cheryl grinned. "This is a hand-to-mouth operation, Karen. Sooner or later we'll get a proper accounting system set up, but right now it's grab it while you can."

Karen refused to be amused. "It's going to be touch and go for a while, I know that. It looks as if I may have to take advantage of Pat's offer and borrow from him until- and if-I can get a settlement from Jack."

"That's right, you saw the lawyer today. I'm sorry, Karen, I didn't even ask how it went. There was so much to talk about."

"He was nice. He's just starting out, that must be why Mr. Bates recommended him. I'm sure his fees are a lot less than Bates, Bates, and Whoever. But he wasn't terribly encouraging. These things take time, said he profoundly-especially when, as seems evident, Jack is not inclined to be generous. Well, damn it, I don't want generosity, I just want what's fair. Lord knows I earned it."

"It's definite, is it? You aren't going to change your mind?"

"About the divorce? Not on your life. Even if I were dumb enough to stick my head back in the noose, Jack wouldn't take me back. It was his idea in the first place."

Cheryl studied her earnestly. "I'm sorry if you are; I'm not sorry if you're not. Don't get me wrong; I just wouldn't like to be left without a partner before we even get this show on the road."

"No fear of that. Even if both of us had complete changes of heart I'd still go on with the shop. I have to do it. It means a lot to me. Actually, I was about to ask you the same question. You'll marry again one day-"

"No."

"You may feel that way now, but-"

"No. I'm never going to get married again."

Her head was bent over the book, and her tumbled hair hid her face. After a moment Karen said gently, "How long has it been?"

"Two years. I know what you're going to say." Cheryl turned to face her, tossing her hair from her forehead. Her face bore an expression Karen had never seen on it before, a blend of dedicated exultation and of pain. "Everybody says the same thing. You'll get over it, time heals all wounds… But I won't. My life isn't ruined or anything like that. I'm a very happy person, really. But I'll never love anyone but Joe."

The flat finality of her voice would have forestalled argument, even if Karen could have thought of anything to say. She was astounded. To think that Cheryl, outwardly so cheerful and matter-of-fact, nourished this unrealistic, sentimental delusion…

Karen had no doubt that it was a delusion. Love was not eternal, grief did not endure. "Men (and women) have died, and worms have eaten them, but not for love." She was as convinced of those cliches as she was sure the sun would rise next morning. All the same, she felt a dull ache of envy.

"I'm so sorry," she began. "I shouldn't have raised the subject-"