But it was working. With a three-mile jog every morning and a strict diet the rest of the day, she'd dropped fifteen pounds in just six weeks. She was feeling more fit now than at any time in her life.

She headed for the elm tree. Will was there ahead of her, sitting on the newly fallen leaves, unwrapping a huge sandwich. Her mouth watered at the sight of the inch-high stack of corned beef between the thick slices of rye.

"You buy those things just to torture me, don't you?"

"No. I buy them to torture myself. You southerners don't have the faintest idea of the proper curing of corned beef. This thing may look good, but taste-wise it's a pallid reflection of the kind of sandwich people eat every day in New York. What I wouldn't give for a hot pastrami from the Carnegie Deli."

"So go back and get one."

Will looked away for a moment. "Some day I just might."

"You sound like a born-and-bred New Yorker. I thought you grew up in Vermont."

"I lived all over the Northeast before moving south." He suddenly leaned forward and stared between her breasts. "A new necklace?"

Don't think I don't know when you're changing the subject away from your past, she thought as she smiled and lifted the shell hanging from the fine gold chain.

"Yes and no. The chain's been in my jewelry box for years and I've had the shell forever. I just decided one day to put them together."

"What's the shell? It's a beauty."

"It's called a cowrie. The South Seas natives actually use them for money."

This was her Rafe shell. A few weeks ago she'd dug into her shoe box and pulled it out. A glossy cowrie with an intricate speckled pattern on its back. Beautiful—just like Rafe. She'd had a jeweler drill a hole and voila, she had a necklace. Only Lisl knew who it represented.

A moment later Will was staring again, this time at the impoverished contents of her lunch bag as she laid them out on a paper napkin.

"Still hanging in with that diet, I see."

"Hanging is right—by my fingernails. Six weeks of gerbil food. I just love it. I jump out of bed every morning looking forward to the myriad gustatory delights that await me."

"You're getting results. I mean I can really see the difference. Maybe you've lost enough to merit a treat once in a while."

"Not till I've reached my target weight."

"And what's that?"

"One-thirty. Fifteen pounds to go."

Whoops. She just gave her weight away. Not that it would matter with Will. She had a feeling that he was something of a sphinx when he wasn't with her. But it was not a number she wanted to slip out too often.

"I think you're fine the way you are now."

"So do the actuarial tables. According to them, a five-five, medium-frame female like me should weigh one-forty stripped. Maybe that's optimal for maximum life span, but it's not right for the clothes I want to wear."

"You still look fine to me."

"Thanks." But she knew her looks didn't really matter to Will. "I'll tell you one thing, though. Besides freeing me of some excess baggage, all this dieting has given me some real empathy for those people with lifelong weight problems. I can't imagine fighting the pounds year in and year out. It's so depressing!"

Will shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich.

"Just self-discipline," he said around the mouthful. He swallowed. "You set yourself a goal and you go after it. Along the way you make choices. The choices you make are determined by what you value more. In the dieter's case it comes down to choosing between a full belly or a trim figure."

Strange. He almost sounded like Rafe.

"It's not that easy," she told him. "Especially not when there's people around—like you, for instance—who seem to be able to manage both a full belly and a trim figure. When have you ever had to make a sacrifice hour by hour, day by day, week after week, month after month?"

Will stared at her, and for a moment something flashed in his eyes, then he looked away. His gaze found the horizon and rested there. Again, the question flashed through her mind: What have you seen, what have you done?

"Don't…"Lisl's voice faltered. "Don't brush it off until you've had to do it."

"I wouldn't think of it," he said.

They ate in silence for a while. Lisl finished her cottage cheese and veggies and was still hungry—as usual. She nursed her diet Dr Pepper.

"Didn't you tell me this was your first diet?" Will said.

"Yes. Rafe says it will be my last. I hope he's right."

"Is this Rafe fellow pushing you to lose weight?"

"Not in the least. As a matter of fact, he wishes I'd ease off because we don't go out to eat anywhere near as often as we used to. He says he liked me just the way I was when he met me."

She felt a little smile flicker across her lips as she remembered Rafe telling her how his taste in the female figure tended to run on a line with Reubens's. But that hadn't stopped her from starting her get-in-shape program.

Will grunted.

"What's that for?" Lisl said.

"It means that he doesn't strike me as the type who leaves well enough alone."

"How can you say that? You don't know him."

"Just an impression. Maybe because he's too good-looking and appears to have had too much money for too long. Those kind tend to think the rest of the world exists for their exclusive use."

"Well, you know the old saying about books and covers. Look at yourself. Who'd believe you've done the kind of reading you have?"

"Touche."

"Rafe is very deep for his age. You'd like him if you got to know him."

"I'm hardly in his league. He drives a brand-new Maserati; I drive a Chevy that's almost as old as he is. He doesn't seem the sort who likes to hang out with groundskeepers."

Lisl hid her growing annoyance with Will's attitude.

"If you had something interesting or intelligent to say, as you usually do, he wouldn't care what you did for a living."

Will shrugged again. "If you say so."

Lisl wondered at Will's hostility toward Rafe, a man he'd never met, and then she realized: He feels threatened!

That had to be it. Lisl was probably the only person in Will's small world with whom he could communicate on his own level. And now he saw Rafe as a rival for her attention, someone who might take her from him altogether.

Poor Will. She searched for a way to reassure him that she'd always be his friend and be here for him, a way that wouldn't let on that she knew what was eating him.

"I'm pfenning a Christmas party," she said.

"It's not even Thanksgiving yet."

"Thanksgiving's only days away. And besides, everybody starts planning Christmas around Thanksgiving time."

"If you say so."

"I say so. And I also say that you're invited."

She sensed rather than saw Will stiffen.

"Sorry."

"Come on, Will. I'm inviting people I consider my friends, and you're at the top of the list. You'll finally get to know Rafe. I really think you two will hit it off. He's a lot like you. You're both deeper than you seem."

"Lisl…"

She played her ace: "I'll be very hurt if you don't deign to make an appearance."

"Come on, Lisl—"

"I'm serious. I've never thrown a party before and I want you to be there."

There followed a long pause, with Will staring into the distance.

"Okay," he said with obvious reluctance. "I'll try to make it."

"'Try' isn't good enough. You were going to 'try' to make it to Metropolis last month. I don't need that kind of try. I need a promise."

Lisl caught a trace of hurt in his eyes that contrasted sharply with his smile.

"I can't promise. Please don't ask me for something I can't deliver on."

"Okay," Lisl said softly, hiding her own hurt. "I won't."

As they finished what was left of their lunches in uncharacteristic silence, Will thought about Losmara. A strange character. A loner. Didn't seem to have any friends but Lisl.