Laureen giggled. “I wish the photographer had gotten a picture of her. She was so embarrassed.”

Alan flipped through several photographs of the reception and Laureen smiled as she noticed that the photographer had caught her mother, Millie, nervously rearranging the flowers on the tables. Millie had been in an absolute tizzy for months before the wedding. She’d bought a book with a checklist of everything that had to be done and she’d quizzed Laureen constantly. Had she gone down to pick out the bridesmaids’ flowers? Arranged the ceremony with the minister? Chosen the music? Put down a deposit on the Elks Hall for the reception? And was she absolutely certain the invitations had gone out to all of Alan’s relatives?

A month before the wedding, Laureen’s father had pulled them into the kitchen for a private talk. He’d heard Millie say it might be nice if white doves were released from a net as the bridal couple left the church, but he didn’t think Reverend Thurgood would go for bird shit all over the steps of the church. Millie’s idea of a perfect wedding was not only costing him a fortune, it was turning poor Millie into a nervous wreck. Rather than go through all this nonsense for another four weeks, he’d be glad to write them a check for the whole amount the wedding would cost, provided they eloped right now.

Laureen had turned to Alan for the final decision. They could use the money for a new car or even a down payment on their first house. But just as they were about to agree, Millie had stormed into the kitchen. She’d heard the whole thing and she was furious. He was depriving his only daughter of the precious memories she’d treasure for the rest of her life! And besides, what would everyone think if they called off the wedding now? Only brides who were “that way” ran off to elope . . . unless there was something that Laureen wasn’t telling her?

So the wedding had gone off as scheduled, minus the doves. Laureen’s father had been firm about that. And Millie had talked about Laureen’s wonderful wedding until the day she died.

“Laureen?” Alan reached out for her hand. He looked very solemn. “Will you promise to be honest if I ask you a question?”

“I promise, Alan.”

“After all that’s happened in our life together, would you marry me again? Knowing what you know now?”

Laureen nodded. “I’d marry you, Alan, anytime you asked me. And you?”

“Absolutely.” Alan smiled at her. “You’re the only one I’ve ever loved.”

Laureen blinked away happy tears. It was true. She knew that. And she’d forgiven him for his affair with Vanessa.

Alan turned back to the album. “Look at this one, honey. You’re raising your skirt to show off your garter and my brother Harry’s leering at your legs. He certainly looks different with all his hair.”

Laureen nodded in agreement, distracted by a terrible twinge of conscience. For one brief moment, she’d almost confessed an affair, too, a long time ago. But it would only hurt Alan if he knew, and she’d vowed to carry her guilty secret to her grave.

Alan turned the page and pointed at them cutting the cake. “They always take this shot, don’t they?”

“It’s a standard.” Laureen pasted on a smile and banished her guilty thoughts. “This is my favorite photo, the one of us feeding each other.”

“I remember that moment.” Alan chuckled and squeezed her hand. “You were so nervous you missed my mouth with the cake.”

“And you gave me such a big piece that I nearly choked.”

They were quiet for a moment, reliving the memories. Laureen was the first to speak. “We were so young and naive back then. Think we’ve learned anything important over the past twenty-two years?”

“That money and success don’t matter nearly as much as we thought they would. We were just as happy in our first efficiency apartment as we are in this big expensive place. And we’ve learned that love can survive all sorts of obstacles.”

“That’s true.”

Alan started to grin. “Of course, I didn’t mention the most important thing we’ve learned since this picture was taken.”

“What’s that, Alan?”

“We’re much better at feeding ourselves.”

Staggering slightly as he got off the elevator, Hal steadied himself with one hand and tried to fit the key into the hole. It was the right kind of lock, but Alan had been telling the truth. He hadn’t given Vanessa a key because this one didn’t fit Alan and Laureen’s door.

“One down, eight to go.” Hal mumbled. He was almost positive Vanessa’s key wouldn’t open Grace and Moira’s door, but he had to try. Still too drunk to make any sort of assumptions, he was having trouble enough just remembering which floor he was on. When he reached the second floor, he was very quiet. Moira might come out and bean him with a hammer or something if she thought he was a burglar. But the key didn’t fit in Moira and Grace’s door, and he dropped it into his pocket again. Two floors down, seven floors to go.

He was out of the elevator before he realized that the third floor was his floor, and that he’d already compared Vanessa’s key to his key. Hal got back into the elevator and resumed what he thought of as his quest. Heroes of ancient times had searched for the Holy Grail, and Excalibur, and the Golden Fleece. His quest for the Unlockable Door wasn’t quite that romantic, but he didn’t have to encounter fire-breathing dragons and armor-plated knights, either.

Hal leaned against the wall for a long time after trying Johnny Day’s lock, wishing he could stretch out on Johnny’s thick green carpeting and close his eyes. It took great resolve to press the button for the fifth floor. The coffee had worn off and that last snifter of brandy was catching up with him.

By the time Hal stepped off, he was seeing double. He weaved his way down the hallway and braced himself against Clayton’s door. Concentration. Hal blinked hard and the two doors he was seeing merged into one. It took several tries, but he finally managed to get the key in the lock and turn it. What happened next almost made him fall on his face. Clayton’s door swung open on its well-oiled hinges.

“Aha!” Hal let out a whoop of pleasure. Now he could go home to bed. If he could get there.

Hal’s legs refused to carry him any longer, and he sat down on the rug with a thump, staring at the darkness inside. What had Vanessa been doing in Clayton’s apartment?

He ran his hand through the thick pile carpeting and frowned, trying to think of a connection. He shut his eyes to concentrate, but before he could draw any conclusion, he passed out cold.

Betty frowned as she stared at the screen. The moment she’d realized that her secret friend was in this movie, she’d pressed the button to record. And then she’d seen that it was another scary movie, the kind she didn’t like. Why had they typecast him in roles like this? He was handsome enough to play a romantic lead, and he might be able to do comedy, too, if they’d only give him a chance.

Even though she knew it was only make-believe, Betty still felt very afraid. The man who drew the funny animals was dead, and her secret friend had killed him. She wasn’t so sure she wanted him to visit her again, not even if he brought her candy.

She remembered a trick that Charles had taught her when they were young and saw the movie about the vampire. She’d wanted to leave. Charles had told her to cover her eyes with her hand and peek out through her fingers and she’d remember it was only a movie.

Betty put her hand over her eyes and peeked through. It worked. This was only a movie on her television set, all pretend. She watched as her secret friend dragged the body into the elevator and the doors closed behind them. Now she had to take her fingers down so she could use the remote control to find the rest of the movie.