Isabel’s throat tightened, then she shook off the sadness. No sadness today, no. For the first time in a long time, her house was filled with people. Friendly people who showed in every single way that they liked her. She was feeding people, which she loved doing. And they were almost pathetically grateful for the food.

The sun had broken through the clouds and though from the outside nothing was visible, the bright light streamed into her living room and kitchen.

“Let’s have tea in the kitchen,” she said.

“Yes!” Lauren gave a little shiver of excitement. “I like you already, Isabel, but I’ve heard such great things about your cooking! I can’t wait!” She frowned. “You’ll feed us, right? I had a light lunch to leave room.”

Isabel laughed. “Yes, I’m going to feed you. Later. But for now, I baked apple tarts and I made some panna cotta.”

“Sounds great.” Felicity linked arms with her. “I don’t know what panna cotta is. I’m Russian by blood and we don’t do good food. We brood. And I don’t know how to cook, so anything that isn’t poison is okay by me. But Metal says that your food is magic, and I am so up for this.”

So was Isabel. She had laid a nice table at the breakfast nook. A lace tablecloth, her best china—a Limoges set her mother had bought as her graduation present—a small bouquet of wildflowers in a Rosenthal vase. Two pillar candles to be lit when it got darker. By a happy chance, the afternoon sun streamed in through the windows and bathed the table in a warm glow.

All three women stopped.

“Oh my,” Felicity said. “How lovely.”

“Can I come over some afternoon and sketch your table?” Lauren was looking at the scene with her head cocked, studying it. Joe had told her Lauren was a gifted watercolorist.

“Of course,” Isabel answered. “I can make cherry tarts, they’re really colorful.”

“Don’t you dare not ask me,” Felicity said in a mock serious tone. She put her arm around Isabel and gently squeezed.

“Of course not.” Isabel hooked her arm around Felicity’s waist for a second. The kettle whistled. “Okay, tea will be ready in a minute.”

She had a special Lady Grey blend with orange peel that she ordered specially from London. Felicity and Lauren loved it. Loved the apple tarts. When Felicity put a spoonful of the panna cotta in her mouth she closed her eyes in delight.

“My new favorite sweet.”

“They’re all your favorites,” Lauren objected.

“True, true. I am a dessert slut,” Felicity cheerfully replied. “So.” She put down her spoon and turned to Isabel. “Joe.”

Isabel blinked. “Joe?”

Felicity and Lauren both leaned forward. “As in you’re sleeping with Joe,” Felicity said.

Lauren elbowed Felicity and rolled her eyes. “You’ll have to forgive Felicity. She spends most of her time with computers and nerds. Luckily Metal is teaching her how to be human. What she meant to say was that you and Joe are...together?” She said that last word delicately.

“You mean are we sleeping together,” Isabel said, amused.

“Exactly!” Felicity smiled in triumph at Lauren. “So, we want to know your intentions.”

Isabel’s eyebrows rose. “My intentions?”

“Yes.” Lauren took over. They’d planned this in advance. They were playing off each other. “We want to know how serious you are about Joe. Because Joe’s a good guy. And, in the eyes of many, you could be considered...well, out of his league.”

Isabel thought about being angry. This was a major intrusion into her personal life, by two people she barely knew. At any other moment she’d have interrupted this, stood up and ushered the two women out.

But...

They cared for Joe. It was clear in their faces. They weren’t curious about her and Joe, they were worried. Worried that she’d break his heart.

Isabel had grown up in a world where people cared about each other. Her family had never been reticent about intruding into each other’s lives because it was done out of love. Right now, there wasn’t anyone who cared enough about her to intrude, to be nosy, to nudge her this way or that.

She’d lived with nosy loving people and she’d lived in an emotional void. She knew which one she preferred.

“Okay.” Isabel clasped her hands. “Let’s look at the facts, here. Joe is a former Navy SEAL. I don’t know much about that but I do know it is not easy to become a SEAL and they do hard, dangerous, necessary jobs. I know he was grievously wounded in the service of his country. I know he has a close-knit group of friends who love him and respect him and are helping him. I know that when I moved here three months ago, we were both physical wrecks. Only, Joe had the willpower to make himself over. I haven’t. I don’t have one-tenth of Joe’s determination. So—” Isabel lifted her hands, making them scales. The right hand tipped way up. “On this side we have Joe Harris, valiant warrior, highly self-disciplined, who is upset because he is on his company’s payroll without being able to do the work yet. He hates that. Further, since the day I moved in, he’s done nothing but help me.”

“And he’s a demon in bed,” Felicity added.

Isabel nodded and lifted her right hand higher. “And, yes, he is a god in bed.”

Both women sighed and leaned back in their chairs.

Isabel glanced at her left hand, way down. “So now let’s look at me. The one who is supposedly out of his league. I’m twenty eight years old and I’m jobless. I have a talent for cooking, yes, but I haven’t trained as a chef. I was blown up six months ago and I haven’t put myself back together again at all, as Joe has done. I haven’t got my strength back, I have dizzy spells. Sometimes I am afraid to go out for walks because I don’t know if I’ll make it back.”

She looked Felicity and Lauren in the eyes. Their faces were now sober as they listened to her.

“I have nightmares. Every night. Last night, thanks to Joe, was the first time I didn’t have a nightmare, but believe me, sleeping with someone who wakes up terrified isn’t fun. I don’t know if I’ll ever be physically fit again. I lost my entire family and that’s left a huge black hole punched in my chest and I can’t be sure I’ll ever be emotionally whole again. I miss my family every second of every day and I grieve for them. How attractive is that? To have a woman who isn’t emotionally stable. Oh, and money. Everyone thinks I’m rich because I am a Delvaux, but I’m not. Our family was well-off, sure. But Dad put all the family assets in a blind trust when he decided to be a candidate. That blind trust was the Solem Group.”

Both of them gasped and Isabel gave a sharp nod. The Solem Group had gone bankrupt two days after the Massacre, destroying thousands of family fortunes, including hers.

“I was left with huge debts. I sold off our house, paid the debts and was left with enough to buy this place, but not much more. My savings will run out in a few months, and whether I’m physically fit or not, I’m going to have to look for a job.”

She leaned forward and they did too. “After the Massacre, my life became a nightmare. The last of the Delvauxes, this wretched creature. I couldn’t go out of the house without being accosted. There wasn’t a tabloid that didn’t catch me looking like a ghost. That was too much for my friends, who didn’t want the Delvaux bad luck to jinx them. And of course, the kicker. I was dead broke. Even if I wanted to go out to dinner, to go to the Hamptons or Aruba, go clubbing, I couldn’t. I didn’t want to but my so-called friends assumed I couldn’t afford to. A grieving, suffering woman who is also dead broke—who wants that?”

Isabel looked at her hands forming the scale. Joe up high, Isabel down low.

“So, ladies, if anything, Joe is out of my league. A strong and vibrant man, attractive and with a good job waiting for him. Surrounded by loving friends. And me. Alone and broke and not in good health. I wonder what he wants with me? Because he could sure do better.”