"Hey." Jedd Conley in his business suit, hands in his pockets, projecting-for him-an unusual reticence. "Is this a bad time?"

"It's a bit of a surprising time. But no. I mean, it's okay." She pointed out behind him. "Is that your car? You'll get a ticket, parked there."

But Conley shook his head. "Legislative plates. Not automatic, but most cops recognize them and cut some slack. I think I'll be safe."

"So what can I do for you? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." A quick, nervous smile. "Slightly uptight, maybe."

"You want to come in?"

"That'd be nice. Thanks."

She stepped back, opening the door, letting him in. "So what are you uptight about?"

"Life. My work. The usual. I don't know why I said that, though, why that came out." He let out a breath, tried another smile that didn't quite succeed. "I'm fine."

"Okay, good, then that's settled. Can I get you a drink? I've got a little of everything."

"Some scotch wouldn't be bad."

"It never is. Maybe I'll join you." She was moving behind the bar. "Have a seat somewhere. Is Oban okay?" "Oban would be perfect." "Perfection is my goal," she said. "Ice?" "In a single malt? Surely you jest."

She shrugged. "Some do. Though for the record, I don't either." She had her special glasses out on top of the bar, filling them about halfway, a good couple of shots each, and carried them over to where he was sitting on the couch facing the fireplace. "Public health notice," she said, "leaded crystal. Drinking from these glasses could cause health problems and may impair your ability to operate heavy machinery."

"God forbid," Conley said. "I think I'll risk it."

"Brave man." She handed him his drink.

Holding the glass up, checking the generous pour with obvious satisfaction, he clinked her glass. "A woman after my own heart." Drinking a little, he settled back. "Thank you. I'm happy to inform you that you've attained your goal."

"My goal?"

"Perfection."

"Well," she said, surprised at the flush she felt rising in her face, "my pleasure."

When she'd finished with Stuart's folder, she'd tossed it onto the coffee table; she hadn't really noticed, but the picture of all the pals from the Bitterroot camping trip had slid out most of the way. Now Jedd picked it up, turned it over. "This has to do with Stuart's case somehow?"

"I don't know," she said, "probably not." She explained about the threatening e-mails, and Stuart's contention that the picture proved he hadn't sent them to himself, since he'd had no access to a computer.

"Or anything else," Jedd said. "But don't get me wrong, it was a great trip. At least till the ride home."

"What happened on the ride home?"

"My damn car threw a rod. Cost me two grand. I didn't feel right about asking my fellow campers to chip in, but they could have offered. It put a slight pall on my memory of the trip. But still"-he put the picture back into the folder-"I guess it was worth it. Getting away is always worth it."

"Yes it is." Gina by now was seated at the far end of the couch, and she turned to him. "So what can I do for you, Jedd?"

"I don't know, really. I was out at one of Horace's endless events tonight just over at the Fairmont-you know Horace Tremont?"

"Not personally, but of course."

"You know he's my father-in-law?"

"I remember reading about all that when you got married. Your wife is Lexi, right?"

"Right. The lovely Lexi." He smiled, but his inflection put an ironic spin on the words. "Anyway, it seems that Horace and some other of his kingmaker friends wanted to feel out my interest in running for the Senate."

"The U.S. Senate? Would you want that?"

He shrugged, at least feigning nonchalance. "It's something to think about. I'll be termed out next year in the Assembly. I'm going to want to do something. I don't know, it might be fun. We'll see. It's a long way off. Anyway," he continued, "when the meeting broke up, I got to wondering how things had gone after you talked with Stuart. Since I was so close to you up here, I took a chance and drove by and saw the light on and thought you might be up."

"I'm surprised you knew I still lived here."

He shrugged, smiled. "Tell you the truth, I wasn't a hundred percent sure until I saw your name in the mail slot. But I don't think I could have imagined you anywhere else. The place looks great, by the way. Terrific furniture. Cool art. I don't even remember the bar."

"That's because it wasn't here the last time you were. I remodeled about ten years ago, then added some stuff for David, even though we spent most of our time together at his place."

"Well, you always had great taste. It's beautiful." He raised his glass, toasted her and drank a sip. "So," he said. "Stuart. How'd it go?"

Relieved to turn away from the personal stuff about herself, Gina took a sip of the scotch. She felt herself begin to relax. "Finally, okay. It took the phone call, then a trip down to San Mateo and a lot of convincing, but he's coming in and giving himself up tomorrow, ten o'clock. Very reluctantly, I might add. But he'll show."

"You must have been persuasive as hell. When I talked to him, he wasn't spending any time in jail, period."

"Well, he's not that much better, but I got him to go along."

"How'd you do that?"

Gina smiled. "My usual. Equal parts charm, guile and threats. I made him an offer he couldn't refuse."

Conley enjoyed the phrase. "I thought he was a grieving widower."

"Not that kind of an offer, Jedd." She lifted her legs up onto the couch and tucked them under her. "So the Senate thing? Is that what you're uptight about?"

Conley paused, threw her a direct look. "You don't let much get by you, do you?"

"You'd be surprised. You said it was work and life. Running for the Senate seemed to qualify."

"Well." He sipped his drink. "Sometimes the profile is difficult to manage, that's all. It gets inside you." Apparently making up his mind to tell her about it, he went on. "As for uptight, I had to let go my assistant today and if history's any judge, she's going to slap me with some kind of bullshit lawsuit, when the plain truth is the woman was just incompetent and couldn't do the job. But you fire anybody nowadays, you become the bad guy. You know this. Hell, everybody knows it, and still it goes on." He sighed in frustration. "Anyway, it's done now. I'm just hoping I documented everything correctly. We'll see what happens." "Well, if you need a lawyer…"

He chortled quietly. "I'll keep you in mind, thanks. Maybe she won't do anything. Because God knows I made sure I never did anything even remotely suggestive around her. If there's one thing I've learned in life, if you're going to mess around, you don't dip your pen in the company inkwell. If you choose to mess around at all, that is." He drank off some more of his scotch.

A silence, pregnant with their mutual history, gathered in the spaces between the low-volume tinkle of piano music from Gina's radio.

Jedd finally looked down the length of the couch at her. "You know, Gina, I said it the other day when you came to the Travelodge, and I meant it then, but I'll say it again. You haven't aged a day in twenty years."

"Not true," she said, "I've aged about twenty years, and I feel every one of them."

"Well, you don't show them. No makeup, hair still wet… and look at you right now. You're just incredible."

She gave him a long and piercing look. A smile tickled the corners of her mouth, and then slowly she shook her head from side to side. "I don't think so, Jedd. Nice try, but it wouldn't be a good idea."

"It was never a bad idea with us. If memory serves, and it does."

"Yes, it does. But it would be now. A bad idea."

"Why? What would be different?"

"You being married, for one thing."