We stood in silence. To fill the void, I asked, “I guess this means you two aren’t filing for divorce?”

He smiled tightly. “She told you about the divorce?”

“She mentioned it.”

He exhaled heavily again. “Let’s just say I’m determined to change her mind.”

I studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Well, good luck with it.”

He laughed. “Thanks, I’ll need it.”

That might’ve been the first time I ever heard Martin laugh. A small miracle.

Bemused, I walked away from the elevator. That was weird, I thought. But good, I guess. I’d actually seen a glimmer of the nice guy Helen had always said he could be.

I walked into the restaurant and found my parents and Robin eating fresh fruit and oatmeal.

“What’s with the oatmeal?” I asked Robin as I sat. She never ate oatmeal, and I was in the mood for French toast and bacon.

“It’s good for me,” she mumbled.

“Since when?”

“Since your mother swears by it.”

I frowned at Mom. “You do?”

She nodded resolutely. “Robin needs more fiber.”

Robin smiled weakly. “I seem to be experiencing psychic energy interference.”

Glancing back at Mom, I said, “That’s not another euphemism for the colon thing, is it?”

She pressed her hands together in a prayer pose. “All is connected,” she said, evading the question. Which I guess meant, yeah, it all came back to the colon thing.

I turned back to Robin. “Are you sure you don’t just have a hangover?”

She yawned. “Probably. I was up kind of late.”

I sighed. “Okay, I’ll have the oatmeal.”

“Solidarity,” Robin whispered, and held out her fist to bump mine.

“Tomorrow, we’re starting a juice fast,” Mom said. “Then we’ll join the screaming prayer circle that meets at sunrise on the Salisbury Crags. Are you in?”

I coughed. “ Sunrise?”

“Absolutely,” Mom said. “That’s when the core fire of enlightenment is most rampant.”

“But that’s, like, in the morning.”

“Exactly.”

“No, thanks.”

“Your father will be there.”

“Really?” I turned to him. “Dad, are you going on a juice fast?”

“Sure,” Dad said, spearing a thick piece of bacon. “If cabernet is considered juice, I’m there.”

They didn’t seem to be suffering any lingering effects from the alcohol they’d consumed last night. Maybe there was something to the whole colon thing, after all.

I shivered as I remembered Mom’s statement from the night before. On second thought, I was going to forget I ever had that thought.

After breakfast, as we waited for the valet to bring the minivan around, a taxicab pulled up and Helen climbed out of the back, carrying three Jaeger shopping bags. She paid the driver, then rushed over to Mom and gave her a big hug.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in days,” she said, then laughed. “It’s crazy how life can change in a day.”

“It’s so funny you should say so,” I said as I pulled her away from the family and walked with her toward the wide sliding doors of the hotel. “Because I rode down in the elevator with Martin a little while ago.”

Her smile wobbled. “Oh, dear. Should I apologize?”

I frowned, then shook my head and chuckled. “No, strangely enough, he took care of that.”

“What do you mean?”

“He apologized to me,” I said.

Her eyes widened. “That’s weird.”

“I know.” I laughed. “But he did. He was actually nice about it, said he’s determined to talk you out of the divorce and make your relationship work. And he wants us to try to be friends.”

She tensed up. “He mentioned the divorce?”

“Just that he wants to change your mind about it.”

“And what did you say?”

“I wished him luck.” I frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She breathed again. “I’m just surprised he approached you.”

“It couldn’t be avoided. We were stuck in the elevator together.”

She smiled. “At least he made the effort.”

I studied her. “Helen, are you going to go back to him?”

“I don’t know,” she said, waving her hands in frustration. “I’m so confused. He’s been on his best behavior. I should go find him.” She checked her watch. “Phooey. I think he just started a two-hour meeting.”

“If you’ve got two hours to kill, why don’t you come with us to Rosslyn Chapel?”

“Is that where you’re all going?”

“Yes.”

“It sounds like fun,” she said hesitantly.

“Fun and educational.”

She laughed. “I’d love to. I’ll give my bags to the bellman.”

“I’ll go with you.”

We checked her shopping bags and walked across the lobby. I hesitated, then finally asked what I’d wanted to know for days. “So, Helen, what about the thing with Kyle?”

“For goodness’ sake, Brooklyn, he was married.” She shook her head in distress. “What was I thinking? My feelings for him were obviously one-sided.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said lamely, having been there, done that. “He was an adorable cad.”

“I suppose so, but I completely deluded myself.”

“You thought he was in love with you.”

“Yes, and how pathetic does that sound?” she said, clutching my arm as we walked over to the valet station. “I’ve had to do some serious soul-searching in the past day or so. Was I really in love or was Kyle just the excuse I needed to leave Martin? Was I looking for another guy to take care of me? Am I that helpless? What do I really want? Martin and I had a good relationship in the beginning. Do I want to throw that away?”

“That’s a lot of questions.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Give yourself a break. You don’t have to do anything right this minute.”

She pursed her lips in thought, then nodded in agreement. “You’re right. I’m just going to enjoy the ride for now.”

“Great.”

“It feels good to talk to you about this. I’ve been so conflicted.”

“I’m always here for you,” I said, hugging her. Not that I could help much, because let’s face it, I was the last woman on earth to be writing the advice-to-the-lovelorn column. Never seemed to stop me, though.

The minivan had finally arrived from the parking garage and Robin was already at the wheel. Mom had the front passenger seat, so Helen and I climbed in the back with Dad.

“Helen’s coming with us,” I said, stating the obvious.

“Wonderful,” Mom said.

“Super,” Dad said, sliding over. “Buckle up, everyone.”

“The concierge gave me directions for a scenic route, so let’s hope we don’t get lost.” With that warning, Robin drove south out of the city down a busy two-lane highway. After a few miles, suburbia turned to rural farm-land, with mown fields and low hedges. In one field, six large haystacks were piled in a neat row.

“It looks like a van Gogh painting,” Mom said with a sigh. “I want to get a picture of that on the way home.”

After twenty minutes, Robin turned onto a slightly hilly, residential street and followed it until the road ended in a wide, well-paved parking lot. As she pulled into a space, the car lurched forward and she pumped the brakes a few times.

“Everything okay?” Mom asked.

“I’m just not used to the brakes,” Robin said with a shrug. “British cars take some getting used to.”

I looked around at the smoothly paved surfaces and shiny brick wall surrounding a new visitors’ center. “They’ve upgraded this whole area.”

Robin nodded. “I’ll say. It used to be a dirt lot.”

Hollywood crews had invaded Rosslyn Chapel a few years back to film one of the climactic scenes in The Da Vinci Code. I’d heard that the producers had paid Rosslyn Chapel a potful of money to upgrade the place. It was a good thing, since the book and film had been responsible for bringing thousands of thundering hordes of tourists to the small, fragile chapel, disrupting the neighborhood and challenging the Rosslyn estate to take drastic measures before the church was completely destroyed.

A semipermanent canopy and scaffolding covered the ancient roof and sides, protecting the chapel from the rain that seeped into the walls and softened the stone.