Quinn gave her a small smile. "Try me, OK, Homey?"

The beer felt cool going down her throat, and Audie looked out over the water for a while. They were heading south, being nudged along by a nice steady breeze near the shoreline. To the right was one grand home after another, made of stone and brick or wood, surrounded by huge, heavy summer trees and tidy grounds. This back view of the North Shore castles of Winnetka. Wilmette, and Evanston was one she knew by heart.

"It was a big house, right?" Audie kept her eyes on the shore, watching the homes float by. "Everyone went to their own corners-you didn't have to see anyone else if you didn't want to. When Dad was home, he went to his den. I went to my room or down to the boathouse. Drew usually just left altogether. And Helen worked with Marjorie in the home office."

" Not Chestnut Street?"

"No. She didn't buy the building until I was in high school, so they wrote the column from the house for many years."

Quinn nodded slightly, trying to imagine what it would have been like to have so much room for so few people-the opposite of his experience as a kid. "Go ahead. I'm listening."

Audie sighed. "It wasn't so much that we didn't like each other-we just didn't know each other." She leveled her gaze and stared hard at him. "That's the part I don't think you'll get-how a family can be strangers the way we were. I think my dad and I were the closest, but that's not saying much, and he died when I was fifteen. My mother and I… "

Audie shrugged and looked up to the telltale fluttering against the jib. She adjusted the wheel a bit until the tiny streak of red cloth flew straight and smooth against the canvas. "Helen and I never really understood each other. I'm a lot like my dad, and that seemed to bother her to no end. She was always busy or traveling and didn't have much time for me. I think she was glad of that."

Quinn looked down at his hands and remained silent.

"Marjorie and Mrs. Splawinski were the ones who pulled me through." Audie flashed a grin. "For as long as I can remember, they were more my mother than Helen. I went to Mrs. Splawinski when I was bummed out, and she'd sit and speak Polish to me and feed me brownies. I didn't understood half of what she said, but God, she makes awesome brownies."

Quinn chuckled. "So Stanny-O tells me."

"And I went to Marjorie when I was in trouble and needed a plan. She covered for me when I came home drunk after my junior prom. She took my side in the whole Griffin fiasco."

Quinn's head jerked up. " Griffin fiasco?"

Audie sighed. "Helen nearly croaked when I brought Griffin home with me. You might have noticed that he's a black man."

Quinn grinned. "And a real snappy dresser. So what happened?"

"Oh, it was hell, basically. Helen would barely speak to me and threatened to cut off my inheritance if I didn't break up with him, all worried about maintaining her position in society. It was ugly. She was ugly. The funny thing is, I know now that Griffin and I hung on much longer than we should have-we make much better friends than lovers-but we did it to spite her." Audie scrunched up her face at the memory. "It wasn't a very mature thing for me to do."

The amusement showed in Quinn's eyes.

"I think that's why I started smoking, too. Just to piss off Helen."

"You smoked?" He looked shocked.

"Yeah. Just a few a day, but I'm pretty much over them now. I noticed smoking was affecting my lung capacity on the soccer field, that and getting older."

Quinn cocked his head and appraised her openly. "You do look downright elderly, Audie."

"Thanks."

"So you were talking about Marjorie and Griffin."

"Marjorie stuck with me. She told me to follow my heart, fight for what I wanted, that sort of thing. She played go-between for Mother and me. She was wonderful. She did the same when I was dating Tim Burke."

Quinn sat quietly for a moment, and Audie watched his mouth pull into a grimace.

"You started dating Tim in late March last year, and your mother was killed in late April. You were dating Tim when your mother died. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"And your mother didn't like Timmy, either?"

Audie saw where this was headed and smiled sadly. "No, she didn't particularly like him, and yes, the reason was because he was Catholic."

Quinn's expression remained quite grim. "And did Tim know how she felt?"

"Yes. I mentioned it."

"Did they ever argue or have words?"

"What? No. Of course not. They knew each other from city functions, but I don't know if they ever said more than two sentences to each other."

They sailed on for several moments in silence, Quinn lost in his own thoughts, staring at his hands, then staring out over the water. Audie watched him, wondering where he would go next in his questions, fascinated with Quinn the detective as much as she was with Quinn the man.

"Did Marjorie live with you?"

Audie laughed a little. "No, but she and Helen were so involved in the column that she was there a lot. I never understood why Marjorie never got married-she's such a great woman, smart and funny and adventurous. Did you know she went climbing in the Himalayas about ten years ago? But she only had the poodle."

"A fine animal indeed."

"Oh, there were more than one, Quinn! She went through a bunch of them. As soon as one died, she got another, and they all had men's names."

Audie laughed to herself and checked the boat's trajectory and speed. "Let's see if I can remember them all-Bill, Ted, Frank. I think the one she's got right now is named Mark."

Quinn chuckled, too. "Her husbands?"

"Exactly!" He watched Audie's eyes sparkle in delight. "Marjorie and her gentleman poodles kept Drew in joke material his whole life, believe me. Still do."

"So what's your relationship like with Marjorie now?"

Audie smiled a little and shrugged. "She's my rock, both at work and personally. She does my research, writes the columns, deals with readers, runs the office. Plus, she knows me better than just about anyone, and is always willing to listen when I bitch and moan. She keeps me sane."

Quinn leaned closer and studied her face, wondering if she was going to cry or yell at him when he asked her this: "If she does all that, then what's left for you to do, Audie?"

She didn't cry or yell. Audie took a long sip of beer and chuckled.

"That's a very good question, Detective." She waved her hand dramatically up to the sky and projected her voice. "I pretend I'm Homey Helen, of course! I'm an actress-star of print, stage, and TV screen, all pink and cute and perky and… oh, hell… what a joke." Her hand fell down in her lap and she shook her head slowly. "I'm a joke, Quinn."

"Your fans love you."

"They love Homey Helen. They don't love me."

"Then what are you going to do about it?"

Audie stared at Quinn as if he'd just fallen from the sky and landed in the cockpit next to her. "Do?"

"That's right. What would you rather be doing with your life, Audie? I'm thinking more anger management classes, maybe."

Quinn realized that when she laughed the way she was doing right now, all throaty and loud, it sent ripples across his skin. Ripples of pleasure. Her laugh gave him an amazing amount of pleasure.

"Well, you're thinking right, Detective." She took another sip of her beer. "I'd love my old job back. I'd like to coach again."

"Then why don't you?"

"Because of the promise I gave my mother."

"The promise you gave a woman who didn't love you?"

Audie said nothing for a very long time, realizing that Quinn did indeed have half a brain and it worked just fine.

She took comfort in the soft rocking of the boat, the wind, and the silence around her. As aggravating as he was, she was glad Quinn was here. There was something about the man-his no-nonsense conversation, his rock-solid physical presence-that made her feel good.