In the evenings after Mrs. Splawinski caught the El for home, Drew thought it got far too quiet in the Sheridan Road house.

Not that he missed his wife-any of them, for that matter. In fact, he recalled quite well that while they were with him, he simply couldn't wait for them to leave.

Drew knew he was funny that way-he didn't necessarily like being alone, but he didn't know how to deal with people who claimed they cared for him, even loved him.

Well, Lord, with his childhood it was no wonder. His sister was the same way, God love her.

Drew made himself another drink, this time with double lime. He needed the vitamin C. He knew a man could not live on Tanqueray and tonic water alone, though he'd certainly been giving it his best college try.

He took the drink to the window and stared out.

He hoped to God that Audie had rebounded from the momentary loss of sanity that made her throw herself at that Chicago cop. Drew shuddered, remembering them down there on the dock under the lights, going at each other like hormonal eighth-graders.

How vile.

But that was several days ago, and he knew all too well that an Adams love affair could hit the wall and burst into flame in that amount of time.

His guess was that Audie had already been scared off by the street thug's ardor and had demanded another detective on the case. That would be like her.

Drew turned away from the windows and returned to the computer desk. He placed the drink near the mouse pad, within easy reach.

He had no idea why he'd started writing these diatribes. Perhaps it was just the right time. Perhaps he simply couldn't keep all the garbage inside anymore.

Sometimes he surprised himself with the quality of his writing. He knew he had a wicked sense of humor-he could bring the yacht clubbers to tears with his cutting commentary on modern life and human foibles. In fact, his sense of humor was perhaps his only redeeming personality trait. Thank God he was finally doing something constructive with his talents.

Drew took a nice long drink and created a new document file on the computer screen.

The most important thing to keep in mind was that she would eventually read this, and it had to be so good that it would shock her, devastate her, terrify her. God, he hated her.

Honestly, he wished she were dead.

As they trolled for a parking spot along the Beverly side streets, Audie suddenly changed her mind. She was no longer annoyed that Quinn had spent the entire drive trying to explain who would be here today and how they were related and/or connected to his family.

She was glad. Because the street was packed. She could already hear the noise-the music, the loud voices, the sounds of kids screeching.

If only she'd taken notes. If only Marjorie could have come along to create one of her helpful computer-generated charts. Because without notes or a chart, there was no way Audie was going to remember any of this. Despite Quinn's efforts, she was doomed.

They finally found a spot on Campbell Avenue, and the moment Audie got out of Quinn's light blue Ford Crown Victoria, she noticed it was just one among many unmarked police cars.

She took a deep breath and joined Quinn in the middle of the street. He reached for her hand and they walked south for a couple of blocks.

"Welcome to the family manse," he said, nodding toward a simple two-story yellow brick house shaded by a large catalpa tree.

The Quinn home had dark green shutters, a small concrete stoop, and neatly trimmed hedges and grass-nothing frilly, just tidy and clean.

Audie wondered if it had looked different when Quinn's mother was alive, whether she put little pots of geraniums on the steps or hung a pretty wreath on the door. She wondered what she'd been like.

"Da's not much of a gardener," Quinn said. "When Ma was alive, she always put flowers in the window boxes."

Not for the first time, Audie wondered if the guy could hear her thoughts. Stanny-O had said Quinn was a careful listener, after all.

They turned down the shaded walkway along the side of the house and moved toward the back gate. Audie squeezed Quinn's hand tightly when she got a glimpse of the small backyard packed with people.

"They don't bite, Audie," he said gently. "Well, maybe Michael, but he says he's up-to-date on his shots."

She tried to smile.

"They're going to love you."

As he reached for the latch, Audie noticed a large hand-painted plaque wired to the gate. The words had to be Gaelic, because she had no idea what they meant.

She pointed and cocked her head and Quinn smiled broadly.

"Cead mile failte." The words fell off his tongue like a lover's whisper, and Audie was stunned by the beauty of his voice. "One hundred thousand welcomes."

Quinn leaned toward her and placed his hand on the small of her back while planting a friendly kiss on her cheek. "Ready to party, Homey?"

"Ready, Stacey."

The first person to see them at the gate was Quinn's brother the priest. Well, it was probably best to get the most awkward one over with first, Audie thought to herself.

On the drive down, she'd confided to Quinn that she had no earthly idea what to say to a Catholic priest-she'd never met one in her life. Was she allowed to say the word hell? How about damn? What if she accidentally used God's name in vain and Pat heard her? Did he know she wasn't Catholic? Did he know she wasn't really anything?

Quinn had chuckled at her nervousness. "Don't sweat it, Homey. Pat's a regular guy, all right? He's been a priest for six years, but he's been my brother for thirty-one, and that's who he'll be today."

As Audie watched Patrick stride toward the gate-all smile and sparkling eyes-she knew, of course, that Quinn was right. That man was definitely his brother. He just happened to be dressed in a short-sleeved black dress shirt and a white priest's collar.

"Audie?" He opened the gate. "It's great to meet you. I'm Pat."

She felt herself exhale in relief as he shook her hand. His eyes were strikingly similar to Quinn's but softer, and his hand was warm and firm, and he just kept smiling at her.

The next person to see them was Michael-a stocky guy in a T-shirt that read: "Will Golf for Food." His smile was huge and his piercing light blue eyes danced with laughter.

"And you must be Audie!" He took her hand and leaned down to kiss it, grinning at Quinn the whole time.

Before Audie could respond, the horde descended on them. Within seconds, she and Quinn were pressed into the middle of a mob of faces and a little girl was hanging on Audie's left leg and there were hands to shake and names to repeat and laughing-so much loud laughing it made her head spin.

Before she could catch her breath, the sea parted and she was scooped up into the arms of a man-definitely not the one she came with. She felt his deep voice and rowdy laugh rumble from inside his chest as her face was squished against his polo shirt, her lungs nearly collapsing from the force of his embrace.

When he held her out in front of him, she saw Jamie Quinn.

"It's grand that you could make it, Audie. We've heard so much about you."

And apparently, that was all it took to fit in at a party at the Quinns'. And as Jamie brought his arm protectively around her shoulder and guided her into the yard, she felt welcomed-one hundred thousand times over.

She felt right at home.

"Get your own girl, Da," she heard Quinn say from the other side of his father's bulk. "This one's mine."