"Sheila, wait!"

She didn't. She pushed her way past Audie and ran across the street. Marjorie flew by an instant later, heading down thesidewalk with her briefcase, not responding as Audie called after her.

Audie groaned in exasperation and collapsed onto the building's front steps, dropping her face into herhands.

Was this what it felt like to lose your mind? It wouldn't surprise her if a spaceship suddenly materialized overhead and a little gray man beckoned for her to walk up the ramp.

With every last bit of strength she had, Audie rose to her feet-and came face-to-face with the alien! No, wait. It was Russell. She'd forgotten their appointment.

"You look awful, Audie." Russell peered into her face. "Have you been crying or something?"

She snorted and turned to go up the steps. "Something," she said. "Let's hurry up and get this over with."

"Mind if I smoke?" Audie asked as Russell got settled in his chair.

"Not in the least. Mind if I have a complete mental breakdown?"

His sternly handsome face looked haunted today, but she was going to help the guy out. With this one conversation, she'd put him out of his misery once and for all.

"Did you sign the contract?"

"No, Russell, I did not." Audie stared quizzically at thestray cigarette she found in her desk drawer and threw it in the trash-it didn't even tempt her. She clasped her hands on the desktop. "Look. My life is falling apart right now and I really need to be on my way, so I'm just going to get right to the point. I asked you to come over today because I've decided not to sign it. I don't want to be Homey Helen anymore."

Russell went perfectly still, except for a slight tremor at the left corner of his down-turned mouth. "You're fucking kidding me, right?"

"I've never been more serious about anything in my life. I want out. It's over. I'm not sure exactly what comes next, but please do whatever it is you have to do to sell it. Drew won't be taking over. That I can tell you. Just take care of it, please."

His words came out dreamily. "But we just sent out your new publicity shots. You looked so good with your hair down."

She sighed. "Keep it together, Russell. I've made my decision. I'm going back to my old job."

"You're going to do what?"

"Coach. Teach. I'm going to do what I enjoy-what makes me happy. Uptown has agreed to take me back starting in the winter semester, and I'm putting the Lakeside Pointe condo on themarket. I've already started house-hunting in Wrigleyville."

He began nodding absently and let his eyes scan her office. "You're insane."

"Not anymore, I'm not."

Russell whipped his head around and gave her his best look of disapproval. "So you're going back on your word to your mother?"

This wasn't an unexpected tactic, but Audie couldn't hide the weariness she felt. She was barely holding on to rational thought-all she wanted was to find Quinn. Talk to him. Make him listen.

"My mother is dead, Russ. She's been that way for over a year and I think it's safe to say she doesn't give a crap what I do. The only person I need to answer to is myself."

"But the Banner reception is tomorrow night! The column-"

"I'll go to the party and I'll do the column until the last day I'm obligated, which is October first from what I can tell. Your firm will be compensated for everything related to tying up the loose ends."

"But, Audie-"

She reached for the file folder on top of a teetering stack of newspapers. "Here's the contract, with my letter of resignation attached. Just think, Russ-you won't have to deal with me anymore. Maybe your ulcer will go away."

Russell took the folder from her, staring blankly, then placed it back on her desk. "I'm not doing your dirty work. You can give your resignation to Malcolm yourself." He turned to leave but glanced over his shoulder. "You know, I just can't believe you're throwing all this away-the fame, the TV spots, the money. I don't understand you at all, Audie."

She smiled sadly. "I know you don't, Russ. That's OK."

Russell's eyes suddenly narrowed. "I won't let you do this. I'll find a way to make you stay."

"God, don't go there, all right? Think this through a minute-my mother made you an obscenely rich man, but the party's over. Besides, I was a public relations disaster waiting to happen, and you know it, Russ."

Audie stood up behind her desk to make her point. "How long before somebody found out I don't own a vacuum? That the one year I tried to roast a Thanksgiving turkey I left the plastic bag of giblets inside and the whole thing tasted like a trash can liner? That I wouldn't know silver polish from Polish sausage? So think of this as me doing you a huge favor, and just let it go. Let mego."

Audie saw his face brighten, as if he'd had an epiphany.

"This is your way of getting back at me because I slept with Megan Peterson, isn't it? I apologized for that, Audie. I really did want it to work out between us-I still wish it had."

She was stunned, and it took her a moment to realize she was hearing the sound of her own laughter. Since she really could use a rip-snorter right about then, Audie threw her head back and roared.

Unfortunately, Russell stalked out before she could say good-bye. When she'd stopped laughing, she poked her head out of her office, suddenly remembering that Marjorie was gone. That was bad-because she had no idea why Marjorie had been crying.

Besides, she needed Marjorie's help cleaning up the enormous mess her life had suddenly become.

Who wrote that letter on Tim's desk? Why? How could she convince Quinn to talk to her? Had Tim really been threatening her? What did Drew say or do that upset Marjorie so? And why did he run off like a crazy man?

What the hell was going on?

Well, he'd made a debacle of that, hadn't he? It was the shock of seeing her, he supposed. He hadn't laid eyes on the crone for over a year, since she'd stood stiff as a two-by-four at Helen's funeral, the tears running down her face.

He shouldn't have run off like that. His calves were still cramping from the three-block race from Chestnut Street to theparking garage. He should have stayed there and talked to Audie.

But he had freaked. Confrontation was not his forte. And now he had the creepiest feeling-a premonition almost-a sickening kind of dread that made his mouth dry. Between that and his leg cramps, he was a wreck.

Drew limped over to the bar, made himself a drink, then sat down in his favorite chair and closed his eyes.

When his gaze had locked with Marjorie's, an electric shock sliced through him and the hairs stood up on the back of his neck. She sat behind the big, polished desk like she was a Supreme Court Justice, and the look in her eyes was creepier than he'd ever seen.

She accepted the manuscript calmly. She didn't even seem surprised. The only thing she said was, "Good title."

As he looked down at her cold expression, he had a brief wild thought that Marjorie was the one sending those threats to Audie. It was in her eyes.

But then he'd shaken off the idea. He was the one Marjorie hated, not his sister. The disgust in Marjorie's eyes was for him, not Audie. Audie had never done anything to Marjorie. Marjorie protected Audie. Marjorie loved Audie.

Didn't she?

Drew propped his drink on the armrest and blinked into the growing darkness.

What did he know about his sister's relationship with Marjorie? What did he know about his sister, period? When was the last time he'd really talked with her, really listened to her?

He couldn't remember.