Drew sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He'd been a real ass the day she'd come to ask about the boat. He remembered how she stood there in the library, looking scared and confused, asking him if he wrote the threats to get at the Homey Helen assets.

He let loose with a nervous laugh, feeling the dark room begin to close in around him. Jesus Christ, even his sister didn't like or trust him! Right then, Drew realized that he'd never felt more wretchedly alone in his whole life.

And that was saying something.

Drew drained his drink and picked up the phone. When Audie greeted him with surprise and a touch of fear, it broke what little remained of his heart.

"Audie, we need to talk."

On the evening of September 22, Audie found herself in the grand ballroom of the Drake Hotel, surrounded by gold filigreed columns, lemon-yellow walls, tuxedos, and sparkling crystal chandeliers.

So much for being chopped into itty-bitty pieces and shoved inside freezerbags, she thought. Her body was one big miserable chunk of living flesh tonight, on display in a strapless port wine gown Marjorie had selected for the occasion.

At least it wasn't pink.

But so what if her body was in one piece? Her heart was bashed to smithereens. She was so sad that her skin felt sore to the touch. Her head ached. Her feet hurt inside a pair of beaded red evening shoes. She felt like she was going to cry again.

Audie wandered toward the open bar across the room, glad that she'd let Drew escort her tonight and wishing he'd hurry back. That morning, she'd gone for a sail-alone with her brother, out on the water, for hour after hour.

She couldn't remember the last time they'd talked like that. Probably because they never had. It was like going on a blind date-they had to start from scratch. There were so many surprises, yet she sensed that Drew was slowly working himself up to something big-something that was horribly painful for him. She promised him that when he was ready, she'd listen.

Thebiggest shock of all came when he told her he'd always wanted to do the Homey Helen column. She thought she'd heard wrong, and then when he repeated it, the two of them nearly died from the laughter. At some point it disintegrated into plain old crying-crying for their mother, their father, for everything they could never get back.

At one point Drew made this observation: "We probably should have talked a long time ago."

"Yeah," Audie said. "That might have been good."

Now what was taking him so long? She'd asked him to run to the office to get her letter of resignation, which she'd forgotten to bring along. Their plan was to talk with Malcolm together, but if Drew didn't hurry, she might have to face Malcolm without him.

Besides, the truth was that without Drew at her side, she felt quite alone and out of place in this sea of people. All she wanted was to tie up loose ends and escape without too much drama. Then she could go home and get out of this dress and get on with her life.

A life without Homey Helen.

A life without Quinn.

"What kind of beer you got?"

"Beer?" The young bartender looked shocked.

"Yes. B-e-e-r." Audie rolled her eyes and nearly said out loud, "What? Can't a woman in a strapless red gown have a beer?"

"On tap, we've got Killian's, Beck's, and Old Style. In bottles we've got Heineken and Sam Adams."

"Killian's, please."

She took her beer and wandered out into the press of beautiful people. The Banner's annual fall fling was always a predictably elegant and stuffy affair, and Malcolm spared no expense in entertaining his staff writers and syndicated columnists. With a small smile, she realized it was an exclusive club she was honored to un-join.

She looked around at the opulence and only half-listened to the din of laughter and chatter. After tonight, there'd be no more of this, she knew-Homey Helen was going to be history, and Autumn Adams was just going to be herself.

She lifted her glass and whispered a private toast. "Here's to the first day of Autumn."

How else could she celebrate her freedom? Drew already had said she was welcome to sail every day she wanted until the end of the season. She'd join her winter indoor women's soccer league, as usual. Maybe she'd look into taking a few continuing ed classes at the Learning Annex-cooking, gardening… bagpipes?

She shook her head so hard that her French twist came de-Frenched, and she tried to fix it with one hand. Then she groaned out loud. How many hours had it been since Quinn had made her laugh? Since she'd seen his eyes? Since she'd been thoroughly ravaged? She groaned again.

The strangest part of this whole miserable mess was that every time she thought of Quinn, she smiled. She felt it happening again-the tiniest smile was turning up her lips. Maybe it was just the residue of bliss-his gift to her. She headed back to the bar.

"Another Killian's, please."

"Did you drop it?" The bartender looked young enough to be a college kid, but he was quite cute in his tuxedo, and his smile was big and devilish.

"I chugged it, babe." She took the glass, tilted back her head, drained it, and set it down on the bar with a thud. Then she belched demurely.

"Excuse me."

The young man's face went slack. "Dude! Aren't you Homey Helen?"

"Actually, that was my mother." Audie grabbed a cocktail napkin and dabbed at her mouth. "I'm just a soccer coach with a broken heart."

The young man frowned. "Who in the world broke your heart?"

She belched again. "Broke it all by myself."

"How did that happen?"

"Oh, you know." Audie waved her hand in the air. "I couldn't say the L-word to the most wonderful man I've ever known and now he's convinced I did something really awful that I didn't do and he won't talk to me. Won't answer my calls. Won't answer his door. Your basic nuclear winter."

"Ouch." He leaned across the bar. "I bet I could heat things up for you."

Audie laughed. "Just get me another beer, dude."

When she turned back to face the room, she saw her loose ends walking right toward her. It was show time, with or without Drew.

"Hello, gentlemen."

Malcolm Milton took her hand warmly and patted her shoulder. "You look lovely as usual, Autumn. Now tell me why in the world you haven't taken care of our little housekeeping matter. I refuse to believe the rubbish Russell has just been telling me."

Audie winced. "I should probably confess that I've never been very interested in housekeeping, Malcolm. I think we need to have a chat. Do you have the time now?"

His face fell, and the CEO turned to Russell, and Audie watched Malcolm's mouth became smaller, paler, and tighter. With each passing second, Russell looked closer to tossing his cookies.

It might have been the Killian's. It could've been the rush of being herself after so long. But on her way to the white-linen-covered table with the huge fall centerpiece, Audie felt like jumping up and down and hooting.

The second they all were seated, she made her position clear. There would be no reconsidering. She was finished.

"Thank you for your generosity and support, Malcolm, and for helping my mother with her career from the very beginning. She liked and trusted you very much." Audie took a deep breath and continued. "But here's the good part-Drew wants to do it."

Russell made a sound in between a laugh and a scream of horror. Malcolm sat quietly, his face completely blank; then he got up and walked away.

"I take it he's not thrilled with the idea?" Audie said half to herself and half to Russell.

"Oh… my… God." Russell was obviously in shock, and Audie watched his pulse beat bang at the tight white collar of his tuxedo shirt. "When did you find out about this?" He turned fierce gray eyes in her direction.