Crystal smirked. "You mean besides which is better, paper or pipe?" The smirk faded when she saw what Laura was trying to do. "Hey, leave my junk alone." Laura opened her hands to allow her roommate to take the trash.

"I was just trying to help," the dark haired woman said, opening her hands to allow the empty packs to be taken from her. "Yeah, help clean," Crystal said, taking the trash and stuffing it into the already overstuffed wastebasket. "This is my room. It can be as messy as I want it."

"There's a difference between being cluttered and having the room declared a disaster area."

"But it's my disaster area," the blonde pointed out proudly. "I don't make a mess in your room and you aren't allowed to come in and clean mine. I behave everywhere else in this house."

Laura wiped her hands on her pants before lacing her fingers together, resisting the urge to reach down and pick up the pack that missed the basket. "You're right."

"It's not like I'm damaging the walls or carpet or anything. I'm just"

"Cluttered," the writer offered.

"Cluttered, yeah that sounds good." Crystal smiled. "Of course saying I'm a little cluttered it like saying Maine only gets a little snow in the winter."

Both women laughed at the joke, sharing more similes and poking fun at both Crystal's messiness and Laura's fastidiousness. "So other than which is better, paper or pipe and no, I don't want to know the answer," Laura said. "What else did you two talk about?"

"Sisters." Crystal shrugged. "I told her she should be worried more about how her sister was doing than whether the house had drafts in it or not." "Did you tell her about Patty?"

"A little. I told her we were separated a long time ago and I wouldn't care if she was living in a box, I'd still want to see and spend time with her."

"So that's why she said she wanted to go see Mom tomorrow," Laura said. "I wondered why she had a sudden change of heart." She looked at Crystal thoughtfully. "I guess sometimes we all need to be reminded of what's really important."

"I dunno. I guess so." Crystal shrugged her shoulders and pulled her legs up, resting her wrists on her knees, her back and rest still pressing a pillow against the headboard. A sad, faraway look came over her face.

"How did your session with Jenny go today?" Laura asked after a moment, remembering which day it was. Crystal often tended to be in a more solemn mood after her sessions. Laura wondered if this would be another night her roommate needed to stay up and talk.

"Okay, I guess." Crystal shook her head as if realizing how she must look and stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray. "It's nothing." "You sure? It doesn't look like nothing."

"We talked about my mother a bit." Crystal looked down at her hands. "It wasn't one of my better times in her office, I can tell you that." Laura remained quiet, knowing that being there to listen was what was needed now, not comments. "Doc made me do that stupid role playing thing where you pretend you're yelling at your parents." Laura nodded, understanding what was meant even she had never actually participated in a session. Crystal continued, her eyes taking on a faraway look. "You know what's really weird? As much as I thought I hated her, there's still a part of me that still cares." She picked at an imaginary piece of lint on her blanket. "You know how upset you were when you got the call that your mom was sick? I wished I cared enough about my mom to do the same but you know what?" Crystal gave a small snort and shook her head. "If I got a call like that today

I'd go."

"Sounds like a late night tea chat for us," Laura said, knowing the conversation was too serious to be ending any time soon. "We'll go down on the couch, put the TV on in the background and talk."

"Laura? Do you think it's possible to love and hate someone?"

Taking a deep breath, Laura thought about her answer before speaking. "I think we can hate things that a person has done and still love that person. And I think there are those people for whom loving them will never be an option," she said, thinking of Crystal's father. "The best we can hope for is indifference. I don't like to waste energy hating someone. If they've wronged me to the point where I can't forgive or trust them again, I just write them out of my life and move on." Laura got to her feet and held her hand out. "Come on, I thought we were going downstairs. Talk to me nice and I think I might know where some mini marshmallows are hiding for hot chocolate," she offered, knowing Crystal's preference for hot chocolate over tea.

As the hours ticked by and the two women talked, neither was aware of the door to Laura's bedroom being slightly ajar or of how the acoustics of the townhouse caused their voices to carry upstairs. If either had taken the time to look up they would have seen Helen sitting just inside the door, the sliver of light showing her platinum hair a face covered with night cream.

"Where does she keep the serving tray now?" Laura asked, opening and shutting yet another cupboard. Apparently her mother had rearranged the kitchen since the writer last lived there.

"I think it's in the one above the fridge," Bobby said, leaning against the low bar separating the kitchen and living room. He took a cube of cheese off the nearby platter and popped it in his mouth.

"Leave those alone," Laura admonished. "I didn't realize what a mouse you were."

"What can I say? I like cheese," he said, taking another piece.

"So does everyone else and I'd like to see some left on the plate by the time it gets out there." Opening the cupboard over the refrigerator, Laura found the silver serving tray and carefully arranged the cups and carafe on it. "Can I trust you to take that platter out there without eating any more?"

"No," he said cheerfully, taking another piece before picking up the platter and heading into the other room. Laura shook her head and double checked the balance of the tray. Her mother's fine china, which never ever left the china closet, sat gingerly on the silver tray and the last thing Laura wanted to do was chip or break any of them. Certain that the fine cups were safe, she picked up the tray gingerly and pushed her way through the swinging door. "Here's the tea," she announced.

"Excellent, dear," Laura's mother said. "Set it down over here." Gail Taylor was seated in a red velvet chair while her sister sat in the matching chair, the burning hearth just behind them. Bobby stood several feet away next to the side table, happily whittling away at the supply of cheese cubes and crackers. Laura set the tray down and began filling the delicate white and gold cups.

"So what did the doctor say?" Gail asked Helen, resuming the conversation that had been going on prior to Laura bringing out the tea. "He said Mother should stay inside and avoid anyone who has the flu. I don't know how she's supposed to do that in a nursing home." "But if she has a bad reaction to the flu shot then what else can they do?" Helen asked, taking the tea cup and saucer Laura handed to her.

"We could always bring Mother home," Helen said. Laura, who had been half listening to the conversation, raised her eyebrows and shook her head.

"Where would you put her? Grandma can't stay here. There's no one to take care of her." Laura realized the error of her words when she was regarded with a frosty look from her mother.

"I handled both you and your brother from diapers to dating and then some. With a visiting nurse there's no reason why Mother couldn't come for a least an extended visit if not a permanent situation." Gail looked at her sister. "Honestly Helen. Listen to my children."

Laura, who now felt like a reprimanded child, handed her aunt a cup of tea and sat back, casting a sidelong glance at her brother. Bobby returned a sympathetic look, knowing his sister was in for it now.

"Now you can't blame the younger generation for not understanding what's important," Helen said, taking a sip of her tea and leaving a glaring red lipstick mark on the fine bone china.

"Helen, do you remember the time we took Daddy's Edsel?" Gail asked. Her sister smiled immediately.

"Oh dear. I haven't thought about that car in years. We certainly got quite the switching when he saw that dent."

"And that was the last time we ever did that. Sometimes I wonder if Robert and I were too soft on our own," Gail said, giving her daughter a significant look. "Just don't you be getting any ideas in your head about putting me in any nursing homes, young lady."

Laura looked appropriately chastised. "I wouldn't dream of it, Mother," she said dutifully. "Bobby, stop eating all the cheese." "Now don't you go trying to get your brother into trouble," Gail admonished before turning her attention back to her sister. "So how much longer are you going to stay?"

"I don't have any pressing plans until the fifteenth." Helen took another sip of tea. "There's a show opening at the Met that I absolutely have to make an appearance at. You know how much I support the arts."

"That still leaves us with five days," Gail said. "There's no need to have Laura drive you over here each day. Laura, bring your aunt's things over here tonight. She can stay in your old room."

The writer fought hard not to choke on the tea she had been drinking. "Uh, sure Mom. I have to go home and pick up Crystal in an hour or so. I'll drop her things off before we head for dinner." Laura caught the knowing smirk on her aunt's face but didn't want to pursue the cause of it in front of her mother.

"And I suppose paying outlandish prices for dinner is youri.e.of the proper way to spend your money? It would certainly make more sense if you two just stayed here for dinner. Bobby, did you take out that roast like I told you to?"

"Yes Mom."

"Then it's settled," Gail said happily, smoothing her wrinkled skirt with her hand. "The two of you can just stay here for dinner. You don't spend enough time with your family as it is and who knows when your aunt will come for another visit."

"Uh" Normally a quick thinker, Laura found herself at a loss to come up with an excuse not to stay without offending her mother. "I don't eat red meat."

"Did I say it was a pot roast?" Gail shook her head and looked at her sister. "Honestly, Helen. I don't know about these children. Perhaps Daddy's i.e.of going out to the shed with a switch from the hickory tree was a good idea. Laura, you haven't eaten red meat since you were a teenager. Did you think I forgot that? I may not be one hundred percent but I'm not senile."

Laura, wishing the earth would open up and swallow her whole, could only nod.

"I do believe you still enjoy a nice homemade roasted chicken with baked potatoes and perhaps even some of your Aunt Helen's parfait."

Bobby and Laura shared looks. Helen's parfait was treated in their family the same way fruitcakes were treated in others. It was a necessary evil they suffered with year after year while growing up. Perhaps there was a benefit to the two sisters not talking after all. "I'll mention it to Crystal."

"Well call her and ask her," Gail urged.

"She's at work, Mom. I just can't call her up unless it's important."

"And knowing if I'm cooking for four or five isn't important?"

Bobby handed the cordless phone to Laura, knowing who the winner of the battle was.

"All right, Sheridan. Let's get this room finished and then we'll start the cleanup," Josh Thompson, Crystal's supervisor said. "It's after five already."

"Yup, I'm on it," Crystal called back without looking. She had just started securing the drywall to the studs in this section and there were easily four more squares waiting for more than the nails the drywall hangers used to keep them in place temporarily. Time and practice had made the blonde very proficient with the power driver, sinking the drywall screws into the board without breaking the paper and doing it as fast or faster than the men who did the same job in other sections of the building. Still it had been a long day and Crystal's arm was aching from the constant physical labor. Cleanup, the most unpleasant job of the day, was still to come and judging from the mess of drywall pieces scattered throughout the room, it was a job that would take the better part of an hour to finish. Wiping her sweaty brow on the sleeve of her shirt, Crystal picked up the drywall screw gun and loaded her pouch with screws.

"Hey blondie, phone for you," one of the other workers yelled.

"Okay," she yelled back, setting the driver on the workbench and pulling the plug from the outlet before leaving the office in search of the phone. As the work progressed up the floors, Michael had extensions for the phone line installed on each floor to minimize the time his workers were away from their stations. Entering the first room near the stairs, Crystal saw the phone sitting on one chair while another chair sat empty next to it. A blinking light next to one of the buttons showed someone waiting. Wondering who would call her at work and not on her pager, Crystal picked up the phone and pressed the button. "This is Crystal."