She awoke early the following afternoon and, reaching for the phone, called her best friend. "Come over," she said. "I have something to show you."

"Be there within the hour. We're just up after the party. Kids left at sunrise for the mountains. I'm bushed. God, they danced till dawn, and the music! Thank God we're all friends, or someone would have called the cops for sure."

"Funny," Nora laughed, "I never heard a thing."

"Ohh, I know what you were doing," Carla singsonged. "See you shortly."

Nora dressed, and as she did, she felt a slight soreness in her ass. I can't believe I did that, she thought, but it was really exciting. I'm not sure I'll do it again. She pulled on her shorts and a T. Going down to the kitchen, she considered making coffee, but she didn't want coffee. She wanted iced tea. There was some of that mixture left from yesterday. She was still tired. Yesterday had been a big day, and then last night's activities had added to it all. Pouring herself a glass of the cold tea/lemonade mix, she went out onto the terrace by the pool, and sat down.

It was a beautiful late June day. The sky was clear, and the sun hot on her shoulders. There was a faint breeze. The water in the pool lapped against the steps. She had roses in bloom- reds and pinks and whites in one corner of the yard, yellows and peach and apricot in another corner. She got up, then sat back down on the top step of the pool, and dangled her feet in the water. It was so quiet. So peaceful. How she loved it, and she wanted it always to be this way. And it would be. She wasn't going to let Jeff take her home away from her. She heard the gate creak, and turned.

"Hey," Carla said, coming into the yard. "Whatcha drinking?"

"The stuff from yesterday. I'm pooped, and I always get extra thirsty when I'm tired like this. Go help yourself if you want some."

"What I want is to know what happened. You sounded really spooked when you called, Nora."

"Did you ever bring back something from your visits in The Channel?" Nora asked her best friend.

"Something? What do you mean?" Carla said.

Nora got up. "Come into the house." She led the way, going upstairs, Carla following. In her bedroom she picked up the garter belt, and the stockings. "I came home last night in these," Nora told Carla.

"Holy crap!" Carla breathed. "You don't own anything like this."

"Nora Buckley, this reality, doesn't. But Nora Buckley of The Channel does, and I was wearing them last night when I woke up."

"Pretty snazzy." Carla grinned. "Just what is your fantasy?"

"Penthouse apartment, Mr. Gorgeous, and a masseur named Rolf," Nora replied with a half smile.

"What's Mr. Gorgeous's name?" Carla pried.

"Kyle," Nora told her.

"And he likes you in green lace garter belts," Carla said.

"It matched my wrap dress," Nora said. "I could hardly visit Mr. Nicholas unless I was properly dressed."

"Boy, two guys don't satisfy you, and you got three? You're almost as bad as I am," Carla chuckled. "Every time I recruit a new crew, I screw 'em all before we set sail."

"Mr. Nicholas is the administrator of The Channel," Nora told her friend. "I wanted to meet him because there were things I needed to know, questions that only he could answer. I could hardly go to his office looking like a tart in my blue silk shorty robe," Nora said.

"There's someone who actually runs The Channel?" Carla asked, sounding surprised. "And you met him? And he has an office? What's he like?"

"Sure, someone runs it, and yes, I met him, and his office is out of Architectural Digest, old-money edition, and he…" She stopped for a moment. "He's nothing like I thought he would be. I was thinking Louis Jourdan, or Ricardo Montalban. In fact on reflection he reminds me of that nineteen-forties-movie character actor, Claude Rains. He has two secretaries and an assistant named Margaret, and we had tea before a fireplace, with chocolate biscotti."

"No way!" Carla exclaimed.

"Way!" Nora said, laughing. "It was almost bizarre except it was so damned civilized. The tea was that really good gunpowder green, and the biscotti were heaven."

"What did you want to know from him?" Carla said, curious.

"I'll tell you that another time. Just tell me, babe, did you ever come home with a souvenir from The Channel?"

"Other than a hickey?" Carla replied with a grin. "Nah. And I know none of the others have either. They'd freak if they did, and tell. And I'm not certain this isn't creeping me out, Nora."

"It's creeping me out a little too," Nora admitted. "It's like one of those too-good-to-be-true scenarios you read about."

"Hey, we get charged for it on our cable bills," Carla said. "So did this Mr. Nicholas answer all of your questions?"

"I suppose he did, but in a very roundabout way," Nora responded.

"You going to keep going to The Channel?" Carla's dark eyes were curious.

"It's like potato chips," Nora said. "You just can't eat one. Yeah, it helps me not to collapse with fear over this whole situation, especially now that I've met my replacement. She no beauty, but she's pretty, isn't she?"

"She's young," Carla answered. "I figured about thirty, thirty-one. And she dresses well, and she's got a good body. I'll bet she goes to the gym every day. She hasn't had any kids, although maybe she'll have one once they're married. These second wives always like to have one kid to take the attention away from the first wife's kids. They never really feel safe as long as the first wife and her kids are hovering in the background," Carla said.

"Where do you get all this information?" Nora demanded to know.

"Oprah. Dr. Phil. Jerry, and Jenny," Carla said. "And every damned women's magazine has articles on your situation. You aren't the first woman to be dumped by her husband for a younger woman. You won't be the last."

"As long as I get my house," Nora replied.

"Listen, hon, I wouldn't count on keeping the house," Carla said, sitting down on Nora's bed. "Rick says they're going to really have to do a number to even get you half its value in cash. And really, Nora, what the hell do you want this big place for anyway? The kids are practically gone, and you aren't going to have the money to keep it up. It's a lot of work, and we're not getting any younger, babe."

"I'm not letting Jeff take my house," Nora said stubbornly.

"Look, there's a great new condo community opening up right on the old Carstairs estate on the bay. Half the value of this house would buy you a nice two-bedroom, and you would always have room for the kids."

"No," Nora said. "The house is mine, and I'm not letting him have it, Carla. He can have everything else. The kids can take loans for the rest of their schooling. He can cut me off without a penny, but the house is mine."

Carla sighed. There was no point arguing further with Nora. Something was happening to her, and it had begun with her first visit to The Channel. Nora was suddenly exhibiting a strong will, and she was getting thin too. But none of that meant anything because the best Rick's law firm was going to do, the absolute best, was to get Nora the cash value of half of the house's selling price. And that would be a real battle with Jeff's world-class divorce attorney.

Nora spent another incredible sex-filled night in The Channel with Kyle. She wasn't certain when she would be able to get back. J. J. returned home after his mountain sojourn, and immediately started his summer job. He would be heading off to State in mid-August. Sports teams reported early, and he was a member of State's junior varsity, thanks to his scholarship. On one hand Nora dreaded his leaving. J. J. was good company, and he made her laugh. But on the other hand she could barely wait for him to be gone. She needed Kyle, and the passion that they shared between them. It had become more than just mindless sexual games. He was openly and obviously in love with her, and Nora was certain she was beginning to feel the same way.

Her days were filled with all the things a mother does for a son going off to college. She made lists, and bought items she would never have bought for herself, but that she knew he would need and appreciate, like a sandwich maker and a small coffeepot. She and Carla shopped together because Maureen would be going two and a half weeks after J. J. They bought sheets, pillowcases, towels, washcloths, and down comforters. Margo's generous graduation gift to her only grandson had allowed him to buy a nice laptop, and the rooms in State's dorms all had Internet access cable connections. Oh, brave new world, Nora thought, remembering how up-to-date she had been in her freshman year with a small electric typewriter. And as the day came closer for J. J.'s departure, Nora began to pack her son's possessions, glad she was alone and could sniffle over the very worn Clifford the Big Red Dog stuffed toy that J. J. had always loved.

Those were the good days. There were bad days too, like the day she and her attorneys met with Jeff and his attorneys. Her husband, certain of victory, was pompous and unyielding. Nora was certain he had expected her to weep and go to pieces. Instead she had attacked him verbally and told him he would get their house over her dead body. She accused him of stealing the kids' college funds, and when Raoul Kramer had protested, Nora had attacked him too.

"If those accounts didn't belong to the children, why did he show them to the kids every goddamned Christmas morning and tell them that those accounts were their college funds! Jill went through her undergrad studies in three years on the interest from her account. Do you know what your client did, Mr. Kramer? He fraudulently stole those accounts last spring. He went to the kids and had them sign papers telling them it was for tax purposes. What he obviously did was get them to sign paperwork taking their names off those accounts so he could have the money to spend elsewhere. He refused to pay our son's freshman year at State. J. J. has a sports scholarship, but it was our neighbors who gave him the money for his dorm room and meal plan!"

"Jill's tuition at Duke Law is paid," Jeff put in.

"For this year only, because you had to pay it early," Nora snapped. "You've told her you won't pay the other two years, you miserable bastard! You have disenfranchised your own children so you can marry a girl young enough to be your daughter. I don't care that you want to divorce me, and that hurts, doesn't it, Jeff? I'm supposed to be weeping and begging, but I'm not, and I never will. I don't want a penny from you, but the house is mine. If you attempt to take it from me, so you and your trophy wife can begin anew debt free, I will find some way to make you sorry, you can be certain of that." She glared hard at him.

"What the hell has come over you, Nora?" he demanded. "You've changed."

"Gee, have I?" she said sarcastically. "You have been screwing everything that moved but me for years. Now you want a divorce. You don't want to meet your parental obligations. You want to put me out on the street, and make me homeless, and I'm not supposed to stand up to you? Get real!"

"You can get a job," he snapped. "Other women do."

"I have a degree in English literature, Jeff. No teaching credits. No work experience. I don't know one end of a computer from another. What the hell am I supposed to do to support myself? I need to take some classes to get me up to speed, and I'm not going to do it living in a homeless shelter. Besides, Egret Pointe doesn't have a homeless shelter."

Raoul Kramer sighed, and said, "I think I need to take my client back to town and talk to him again. Let's meet again in ten days?" He stood up.

"Look, Heidi and I have been accepted by the co-op board, Kramer. We need to close on our apartment," Jeff told his attorney.

"I'll get you a bridge loan," Kramer said in a hard, tight voice. "This matter is not going to be settled as quickly as I anticipated."

"You said it would be a matter of days." Jeff's voice was strident. "You said it was a no-brainer. Everything was mine. She didn't have a leg to stand on, damnit!" His face was red, and Nora noticed in that moment how much he'd aged.

"That was before I knew her father gave you half of the down payment for your house, Jeff. That was before I knew those accounts were in your kids' names, and you conned them out of them. She's right. It's fraud. Now, I'm certain Mrs. Buckley doesn't wish to encourage your son and daughter to press charges. I'm certain if we reconsider your position, we can come to an agreement that will be satisfactory to us all. Let's go." He turned to Rick. "I'll have Bev call your girl to set up another meeting." He closed his black Italian leather briefcase with a snap, and turned toward the door.