“I have one more question I need an answer to,” he said.

She pressed her lips together and nodded, waiting.

“What kind of illness did you have?” It was time he knew. He was tired of her secrets and evasiveness.

She swallowed hard and a look of panic came into her eyes.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” She stood up, swaying, and he stood, too, holding her arm to steady her.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, and she walked unsteadily toward the bathroom.

He waited what seemed like a long time, and was about to check on her when she emerged from the bathroom, holding a wet washcloth to her throat. He stood up. “Are you all right?” he asked.

She offered a wry laugh.

“Oh, I’m just great,” she said, taking her seat again.

He held her hand on his knee, not caring whether she wanted him to, not caring if she had a husband, or if she had lied to him. Her palm was clammy and cool. She pressed the washcloth to her forehead with her other hand, then lowered it to her lap.

“I had heart surgery just before Pamela died,” she said, drawing away a bit to look at him.

“I have a condition called Marfan’s syndrome.

It’s hereditary and can sometimes affect the heart. Pamela had it, too. She’d just been diagnosed with it, although she hadn’t had any obvious symptoms—until the seizure she had on the plane. That’s why the plane went down. My husband always pushed her to fly. ” She suddenly looked angry.

“If it hadn’t been for him, she would have taken up some normal hobby, like softball or… a musical instrument, or something. And she’d still be alive.” She closed her eyes tightly, and the tears started again.

“I’m sorry, Rory,” she said.

“When I lied to you that first day on the beach, I didn’t know I was going to become friends with you. Or that I’d even see you again. And once the lie was out…”

“Shh.” He put his arms around her and pulled her close to him, and she did not resist. She wept against his chest, tangled up in her lies and grief. He was not certain what impact all those lies would have on their relationship. All he knew was that, right now, she needed a friend. He was more than willing to play that role.

Daria and Chloe arrived home from work at the same time, when the sky above the ocean was pewter-colored and cloudless and there was no hint of menacing weather.

“Did you hear about the hurricane headed this way?” Daria asked as she and Chloe walked onto the Sea Shanty’s porch.

“No,” Chloe said.

“That’s just what we need.”

“It’s a big one,” Daria said. In the living room, she clicked on the TV to wait for the weather report.

“It’s still pretty far out,” she said, “so maybe it’ll weaken as it nears shore. Or it might even turn out to sea. You never know, at this stage.”

“You’d better not say anything to Shelly about it.” Chloe looked at her watch.

“I just came home to change,” she said.

“I have to go back to the church to help Father Wayne with a meeting tonight.”

Chloe would be working longer hours for a while, taking on extra duties at St. Esther’s in Father Macy’s absence. Daria sat down in front of the TV as Chloe went upstairs to change.

All day, while she and Andy had been paneling a condo in Duck, she’d been wondering how Rory’s talk with Grace had gone. As soon as Chloe left, she’d go over to Poll-Rory to find out.

But, as the meteorologist was giving his uncertain report about Hurricane Bemadette, Rory knocked on the porch door.

“Daria?” he called.

“Come in,” she said, looking up as he walked into the living room.

“I

was going to come over a little later. “

Rory sat down on the other end of the sofa.

“Is that Bemadette?” he asked, eyeing the perfect white doughnut of clouds on the weather map.

“Uh-huh. She’s a monster.”

“When do they predict it will hit us?”

“They’re not sure it will.”

Chloe came downstairs and into the room, wearing a skirt and blouse in place of the shorts and T-shirt she’d had on earlier.

“Hello, Rory,” she said, her voice so cool that Daria felt irritated with her.

“Hi, Chloe.” Rory turned on the sofa to face her, his arms folded across his chest.

“You know, I’ve been hearing some rumors.” “About?” Chloe asked, and Daria cringed, fearing she knew the rumors Rory was alluding to. He would not win any points with Chloe by bringing them up.

“Some people are saying that Father Macy’s accident might actually have been a suicide,” he said.

“Had either of you heard anything like that?”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Where did you hear that?” Daria asked.

“Zack said he heard some kids talking about it,” Rory said.

“It’s ridiculous, Rory,” Chloe said.

“And it’s not helpful to give any credence to that sort of gossip.”

“I don’t know,” Rory said.

“I think it’s kind of suspicious. I mean, he died just a few days after I spoke with him, and he’d been very upset during his conversation with me. Maybe he knew something about Shelly’s background,

and that’s why he killed himself. He wanted to take that information with him to the grave. “

Daria noticed that the tops of Chloe’s ears were red, a sure sign of anger that she had not seen in her sister in many, many years.

“I’m certain your conversation with him had nothing whatsoever to do with it,” Chloe said coldly. Her hands were on her hips, her eyes blazing. “You think everything revolves around you and your damn TV program. Probably now you’ll decide to do one of your shows on this new mystery, huh?

“The Secret Agony of Sean Macy.” ” She turned abruptly to Daria.

“I need to get over to the church,” she said.

“I

hope none of the parishioners has heard any of this slander. “

Turning on her heel, Chloe marched out the front door, slamming it shut behind her.

“Whoa,” Rory said.

“Why do I get the feeling she’s not pleased with me?”

Daria sighed, leaning against the back of the sofa. “We had a conversation with Shelly last night about the same thing,” Daria said.

“I think hearing about the rumors again was just too much for her.”

“Maybe I should go after her,” Rory said, looking toward the front door.

“Apologize.”

“I’d leave her alone right now.” Chloe’s anger was so out of character that Daria could not predict how her sister would react to Rory’s apology.

“Maybe in a few days, when the wounds aren’t so fresh, she’ll be more receptive. Right now, though, I want to hear about your visit with Grace last night.” She drew her bare feet onto the sofa and turned to face him.

“Well,” Rory began, “she’s screwed up, I’ll grant you that, but I don’t think she had a clue about Shelly being involved in her daughter’s death.” He went on to tell Daria about his conversation with Grace, and Daria listened quietly. She didn’t feel as trusting of Grace as he did.

“I felt really sorry for her,” Rory said.

“I think she just got caught up in the lies about the separation and having no kids. She told me those things the first time I met her, and she didn’t know that we were going to end up having a relationship. Once we did, I guess she figured it was easier to stick with her original story. She didn’t have a mastectomy, like we thought. She had heart surgery. She has a disease called Marian’s syndrome.”

“Pamela—the pilot—had that.”

“Yeah, Grace said it’s hereditary. She’s in a lot of pain over her daughter. I think that’s why she’s drawn to Shelly. Shelly’s close in age to her daughter. I don’t think it’s any more complicated than that.”

“I hope you’re right,” Daria said.

“It still seems like a pretty amazing coincidence that she stumbled into our little cul-de-sac.” She heard the callous tone of her words and wished she could take them back. It was obvious that Rory felt sympathy for Grace. She had not wanted that, or expected it. Why couldn’t he see that, for whatever reason, Grace was manipulating him?

“If you could have seen her last night, I think you would stop worrying about it,” Rory said.

“So,” Daria said, “where do things stand now with the two of you?”

Rory laughed.

“Funny you should ask,” he said.

“I was thinking to myself that I was an adulterer for having had an affair with a married woman. But there was no affair. Grace had made sure of that. It was only an affair in my fantasies. So, to answer your question, I don’t know.” He locked his hands together and stretched his arms out in front of him.

“I still want to see her. I’m not angry with her. I just” — A sudden noise came from upstairs, and Daria cocked her head to listen.

“I didn’t think Shelly was home,” she said in a near whisper, her heart beating a little faster.

There was a thud, followed by the sound of voices. One of them was a man’s, and Daria was instantly alarmed.

“It’s coming from Shelly’s room,” she said.

“Who could be with her?”

Rory looked toward the stairs. “Does she have any male friends?” he asked.

Daria shook her head.

“None that she should have in her bedroom,” she said.

“God, Rory, what if it’s someone she picked up? Some stranger?

She befriends everyone. What if it’s some psychopath? “

“Calm down,” Rory said.

“The likelihood of that is pretty slim. But… maybe you should go check on her, anyway.”

“I don’t want to humiliate her,” she said, looking toward the stairs, “but I’d never forgive myself if somebody was hurting her.”

“I’d say her safety is more important than her pride right now,” Rory said.

Daria stood up.

“Call the cops if I start screaming,” she said, walking toward the stairs.

In the upstairs hallway, she knocked on Shelly’s door.

“Shelly?”

There was an ominous silence from behind the door, then hushed voices and the rustling of sheets.

“Shelly, are you all right?”

She heard footsteps, and the bedroom door was opened a few inches. by Zack. Daria could see Kara in Shelly’s bed, the sheets pulled up to her chin, and she was too surprised to speak.

“I’m not Shelly,” Zack said with a sheepish grin.

“Shelly said we could use her room while she was out on a walk.”

Daria heard Rory’s footsteps on the stairs. It sounded as though he was taking them two at a time, and Zack’s grin faded. “Is my dad here?” he asked, eyes wide, and Daria nodded.

“Zack?” Rory called as he neared the top of the stairs.

“Oh, shit.” Zack started to shut the door, but Rory had already reached the hallway. He pushed past Daria to hold the door open with his hand.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he said to his son, the question so idiotic and unanswerable that Daria almost laughed. She remembered having asked the same thing of Shelly years earlier, when she’d caught her in bed with one of the sleazy guys she used to see.

“Shelly said we could use her room,” Zack said weakly.

“Well, I think you two better get dressed and get out of here,” Rory said.

“I’ll see you at home in a few minutes.” He pulled the door shut, ran his hands through his hair, then looked at Daria.

“Yikes,” he whispered, and she stifled a laugh.

She followed him down the stairs.

“I apologize for my sister’s lousy judgment,” she said.

Rory opened the livingroom door and looked up at the ceiling.

“What do I do now?” he asked, although he didn’t sound as though he actually expected an answer.

“Be understanding,” Daria said.

“Be kind. Be all the things I wasn’t when I caught Shelly doing the same thing.”

Rory smiled.

“I’ll try,” he said. He turned and left the Sea Shanty.

Treat Zack with the same kind of sympathy you so easily lavish on Grace, she thought as she watched him walk across the cul-de-sac and into Poll-Rory, where he’d wait to have it out with his son.

it was nearly forty-five minutes before Zack dared to come home, and Rory was waiting for him in the living room, still not sure what he was going to say.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Dad,” Zack said as he walked past him toward the bedrooms.

“Well, I do.”

Zack stopped walking and turned around, a look of resignation on his face, and Rory noticed for the first time that his son was nearly as tall as he was. When had that happened? “Did you at least use a condom?” Something told him that was not the best way to start this conversation, but the words slipped out before he could stop them.

“Kara’s on the Pill,” Zack said.

“A fifteen-year-old girl on the Pill?” Rory asked.

“That says something about her right there, doesn’t it?”