Nina nodded, thrilled that Charity was interested. "Sure. With an intro and a conclusion, shoot for two hundred, two hundred and fifty pages. Do you think you can do this? Do you think you want to do this?"

Charity straightened. "I'm positive. This is a great idea. You think Jessica will publish it?"

She will if I don't tell her what it is until it's done, Nina thought. "Jessica is very supportive of feminist literature," she told Charity. "And this would be a feminist memoir, right?"

"Hell, yes," Charity said. "This is great. Do I get money?"

Nina thought fast. "I need a proposal, nothing too detailed that might confuse Jessica. Just a short outline and a sample chapter, maybe your intro. Then I can go to contract and get you an advance. It won't be much. A thousand tops."

"Dollars?" Charity's eyes widened. "It's a deal." She stood up and grabbed her big black leather bag from the table, annoying Fred who'd been hinting for more chips.

Nina looked up at her, dismayed. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going home to write," Charity said as if it should have been obvious. "I can have that proposal on your desk by Monday if I start right away."

Nina stood and reached out to her, trying to think of a way to calm her down. "Uh, Charity, writing isn't that easy. It takes time. It takes-"

"So I'll have it on your desk by Wednesday. You know, I'm going to love this." Charity had grabbed her coat and was at the door. "This is a great idea." She came flying back to hug Nina. "You're the best!"

Then she disappeared out the door, and Nina was left to contemplate the new wrinkle she'd just put in her future. If Charity couldn't write a book, Nina couldn't go to contract, and she'd just lost her best friend of twenty years. If Charity could write a book, but it turned out to be unpublishable by Jessica's standards, Nina had just lost her job. If Charity could write a book, and Jessica through some miracle published it…

… it would be a hit and Howard Press would be on its way into the black and Jessica would love her and she'd be a success.

"And pigs will fly," Nina said and sat back down to finish off the rest of Charity's milk shake. Fred was in the potato chip bag again, so she pushed him out of it and then absentmindedly ate a chip, trying to think cheerful thoughts. She wasn't sure what she'd started, but she was positive she didn't want to dwell on it or on the impossibly young distraction who lived one floor down, and now she had a whole Friday night all to herself just to dwell on both.

Fred wiped his nose on her leg.

"Hello," she said to him. "I hadn't forgotten you. Want to watch a video? Because no matter how pitiful you look, I am not publishing your memoirs. Not enough sex in your life, buddy." She thought of Alex and his damn fingers. "Or in mine, for that matter." Then she squelched the thought. She was not going to start fantasizing about Alex Moore.

Fred put his paws on her leg and whined at her, so she gave him the last of Charity's milk shake. A scant inch of chocolate and Amaretto couldn't hurt him, and he was so pitiful when he whined. She watched him slurp the last of it, his nose jammed into the glass, and then she stood and threw out the rest of the chips and went back to the table to start on the twit's manuscript.

It was worse than she had remembered, so she was grateful when the doorbell rang. She grabbed her blue seersucker robe and deserted the manuscript with indecent haste, only to feel her heart thump when she opened the door and found Alex leaning in her doorway, this time in a white tailored shirt and navy dress pants, his tie loose and lopsided around his neck.

"Hi," he said slowly and distinctly. "Remember me?"

"Yes." Nina peered at him. He did a little weaving on the doorsill, his eyes bright but half-closed. "Been drinking, have we?"

Alex's laugh sloughed into an exhale. "I don't know about you, but I have. It's my birthday. My whole damn family bought me a drink. One at a time. All day." He frowned at her, as if trying to bring her into focus. "Do you have any coffee? I only ask because you looked like a woman who would have coffee when I was up here last night."

Great. And she'd been thinking hot thoughts about this delinquent all day. God, she was pathetic. Well, somebody had to sober him up. "I have coffee." Nina tied the belt around her robe tighter and stepped back to let him in.

He walked past her and stopped to stare at the papers on the table. "You're working. I don't want to interrupt."

At least he had manners. "It's all right." Nina closed the door behind him. "It's a terrible book. Boring. Turgid."

Alex frowned. "Turgid. He was the Russian, right?"

Oh, terrific. "Not a big reader, I see." Nina pulled out a chair from the table and took his arm to guide him into it. "Coffee coming right up. You sit until it's done."

"I took science courses not lit." Alex took off his tie and threw it on the table. Then he picked up a page from the book and began to read while Nina put a filter in the coffeemaker and poured in the coffee.

Fred wandered over to him, and Nina turned to shoo him away, but Alex said, "Hey, Fred," and leaned down to scratch his ears, and Nina forgave him everything.

Alex was a nice guy. So he wasn't brilliant. Big deal. It wasn't as if she was contemplating a relationship with him; she'd already decided that would be ridiculous. What she needed was a friend, a neighbor.

And Alex was nice to her and good to her dog. What more could she want in a neighbor?

Fred looked as if he could want more. He nudged Alex's hand, looking for potato chips, and then collapsed under the table from disappointment when none were forthcoming. Alex went back to reading the manuscript. "This is terrible," he told her when he looked up. "Why is he writing about some dumb American prep school if he's Russian?"

"He's not Russian," Nina said. "You made that up. How much have you had to drink?"

"Well." Alex leaned back in the chair, keeping one hand on the table as if for security. "I had breakfast with my sister-Irish coffee. Then I had lunch with my mother and that's always a strain, so I had two scotches. Then my stepmother asked me out for a drink, and I hate saying no to her, so I had brandy. Then my dad took me out for dinner." He cocked an eye at Nina. "When my father eats, the liquor flows. I'm pretty sure I had three whiskies. Then he had the cab drop me off at home, and my brother was waiting for me with a six-pack." He shook his head. "He just left and I laid down and the whole room sort of swooped and I thought of you. Pour some caffeine down me and I'll leave."

Nina took two blue-checked mugs from the cupboard and put them on the table. "Couldn't you have had seltzer with a couple of them?"

"No." Alex shook his head and then thought better of it. "Ouch, that hurts. I had to have something to drown out the refrain."

Nina sat down, intrigued. "The refrain?"

Alex nodded, this time more carefully. "They all had different verses, but when we got to the chorus, they all said the same thing. 'Time to decide on a career, Alex.'" He put his head down and looked mulish for a moment. "I don't want to decide on a career. I think they're pushing me."

Nina looked at him with disgust. She had the Peter Pan syndrome, sitting right here in her kitchen. She sighed and began to finish the job his family had started. Somebody had to. "Well, Alex, they may have a point. I realize twenty-five or -six seems young, but-"

"I'm thirty," Alex said. "Today. Happy birthday to me. Is that coffee done yet?"

Thirty? Dear Lord, and he still didn't know what he wanted to do with his life? What was he doing now? Checking IDs? Singing in a rock band? Making sure the fries were hot?

"Coffee?" Alex said again and Nina checked back over her shoulder.

"It's still dripping. You're thirty?"

He gazed at her owlishly. "You thought I was younger, huh? Everybody does. No wonder nobody takes me seriously. And I've got a receding hairline and everything."

Nina squinted at him. "No, you don't."

"Yes, I do." He pulled his hair back off his forehead. "See? It's creeping up on the sides."

Nina leaned closer. "Well, a little. But if you want people to take you seriously, choosing a career would be a better move than flashing a minimally receding hairline.''

Alex groaned. "Not you, too. Listen, I'm happy doing what I'm doing. All I need is a cup of coffee and I'll be ecstatic."

"Coming right up." Nina got up and pulled the pot out from under the drip spout, feeling disappointed and stupid. She'd been attracted to him and that had been ridiculous since he was fifteen years younger than she was. Then it turned out he was only ten years younger, which was not as ridiculous although still ridiculous, but now he was also shiftless and evidently not too bright. Turgid as a Russian novelist? Okay, he was drunk, but still, this was not good. She turned to the table and poured coffee into the mugs, watching him reach for his before she said, "Be careful. It's hot."

"Thanks, Mom," he said, and she winced. "I'm kidding," he said hastily. "Dumb joke."

"Probably not." Nina put the pot back on the wanner and sank into her seat. "I'm practically old enough to be your mother."

"Not unless you had a lot more fun in kindergarten than I did," he said, and Nina said, "I'm forty. Two days ago, as a matter of fact."

Alex nodded wisely. "It's those years that end in zero that kill you. Twenty-nine was nothing like this."

"Thirty-nine sucked, too," Nina said. "I got divorced."