“Just dinner,” he said, finding he couldn't let go. “No one's calling it a date. One simple meal, as friends, before I go back to Boston.”

“You're going back?” She felt her heart drop to her knees and turned away to rattle through some tools.

“Yes, I have meetings scheduled for the middle of the week. I'm expected in the office Wednesday afternoon.”

Just like that, she thought as she picked up a pipe wrench and set it down again. I've got meetings scheduled, see you later. Sorry I broke your heart. “Well, then, have a nice trip.”

“C.C.” He laid a hand on her arm before she could hide behind the shield again. “I'd like to spend a little time with you. I'd feel a lot better about everything if I was sure we parted on good terms.”

“You want to feel better about things,” she muttered, then made herself relax her jaw. “Sure, why not? Dinner tomorrow night is fine. You deserve a send-off.”

“I appreciate it. Really.” He touched her cheek, started to lean toward her. C.C. pulled the shield down with a snap.

“Better stand back from the torch, Trent,” she said sweetly. “You might get burned.”

Family meetings with the Calhouns were traditionally noisy, argumentative and drenched with tears and laughter. This one was abnormally subdued. Amanda, in her capacity as adviser on finances, sat at the head of the table.

The room was silent.

Suzanna had already put the children to bed. It had been a little easier than usual as both of them had exhausted themselves with Fred—and vice versa.

Trent had excused himself discreetly, directly after dinner. It hardly mattered, C.C. thought. He would know the outcome soon enough.

She was afraid everyone knew it already.

“I guess we all know why we're here,” Amanda began. “Trent's going back to Boston on Wednesday, and it would be best all around it we gave him our decision about the house before he left.”

“It would be better if we concentrated on finding the necklace.” Lilah's stubborn look was offset by the nervous way she twisted the obsidian crystals around her neck.

“We're all still looking for the papers.” Suzanna laid a hand on Lilah's arm. “But I think we have to face the reality that finding the necklace could take a long time. Longer than we have.”

“Thirty days is longer than we have.” All eyes turned to Amanda. “I got a notice from the lawyer last week.”

“Last week!” Coco put in. “Stridley contacted you and you didn't mention it?”

“I was hoping I could get an extension without worrying everyone.” Amanda laid her hand on the file she set on the table. “No deal. We've been chipping away at the back taxes, but the hard fact is that we haven't been making enough headway. The insurance premiums are due. We can make them all right, and the mortgage—for the time being. The utility bills over

the winter were higher than usual, and the new furnace and repairs to the roof ate up a lot of our principal.”

C.C. held up a hand. “How bad is it?”

“As bad as it gets.” Amanda rubbed at an ache in her temple. “We could sell off a few more pieces, and keep our head above water. Just. But taxes are due again in a couple months, and we'll be back where we started.”

“I can sell my pearls,” Coco began, and Lilah cut her off.

“No. Absolutely not. We agreed a long time ago that there were some things that couldn't be sold. If we're going to face facts,” she said grimly, “then let's face them.”

“The plumbing's shot,” Amanda continued, and had to clear her tightening throat. “If we don't get the rewiring done, we could end up burning the place down around our ears. Suzanna's lawyer's fees—”

“That's my problem,” Suzanna interrupted.

“That's our problem,” Amanda corrected, and got a unanimous note of assent. “We're a family,” she continued. “We've been through the very worst together, and we handled it. Six or seven years ago, it looked as if everything was going to be fine. But... taxes have gone up, along with the insurance, the repairs, everything. It's not as though we're paupers, but the house eats up every cent of spare cash, and then some. If I thought we could weather this, hang in for another year or two, I'd say sell the Limoges, or a few antiques. But it's like trying to plug a hole in a dam and watching others spring out while your fingers are slipping.”

“What are you saying, Mandy?” C.C. asked her.

“I'm saying.” Amanda pressed her lips together. “I'm saying the only realistic choice I see is for us to sell the house. With the offer from St. James, we can pay off the debts, keep most of what's important to all of us and buy another. If we don't sell, it's going to be taken away from us in any case within a few months.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “I'm sorry. I just can't find a way out.”

“It's not your fault.” Suzanna reached out for her hand. “We all knew it was coming.”

Amanda sniffled and shook her head. “What buffer we had, we lost in the stock market crash. We just haven't been able to recover. I know I made the in-vestments—”

“We made the investments.” Lilah leaned over to join hands, as well. “On the recommendation of a very reputable broker. If the bottom hadn't fallen through, if I'd won the lottery, if Bax hadn't been such a greedy bastard, maybe things would be different now. But they're not”

“We'll still be together.” Coco added her hand. “That's what matters.”

“That's what matters,” C-C. agreed, and laid her hand on top. And that, if nothing else, felt right. “What do we do now?”

Struggling for composure, Amanda sat back. “I guess we ask Trent to come down and make sure the offer still stands.”

“I'll get him.” C.C. pushed away from the table to walk blindly from the room.

She couldn't believe it. Even as she walked through (the huddle of rooms, into the hallway, up the steps with her hand trailing along the banister, she couldn't believe it. None of it would be hers much longer.

There would come a time very soon when she wouldn't be able to step from her room onto the high stone terrace and look out at the sea. She wouldn't be able to climb the steps to Bianca's tower and find Lilah curled on the window seat, dreaming out through the dusty glass. Or Suzanna working in the garden with the children racing on the lawn nearby. Amanda wouldn't come bolting down the stairs in a hurry to get somewhere, do something. Aunt Coco would no longer fuss over the stove in the kitchen.

In a matter of moments, the life she'd known was over. The one to come had yet to begin. She was somewhere in a kind of limbo, too stunned from the loss to ache.

Trent crouched beside the fire where Fred snored on the bright red cushion in his new wicker dog bed. He was going to miss the little devil, Trent realized. Even if he had the time or inclination for a pet back in Boston, he didn't have the heart to take Fred away from the children, or from the women, if it came to that.

He'd seen C.C. tossing the ball for the pup in the side yard that afternoon when she'd come home from work. It had been so good to hear her laugh, to see her wrestle with the dog and Suzanna's children.

Oddly it reminded him of the image he'd had— daydream, he corrected. The daydream he'd had when his mind had wandered the night of the séance. Of him and C.C. sitting on a sunny porch, watching children play in the yard.

It was foolishness, of course, but something had tugged at him that afternoon when he'd stood at the door and looked at her tossing a ball to Fred. A good something, he remembered, until she'd turned and had seen him. Her laughter had died, and her eyes had gone cool.

He straightened, studying the flames in the fire. It was crazy, but he wished with his whole heart that she would flare up, just once more. Throw another punch at him. Call him names. The worst kind of punishment was her

steady, passionless politeness.

The sound of the knock on the door had Fred yip-ping quietly in his sleep. When Trent answered, finding C.C. on the other side of the threshold, twin twinges of delight and distress danced through his system. He wouldn't be able to turn her away this time. It wouldn't be possible to tell her, or himself, that it couldn't be. He had to... Then he looked into her eyes.

“What's wrong? What's happened?” He reached out to comfort, but she stepped stiffly away.

“We'd like you to come downstairs, if you don't mind.”

“Catherine—” But she was already walking away, her stride lengthening in her hurry for distance.

He found them all gathered around the dining room table, their faces composed. He was astute enough to understand that he was facing one combined will.

The Calhouns had closed ranks. “Ladies?”

“Trent, sit down, please.” Coco gestured to the chair beside her. “I hope we didn't disturb you?”

“Not at all.” He looked at C.C., but she was staring fixedly at the wall above his head. “Are we having another séance?”

“Not this time.” Lilah nodded toward Amanda. “Mandy?”

“All right.” She took a deep breath and was relieved when Suzanna's hand gripped hers under the table. “Trent, we've discussed your offer for The Towers, and have decided to accept it.”

He gave her a blank look. “Accept it?”

“Yes.” Amanda pressed her free hand to her quivering stomach. “That is, if your offer still stands.”

“Yes, of course it does.” He scanned the room, his gaze lingering on C.C. “You're certain you want to sell?”

“Isn't that what you wanted?” C.C.'s voice was clipped. “Isn't that what you came for?”

“Yes.” But he'd gotten a great deal more than he'd bargained for. “My firm will be delighted to purchase the property. But...I want to be certain that you're all agreed. That this is what you want. All of you.”