“I'd like that very much.” They chatted on for a few minutes, he finished his wine, and then he left. She went up to her den with the books he'd helped her bring home, and she worked late into the night and the next day she laughed when a court messenger appeared with an envelope in his hand. He had written her a bread-and-butter letter much like the one she'd written him for her swearing-in and she called to laugh with him. It was a far easier conversation than the one she shared with Jack later that day. He was on the warpath again, and they were fighting about their weekend plans, so much so that eventually she got out of them, and sat peacefully in her house alone on Saturday, going through some old photographs when the doorbell rang. Russell Carver was standing there, looking at her apologetically, with a bunch of roses in his hand.

“This is a terribly rude thing to do, and I apologize in advance.” He looked handsome in a tweed jacket and a turtleneck sweater and she smiled at him delightedly.

“I never heard that bringing someone roses was rude before.”

“That's to compensate for dropping by unannounced, which is rude, but I was thinking of you and I didn't have your number at home. I gather it's unlisted, so I took a chance.…” He smiled sheepishly and she waved him in.

“I had absolutely nothing to do, and I'm delighted you came by.”

“I'm surprised I found you here. I was sure you'd be out.” She poured him a glass of wine, and they sat down on the couch.

“Actually, I had plans but I cancelled them.” Things were impossible with Jack, and she wondered how to handle it. Sooner or later, they'd either have to work things out or give up, but she didn't want to face that now, and he was away anyway.

“I'm glad you did.” Russ Carver smiled at her. “Would you like to go to Butterfield's with me?”

“The auction house?” She looked intrigued, and half an hour later they were wandering amidst antiques and Oriental works of art, chatting about sundry things. He had an easy way about him that was relaxing to her, and they shared similar views about almost everything. She even tried to explain her mother to him. “I think that's a big part of the reason why I never wanted to get married. I kept thinking of her sitting there waiting for him to call.…” She hated the memory, even now.

“Then all the more reason to marry someone and have security.”

“But I knew he was cheating on his wife by then. I never wanted to be either one of those women … my mother … or the wife he cheated on.”

“That must have been difficult for you, Tana.” He was sympathetic about so many things. And she told him about Harry that afternoon when they walked on Union Street. She told him about the friendship they had shared, the years at school, the time at the hospital, and how lonely it was without him now. Tears came to her eyes as she talked about him, but there was something gentle on her face, too, as she looked up at him. “He must have been a fine man.” His voice touched her like a caress and she smiled at him.

“He was more than that. He was the best friend I'll ever have. He was remarkable … even as he died, he gave something to everyone, a piece of himself … some part of himself.…” She looked up at Russ again. “I wish you'd known him.”

“So do I.” He looked at her gently then. “Were you in love with him?”

She shook her head, and then she smiled, remembering. “He had a crush on me when we were kids. But Averil was perfect for him.”

“And you, Tana?” Russell Carver looked searchingly at her. “Who was perfect for you? Who has there been? Who was the love of your life?” It was an odd question to ask, but he had the feeling that there had been someone. It was impossible that a girl like this should be unattached. There was a mystery there, and he couldn't find the answer to it.

“No one.” She smiled at him. “Some hits, some misses … the wrong people mostly. I haven't had much time.”

He nodded. He understood that too. “You pay a price for getting where you are. It can be a very lonely place sometimes.” He wondered if it was for her, but she looked content to him. He wondered who there was in her life now, and he asked her as much, in so many words.

“I've been seeing someone for the last few years, more than that actually, I guess. We lived together for a while. And we still see each other,” she smiled wistfully and looked into Russ's dark eyes, “but things aren't what they used to be. ‘The price you pay,’ as you put it. Things haven't been the same since I got appointed to the bench last year … and then Harry died … it's made a lot of dents in us.”

“Is it a serious affair?” He looked both concerned and intrigued.

“It was for a long time, but it's limping badly now. I think we're still together out of loyalty.”

“You're still together, then?” He watched her face carefully, and she nodded. She and Jack had never really called it quits. At least not yet, although neither of them knew what the future would bring.

“We are for now. It suited us both for a long time. We had the same philosophy. No marriage and no kids. And as long as we both agreed on that, it worked pretty well.…”

“And now?” The big dark eyes were probing hers and she looked at him, suddenly hungry for his touch, his hands, his lips. He was the most attractive man she'd ever seen, but she had to reproach herself. She still belonged to Jack … didn't she? She was no longer quite so sure.

“I don't know. Things have changed for me since Harry died. Some of what he said makes me wonder about my own life.” She looked hard at Russ. “I mean is this it? Is this all there is? I go on from here, with my work … with or without Jack,” Russ gathered who she meant, “and that's all? Maybe I want more of a future than that. I've never felt that way before, and suddenly I do. Or at least I wonder about it sometimes.”

“I think you're on the right track.” He sounded worldly and wise, and in some ways he reminded her of Harrison.

She smiled at him. “That's what Harry would say.” And then she sighed. “Who knows, maybe it doesn't matter anyway. Suddenly it's all over, and then so what, who cares, you're gone…”

“It matters all the more then, Tana. But I felt that way too after my wife died ten years ago. It's difficult to adjust to something like that, it forces the realization on us that we have to face our own mortality one day. It all counts, every year, every day, every relationship, if you're wasting it, or unhappy where you are, one day you wake up, and it's time to pay the check. So in the meantime, you might as well be happy where you are.” He waited a moment and then looked at her. “Are you?”

“Happy?” She hesitated for a long time and then looked at him. “In my work, I am.”

“And the rest?”

“Not very, right now. It's a difficult time for us.”

“Am I intruding, then?” He wanted to know everything, and sometimes it was difficult to answer him.

She shook her head and looked into the brown eyes she was coming to know so well. “No, you're not.”

“You're still seeing your friend … the one you lived with for a while?” He smiled at her and he looked terribly sophisticated and grown up. She felt almost like a child with him.

“Yes, I still see him off and on.”

“I wanted to know how things stand with you.” She wanted to ask him why, but she didn't dare. Instead, he took her to his house, and showed her around. It took her breath away, from the moment they walked into the front hall. Nothing about him bespoke that kind of wealth. He was simple, easy, quietly well dressed, but when you saw where he lived, you understood who he was. It was a house on Broadway, in the last block before the Presidio, with small, carefully kept grounds, a marble entrance hall in inky green and sparkling white, tall marble columns, a Louis XV chest with a white marble top and a silver tray for calling cards, gilt mirrors, parquet floors, satin curtains sweeping the floor. The main floor was a series of exquisite reception rooms. The second floor was more comfortable, with a large master suite, a pretty wood-panelled library, a cozy little den with a marble fireplace, and upstairs were the children's rooms he no longer used.

“It doesn't make much sense for me anymore, but I've been here for so long, I hate to move.…”

There was nothing she could do but laugh as she sat down and looked at him. “I think I'll burn my house down after this.” But she was happy there too. This was just another life, another world. He had need of this and she did not. She remembered hearing now that he had considerable personal wealth, knew he had owned a profitable law firm a number of years ago. The man had done well in his life, and he had nothing to fear from her. She wanted nothing from him materially. He showed her proudly from room to room, the billiard room and the gym downstairs, the racks of guns he kept for duck hunting. He was a whole man, of many interests and pursuits. And as they went back upstairs, he turned to her and took her hand with a small, careful smile.

“I'm very taken with you, Tana.… I'd like to see rriore of you, but I don't want to complicate your life just now. Will you tell me when you're free?” She nodded, totally amazed by all that she had seen and heard. A little while later, he took her home, and she sat staring into the fire in her living room. He was like the kind of men one read about in books, or saw in magazines. And suddenly there he was, on the threshold of her life, telling her that he was “taken with her,” bringing her roses, walking her through Butterfield's. She didn't know what to make of him, but one thing she knew, and that was that she was “very taken” with him too.

It made things difficult with Jack for the next few weeks. She attempted to spend several nights in Tiburon, almost out of guilt, and all she could think about was Russ, especially when they made love. It was beginning to make her as testy as Jack was with her, and by Thanksgiving she was a nervous wreck. Russ had gone East to see his daughter Lee, and he had invited her to go with him, but that would have been dishonest of her. She had to resolve the situation with Jack, but by the time the holidays came, she felt hysterical every time she thought of him. All she wanted to do was be with Russ, for their quiet talks, their long walks in the Presidio, their ventures into antique shops, art galleries, their long hours over lunch in tiny coffee shops and restaurants. He brought something into her life that had never been there before and which she longed for now, and whenever a problem arose, it was Russ she called, not Jack. Jack would only bark at her. He still had a need to punish her, and it was tiresome now. She wasn't feeling guilty enough to put up with it anymore.