Matt left his plate in the car and followed after Lizabeth.

She stopped at the fifth house. "Here's a possibility-R. Hastings." She rapped the brass door knocker and chewed on her lower lip while she waited.

Richard Hastings opened the door and gave a surprised gasp when he saw Lizabeth. His eyes grew wide and frightened when he saw Matt. He tried to slam the door shut, but Matt had his foot rammed against it.

Matt wrapped his hand around Hastings' arm and pulled him outdoors. "Maybe you should step out here before the wind blows the door shut again," Matt said.

Hastings flinched. "You aren't going to hit me, are you?"

"Hell no," Matt said. "I'm here to protect you." He jerked a thumb at Lizabeth. "She's here to hit you."

Richard Hastings looked indignant. "Why would she want to hit me? I was the one who had to stand in her backyard, feeling like a damn fool with no clothes on."

Lizabeth narrowed her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Hastings gave Matt a sympathetic shake of the head. "Just between you and me, I think you've got a hard road ahead of you with all this exhibitionist stuff. I have to tell you, I wasn't all that unhappy when I heard she was married. Man, I was chased by cops and dogs, and then there was that crazy old lady in the Cadillac. And the mosquito bites are the worst."

"Maybe you should fill us in on this 'exhibitionist' stuff. Where'd you get the idea for the Yuppie Flasher?" Matt asked.

"From Paul, of course. I met him at a law conference in Richmond. He told me all about Lizabeth, and how she was looking for a husband, but she had this kinky thing about exhibitionists. I tried to meet her through normal channels. I called and introduced myself, but she wasn't interested. I purposely ran into her in the supermarket a couple times, but she froze me out. So I decided to give it one last shot and try the Yuppie Flasher."

"I'm going to kill him," Lizabeth said. "I'm going to hunt Paul down and break every bone in his body."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Matt said. "That's so violent."

"No hard feelings," Richard Hastings said to Matt. "I know she's due to inherit a ton of money, but hell, you're gonna need it to make bail."

"Wait a minute," Matt said. "What about Angle Kuchta? Why did you flash her?"

Hastings grimaced. "That's what happens when you try to do a good deed. I was walking through the yards to get to Lizabeth's house, and I looked up, and there was this woman getting undressed in front of her window. She wasn't doing it on purpose. She just hadn't thought to close her curtains. So I threw a stone up at her to tell her to close her curtains. That's a nice neighborhood, but you never know when some weirdo is skulking around."

Matt and Lizabeth exchanged glances.

"Anyway, this woman takes one look at me and starts screaming!"

"Come on, cowboy," Matt said to Lizabeth. "I think it's time to head the wagon train for home."

Lizabeth got into the orange car. "I suppose this is as close as Paul gets to a sense of humor."

It was a quiet ride home. Lizabeth pulled into the dusky interior of the carriage house, cut the engine, and sat studying the steering wheel, feeling swallowed up by the sudden silence. She was physically and mentally exhausted, but she felt at peace. It was as If she'd tossed a box of puzzle pieces into the air and when the pieces had fallen to the ground they'd all fit together.

Matt had his knees pressed against the dashboard. "Lizabeth, I don't fit in this car."

Lizabeth smiled. "I suppose that means you're going to buy me a new one."

Matt laughed. "I suppose it does. I hope I get more use out of it than the bed."

"I've been meaning to talk to you about the bed."

Matt didn't want to hear it. She was going to tell him to take it back, or she was going to tell him she'd pay for it by taking in laundry or something equally ridiculous. Things weren't going well for him. First Elsie came home early and now they'd settled the problem of the flasher. Staying at Lizabeth's house to protect her from the flasher had been a pretty flimsy excuse, but now he was left with nothing. He was going to have to move out. His sweat socks would get gray again. He'd be lonely at night, and lonely in the morning, and feverish with frustration all day at work. Man, life was the pits. He'd trade with Ferguson any day of the week. So Ferguson had a broken leg. Big deal. Ferguson got to live with Lizabeth. "Okay, what about the bed?"

"It's too big. I don't fit in it all by myself."

"Uh-huh."

"And another thing. It doesn't look right for people who are married to sleep apart. I mean, what will the kids think? They'll think Mom and Dad don't like each other."

"That's true. I've always said that. What are we talking about?"

Lizabeth rolled her eyes. Men were so dense. "We're talking about us."

"But we're not really married," Matt said.

"I know, and I think that's something we should correct as soon as possible."

It took a full minute for the realization to hit home. She wanted to marry him! He felt giddy with relief and happiness.

Matt pinned her against the inside of the car door. "Couldn't stand it any longer, huh?" He nuzzled her neck and kissed her just below her earlobe. "What was it that finally pushed you over the edge? Was it my washed-out jeans? The ones with the hole in the knee?" He slid the strap to her sundress off her shoulder and kissed her collarbone. "Maybe it was the way I handled the kitchen fire. So masterfully." The sundress slid lower, exposing her breast. Matt drew a line around the sensitive tip with his finger, causing Lizabeth to shiver. "Ah, Lizabeth," he whispered. "How I've missed you."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to him, arching in pleasure when his hand took possession of her breast. There would always be time for Matt, she thought. When their days were insanely busy there would still be the night. There would always be the night. And there would be an occasional dalliance in the garage. "Maybe you should lock the garage doors," Lizabeth said. "I hate being interrupted."

Matt levered himself out of the import. "What a hussy!"

She was in a suggestive position on the trunk when he returned. "Do you think this is undignified for a mother?"

He pulled her panties down. "I think this is perfect for a mother."

Epilogue

Lizabeth put Elsie's suitcase in the backseat of the Cadillac and hugged her aunt. "Are you sure you won't stay? Matt said he'd turn the carriage house into an apartment for you."

"That's nice of him, but I just came for the summer, and the summer is over. Now that the pervert problem is solved there isn't much excitement here. No bingo games. And you don't have any old men. My love life has gone down the toilet. I need to go where there's more action."

Ferguson impatiently sat on the front porch, his leg still encased in the plaster cast. He flopped onto his side with a clunk of the cast and watched with detached interest as Elsie drove away. At an earlier time he might have chased her car or chomped into her suitcase, but today he was reduced to the role of spectator. His ears pricked up and his tail thumped against the wood floor when Lizabeth turned his way.

She sat down with a sigh and draped an arm around the dog. Across the street the sun was setting behind the Newsomes' TV antenna. "What a great sunset," Lizabeth said to Ferguson. "'We're lucky we get to sit here and watch it."

Ferguson made a desperate sound and pushed against her until she scratched his neck. Next week the cast would come off, and Lizabeth guessed Ferguson would be as obnoxious as ever. She was almost looking forward to it.

She twisted the gold band on her finger and felt a rush of happiness. Her life was perfect. She amended that to almost perfect. There was still the motorcycle. It was a terrific motorcycle-if you liked motorcycles. After all. it was a hog. "I'm never going to be a motorcycle person," she admitted to Ferguson. "We aren't going to tell that to Matt, because he dearly loves the blasted thing." She anxiously looked up the street. Matt and Billy had taken the Harley out two hours ago. They weren't usually gone this long, and she was worried. She always worried when Matt was out on the Harley. He'd told her how safe it was and explained about quality construction, but she worried all the same.

The screen door slammed and Jason ran out and flopped down next to Ferguson. "This is so-o-o-o boring. Nobody can play, and there's nothing on television. How come Billy got to go out on the Harley and I didn't?"

"Because you went out yesterday."

"It isn't fair."

Lizabeth's eyes were drawn back to the street. They'd been gone too long. Something was wrong. Usually she heard the Harley rumbling around the neighborhood. You could hear it a mile away. Today everything was quiet. "Why don't you get a book," Lizabeth said to Jason. "Well read a story together."

He looked past her, down the street, and his eyes got wide. "Wow!" he said. "Look at this! This is awesome!" He scrambled to his feet and took off across the lawn.

Lizabeth followed. There was a car pulling into her driveway. A brand-new, shiny, black-and-burgundy jeep-type thing that had 4x4 written in big black letters across its flank. It sat high on slightly oversize tires and had bug-eye spotlights attached to the roof. There was a hitch attached to the jeep thing, and attached to the hitch was a boat. A big, glistening white boat. Matt and Billy jumped out of the burgundy jeep.

"What do you think?" Matt asked. He wiped at a smudge on the boat with his shirttail. "It's a beauty, isn't it?"

Lizabeth had a hard time finding her voice. "What happened to the Harley?"