Francesca laughed. “Anything else in your list of demands? How about money? You want a loan?”

Mia hugged her. “No way. You’re broke.”

On that cheerful note she led the way into the kitchen.

Francesca followed, then leaned against the door frame as Mia poured coffee and added a large splash of milk. She took a sip, then set the mug on the counter and opened the freezer door.

“Did Brenna leave any doughnuts in here?” she asked as she rummaged through a couple of frozen entrées, ravioli sent over by Grandma Tessa, and an emergency pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

“I don’t think so,” Francesca said, then shook her head as Mia held up a foil-wrapped container.

“Don’t you check for stuff like this?” she asked. “Brenna lived with you for almost a month after she and Jeff split up. Didn’t it occur to you that she would have put doughnuts in the freezer?”

“Honestly, no.”

“For someone with a degree in psychology, you sure don’t know your twin.”

Francesca laughed. “I thought she’d take the doughnuts with her.”

“Uh-huh.”

Mia finished unwrapping the Krispy Kremes and slid them onto a paper towel. Then she set them in the microwave and punched in fifteen seconds.

The old machine whirred and shook slightly as it hummed to life. Mia frowned.

“Is this safe? Are we going to get radiation burns from this?”

“I don’t think microwaves use radiation.”

As if not willing to risk any potential danger, Mia took a step back. Francesca grinned.

When the timer beeped, Mia pulled out the paper towel and carried it to the table. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll share.”

“I should hope so. If Brenna left the food in the house, then it’s legally mine.”

Mia grabbed her coffee and pulled out a chair. Despite the relatively early hour on a Saturday, she looked alert and rested. Her big eyes were bright and clear. Her dark hair had been freshly streaked with blond highlights, and for once she wasn’t wearing enough makeup to make a Vegas showgirl proud.

Francesca settled across from her and took one of the steaming doughnuts.

“Where’s your face?” she asked.

Mia wrinkled her nose. “Mom begged me not to look slutty this summer while I’m in D.C. That was her exact word. Do I look slutty to you?”

Francesca studied the pretty features, the round cheeks and grinning mouth. “Not now.”

Mia balled up a napkin and threw it at her. “Katie’s always getting on me about my makeup, too. I think it’s because you’re all so old. You’re just jealous.”

“I’m sure that’s it.”

Mia finished her doughnut and reached for another. “My plane leaves early tomorrow. The folks are driving me into L.A. this afternoon, and I’m spending the night at an airport hotel. In-room movies and room service. Wanna come? It’s on them. And don’t say you don’t mooch. This is different.”

Francesca was more concerned with her date that night than sponging off her parents. “I know it’s different.”

Mia rolled her eyes. “You’re so stubborn. You know Mom and Dad would love to help you out financially. Why don’t you let them? I’m in college and they help me. Should I feel guilty?”

It was a familiar argument. “Of course not. Mia, you’re eighteen, you’re brilliant, and of course the folks want to pay for your school.”

“So you’re old. That doesn’t mean they wouldn’t help.”

“I’m going to ignore the ‘old’ part,” Francesca told her. “I was married. I’ve been on my own. It was my choice to go to college after Todd died, and it’s important for me to pay my own way. I want to be independent-it’s one of the reasons I took back my maiden name.”

“You’d think that old poophead would have at least left you a few bucks,” Mia grumbled.

“You’d think,” Francesca agreed. “But he didn’t and I’m doing fine.”

Mia eyed the small dark kitchen. “If you say so.”

“I do. Now let’s talk about you. Are you excited to go to Washington?”

Mia shimmied in her chair. “D.C. is going to be so great. I still wish I was taking my language class in Japan, but this is nearly as good. I figure when I’m not studying, I’ll hang out by the Capitol and meet some cute congressional aides.” She sipped her coffee. “I mean, I am recovering from a broken heart.”

Francesca shook her head. Mia might have recently broken up with her fiancé, but there weren’t any broken hearts in sight.

“You seem to have moved from ‘recovering’ to ‘recovered,’ ” Francesca said.

“I guess. Which means it’s really good I didn’t marry David, huh? So what are you doing today?”

“The usual. Errands.” She motioned to the list she’d started.

Mia picked it up.

Exactly two seconds later Francesca realized her mistake. Mia got it about five seconds after that. Her baby sister’s mouth dropped open, she snorted, then gave a strangled gasp-laugh.

“Check your diaphragm? Somehow I know we’re not talking about breathing devices.”

Francesca refused to be embarrassed. She reached across the table to take back her list.

Mia held it out of reach. “Uh-uh. No way. First you talk. Then I return personal possessions.”

“Fine. It’s no big deal.” She picked up a doughnut and took a bite.

Mia stared at her. “Five words doesn’t count as talking. I want details. Start at the beginning and speak slowly.”

Francesca figured there was no point in putting off the inevitable. Mia had the same stubborn trait as all the Marcelli sisters. “When I was married to Todd, I had a bad reaction to being on the Pill, so I started using a diaphragm. In the years since, I’ve had occasion to dust it off once or twice, and I was curious if it was still around.”

Mia dropped the list and slapped her hands on the table. “You are such a liar.”

Francesca nodded. “I know. I was practicing to see if I was any better at it. What do you think?”

“You stink. Now spill your guts, woman.”

“After Brenna moved back home, she, Katie, and I were talking one afternoon. Actually we were drinking wine and eating too many cookies, but that’s a different story.”

Mia pouted. “Dammit, why do I always miss the fun stuff? You guys are always hanging out and not including me. I hate that. It’s because you and Brenna are twins and Katie’s only a year older. I’m the leftover kid.”

“I’m sorry, Mia. It wasn’t on purpose. And for the record, we all love you to pieces. You’re not the leftover kid.”

“Okay. Maybe. But that doesn’t make it any less annoying. So tell me what happened.”

Francesca drank more coffee. “We were talking about boys we’d liked in high school but hadn’t slept with. We talked about Jeff and Todd and Zach. They got on me about not dating.”

“Or having sex,” Mia added.

“That, too. Basically I agreed to sleep with the next normal, available guy I ran into.”

Mia’s eyes widened. “So you’re just going to cruise the neighborhood?”

“No. I met someone yesterday. I was working and-”

Mia groaned and leaned forward until her head was resting on the table. “Please. Not the tattooed biker chick. Tell me you weren’t her.”

“I wasn’t. I was pregnant.”

Mia straightened, then gagged. “That’s gross. He asked out a pregnant lady? What’s wrong with him?”

“From what I can tell, nothing. He helped me out. We went back to his office, where he guilted me into telling him the truth.”

“How did he do that?”

Francesca shrugged. “He was really nice.”

“Wow. Nice. That must have been painful. Tell me he’s at least good-looking.”

“He is. Really good-looking.” She reached for her purse and dug out his business card, then passed it to Mia.

Her sister took it and read. “President and CEO? Okay, I take back the gross comment.” She set the card on the table. “If you’re just now hunting for birth control, I’m guessing you didn’t do it last night.”

Francesca was shocked. “I do not have sex on the first date.”

Mia looked unimpressed. “You don’t actually know that. It would take you dating to find out.”

“Good point. Okay. No, we didn’t do it. We kissed.”

“And?”

“It was a religious experience.”

Mia chuckled. “Way to go, Sis.” She tilted her head. “Let me guess. He’s the reason you can’t join me in Los Angeles for a night of in-room movies and room service?”

“Exactly. We have a date.”

“I’m proud of you.” Mia rose and stretched. “So let’s find that diaphragm of yours. I want to see what it looks like and you need to practice. It sounds to me like someone might be getting lucky.”

Francesca followed her into the bedroom. “I thought guys got lucky and girls put out.”

“Whatever.” Mia flopped down on the bed. “So start looking.”

Francesca walked to her dresser but didn’t pull out any drawers. She’d added the diaphragm to her to-do list on impulse. She wasn’t actually expecting to get naked with Sam, was she? She’d been a virgin when she married Todd, and after his death she’d never been all that sexually active. There was an assortment of reasons, most of which could be the subject of their own psych term paper.

Yes, she’d promised her sisters, and yes, keeping that promise was the only way she was going to enter the mainstreaming dating world, but still. Sex with a stranger? She reminded herself that simple sex beat a complicated relationship any day.

Mia groaned. “I can hear you talking yourself out of it from here. Francesca, come on. It’ll be fun.”

“You don’t actually know that.”

“Yeah, I do.” Mia flipped onto her stomach. “Trust me. Life with sex is pretty thrilling.”

“I can’t believe my eighteen-year-old sister is offering me advice on this.”

“I can’t believe my twenty-seven-year-old sister needs it. Now, start looking.”

Francesca didn’t have to look. She knew exactly where the device in question was parked. She opened the top drawer and moved a pile of socks. The slim blue case sat in the corner.