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that was a stupid thought, and he knew it. He could almost imagine Melissa rolling her eyes at his maudlin nonsense. She had told him toward the end that if he never married again she would consider it a personal insult. Hadn’t she shown him how wonderful a good marriage could be?
    For the first time in a long time, he wished he still drank. He’d like to forget everything about this blasted night, from the mute betrayal in Spencer’s face when he realized he wasn’t going to get to see the kittens, right up to the disappointment in Pauline’s face when she realized Reed wasn’t going to kiss her good-night.
    Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.
    Why did everyone want something from him that he didn’t have?
    He yanked the lid from the garbage can, deciding that action would have to replace the easy oblivion of liquor. Luckily, Autumn House never ran out of chores to exhaust his body into sleep. He might as well start by taking out the trash.
    Right on top, though, were a dozen torn pieces of sketch paper with strangely familiar colors all over them. Two of the pieces fluttered to the floor. Pickingthem up, he tilted his head, trying to imagine the picture intact again.
    The orange and brown of tiger-striped kittens. The blue, red and yellow of a parrot.
    Damn it.
    â€œI was going to take that bag out,” Faith said suddenly from the kitchen doorway. “But I wasn’t sure exactly where to put it.”
    He looked over at her, the pieces of paper still in his hand. She was already dressed for bed. She looked washed out, exhausted.
    â€œIt’s okay,” he said. “You’re not really the housekeeper, here, you know. You don’t have to vacuum, or dust, or take out the trash.”
    â€œI know,” she said, twisting the sash of her moon-blue robe a little tighter. “But I have to do something. And you’ve been so generous, letting us stay here—”
    She stopped as she noticed the torn papers in his hand. “Oh,” she said, slightly embarrassed. She obviously hadn’t meant for him to see the evidence of Spencer’s anger.
    â€œIt was a rough night,” she said. “He was a little…emotional.”
    â€œI can see that.”
    â€œI’m very sorry about what happened earlier,” she said. “Spencer didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that he—”
    â€œFaith, stop apologizing.” Reed hated those shadows under her eyes. When had she last had a good night’s sleep? “You can’t take the blame for everything that happens. It’s not your fault Doug Lambert fell in love with you. It’s not your fault he killed your sister. It’s not your fault you had to leave New York so that he wouldn’t kill you, too.”
    â€œI know,” she said. But she bit her lip, and he felt a pang of remorse. She was probably struggling to avoid apologizing for apologizing too much.
    His words were still vibrating in the empty kitchen, where low lights and midnight silence were creating an odd intimacy. They were like a married couple arguing softly so that they wouldn’t wake the children. Except that they weren’t married. She was his guest.
    He rubbed his hand over his face, as if that might clear his head. He looked down at the torn picture again, and then looked at Faith, who had turned to leave the kitchen.
    â€œI couldn’t stay,” he said abruptly. “I couldn’t send Pauline away. It would have been too rude.”
    He heard a sort of apology in his voice, which was, of course, absolutely ridiculous. Why should he feel guilty for leaving? He hadn’t had any choice. Besides, he didn’t owe either of these people anything but common courtesy and a safe place to sleep.
    â€œOf course you couldn’t,” she said. “It’s fine. Spencer is fine. Please don’t worry.”
    â€œFaith, I mean it. I would help him if I could, but I