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were to go to Darren’s afterward. “Okay. I’ll come earlier and fill you in on the Colberts. See you tomorrow.”
    This was one of her favorite places on Earth, she thoughta few minutes later on the bike path by the river. Temperature about seventy-eight, a light breeze, sparkling water flashing brilliantly at little rapids, egrets and herons, blackberries ripening on the side of the path…Two kayaks in the river. Kids on bikes, other walkers, perfect. She had made her notes in the motel, had caught up with her e-mail and phone messages—Bailey would check in first thing Monday morning, and Shelley had settled Carrie into an apartment—and now she could relax. Except, she thought, she couldn’t. Instead, she brooded about Carrie’s lost childhood and what Stuart Colbert had said: she had left Indiana to track down her family. An endless exercise in futility.
    Barbara thought with regret that if she had played her hand just a little better, she would have taken her trip a day later, arrived home on Sunday with a perfect excuse not to attend the reception. And then Darren’s place. She had agreed only because she had sensed that he wanted to show off his new house now that he had moved in, and she owed him something for giving her an insight into somatic memory. She had remembered how to ride, and obviously Carrie remembered how to play the piano. That was something. But when the devil had she learned?
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    The reception was easier than she had thought it would be, and over quicker than she had hoped. It was good to see them all happy and excited about the foundation, and they very clearly had been grateful to her for getting them out of a jam. But when she caught Frank’s eye after their obligatory half hour, he had nodded ever so slightly toward the door, and they had made their exit. He enjoyed cocktail parties just about as much as she did.
    â€œDone our duty,” Frank said in the car. “Darren’s going to be delayed a bit, and Todd will be our host until he gets home.”
    It was only a five-minute drive to Darren’s house, and already it looked like a home. A basketball hoop over the garage door was a dead giveaway. Todd proved to be a gracious host, ushering them with aplomb to the back patio where a table was set up with a covered tray of cheese and crackers, to which he added a decanter of wine. His cat Nappy circled the table, then sat as if watching for a chance to make a leap. The last time Barbara had seen Nappy he had been little more than a kitten. Now he was a full-grown, handsome tiger-striped cat with ideas.
    â€œDad said I should offer to show you the house,” Todd said. “You want to see my posters?”
    Frank nodded. “I’d like very much to see them.” He glanced at Barbara, who had her head cocked in a listening attitude. Then he heard it, too. Piano music. He suspected that Darren’s plan was to have her discover Carrie before he got home, get the fireworks over without him.
    â€œWho’s playing?” Barbara asked, but she knew. She turned a cold eye on her father. “Do you know who’s playing?”
    â€œIt’s Carrie,” Todd said. “She moved in yesterday. She’s cool.”
    â€œShe moved in yesterday,” Barbara said in a carefully measured way. “I see.” She continued to regard her father. “Why are you not surprised as much as I am?”
    â€œWell, it seemed an ideal solution to her problem, and Darren was agreeable.”
    â€œI bet he was. I think I’m getting a headache.”
    The music stopped, and a moment later Carrie hurried around the side of the house. “Barbara, how can I thank you? It’s perfect! The apartment, even a piano!” She stopped herforward momentum just short of Barbara, as if restraining herself from throwing her arms around her. “Just thank you, more than I can say.”
    Another new expression, Barbara