After breakfast, I waited until it was a reasonable time to call Oregon. Then I phoned Paige. As I listened to her answering machine, my hopes plummeted. I didn’t bother leaving a message. The one on her machine told me Paige was off on an investigation with Lucas. Of course, the message didn’t say that, but it was one she used to let her fellow council members and supernatural friends know she was out of town, and they should call her cell phone instead.

“We’ll try again next week,” Clay said. “She’s never away long. Not with Savannah in school…or, I guess, Savannah isn’t in school right now, is she?”

“Summer break,” I mumbled.

That reminded me that this was the first summer in four years that Savannah wouldn’t be spending a week with us. We’d planned on it, but then my nightmares started, and I’d been afraid of spooking her. The last thing any teenage girl needs is to see something like that-might scare her off having kids herself someday. Savannah had been understanding, and we’d promised to make it up to her at Christmas, but I knew she’d been disappointed, which only made me feel guiltier, as I screwed up another person’s summer…

“Jaime,” Clay said.

“Invite Jaime? I’m sure she’s too busy-”

“What about that documentary work you two were talking about? Not really your type of writing, but you seemed interested when she brought it up.”

I hesitated, then nodded. “Sure. Work. That’d be good. Something new might be just what I need.”

I grabbed the phone book from the drawer, opened it and dialed. Again I got an answering machine. This time I left a message, just a vague “give me a shout when you get a chance.” I suspected it would be days before I heard back-Jaime spent most of her year touring, a few days here, a week there. God only knew when she’d get the message.

“She might have just stepped out,” Clay said.

“Sure. Maybe.”

“You want to give Nick a try?”

I shook my head, murmured a “maybe later” and slid from the room.

Strategy

THE PHONE RANG EARLY THE NEXT MORNING.

“I’ll get it!” I said.

I rocketed from the table so fast that I temporarily forgot my new center of gravity and nearly landed face-first on the floor.

“You expecting someone?” Clay called after me, as I righted myself and hurried to the study.

“Work,” I said. “A…job assignment.”

Like I ever moved so fast to get work. The sad truth was that I wasn’t expecting a call-I just wanted contact with the outside world. Any contact. At this point, a vacuum cleaner salesperson would do.

Just last week, when our tenacious local Avon lady had dropped a catalogue in our mailbox, as she’d done for the last four years without ever getting an order from me, there had been a moment when I’d thought, “Huh, maybe I should giveher a call, get a makeup consultation.” It didn’t matter that I hadn’t bought new makeup since the nineties. Even when I recalled Jeremy’s story about the last Avon lady that showed up at Stonehaven, I wasn’t deterred. After all, Clay had been only seven or eight years old, and even if he did terrorize the Avon lady again, as bad as I would feel about that, it certainly would liven up an afternoon.

The phone hit its fourth ring. I dove for the answering machine, and hit the off button, then glanced at the caller ID as I reached for the receiver. A pay phone tag flashed past. A pay phone? Maybe Jaime calling back or Paige checking in.

“Hello?”

“Elena!” a voice boomed.

“Xavier!”

Silence. A bit too enthusiastic on my part, I guess. He was probably trying to figure out whether that was a happy shout of greeting or a warning snarl.

“Good to hear from you,” I added.

Silence. Then, “What’d I do?”

“Nothing. It’s just…good to hear from you.”

Clay appeared in the doorway. I mouthed “Xavier.” He scowled. I turned to face the wall.

“So what’s up?” I said. “Have you heard anything about that letter? Or do you have something else you need us to do? We still owe you for the Hargrave tip, don’t forget.”

He paused, certain a trap lurked behind my enthusiasm. “Uh, no, I haven’t. It’s the letter. Things have fallen back into place-”

“So we’re on? Great! When do you want it?”

“The, uh, buyer would like it within the next couple of weeks, but if that’s not enough notice, I can probably swing something-”

“A couple of weeks? Perfect. Just send us the updated plans and we’ll be on it. Do you still have my fax number?”

He did. We discussed a few final details, then I hung up and turned, beaming, to Clay.

“Absolutely not,” he said. “So don’t even ask.”

“Ask? Since when do I need your permission?”

I bounced past him out the door.

“He’s going to say the same thing,” Clay called.

We’d see about that.

Wrangling a day pass from Jeremy…take two.

Since I’d started showing, Jeremy and Clay hadn’t wanted me leaving Pack territory or meeting with any supernatural who wasn’t a good friend. As overprotective as that sounded, there was logic behind it. They wanted to keep my pregnancy a secret from the werewolf world for as long as possible.

Being the only female werewolf always made me a target. Becoming Clay’s mate had upped the ante. There were plenty of mutts who wanted to get to him, and wouldn’t mind doing it through me. But we’d learned to deal with that…or I’d learned to deal with it, and Jeremy and Clay had learned to trust that I could deal with it.