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  “Two kids and a housekeeper. You’re not going.”

  Southie sighed. “Kelly’s not going to be happy.”

  “Such is life.”

  Southie hesitated and the silence stretched out. “All right then,” he said, standing up. “You going to see Andie again?”

  “No. You have a good evening.” North flipped the page back to where it had been as a signal for Southie to leave and saw the “Andiana” in the middle of the page again. “Damn.”

  “What’s wrong?” Southie said.

  “I made a mistake.” North flipped the pad shut, annoyed with himself.

  “Sending Andie down there?”

  “What?” he said, looking up.

  “You think you made a mistake sending Andie down there?”

  “No,” North said, and then thought about Andie, down in the wilds of southern Ohio. She might like it. She’d been wandering around ever since they’d divorced, moving someplace new every year, teaching in some really godforsaken places. Maybe that had been his mistake, keeping her in the city. Trying to keep her at all. He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t a mistake. She’ll handle things.”

  “Yeah, she will,” Southie said, his voice odd, and when North looked up, he saw Southie regarding him sympathetically. “Maybe you should go down there. Get out of the office, check to make sure she’s all right. Spend a night in the place so you know what it’s like.”

  “She’s fine.”

  Southie waited a moment and then said quietly, “You could have gone after her, you know.”

  North looked at him blankly. “Why would I go after her? She’ll be fine down there.”

  “Not now. Then. When she left. You could have gone—”

  “No.”

  “You ever think maybe that divorce was a mistake?”

  “No,” North said, putting as much “you-should-leave-now” in his voice as possible.

  “Because I always thought it was,” Southie said. “If you’d gone after her, you could have gotten her back. That’s all she wanted, she was just lonely—”

  “Was there anything else?” North said coldly. “Because unlike you, I have work to do.”

  “Right. Well, you have a good time with your work,” Southie said, and left, shaking his head.

  Damn it. The divorce hadn’t been a mistake. She’d been miserable. He’d been miserable because she was miserable. Going after her wouldn’t have changed that. They were both happier now. He had work to do.

  She’d looked so good, warm and round; sounded so good, the old huskiness of her voice brushing down his spine; moved so good, her step still in that old rocking rhythm—

  And now she was getting married again. Good for her. Moving on …

  He pulled his notebook back in front of him and then thought, Maybe good for her. Because Southie was right, he didn’t know anything about this yahoo she was getting engaged to. She probably didn’t, either. She’d married him after twelve hours of phenomenal sex, she could be lunging into another mistake. And she hadn’t smiled. She’d smiled all the time when they were married. In the beginning.

  He picked up the phone and called the detective agency the firm used and ordered a background check on Will Spenser.

  Then he flipped open the notebook to go back to work and saw the “Andiana” blot.

  No, he thought, and ripped out the page and copied the whole thing over again. With no mistakes.

  * * *

  By late afternoon the next day, Andie had finished packing and tying off the loose ends of her life. There weren’t many loose ends since she’d been moving around the country for ten years, which tended to limit most ends, loose or otherwise, but she did call Will in New York to tell him the good news. “Ten thousand dollars, Will. It’ll pay off all my debts with some left over. I’m being practical and mature here.”

  “I don’t care about your debts,” he said, sounding exasperated, and she pictured his handsome boyish face, scowling at her for the two seconds he could hold a scowl before he started to grin again. “I’ll pay your debts. What I’d really like to hear is that you’re going to marry me.”

  Of course, Andie thought, and said, “Maybe.” She heard a thunking sound on the other end of the phone. “What’s that?”

  “That’s me beating my head against the wall.”

  Andie grinned. “That’s you beating the phone against your mouse pad.”

  “Same difference. Do you take this long to answer all your marriage proposals?”

  It took me five seconds to say yes to North. “Yes. I ponder them, and the guys get bored and wander off. Will, I want to do this, it really is important to me to be free and clear financially before I start a new life. I’ve been spinning my wheels for ten years. I want a new start with nothing left over from before.”

  “Okay,” he said in that easygoing voice she loved. He was so Not-North. “Call me often. Tell me you love working with kids and want to have twenty.”

  “Twenty?” Andie said, alarmed. “I don’t want any.”

  “Well, maybe you’ll change your mind.” Will hesitated and then he said, “You won’t be seeing North, will you?”

  Andie frowned at the phone. “Are you jealous? Because, trust me, he’d forgotten I existed until I showed up in his office. And no, I won’t be seeing him.”

  “Nobody has ever forgotten you,” Will said with feeling. “Just remember who you’re potentially engaged to.”

  “How could I forget?” Andie said, and moved on to the I-love-yous before North became a permanent part of their conversation. Then she picked up the last of her three suitcases and her CD player and went out to deal with her mother, who was standing on the sidewalk in front of her little brick German Village cottage in her jeans and faded Iron Maiden T-shirt, looking worried as she stared at Andie’s ten-year-old bright yellow Mustang.

  “I don’t like this,” Flo said, for the fortieth time, her long, curly, graying hair bobbing as she shook her head. “I dreamed about you last night. You fell into a well.”

  “Thank you, Flo.” Andie opened the hatchback. “That’s encouraging.”

  “It means your subconscious is calling to you. You’ve been repressing something. That’s what the water means anyway. The falling part is probably about being out of control, or since it’s you, maybe it’s about running away. You know what a bolter you are.”

  “I am not a bolter,” Andie said to her mother, not for the first time. “I go toward things, not away from them.”

  “I think you got the bolting thing from your father,” Flo said. “You’re very like him.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Andie said coldly. “Except that I don’t desert children, so no, I’m not like him.”

  “Don’t go,” Flo said.

  “Because you had a dream? No.” Andie put the suitcase in the car next to the sewing machine she’d already stashed there.

  “There was so much negative energy in your marriage,” Flo fretted.

  That wasn’t negative energy, that was raging lust. “I’m not revisiting my marriage. I’m taking care of two orphaned kids for a month—”

  “This is a terrible time astrologically,” Flo went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “Your Venus is in North’s Capricorn—”

  Andie slammed the hatchback closed. “Flo, my Venus isn’t anywhere near North. If his Capricorn was in my Venus, I could see your point, but it’s staying here in Columbus while I go south.” She went around and opened the back door of the car and shoved over the boxes of school supplies that Kristin had given her to make room for her stereo while her mother obsessed about her life.

  “North is a powerful man, and you’re still connected to him.” Flo frowned. “Probably sexual memory, those Capricorns are insatiable. Well, you know, Sea Goat. And of course, you’re a Fish. You’ll end up back in bed with him.”

  Andie slammed the car door. “You know what I’d like for Christmas, Flo? Boundaries. You can gift me early if you’d like.”