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  “And you do this how?” Min said. “Charming them?”

  “What have you got against charming?” Cal said.

  “It so rarely goes hand in hand with ‘honest,’ ” Min said.

  Cal sighed. “People shut down because of fear. The first thing we do is analyze the students to find out who’s afraid and how they’re coping with it. Some of them freeze up, so we put them with Roger. Very gentle guy, Roger. He can reassure anybody into learning anything.”

  “That’s a little creepy,” Min said, trying to picture Roger as one of those slick self-help gurus.

  “You are a very suspicious woman,” Cal said. “Then some people hide their fear in wisecracks, disrupting class. Tony takes them. They joke around together until everybody’s relaxed.”

  “And who do you get?” Min said.

  “I get the angry ones,” Cal said. “The ones who are mad that they’re scared.”

  “And you charm them out of it,” Min said.

  “Well, I wouldn’t put it that way, but yes, I suppose that’s one interpretation.”

  The angry ones. They walked on in silence, their footsteps echoing together.

  Min looked up at him. “You must have felt right at home with me tonight.”

  “Nope,” Cal said. “You’re not mad because you’re scared. I doubt that much scares you. You’re mad because somebody was lousy to you. And there’s not enough charm in the world to get you out of that until you’ve resolved the deeper issue.”

  “And yet you kept on trying,” Min said.

  “No, I didn’t,” Cal said. “Once you’d told me you’d been dumped, I backed off.”

  Min thought about it. “I guess you did. Pretty much.”

  “Now aren’t you sorry you were such a grump all night?” Cal said.

  “No,” Min said. “Because you were pouring on the charm before that, which means you were trying to get something from me, God knows what—” Sex to win a bet, you beast. “—and you deserved to be called on that.”

  A few steps later Cal said, “Fair enough.”

  Min smiled to herself in the darkness and thought, Well, he does have an honest bone in his body. Too bad it’s just one. They walked on in silence until they reached the steps to her house. “This is it. Thank you very much—”

  “Where?” Cal said, looking around. “I don’t see a house.”

  “Up there,” Min said, pointing up the hill. “The steps are right there. So we can—”

  Cal peered up the hill into the darkness. “Christ, woman, that looks like Everest. How many steps are there?”

  “Thirty-two,” Min said, “and another twenty-six after that to get up to my apartment in the attic.” She held out her hand. “So we’ll say goodnight here. Thank you for the walk home. Best of luck in the future.”

  He ignored her to look up the hill again. “Nope. I’m not leaving you to climb up there in the dark.”

  “It’s okay,” Min said. “Seventy-eight percent of women who are attacked are attacked by men they know.”

  “Is that another shot at me?” Cal said.

  “No. I don’t know any men who would climb thirty-two steps to attack me, so I’m safe. You can go home with a clear conscience.”

  “No,” he said patiently. “I can’t. Get moving. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Behind her? Thirty-two steps with him looking at her butt? “No, you won’t.”

  “Look, it’s late, I’m tired, can we just—”

  “It’ll be a cold day in hell when you follow me up those steps. You want to go up, you go first.”

  “Why?” he said, mystified.

  “You’re not looking at my rear end all the way up that hill.”

  He shook his head. “You know, Dobbs, you look like a sane person, and then you open your mouth—”

  “Start climbing or go home,” Min said.

  Cal sighed and took the first step. “Wait a minute. Now you’ll be looking at my butt all the way up the steps.”

  “Yes, but you probably have a great butt,” Min said. “It’s an entirely different dynamic.”

  “I can’t even see yours,” Cal said. “It’s dark and your jacket is too long.”

  “Climb or leave,” Min said, and Cal started up the steps.

  When they got to the top, he hesitated, and she saw the mid-century stone and stucco house through his eyes, dark and shabby and overgrown with climbing rosebushes that were so ancient they’d degenerated into thornbushes. “It’s nice,” she said, on the defensive.

  “It’s probably great in the daytime,” he said, politely.

  “Right.” Min pushed past him to climb the stone steps to the front porch. She unlocked the door. “There, see? You can go now.”

  “This is not your door,” he said. “You said you live twenty-six steps up.”

  “Fine, climb all the way to the attic.” She waved him in front of her into the square hall of the house. With him there, the faded blue wallpaper and dull oak woodwork looked shabby instead of comfortable, and that irritated her. “Up,” she said, pointing to the narrow stairway along one wall, looking even narrower now that he was at the bottom with what looked like several yards of shoulder blocking her way, and he climbed two more flights of stairs to the narrow landing with her following.

  He had a great butt.

  And that’s all that’s nice about him, Min told herself. Be sensible, keep your head here. You’re never going to see him again.

  “Well, at least you know anybody who walks you home twice is serious about you,” he said, as he reached the top.

  He turned as he said it, and Min, still two steps down scoping out his rear end, walked into his elbow and clipped herself hard over the eye, knocking herself enough off balance that she tripped back, grabbed the railing, and sat down on the step.

  “Oh, Christ,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He bent over her and she warded him off.

  “No, no,” she said. “My fault. Following too close.” Ouch, she thought, gingerly feeling the place he’d smacked her. That’s what you get for being shallow and objectifying the beast.

  “Just let me see it,” he said, trying to look into her eyes. He put his hand gently on the side of her face to tip her chin up.

  “No.” She brushed his hand away as her skin started to tingle. “I’m fine. Aside from being part of the seventy-eight percent of women who are attacked by—”

  “Oh, cut me a break,” he said, straightening. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” She stood up again and detoured around him to unlock her door. “You can go now.”

  “Right.” He picked up her hand and shook it once. “Great to meet you, Dobbs. Sorry about the elbow to the head. Have a nice life.”

  “Oh, I’m going to,” Min said. “I’m giving up men and getting a cat.” She slipped inside and shut the door in his face before he could say anything else. Have a nice life. Who is he kidding?

  She turned on her grandmother’s china lamp by the door, and her living room sprang into shabby but comforting view. The light on her machine was blinking, and she went over and pressed the button, and then rubbed her temple while she listened.

  “Min,” her sister’s voice said. “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t forget the fitting tomorrow. It’ll be nice to see you.” Diana sounded a little woebegone, which was not like her, and Min replayed the message to hear her again. Something was wrong.

  “The Dobbs girls cannot win,” she said, and thought about Calvin Morrisey. She went over to her battered mantel and looked over the snow globes lined up there into the tarnished mirror that had once hung in her grandmother’s hall. A plain round face, plain brown hair, that’s what Cal Morrisey had looked at all night. And now it had a nice bruise. She sighed and picked up the snow globe Bonnie had given her for Christmas, Cinderella and her prince on the steps of their blue castle, doves flying overhead. Cal Morrisey would look right at home on those steps. She, on the other hand, would be asked to try the servants’