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  “You’re very confident,” Peg said.

  Morgan laughed. “Well, you have very good taste. And I’m relieved to hear you’re not dead from the waist down after all.”

  They leaned against the crunched car and stared out at the alley. A possum ran past the garage, which made Peg pull in her feet. They unnerved her.

  “Do you know if she’s going out with a woman named Camille Bardon?” Peg asked. “That’s the driver of the Range Rover I hit.”

  “I think so. Allison mentioned her when we were killing time at the closing. Fucking thing took forever. Is she the one who acted like such an asshole?”

  “That’s her.”

  “That’s interesting. Allison asked me that day if I knew anything about Camille.”

  Peg looked surprised. “You mean as a police officer? Is she a criminal or something?”

  “No, not like that. She meant dyke-drama wise. You know—did I know any of her exes, that sort of thing. I knew her name from the gay papers. Camille’s usually at all the big queer benefits, and I know she gives money to various charities and causes. Allison seemed to be happy to be dating again, but she didn’t seem to be jumping up and down over Camille.”

  “Why do you say she was happy to be dating again?” Peg asked as they headed to the back door of Peg’s house.

  “She’d been in a long-term relationship that broke up a year or so ago. Allison was slow to get back on the horse.”

  “She told you all that at the closing?”

  Morgan laughed. “You wouldn’t believe the things you end up sharing with your broker.”

  “It seems to me Allison picked the wrong horse,” Peg said.

  “I’d agree. Now come on. I’m off work and have some drinking to do. You can watch.”

  *

  With darkness fully settled on the quiet neighborhood, Camille pulled her car into a spot halfway down the block from Allison’s house. She could clearly see the front. She hoped no one went in through the rear. Camille had taken the precaution of going home to swap the damaged Rover for her Lexus sedan. The last thing she wanted was for Allison to spot her.

  Camille’s experience in business taught her that her gut instincts were usually dead on target, and her instincts told her now that there was something more to Allison’s anger. She knew at some level that Peg Ryan came into play, and she was prepared to sit patiently and watch. It wouldn’t have surprised her at all to see the dented Prius rolling down the street, with Peg peering out at the house numbers. She considered the absurdity of worrying about losing Allison when she could have any woman she wanted. She’d certainly had plenty already. And that was the problem. None of the others compared to Allison—the way she looked, the way she threw her head back and laughed, the way she moved under Camille when they made love, the way she drove a conversation beyond the expected and into the delightful.

  Camille had many things in her life that were expendable or replaceable. Allison Mitchell was not one of them.

  Chapter Two

  Thursday, November 27

  Allison’s mother stacked another plastic container on top of the four Allison was balancing in her arms. Turkey, sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie—the whole Thanksgiving nine yards.

  “This is ridiculous, Mom. I live alone, remember? I couldn’t eat all this in a month.”

  They stood in Sara Mitchell’s kitchen, groggy after a long day of cooking and talking. Talking nonstop. This was the home Allison grew up in, where her mother raised her alone, where Allison still returned often, where she felt an emotional security she found nowhere else.

  “Why don’t you invite someone over to share the food? It wouldn’t kill you to have a person in your house now and again.” Her mother turned away to open the kitchen door and shoo Allison out of the house.

  “Why are you throwing me out?” She found herself on the back stoop, looking at her mother through the screen door.

  Her mother started to close the door on her. “I love you, but it’s time to go. I have half of Downton Abbey to watch tonight.”

  Allison smiled. “You’re an old crab. I love you, too.”

  She loaded her car with the leftovers and headed back to the city. She was surprised to find herself blinking away tears. It had always been the two of them since her father left when Allison was four, but she couldn’t imagine a happier childhood. She never missed her father, never felt in want of anything. Now her mother was getting older, and she was terrified at the thought of what was coming down the road. The answer to that was to think of something else, so she thought about what she had to do over the holiday weekend. If she swung by her office to pick up a file, she wouldn’t have to return there until Monday.

  She got off the expressway and headed to her Lincoln Park office. It wasn’t a neighborhood she’d want to live in, but it was great for selling real estate. The homes were largely high-end, and it was lucrative as hell. Crazily so. She drove a Mercedes because that’s what people expected of successful brokers, but she would have preferred a Toyota. She pulled into an open spot outside her office door, and as she was getting out of the car, she saw Peg Ryan walking toward her along Halsted, her long coat open despite the cold. The street was quiet. Everyone but Peg and herself were off with their families.

  Peg stopped when she saw Allison. They greeted each other with a smile.

  “Good Lord. Do you work on Thanksgiving too? I thought lawyers had it bad,” Peg said.

  Allison peered up at Peg, who was at least half a foot taller than she was. The collar of Peg’s coat was snapped up, her hands were in her pockets, her gaze steady on Allison as she waited for her reply. She was sexy as hell. Peg had faint bruises on her jaw where the airbag had slammed into her, but still she managed to look rakish.

  “Lawyers do have it bad. I used to be one, so I know,” Allison said. “But no, I’m not working. I’m stopping by to pick up a file on my way home. What’re you doing out on Thanksgiving?” That didn’t sound so bad, despite her nerves.

  Peg shifted from foot to foot, keeping her steady gaze on Allison. “Just walking. I live close by, remember?”

  She remembered. She’d driven down Orchard Street at least once a day since meeting Peg, trying to guess which house she lived in. It wasn’t like she was going out of her way. She wasn’t a stalker. She knew the inventory in the area as well as anyone could. She knew who’d recently bought or sold, who had rented out their place. She was able to narrow down the possibilities to one or two. Allison had also succumbed to the temptation to make up stories about her: Peg was lonely, but proud. She had a mysterious past, she was brilliant, she was, of course, a magnificent lover. She was thankful now for the dark. She felt her face flush with Peg right in front of her. It was ridiculous.

  She managed her usual warm smile. “It’s cold out here. Come in with me while I get that file, and then I’ll try to talk you into having a drink with me.”

  Peg followed her into the office and stood in the foyer while Allison disabled the alarm and turned on the lights. The office was large, taking up the entire first floor of an old brownstone. Allison snagged a file from the receptionist’s desk and turned to Peg. Her breath caught when she saw intense gray eyes looking back at her. Peg’s hair flopped over her forehead, her hands were still jammed in her coat pockets and her lips set in a crooked smile. She had dimples.

  “I’m wondering what I’m doing here,” Peg said.

  “Perhaps the offer of a drink sounded good?”

  “No, that’s not it. I don’t drink, actually.”

  “Well, then. I’m not sure what brought you in either,” Allison said.

  There was a silence as Allison tried to keep from running off at the mouth and Peg looked like she was trying to find something to say. They stood facing each other.

  “So you were a lawyer?” Peg said.

  “I still am, but I don’t practice. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure why I keep my license up.”

  “What kind of law did yo
u do? Real estate?”

  “No, I was a litigator at Benson Jacobs,” Allison said.

  Peg raised an eyebrow. “Really? I’m a partner at Mulroney in litigation. How come you left?”

  Allison smiled. “Because if I had gone in there one more day, my soul would’ve shriveled up and fallen right out of what was left of me.”

  “Ah. So you hated it.”

  “You could say.”

  Allison looked at Peg, waiting for her to say something else, alarmed at how insanely attractive she found Peg’s awkwardness.

  “Let me ask you this,” Peg said. “Would you like to finish my walk with me and stop by my place for tea or coffee or cocoa or whatever? It’s just two blocks over.”

  Without being aware that either of them had moved, Allison found that they were standing closer together. Peg was bumping up to her space bubble. “Lead on, Macduff. I’ll just lock up and put the file in my car.”

  They strolled the neighborhood for the next twenty minutes, gazing at the brightly lit windows of spectacular homes. They could see families gathered for the holiday. Peg asked about Allison’s Thanksgiving, while avoiding talking about hers. She steered their path from one block to the next, one side of the street to the other.

  “When I was walking around here earlier, I found all this holiday gaiety a little…depressing,” Peg said. “But since we’ve been walking together, I find myself charmed by it.”

  “Really?” Allison said, surprised by the admission. “Why do you think that is?”

  Peg stopped walking, looked down at the sidewalk and then up again to Allison. “I don’t think I know,” she finally said.

  Allison smiled at Peg’s discomfort. “I think I do.”

  Peg tilted her head. “What would that be?”

  “I don’t think I’ll share that just yet. Now come on. You promised me some cocoa.”

  *

  Allison made herself comfortable on the couch in the living room. She heard Peg in the kitchen, putting cups and saucers on a tray, and she nervously patted herself down in various places—hair, clothes, face. She hadn’t felt nervous around a woman for a long time. It had been a dozen years since she and Lorraine got together, one since they broke up. She had no memory of feeling this keyed up with Lorraine, but there was no mistaking what she was feeling now. It was possible Peg was interested also, but she was very guarded. Allison could see glimpses of emotion pass across Peg’s face before she shut them down. She thought she saw desire in there somewhere. It was hard to tell.

  She looked around the living room, trying to get a handle on Peg. The large room was all vintage—the marble fireplace, wainscoting, ornate molding, decorated ceiling. A bay window looked out over Orchard Street, with a reading chair and lamp set before it. Bookcases lined one wall. She walked over to examine the books. There were a great many classics, contemporary fiction, history, biography. One case was filled with first editions. There were oil paintings on the walls, a smattering of art boxes, carvings from Africa and Asia. There were no photographs, no TV. She could see Peg passing many hours here, not lonely, but contentedly alone. It worried her a bit. What if she was a complete loner, with no interest in spending time with anyone else?

  Peg brought the cocoa into the room, catching Allison staring down at the open book on Peg’s chair. “Have you read it?”

  Allison felt like she’d been caught out at something. “Have I read Proust in the original French? No, as hard as that is to believe. I keep meaning to get to it, after I learn French, of course.”

  Peg stared at her. “Are you okay? You look a little drained.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Maybe a little tired. I love my mom, but spending an entire day with her can be enervating.” Allison sat on the couch.

  Peg put the tray down and sat next to her. “I understand. I call my visits home a trip to Trigger City. It takes an enormous amount of energy to resist the urge to jump in a whiskey bottle every time I’m with my mother.”

  “Ah,” was all Allison could think to say.

  Peg looked apologetic. “Not very subtle, was it, the way I just came out to you as a recovering alcoholic?”

  Allison shrugged. “The disease is subtle enough. No reason for you to be as well.”

  Peg poured hot chocolate into a cup and handed it to Allison. “Sounds like you know something about it.”

  “A little. My dad was an alcoholic, but since he left when I was four, I don’t really remember.”

  “Sounds like an alcoholic. I’m sorry.”

  Allison smiled and briefly touched Peg’s knee. “Don’t be. I respect those in recovery. We’ll put it that way. How long for you?”

  “It’s been awhile. I’ll have my seventeenth anniversary in a couple of weeks. I’ve been trying to feel at home at the meetings here, but I miss my group and my friends in New York.”

  Allison sipped her cocoa, glancing at Peg over her cup. “Do you miss anything else in New York?”

  “Such as what—Central Park, Fifth Avenue?”

  “Very funny,” Allison said. “How about a boyfriend?”

  Peg laughed. “A boyfriend? You’re kidding, right?” Peg kicked off her shoes and curled her long legs underneath her, creating a barrier between them.

  “Well, no. I don’t know anything about you. Why wouldn’t you have a boyfriend?”

  Peg put her cup down and looked at Allison. “Other than the fact that we’ve been flirting with each other the past hour? I haven’t had a boyfriend since I was sixteen. Girls were it for me after that. And no, I’m not involved with anyone in New York, or here either, for that matter.”

  Allison flushed. So Peg was interested. Now she had to let Peg know she wasn’t serious about Camille, that she was available. “I’m not either,” she blurted.

  Peg looked startled, but also hopeful. Then, just as quickly, her face masked any emotion. “I thought you were involved with Camille?”

  “I’ve been dating Camille, but it’s never been anything serious on my part.”

  “Camille seems pretty serious. Perhaps she’s not aware how you feel?”

  Allison waved that away. “I’ve been completely honest with Camille. She’s been a gracious and generous companion on dates to the opera, theater, whatever. But I never once let her think that I was falling in love with her or that her buying me gifts would make me fall in love with her. Whether or not I’d met up with you tonight, I’d still be breaking it off with her. We’re having lunch tomorrow, in fact.” Allison paused and picked at a loose thread on her sweater. “It’s clear she feels something more than I do. I don’t want to string her along.”

  Peg stood and paced for a moment before turning back to Allison. “What does meeting up with me have to do with it?”

  Allison looked confused. “Nothing. That’s what I just said—that I’d be breaking up with her anyway. What did you think I meant?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t want you to break up with her on my account.” Peg sat down and crossed her arms.

  Allison stared at her. “Are you being purposely obtuse? I know you’re smart enough to follow a sentence with more than three clauses. You’re a lawyer, after all.”

  “So are you, as I’ve just found out.” She held Allison’s gaze.

  “I barely know you. Have I been somehow derelict in my duty to our non-relationship by not telling you what I used to do for a living? What did you put in your cocoa?”

  Peg smiled faintly. “Is that what we have, Allison? A non-relationship?”

  Allison got up and reached for her coat. “What we have is a failure to communicate. I’m not sure where things went haywire, or why, but I’m leaving now.”

  Peg followed her to the front door and reached around her to open it. “Hopefully, you’ll want to see me next week when I get back from New York. I’d like to look at some properties.”

  Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Allison turned to look at Peg. “You still want to work with me as your real estate broker?�
��

  Peg looked perfectly composed, unaffected by their confusing conversation. “I thought that was understood from our voicemails. Is there a misunderstanding?”

  “No, no misunderstanding. Just give me a couple days’ notice and I’ll set up a schedule. Thanks for the cocoa.”

  Allison walked toward her office. What the hell was that all about? Were mind games part of the alcoholic makeup, even after seventeen years of sobriety? She wasn’t sure she wanted any part of that. But she wasn’t sure she didn’t, either. She walked farther down the block before daring to turn around, curious whether Peg would be watching her. She was. With a quick wave, Allison turned back around, a smile on her face and a longer stride in her step. Peg wasn’t nearly the challenge she thought she was.

  *

  Friday, November 28

  Allison walked through the small Thai restaurant to a table in back. Camille was there, frowning at her smartphone. She wore designer cargo pants with a buttoned shirt made of some material Allison couldn’t identify. Allison went with a sweater and jeans on her days off.

  She was uncertain about what may or may not happen with Peg Ryan, but she had no doubt at all that it was time to end things with Camille. Her histrionics at the accident scene the previous weekend and her persistent phone calls despite Allison asking for some space, all added up to trouble she didn’t want. Despite her resolve, she felt nervous as she approached the table. She wanted this to go smoothly, but was fairly sure it would not.

  Camille raised her head and gave Allison a wide smile. She was really quite beautiful, which is how Allison got into this mess in the first place. Camille stood and pulled a chair out for her, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  “How nice that you asked me to lunch,” Camille said. She sat in her chair and leaned over the table toward Allison. “I’ve been so anxious to see you.”

  Allison bought some time by ordering tea. Camille looked contrite and eager to get back in Allison’s good graces. She didn’t look forward to hurting her.