As though reading her mind, her husband turned toward her. “Surely you haven’t talked to anyone, have you, Janice?” he asked quietly.

“A bit of a headache,” he had said when they reached home, his tone remote but cordial. Then he had gone upstairs to his room. It had been years since they had shared a bedroom.

He did not come downstairs again until nearly seven o’clock. Janice had been watching the evening news and looked up as he stopped at the door of the family room. “I’m going out,” he said. “Good night, Janice.”

She stared unseeingly at the television screen, listening carefully for the sound of the front door closing behind him. He’s up to something, she thought, but what is it? She allowed him plenty of time to leave, then turned off the TV and collected her purse and car keys. She had told Malcolm earlier that she was going out to dinner. They had grown so distant of late that he didn’t ask her whom she was meeting any more than she bothered to inquire about his plans.

Not that she would have told him if he had asked, Janice thought grimly as she headed for Providence. There, at a small out-of-the-way restaurant, her nephew would be waiting. And there, over steaks and scotch, he would pass her an envelope containing cash, her share for supplying him with a detailed account of Cora Gebhart’s financial situation. As Doug had happily told her, “This one was a real bonanza, Aunt Janice. Keep ’em coming!”

54

As Maggie was dressing for her date with Neil Stephens, she realized there was a stronger-than-usual hint of dampness in the sea-scented breeze that came in through the bedroom window. Ringlets and waves, she thought with resignation. She would just fluff her hair with her fingers after she had brushed it, she decided. On a night like this, it was inevitable that the natural curl would assert itself.

She thought about Neil as she continued getting ready. Over these past months she had found herself more and more looking forward to his calls and too disappointed when they didn’t come.

But it was very obvious that, to Neil, she was an occasional date and nothing more. He’d certainly made that clear. Even so, she really had expected him to call before she left for Newport, and now she was determined to place no special significance on this evening. She knew that grown children-and especially single men-when visiting their parents, frequently looked for excuses to get away.

And then there was Liam, Maggie thought briefly. She didn’t quite know what to make of his sudden show of interest. “Oh well,” she shrugged.

All tarted up, she thought wryly after she applied eye shadow and mascara and blush, then carefully made up her lips in a soft coral shade.

Looking through the outfits she had to choose from, she picked the one she had intended to wear to Nuala’s dinner party, a vivid blue silk print blouse and matching long skirt. A narrow gold chain and earrings were her only jewelry, except for the oval-shaped sapphire ring that had belonged to her mother.

When she passed Nuala’s bedroom on the way downstairs, Maggie entered for a moment and turned on the lamp on the nightstand. As she looked around, she decided definitely to make this her room. She would move into it tomorrow, after she returned from the brunch with Mrs. Bainbridge and her daughter. I can shove the furniture around by myself, she decided, and the only things I haven’t cleaned out are the shoes and whatever is on the closet floor, and it won’t take long to finish with that.

Walking through the living room, she noticed that the roses Liam had brought needed a change of water. She refilled the vase at the kitchen sink, reached into the clutter drawer for scissors, cut the stems, and rearranged the roses before taking them back to the living room. Then she walked around the room, “fussing” with little things, like straightening the ottoman in front of the club chair, removing some of the profusion of small framed pictures on the mantel and tabletops, leaving only a few of the most flattering ones of Nuala and her husband, plumping the pillows on the couch.

In a few minutes the room took on a more tranquil, less busy feeling. Maggie studied the space and mentally rearranged the furniture, knowing that the love seat behind which Nuala’s body had been hunched would have to go. The very sight of it haunted her.

I’m nesting, she told herself, more than I’ve ever done anyplace since that silly little apartment Paul and I had in Texas. She was at once surprised and pleased with herself.

The front doorbell rang at ten of seven. Neil was early. Realizing how ambivalent she felt about the evening ahead of her, she waited a long minute before answering the ring. When she opened the door, she was careful to keep her voice and smile friendly but impersonal.

“Neil, how nice to see you.”

Neil did not answer but stood looking down at her, studying her face, unsmiling, his eyes troubled.

Maggie opened the door wider. “As my father used to ask, ‘Cat got your tongue?’ Come in, for heaven’s sake.”

He stepped inside and waited as she closed the door; then he followed her into the living room.

“You look lovely, Maggie,” he said finally, as they stood facing each other.

She raised her eyebrows. “Surprised?”

“No, of course not. But I was sick when I heard what happened to your stepmother. I know how much you were looking forward to being with her.”

“Yes, I was,” Maggie agreed. “Now, where are we going for dinner?”

Fumbling with his words, he asked if she’d mind having dinner with his parents to celebrate his mother’s birthday.

“Why don’t we just try doing this some other time?” Maggie asked curtly. “I’m sure your folks don’t need a perfect stranger horning in on a family party.”

“They’re looking forward to meeting you, Maggie. Don’t back out,” Neil pleaded. “They’ll know it’s because of them that you didn’t come.”

Maggie sighed. “I guess I have to eat.”

She let Neil do the talking as they drove to the restaurant, answering his questions as directly and succinctly as possible. She noted with some amusement, however, that he was being especially attentive and charming, and it took all of her determination to maintain her aloofness.

She had intended to continue treating Neil with distinct reserve throughout the evening, but the warmth of his parents’ greeting and their obviously sincere distress over what had happened to Nuala made it impossible not to loosen up.

“My dear, you didn’t know a soul up here,” Dolores Stephens said. “How awful for you to go through all that alone.”

“Actually I do know one person fairly well-the man who took me to the party at the Four Seasons where I met Nuala again.” Maggie looked over at Neil. “Maybe you know him, Neil. Liam Payne. He’s in the investment business, too. He has his own firm in Boston but comes to New York regularly.”

“Liam Payne,” Neil said thoughtfully. “Yes, I do know him slightly. He’s a good investment guy. Too good for his former bosses at Randolph and Marshall, if I remember correctly. He took some of their best clients with him when he went out on his own.”

Maggie could not resist a feeling of satisfaction at seeing the frown on Neil’s face. Let him wonder if Liam is important to me, she thought. He’s already made it plain how unimportant I am to him.

Nevertheless over a relaxing meal that included lobster and chardonnay, she found herself thoroughly enjoying Neil’s parents and was flattered to learn that Dolores Stephens was familiar with her fashion photography.

“When I read the newspaper about your stepmother’s death,” Mrs. Stephens said, “and then when Neil spoke about Maggie, I didn’t connect you with your work. Then this afternoon when I was reading Vogue, I saw your name under the Armani spread. A thousand years ago-before I was married-I worked in a small advertising agency, and we had the Givenchy account. That was before Givenchy became famous. I used to have to go to all the shoots.”