My brain said, pull away! But my body wasn't listening. My fingers were twining in Bobo's hair, my pelvis was pressed firmly against his, and I was kissing him back as hard as I could.

We were visible to any passersby.

That must have occurred to Bobo, too, because he pushed me a little and into my house we lurched and he spared a hand to press the door closed.

Bobo bit me on the neck and I growled and began grinding into him. The top of my suit was unbuttoned and his hand was inside, caressing me through my bra. Bobo ground right back, and my hands went under his suit coat to hold on to his butt, and our rhythm went on, and somehow he hit exactly the right spot and I saw stars. He groaned, and I felt the front of his pants grow wet.

Then there was only the sound of our panting.

"Floor," Bobo suggested, and our knees gave way.

My living room isn't large and there isn't much floor space. I was sitting right next to the sprawled-out young man, and my blood was still humming through my veins.

But after only a few seconds, I was overwhelmed with the wrongness and stupidity of what I'd just done. And with someone I thought of as a friend. The day before Jack was returning.

All these years of trying so hard not to make a mistake had just gone down the drain.

"Lily," said a voice gently. Bobo was propped up on his elbow next to me. His flushed face had returned to its normal coloring, his breathing was even. His big hand traveled an infinite distance to hold mine. "Lily, don't feel sad."

I was unable to speak. I wondered if Bobo was twenty-one yet. I told myself in the nastiest terms what a depraved moron I had been. I wanted to literally beat my head against the wall.

"It was the moment," he said.

I took a deep breath. "Yes," I answered.

"Don't be so upset," he repeated. "I don't wanna be crude, Lily, but it was just a dry hump."

I'd never heard the phrase before.

"You almost smiled, I saw your mouth twitch," he told me, pleased.

I brushed his hair back from his forehead.

"Can we pretend it never happened?" My voice wasn't as shaky as I'd feared it would be.

"No, I don't think so. What it was, was fantastic. I've always had a thing about you." He drew my hand to him, kissed it. "But I never saw this coming. It was just funeral fever. You know—she's dead, but we're alive. Sex is a great way to prove to yourself you're alive."

"You're being wise."

"It's about time you got a break, let someone else do the wise thing."

"I do plenty of things that aren't so smart," I said, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.

"Lily, this won't happen again, not ever. You're not gonna let it. So let's be real honest with each other."

I wasn't sure what that would entail. I waited for him to go on.

"There's no telling how many fantasies I've had about you since you worked for my mother. When you know some beautiful, mysterious woman is cleaning your room, it's just a sure thing you're going to imagine... what if? My favorite one—"

"Please, no," I said.

"Oh, all right." He had the grace to look a little embarrassed. "But the point of this is I know ... I know it was just a fantasy, that you're real, that we're not gonna have a relationship. I know that you just like me as a ... buddy."

A little more than that, I thought ruefully. But I knew better than to say it out loud. "You don't really know me," I said, as gently as I was able.

"There's a lot I know about you that you won't admit about yourself," he retorted.

I didn't understand.

"You pull old men out of burning buildings. You saved Jack Leeds' life and almost died in the act. You're willing, and brave enough, to risk your life to save others."

What a misconception! "No, no, no," I protested angrily. He made a kind of dampening gesture, patting down the air with his free hand. I sat up and reached over to the pile of folded laundry on the chair, laundry I hadn't had a chance to put away today. I passed him a hand towel, and he began dabbing at the front of his pants, trying hard not to be embarrassed.

"You did those things. You are brave." He sounded flat, and final.

I didn't want to hear a booster speech from Bobo Winthrop. I was going to feel bad about what had just happened for a long, long time.

"And you're smart, and hard working, and really, really, pretty."

All of a sudden, tears stung the back of my eyelids. The final humiliation, I thought.

"You have to leave," I said abruptly. I leaned over to kiss Bobo on his cheek. For the last—and only—time, I pulled him close and hugged him after we stood up.

"Now, you go, and we'll be okay in a week or two," I told him, hoping that I was telling him the truth. He looked down at me very seriously, his handsome face so solemn I could scarcely bear it.

"I have to tell you something else," Bobo insisted. "Listen to me, Lily. I'm switching subjects here."

I nodded, reluctantly, to show him I was waiting.

"That fire was set. The fire marshal came and told Calla this morning, and she called all of us in the family. Not Lacey, naturally, but all the others. Someone tried to kill Joe C, but you stopped them."

I didn't listen to the renewed pat-on-the-back part of Bobo's speech. I was thinking about his opening sentence. I wasn't surprised by the news. In fact, I'd been taking it for granted that the person I'd seen in the yard of Joe C's house had actually started the fire. Trespasser + sudden fire = arson.

"How was it set?"

"A package of cigarettes. Not just one cigarette was lit, but a whole pack. They were left on the couch to smolder. But the flames ran away from the couch, didn't consume it, and the traces were still there."

"How is Joe C?" I asked.

He looked surprised for a minute, as though he'd been expecting me to exclaim and ask a different question.

"Nothing can kill Joe C," Bobo said, almost regretfully, pushing his hair back off his forehead. "He's like a human cockroach. Hey, I saw that twitch again!"

I looked away.

"Lily, this isn't the end of the world."

I saw I was hurting him, and I didn't want to. I didn't want to have done any of the things I'd done today.

And I was determined to stick to an impersonal topic.

"If Joe C had died, who would have inherited?" I asked.

Bobo turned red. "I'm not supposed to know the answer to that, but I do," he confessed. " ‘Cause I saw a copy of the will at Joe C's house. He had it stuck in the old rolltop desk. I've always loved that desk. Gee, I guess it's all burned up now. But I played with it since I was a little boy, you know, looking in the secret compartment that he'd shown me."

"The will was there?" I prodded when memories seemed to wrap him up.

"Yes. The last time I went to see Joe C ... last week, I guess it was... I was sitting with Toni in the living room while Aunt Calla was helping Joe C get his shoes on after his nap. He'd asked all of the greats to come over— grandchildren, nieces and nephews. Deedra, me, Amber and Howell Three, Becca. The other three live in North Carolina.... So, I was showing Toni the little place you push to open the compartment. And there it was. I didn't mean anything by reading it, I promise."

After a brief period of being his sex bunny, I was now back to being Bobo's wise woman who had to approve of his actions. I sighed.

"What did it say?"

"There was lots of lawyer language." Bobo shrugged. "But what I could tell, I guess, is that Great Uncle Joe C left one thing, one furniture item, to each of us Winthrop kids. So Amber and Howell Three and I could each pick something. I was hoping I'd get the desk. I was thinking I'd try to pick first. Now everything's burned or water damaged, I guess." Bobo smiled his beautiful smile, amused at the confounding of his greed. "Of course the main thing is the house. Joe C left proceeds from the sale of the house to his great-grandchildren. Walker's three kids, and Alice Whitley's two, and Lacey's ... oh, but..."