When they had quieted, again finding easy-well, relatively easy positions-A.J. sighed. “This morning seems like such a long time ago.”

Jake grunted.

“Everything was so simple. Happy.” That morning had been lovely. Jake had spent the night and they’d risen together, breakfasting on warm, buttery croissants, bagels slathered with cream cheese, and Irish coffee. He’d given her a Mr. Goodtime Easter Bunny-sixteen and a half inches of hand decorated white and milk chocolate. Something about the self-conscious way her laconic tough guy had handed over the cellophane wrapped rabbit had touched A.J. in a way that her ex-husband Andy’s charming tokens of affection never had. Maybe because she sensed these kinds of gestures were not typical for Jake.

Jake kissed her temple and said nothing. A.J. knew that he believed it was going to be a long time before her life was that simple and happy again.

Either because of the drugs or emotional exhaustion, A.J. slept deeply-and late-the next morning. When she finally woke, Jake was already gone. She didn’t remember telling him good-bye.

She didn’t feel too bad after a decent night’s sleep, but a few agonizing minutes later it was clear she was not going into the studio that morning. And all the will power and positive thinking in the world wasn’t going to change that.

Before she had much time to fret, Elysia poked her head surreptitiously around the door. “Morning, sunshine!”

“That’s just cruel,” A.J. informed her.

Elysia raised her brows. “Now, now. A positive attitude is everything, as the Bard says.”

“Mother, you know perfectly well the Bard never said such a thing.”

“I suppose it’s more of an underlying thematic statement in his work.” Elysia moved the phone from the bedside table to the bed, and A.J. grimaced, sitting up with difficulty.

She phoned the studio and spoke to Emma Rice, the geriatric Wonder Woman who doubled as one of the Sacred Balance Studio receptionists. A.J. answered the inevitable questions and offered reassurance. Emma put her through to Suze MacDougal, a junior instructor.

“I knew it,” Suze exclaimed. “You’re never late. The shooting is all over the news. How’s your mom holding up?”

Now there was a question for the ages. A.J. studied her mother as Elysia bustled from bedroom to bathroom running a bath. For a woman suspected of murder, she seemed pretty cool. But then no doubt she remembered a similar episode on 221B Baker Street, the legendary British television detective show she had graced for years, and was acting out her role.

“Better than me, probably,” A.J. admitted. She went on to explain that she’d fallen and wouldn’t be making it into the studio. Suze commiserated with comforting energy.

When A.J. felt she’d stalled long enough, she asked to be put through to Lily. Lily Martin was A.J.’s co-manager at the studio; it was not a partnership either of them would have chosen.

“Yes, A.J.?” Lily came on the line, brusque as always, and A.J. had to wonder again at Aunt Di’s purpose in pairing them together. Yoga seemed like such an odd field of endeavor for Lily. A.J. could more easily picture her achieving her full potential intimidating marines in a boot camp somewhere or training gladiators for the Colosseum.

Although Lily had to be aware of the situation with Elysia, she said nothing after that curt greeting, waiting in silence for A.J. to come to the point.

“I fell yesterday and injured my back,” A.J. told her. “I won’t be in the studio today. Realistically, I probably won’t be in this week.” Even that might be optimistic, but A.J. had faced all the reality she could deal with for one day-and she hadn’t even had breakfast yet.

“Oh dear!” Lily said, and A.J. couldn’t help but think there was as much excitement as surprise in that single exclamation.

Lily asked the appropriate and intelligent questions, and A.J. answered politely-it was probably the most cordial conversation they’d ever had. Lily, sounding eerily sympathetic, instructed A.J. not to worry about anything, and finished off the call urging A.J. to take care of herself.

A.J. pictured the other woman doing handsprings when she hung up the phone. Lily’s delight was only too obvious.

“All taken care of?” Elysia returned to the bedroom.

“It won’t be easy, but she’s going to soldier on somehow.” A.J. gingerly pulled herself into an upright position. She caught her breath as the pain seemed to radiate from her lower back all the way around to her abdomen and down to her buttocks.

“Well, who can say? Perhaps Lily will appreciate you after having to manage things on her own for a few days.”

A.J. snorted.

“Now, now. Is this the spirit that won the war?” Still exuding unnerving cheer and optimism, Elysia helped A.J. into the bath, and A.J. thought how strange it was to rely on your mother for such things once you were an adult.

“Thanks,” she said when she was finally lying back in her freshly changed sheets. “I appreciate it.” She patted Monster who stood on the mattress gazing down at her, wagging his tail.

Elysia looked a little uncertain. “But of course. You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Anna.”

A.J. flicked her mother a shy look. “I know.” It had taken her most of her adult life to realize it, but she did know. She quickly changed the subject, demanding rhetorically, “What the heck am I going to do for a week?”

“Why, any number of things. Catch up on your reading, watch a little telly, eat. It’ll be like a holiday.”

“Sure, except for the excruciating pain part.”

Elysia, bundling the used sheets from A.J.’s bed, frowned. “Are you in excruciating pain?”

“It hurts a lot,” A.J. admitted although she hated to sound like a wimp.

She stared at the ceiling as her mother took the laundry out. Monster jumped stiffly off the bed and followed her down the hall.

When Elysia returned with A.J.’s breakfast, A.J. said, “I guess I could take a look at the book Aunt Di was working on when she-before she-”

A.J. had discovered the completed manuscript when she had first gone through her aunt’s study. Every so often it occurred to her that she should do something with it, but she had been uncertain how to proceed.

“What a good idea!” Elysia said. She helped A.J. sit up, settled the tray over A.J.’s knees, and stepped back as though to study her handiwork.

“What was the book about?” she asked, watching A.J. sample scrambled eggs.

“It was a memoir. It seemed to be mostly finished. It might just be a matter of finding a publisher.”

“Perfect. Where is this tome?”

A.J. told Elysia where to find the manuscript and Elysia brought the box with loose-leaf papers and notes and Aunt Diantha’s rough draft. Studying her daughter’s supine position, she said, “Perhaps I could pick up one of those laptop writing desks…”

“I already have a couple of trays, it’s the having to lie flat part,” A.J. said. She added thoughtfully, “You seem awfully interested in keeping me occupied.”

“Idle hands are the devil’s playpen, pumpkin.”

“My idle hands are not the problem here.”

Elysia’s expression was wide-eyed and innocent.

“I know that look,” A.J. said. “I don’t trust it. Or you. Tell me about Dicky. How did you meet him? He was on the cruise that you took last year?”

“Oh, you don’t want to hear about all that.”

“You’re right. But I think I’d better.”

Elysia leaned against the footboard of the bed. “It’s not particularly fascinating, you know. We met on the cruise, yes. He was doing a series of lectures on ancient Egypt. Nothing too heavy, of course. Mostly slide shows and chatting.”

“He was employed by the cruise line?”

Elysia looked thoughtful. “I’m not absolutely certain. I believe technically he was employed by the Supreme Council of Antiquities, but had been seconded to the cruise line. They tried to break up the shuffleboard and miniature golf with a few cultural activities.”