“Not without having a lawyer examine them.”

“Right.” Whitney had planned to contact an attorney, but she found Trish’s attitude a little overbearing. “Miranda just married a lawyer. I think his firm might check my papers and-” She stopped herself before saying that she planned to ask to be billed later. Trish must have guessed she didn’t have much money, but Whitney’s pride kept her from letting the woman know just how broke she was.

Trish put down her cup of coffee on the Lucite cube-style coffee table next to the sofa. “Miranda married a local attorney?”

Whitney hesitated a moment, remembering the well-known lawyer didn’t want his clients to know he was away on his honeymoon. “It’s very hush-hush.”

Trish’s brow creased into a frown. Whitney didn’t see any reason for not telling her. Miranda would be returning soon and would have a splashy reception. Then the whole town would know.

“Miranda married Broderick Babcock.”

Trish blinked hard as if trying to clear her vision. “You’re kidding.”

Whitney shifted in her seat, more than a little uncomfortable discussing Miranda’s business. If her cousin had wanted Trish to know, Miranda had had plenty of opportunities to tell her. She shouldn’t have told, but something had urged her to confide in Trish.

“Promise me you won’t mention this to anyone. Rick doesn’t want his clients to know he’s out of town.”

“I won’t say a thing.”

Whitney waited for Trish to comment, but the older woman studied Whitney as if she were a painting by a child that had suddenly appeared on a wall in her gallery. Finally, Trish said, “I wanted to talk to you about your ex-husband. Did you file a police report?”

“No. I don’t think that’s necessary. I’m sure when I sign the papers, I won’t ever hear from him again.”

“Good. I thought it over and did some surfing on the Net. You know, to check the latest.”

Whitney nodded, but she couldn’t imagine why the woman was taking such an interest in her. Didn’t Trish have a life?

“When I told you to file for a restraining order…” Trish let the unfinished sentence hang in a heavy silence. “Well, I was back in the past, when I was living in New York City. I was recalling my own problems.”

Trish stood, absentmindedly shook the creases out of her linen pants, walked across the gallery and stared out the window at the passing traffic. Whitney silently cursed herself for wondering about Trish’s motives. She’d guessed correctly. The woman related to her because of something that she had experienced.

Two beats of silence, then Trish turned, saying, “I had an abusive husband.”

“I’m sorry.” The trite words came out before she could think of something better to say. “What happened?”

Trish returned to her seat, and for a moment Whitney thought she wasn’t going to answer. When Trish did respond, every word grew softer until she was almost whispering. “About a year after we were married, Carter slapped me during an argument. Of course, he was upset with himself immediately. He apologized all over the place and claimed to love me more than life itself.”

Whitney had heard similar stories in interviews she’d seen on television, but this was different. She knew this abused woman personally. She couldn’t help thinking about Ryan. This didn’t fit the profile of their relationship at all. Now that she thought back, Ryan had been verbally abusive toward the end of their second year of marriage. But he’d never raised a hand to her until yesterday. He didn’t need to; Ryan could devastate her with his sarcastic remarks.

“A few months went by, and we had another fight. This time Carter shoved me into a wall. I had a bruise that ran the length of my back and four broken ribs.”

“Oh my God! What did you do?”

“Left him.” There was a pensive shimmer in the shadow of Trish’s eyes. “I wanted to go home to my parents, but I had too much pride. You see, they hadn’t wanted me to marry Carter, but I’d insisted.”

Whitney wished her mother were still alive. She would love to know how her mom would feel about Whitney’s divorce, but she’d died. The only person she had in this world was Miranda.

Again, she found herself wishing her cousin were here. They could talk-as adults-in a way they’d never been able to discuss things when they’d been in high school. Back then, they were too different-or so it had seemed. Now, Whitney wondered if Miranda’s reckless attitude had been her way of dealing with the unexpected death of her parents.

“That’s when the stalking began.” A short, mirthless laugh followed, taking Whitney by surprise. “Of course, Carter didn’t see it as stalking. He kept insisting he was checking on me.”

Whitney couldn’t imagine Ryan “checking on her.” He had another woman in his life. Why would he bother?

“Carter scared off several men who tried to date me and got me fired from a job in a gallery. That’s when I finally went to the police,” Trish added sourly. “They were reluctant to even take a report.”

“How terrible.”

“Back then, less was known about stalking and abusive husbands.” Trish was silent for a moment; the only sound came from the cars going by on Prospect Street. “Weeks went by and I didn’t hear from Carter. I thought the police had told him about the report, and it made him stay away. Wrong. He was still spying on me, but he was getting sneakier. I didn’t see him until a man-just an acquaintance-drove me home from work. He walked me to my door. Carter leaped out of the bushes and beat the guy senseless with a baseball bat.”

Whitney shuddered at the image of a bloody, battered man sprawled across the cold concrete.

“Then Carter rounded on me. The only thing that saved me was a neighbor who’d heard the commotion and called the police. My jaw was broken as well as my arm.”

“My God. What happened to your friend?”

“He survived, but he had to spend months in the hospital and needed three reconstructive surgeries.” Trish sank deeper into to the sofa with a ragged sigh. “My father sent him money to pay his bills.”

“You went home to your parents?”

“Of course, wouldn’t you? At that point, I just wanted to get away from Carter before he killed me.”

For a moment, Whitney remembered the night she’d thrown her things into the SUV and driven away from the home Ryan had insisted on buying. It had been the day she’d been served with divorce papers, and she’d realized all hope of salvaging her marriage had vanished. She’d spent the night with Lexi in a cheap motel. It would have been nice to chuck her pride and return to loving parents. Instead, she’d found a housesitting job in the newspaper.

“At least you got away from him.”

Trish rested her head against the back of the sofa and gazed up at the stainless-steel ceiling fan silently spinning overhead, just barely stirring the air in the gallery. “Carter followed me to Miami.”

“Y-you’re kidding,” Whitney stammered in bewilderment. “Wasn’t he jailed for assault?”

“The man couldn’t identify Carter. The first blow with the baseball bat hit him from behind. The guy didn’t see who struck him, and neither did my neighbor who called the cops. Carter ran off when he heard the sirens coming up the street. It was my word against his. The prosecutor was a man. He believed Carter’s story that I was a rejected wife out to blame her husband for a mugging. Even the police report I’d filed earlier didn’t sway him.”

“I can’t believe it. What a nightmare.”

Trish’s gaze met Whitney’s. “About a month after I returned home, I drove out of my parents’ home in Coral Gables. There was Carter, standing on the sidewalk, staring at our house.”

“I’ll bet you freaked.”

“Of course. I had no way of defending myself. My jaw was wired shut and my arm was in a cast.” The recollection seemed to weigh on her, choking the life out of her voice. “Besides, I was stunned that Carter would leave the law firm where he was on track to become a partner to chase me. It made no sense; that’s when I knew he was unbalanced. I told my father and he finally convinced the police to issue a restraining order.”