'Nicenecklace,' he said.

    Lucylifted the heart, ran it along the chain. 'Thanks. I got it from David.'

    'David?'

    'DavidAlbrecht. I went and saw him in the hospital.'

    Byrnesaid nothing.

    'We'rekind of in this thing together, you know?' Lucy said, perhaps feeling the needto explain. 'I guess he's going to be okay?'

    'Thedoctors say it looks good.'

    Lucydropped the pendant, smoothed it against her uniform. 'He's got some offers onhis movie, you know.'

    'Iheard that,' Byrne said. 'So, are you guys an item?'

    Lucyblushed. 'Oh please. We're just friends. We just met.''

    'Okay,okay,' Byrne said.

    'Gosh.'

    Twoyoung women walked by, no more than eighteen or nineteen, smartly dressed intheir crisp new Le Jardin uniforms. They eyed Lucy with something akin to awe.

    Whenthey passed, Lucy looked at Byrne. 'Rookies.'

    Theysat in thoughtful silence. The autumn sun warmed their faces.

    'Whatare you going to do, Lucy?'

    'Idon't know,' she said. 'Maybe go home for the holidays. Maybe go home forgood.'

    'Where'shome?'

    LucyDoucette looked up at the hotel, down Sansom Street, then over at Byrne. Inthat moment, for the first time since he'd met her, she looked a lot more likea woman than a little girl.

    Shesaid: 'A long way from here.'

Chapter 105

    Friday,November 12

    Thewomen sat around the small table, a game of gin rummy in progress in front ofthem. Between the ashtrays, Styrofoam cups, cans of Diet Pepsi and DietMountain Dew, the bags of pork rinds and barbecued chips, there was hardly roomfor the cards.

    Whenthe petite young woman in the oversized blue parka walked into the room, DottieDoucette stood up. Dottie was terribly thin. She looked older than her fortyyears, but a light had come back to her eyes, her friends all said. It wasfaint, they averred, but it was there.

    WhenLucy hugged her mother, Dottie felt as if she might break.

    Lucywanted to ask her mother about George Archer. She had talked to some of thewomen who had known her mother when they were younger, and she'd learned thatDorothy Doucette had gone out with George Archer a few times. That was probablywhen the man had put his eye on Lucy. Lucy knew that her mother felt guilty forso many things. Dottie Doucette did not need this burden now.

    Dottielet go, wiped her eyes, reached into her pocket. She showed Lucy her chip. Sixmonths sober.

    'I'mproud of you, Mama.'

    Dottieturned toward the women at the table.

    'Thisis Lucy, my baby girl.'

    Thewomen all fussed over Lucy for a while, and Lucy let them. She'd stay on for amonth or so, taking a room at a boarding house in town, in exchange forhousekeeping duties. From the moment she got off the bus, she knew that shewould not be staying forever, just as she knew that in many ways she had neverleft. Not really.

    Hermother slipped on the pilled sweater that was draped over the back of thefolding chair. Lucy recognized it as one she had stolen from the JC Penney's along time ago. The sweater was getting on in years. Her mother needed a newone. Lucy promised herself she would buy it this time.

    'Takeme for a walk?' Dottie asked.

    'Sure,Mama.'

    Outin the lobby, Lucy helped her mother on with her boots. As Lucy was tying thelaces, she glanced up. Her mother was smiling.

    'What?'Lucy asked.

    'I usedto do the same thing for you when you were small. Funny how life comes fullcircle.'

    Yeah,Lucy thought. Life's hilarious.

    Theywalked, arm in arm, down the path that led to the town park. The temperaturewas falling. Lucy bunched the sweater around her mother's neck.

    Winterwas coming, but that was all right. In the end, Lucy Doucette thought, thesunshine was inside. And now that she remembered everything, she could begin toforget.

Chapter 106

    Thursday,November 25

    Shehad cooked for twenty. like many Italian thanksgiving gatherings, the mealbegan with a full pasta course. This time, Jessica and her father madeJessica's grandmother's fresh ravioli, the filling a delicate and savorybalance of beef, pork, and veal.

    Forthe first time, Sophie helped serve.

    Bysix o'clock the men were sprawled around the living room, snoring away.Tradition called for them to be awake by six-thirty and ready to take part inRound Two.

    Atten after six, Jessica opened the front door. South Philly was alive with theholiday. She looked left and right, didn't see Byrne's car. She wanted to callhim, but she stopped herself. He had a standing invitation every year, and thisyear he'd said maybe. With Kevin Byrne, when it concerned events like this,'maybe' usually meant no. But still.

    Jessicawas just about to close the door when she looked down. There, on the frontsteps, was a small white package. She picked it up, closed the door, walked overto the kitchen. She slit open the Scotch tape with a knife. Inside was a ballof yarn. Green yarn. When Jessica brought it into the light she saw that theyarn was the same shade as the oddly constructed cable knit sweater that KevinByrne had been wearing around the Roundhouse of late, a sweater, he told her,that had been knitted for him by Lina Laskaris's grandmother, Anna.

    Jessicachecked on her family. The men were still in a turkey-and- Chianti-inducedcoma; the women were doing the dishes and sneaking cigarettes out back. ThenJessica walked upstairs into the bedroom, closed the door behind her.

    Sheunspooled the yarn, brushed back her hair, gathered it. She took the yarn, tiedher hair into a ponytail, checked herself in the dresser mirror. The autumn hadlong since taken back the highlights bestowed by summer. She turned to theside, and for a moment had a memory of her mother tying back her hair withgreen yarn on her first day of school. How much youthfulness the world hadthen, how full of energy it had been.

    Shecould use some of each.

    Asthe new mother to a rocketing little two-year-old-boy, Jessica was going toneed all the vitality and vigor she could muster. The papers had come through aweek earlier, and Carlos Balzano was at that moment downstairs charming theentire family.

    Jessicalooked one final time at the yarn in her hair. In some ways, it was just asgood as the original.

    No,she thought as she turned out the light and descended the steps. In some waysit was even better.

Epilogue

    Forevery light there is shadow. For every sound, silence. In this massive room thesilence was complete. Considering that there were nearly twenty-five hundredpeople in the Verizon Center, it was all the more profound.

    Thelast note of Sinfonia Concertante sifted through the hall, and theapplause began.

    Asthe conductor turned to the audience, Byrne saw people noticing Christa-Marie,heard their whispers. The story had broken wide a few weeks earlier, theaccount of Christa-Marie's innocence in the murder of Gabriel Thorne. Byrnecould not imagine the courage it had taken for Christa-Marie to come to thisplace on this night.

    Soonthe applause turned from the stage and was offered to the woman in the tenthrow. A soft spotlight found them. The conductor walked to the footlights andbowed. The orchestra rose to its feet.

    Byrnedidn't know how much time together they had left, but he knew that he would bewith Christa-Marie until the end. More than that, he wondered how it sounded toher. He wondered if it sounded the same, if it meant what it had meant twentyyears ago when she had been the brightest star in the heavens.