I couldn't look at her anymore. Her longing for Glen was so tangible it hurt me to see it. I studied the breakfast tray: a fresh fruit cup, a blueberry muffin, a carton of strawberry yogurt, granola, orange juice, tea. There was no indication that she'd eaten any of it.

"You want some of that?" she asked.

"No way. You'll tell Kleinert you ate it."

Kitty had the good grace to blush, laughing uneasily.

"I don't understand why you don't eat," I said.

She made a face. "Everything just looks so gross. There's this girl two doors down and she was suffering from anorexia, you know? So they brought her in here and she finally started to eat? Now she looks like she's pregnant. She's still thin. She's just got half a basketball for a stomach. It's disgusting."

"So what? She's alive, isn't she?"

"I don't want to look like that. Nothing tastes good anyway and it just makes me throw up."

There was no point in pursuing the subject so I let it go, shifting over to something else instead. "Have you talked to your father since Glen kicked him out?"

Kitty shrugged. "He's here every day in the afternoon. He's moved into the Edgewater Hotel until he finds a place."

"Did he tell you about Bobby's will?"

"Some. He says Bobby left me all this money. Is that true?" Her tone was one of dismay as much as anything.

"As far as I know, it is."

"But why would he do that?"

"Maybe he felt like he messed up your life and wanted to do right by you. Derek tells me he left some money to Rick's parents too. Or maybe he considered it a little incentive for you to get your shit together for a change."

"I never made any deals with him."

"I don't think he meant to make a 'deal.'"

"Well, I don't like to feel controlled."

"Kitty, I think you've demonstrated the fact that you can't be controlled. We're all getting that message loud and clear. Bobby loved you."

"Who asked him to? Sometimes I wasn't even nice to him. And I didn't exactly have his best interests at heart."

"Meaning what?"

"Nothing. Skip it. I wish he hadn't left me anything is all. It makes me feel crummy."

"I don't know what to tell you," I said.

"Well, I never asked him for a thing." Her tone was argumentative, but I couldn't understand what her position was.

"What's bothering you?"

"Nothing."

"What's all the fretting about, then?"

"I'm not fretting! God. Why should I fret? He did it so he'd feel good, right? It had nothing to do with me."

"It had something to do with you or he'd have left the money to someone else."