The question was, was Betsy enjoying herself? Margot hoped so. Because despite what she had said yesterday, this was someone who was not just a weekend guest but a long-term arrangement. All Margot’s immediate plans had to be changed, and some of her long-term ones, now that there was another person who had to be considered. It was almost like being married again.

So while it was okay, even enjoyable, to have Betsy here, it was also different.

She must decide when she would formally talk to Betsy about her future. Betsy made a nice salesperson, she was interested and friendly; she would make an excellent one once she got up to speed on the terminology and practices of needlework. Yesterday she had sold a beginning inquirer an impressive amount of silks and evenweave fabric and counted cross-stitch patterns, though she knew almost nothing about counted cross-stitch.

But was Betsy really interested in the shop, or was she only “helping out,” as any polite guest would? Perhaps it was still too early to get an honest answer. Betsy had always been interested in something new.

But today was not the day to start inquiring. Margot was going to be out all day today. First, to the Minneapolis art museum, to make a detailed drawing of the T‘ang horse for the canvas.

And about time, too, if she wanted that project finished by Thanksgiving. She wished she hadn’t thrown away the original drawings; then she wouldn’t have to make this trip. No, wait, she was also going to meet with Hudson Earlie at the museum, so she had to go anyway.

She found herself smiling at the memory of Betsy meeting Hud at Christopher Inn. Betsy was attractive and witty and she enjoyed flirting. But twice burned by bad marriages, what would she do when she found out Hud was himself a three-time loser? Run? Or make another bad choice?

Probably neither. Betsy wasn’t a youngster anymore; she knew better than to get mixed up with someone like Hud. And she was in the process of sorting herself out, which was not the time to be starting a courtship, or even an affair. But what if she was her usual reckless self and got involved, and it turned out badly? Where would she run to this time? She’d confessed she was here because she had nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to. Perhaps Margot had better say something to Hud, though if he got on his high horse about it, she’d warn Betsy, too.

Margot eased herself out of bed, remembered her robe, and used the bathroom as quietly as she could. Once Betsy had been a morning person, but confessed she had gotten over that. The sunrise over Excelsior still had two hours of travel before it reached the West Coast; morning would come early until her internal clock adjusted.

Margot went back into her bedroom and booted up her computer, checked her E-mail, and started to download a couple of newsgroups. RCTN took forever; its thousands of members were incorrigible chatterers. While it was working, she went into the kitchen and started the coffeemaker, then went back to the computer to scan the messages, reply to a few, and send them. Then she finalized and printed the presentation she was going to make this evening. By the time that was done, she could hear Betsy in the bathroom.