Mine. Holding out her arms, Margo circled the empty main room of the shop on Cannery Row. Technically it wasn't hers quite yet. Settlement was still two weeks away, but the offer had been accepted, the contract signed. And the loan, with the Templeton name behind it, had gone off without a hitch.

She'd already had a contractor in to discuss alterations. It was going to cost big, and in her new frugal fashion she had indeed decided to do the simple cosmetic improvements herself. Research was under way on the rental of floor sanders, the purchase of caulking guns. She'd even looked into something wonderful called a paint sprayer. More coverage, faster. More efficient.

And the building wouldn't actually be hers, she reminded herself. It would be theirs. Hers, Laura's, and the bank's. But in two weeks' time, she would be sleeping in that little room upstairs. In a sleeping bag if need be.

Then by midsummer, the doors of Pretenses would open.

And the rest, she thought with a laugh, would be history.

She turned at the tap on the glass and saw Kate.

"Hey, open up, will you? I'm on my lunch hour. Thought I'd find you here gloating," she said when Margo opened the door. "It still smells," she added after a testing sniff.

"What do you want, Kate? I'm busy."

Kate studied the clipboard and the pocket calculator on the floor. "Did you figure out how to work that thing?"

"You don't have to be a CPA to use a calculator."

"I meant the clipboard."

"Ha ha."

"You know, the place grows on you." Hands tucked in her trouser pockets, Kate wandered. "It's a nice busy area, too. Should pull in some walk-in traffic. And people on vacation are always buying things they don't have any use for. The secondhand clothes, though. Everything's going to be a size eight."

"I've already thought of that. I'm working on some other stock. I know a lot of people who ditch their wardrobes every year."

"Smart people buy classics—seasonless classics—then they don't have to worry."

"How many navy blue blazers do you own, Kate?"

"Half a dozen," she said and grinned, then thumbed a Tums out of the roll in her pocket. Her idea of lunch. "But that's just me. Here's the deal, Margo. I want in."

"In what?"

"In on the building." She popped the antacid, crunched it. "I've got some money to invest; and I don't see why you and Laura should have all the fun."

"We don't need a partner."