‘A … guy?’ Claire felt suddenly at sea, because this conversation was getting weirder and weirder. ‘Liz, I’m not looking for—’

‘Fine, sit around and sulk about your stupid cowboy all day and night, but I’m finding someone worthwhile.’

‘What’s worthwhile for you?’ It might have been goading, but Claire honestly wanted to know. Sort of an anthropological experiment.

Elizabeth looked puzzled for a second, then ticked off what she wanted. ‘Money,’ she said. ‘A decent job, something medical or finance or something. And a good car. He’s got to have a good car. Also, he should have short hair and wear ties most of the time. Nice silk ties, not those crappy Kmart special ones.’

She had remarkably specific rules, Claire thought. ‘Found anybody yet?’

‘Not yet, but I know what to do. I go to the places that those kind of men show up, like the upscale food stores, and the opera, and I wait for one to notice me and talk to me. I’ve gotten loads of conversations. Sooner or later one of them will date me.’

That was … well, Claire didn’t have any other word for it. Bizarre. ‘Don’t you want to, I don’t know, meet somebody and fall in love because you’re just … right for each other?’

Liz shrugged. ‘Don’t really care about that,’ she said. ‘Romance is for idiots. I’m done with all that stuff.’

‘Liz—’ Claire didn’t know how else to put it. ‘What the hell happened to you? Because you’re just not … not the same.’

Elizabeth gave her a long, bitter look. ‘You don’t want to know,’ she said. Claire remembered the flash of fear in Liz’s eyes at the airport, and wondered even more. ‘I’m just telling you, your boyfriend? He may pretend to be Prince Charming, but he’ll show his true colours. They all do.’ She stepped into her room and took hold of the door. ‘Let me know when you’re unpacked, we’ll make some dinner.’

Then she shut the door, and Claire was left standing on the stairs, feeling very alone. Elizabeth had changed, all right – far more than Claire herself had, even with all the pressures of Morganville. She was trying so hard to be adult that she was going to break something – probably herself, Claire thought.

But Liz was right … she did need to unpack. Though when she went back upstairs, and surveyed the depressing blue room again, the first thing she wanted to do was take her suitcases and run, run away, run back to …

… To Shane.

Claire took out her phone and scrolled the address book. All the familiar, aching names. I can call him, she thought. I can call right now.

Instead, she put down the phone, took a deep, slow breath, and threw the first suitcase open on the low, creaking bed.