The story of Dan’s suspension had broken in Tuesday morning’s papers, and both she and Ron had been hounded by reporters all week. Some of the press had even managed to locate Dan at his vacation home in Alabama. Dan and Ron had issued separate statements, neither of them substantive, and she had finally been forced to take the NFL commissioner’s phone call. Needless to say, he wasn’t happy with her. On the positive side, the suspension had squashed rumors about her affair with Dan.

Molly appeared at the top of the stairs wearing one of her new pairs of jeans, a plaid, oxford collar blouse, and a scowl. Phoebe had thought about calling Dan to let him know she was bringing Molly along, but something had held her back, maybe the intensity of her desire to hear his voice.

Molly had pulled her hair back to show off the small gold studs in her newly pierced earlobes. Phoebe was delighted that she had also somehow managed to talk Molly into a shorter, breezier cut, so that her hair no longer overpowered her small features. She thought Molly looked darling, but her sister refused to accept any of Phoebe’s compliments.

“It’s not fair,” Molly complained. “I don’t know why you’re making me do this.”

“Because I’m mean and heartless.”

The day was warm, and Phoebe was wearing a pair of pleated khaki shorts with a daffodil yellow blouse, matching socks, and white canvas Keds. Just before she picked up Pooh, she plunked a floppy-brimmed straw hat on her head, positioning the sassy pink silk rose that held up the brim exactly in the center.

“That hat’s stupid.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Molly. A lady always likes to know she’s looking her best.”

Molly’s eyes dropped. “I just think you should look your age, that’s all.”

Ignoring that ego-booster, she opened the front door. Dan was coming up the walk in a pair of faded jeans and white T-shirt, with a black and red Chicago Bulls’ hat on his head. She reminded herself that she had met any number of men more physically beautiful. His nose wasn’t entirely straight, his jaw was too square, and he was too muscular. But everything about him touched a hidden source of warmth inside her. She felt a connection with him that she couldn’t explain, and she didn’t like to remember how many times she’d thought of him during the week.

He greeted her with that drop-dead grin of his and stepped inside, while she busied herself scolding a yipping Pooh, who was twitching ecstatically in her arms in an effort to get to him.

“Quiet, Pooh, you’re being obnoxious. Molly, would you get her leash?”

Pooh’s pink tongue lapped and her eyes filled with adoration as she regarded Dan. He contemplated her warily.