The door swung in and Alicia stood there, staring at him—a little tentatively, he thought—with those steely eyes. Her black hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, giving her an almost girlish look. She was wearing dirty gardener’s gloves.

“You’re not breathing hard,” she said.

“Well, I admit you’re attractive, but I don’t think—”

She smiled. “No-no. I mean, the walk up the steps. Most people are winded by the time they get here.”

Winded? Why?

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Me too. Really winded. Can I come in and rest?”

She hesitated.

“I won’t bite,” he said. “Promise.”

“Sorry,” she said, and stepped aside to let him in. “It’s just that you can’t be too careful, you know?”

As she closed the door behind them, Jack popped the Semmerling out of his sleeve and held it out to her. She gasped when she saw the tiny pistol.

“Take it,” he said. “It’s loaded. The world’s smallest four-shot.45. Keep it handy while I’m here.”

She stared at it as if it were alive and going to bite her. “That’s okay. Really.”

“Sure?”

When she nodded, he tucked it into a pocket. He didn’t know who was more relieved right then: Alicia, because he’d offered her the weapon, or himself, because she hadn’t taken it. He didn’t feature anyone else messing with his Semmerling.

She led him out of the foyer. “Come on. We can talk in here.”

Jack followed her as far as the threshold, then stopped, staring.

A jungle. A high-ceilinged room, almost a loft, with big skylights, and green everywhere. Not houseplants. Trees. Little trees, yes, but trees. Some with their tops wrapped in clear plastic, like oxygen tents, and others with bandages around their trunks.

“What is this?” he said. “A tree hospital?”

She laughed, and Jack realized this was the first time he’d heard that sound from her.

“You ought to do that more often,” he told her.

“What?”

“Laugh.”

Her smile faded. “I might do just that… once the house is gone.” Before Jack could say anything, she turned and waved a gloved hand at the room. “Anyway, this is my hobby: plant grafting.”

“No kidding?” he said, stepping into the room and looking about. “That’s a hobby?”

“It is for me. Or maybe it’s therapy of sorts. Whatever it is, it gives me… pleasure.”

For an instant there he’d had the strangest feeling she was going to say “peace.”

“How’d you get into something like this?”