The walls had been stripped of their patterned paper and refinished in cool tones of ivory, pewter, and latte. Around the room, Allison had hung her precious collection of Australian Aboriginal paintings—the one thing she’d lavished money on in her single days. The Kathleen Petyarre above the fireplace—a five-foot expanse of tiny dots that looked like the surface of a rough granite slab—had cost more than her old car. These days the painting was worth three times what she’d paid. Maybe she could sell it. She would sell the whole lot of them if it would help Burke. What did it matter?

The sound of closing doors told her the caterers were leaving by way of the kitchen. They would send her the bill in the morning. She would pay it in full, of course, along with a generous tip for the servers.

Deep in her chest, a tangled thread of annoyance jerked into a hard knot of anger. Why hadn’t Burke told her about his problems? Why had he let her blunder ahead, spending money like a drunken sailor while his friends sneered at her extravagance?

Why in heaven’s name hadn’t he stopped her?

More to the point, why hadn’t she stopped herself?

The pain in her temple had mushroomed into a blinding headache. Trying to read or watch TV until Burke came home would only make her feel worse. For now, there was nothing to do but gulp down some ibuprofen, go to bed, and try to sleep it off.

Rousing herself from the sofa, she dragged herself up the stairs to the second-floor landing. The guest bathroom was on her right. She opened the medicine cabinet, dumped two extra-strength ibuprofen tablets into her palm, and tossed them down with a glass of water. The pills would help the pain. Too bad they couldn’t help anything else.

Across the hall was the one room Allison had known better than to redecorate. From the stuffed animals and ruffled cushions on the bed to the old Lord of the Rings Orlando Bloom poster on the ceiling, Brianna’s bedroom remained exactly as she’d left it when she went off to college. Allison rarely ventured into her stepdaughter’s territory, but tonight, with her mind in turmoil, it seemed like a natural place to wander.

Or maybe she craved some deeper punishment to take her mind off the pain in her head.

The door was ajar, probably left that way by the cleaning woman when she’d finished dusting. Allison slipped into the alien space and switched on a dresser lamp with a ruby glass shade. The reddish glow cast Brianna’s childhood collection of stuffed unicorns, dragons, and other mythical creatures into monster shadows on the walls.