At 3:30 promptly I was ringing Vera's doorbell. The address she'd given me was on the upper east side of town, in a neighborhood of older homes. Theirs was a ramshackle Victorian painted dark gray with white trim and an L-shaped wooden porch complete with froufrou along the rail. The front door had a stained-glass rose in the center that made Vera's face look bright pink when she peered out at me. Behind her, the dog barked with excitement, eager to jump up and slobber on someone new. She opened the door, holding the dog by its collar to prevent its escape.

She said, "Don't look so glum. You've been given a reprieve. I sent the guys out to buy Pampers and beer, so it's just us for twenty minutes. Come on in." Her hair was cropped short and streaked with blond. She still sported her glasses with wire frames and enormous pale blue lenses. Vera's the type of woman who attracts admiring glances wherever she goes. Her figure was substantial, though she'd already dropped much of the weight she gained with Meg. She was barefoot, Wearing tight jeans and an oversize tunic with short sleeves and a complicated cut to the top. All the toddler and baby toting had firmed her biceps.

She held the door for me, angling her body so the dog couldn't lunge at me just yet. He'd doubled in size since I'd seen him on the beach. He didn't seem like a mean mutt, but he was exuberant. She leaned close to his face, put a hand around his muzzle, and said, "No!" in a tone that had no particular effect. He seemed to like the attention and licked her in the mouth the first chance he got.

"This is Chase. Ignore him. He'll settle down in a bit."

I made an effort to ignore the dog while he pranced around, barking happily, and then snagged the hem of my pant leg and began to tug. He emitted a puppy growl, his feet braced on the hall carpet so he could rip my jeans to shreds. I stood there, captive, and said, "Gee, this is fun, Vera. I'm so glad I came."

She gave me a look, but let the sarcasm pass. She snagged the dog by the collar and dragged him toward the kitchen while I followed. The foyer ceiling was high with a set of stairs to the right, the living room on the left. A short hall led straight to the kitchen across the back. The passage was the usual land mine of wooden blocks, plastic toy parts, and abandoned doggie bones. She shoved Chase into a kennel the size of a steamer trunk. This didn't dismay the dog, but I felt guilty nonetheless. He placed a baleful eye to one of the air vents in the kennel and stared at me with hope.