She took the towel. “I was just drifting. Change of pace from running at full speed the last few days. We don’t drift enough, that’s what I think.”

“Okay, I’ll put drifting on the list.”

Laughing, Laurel wrapped the towel around her waist. “You would. You’re dressed. What time is it?”

“About eight. I take it you were drifting for a while.”

“I guess. Busy night.”

“It was. Did you see Del?”

“Why? Yes, but why?”

“Because he was here, and for a while you were AWOL.”

“I wasn’t AWOL, Captain. I just took a break.”

“And changed your shirt.”

Something like guilt began to inch up her spine. “I spilled something on it. What is this?”

“Curiosity.” Parker held out an envelope. “This was on the kitchen counter. Mrs. G gave it to me to give to you.”

“Well, why didn’t she just ... Oh.” Laurel stopped when she recognized Del’s handwriting.

“Don’t you want to know what it says? I do.” Parker stood, blocking the way and smiling brightly. “The polite thing would be for me to go back inside, give you privacy when you read it. But, I’m just not that mature.”

“It’s nothing. Fine.” Feeling foolish, Laurel opened the envelope.

You might think this is over, but you’d be wrong. I’ve taken your shoes hostage. Contact me within forty-eight hours, or the Pradas get it.

Laurel made a sound caught between a laugh and a curse as Parker read over her shoulder.

“He took your shoes?”

“Apparently. What am I supposed to do about this?” Laurel waved the note. “I’m drifting. I decided I wanted to drift, and now he’s playing games. I just bought those shoes.”

“How did he get your shoes?”

“It was nothing like that. I took them off, and then he was there, and I left them after ... Nothing. It was sort of tit for tat.”

Parker nodded. “Your tit or his tat?”

“Neither of those, gutter-brain. I apologized for going off on him, but that’s not enough for Del and he started cross-examining me. One thing led to another in the refrigerator. It’s hard to explain.”

“Obviously.”

“He’s just being a smart-ass. He can keep the damn shoes.”

“Really?” Eyes placid, Parker smiled. “Because that would say to me—and probably him—that you’re afraid to deal with it. Him. Any of it.”

“I’m not afraid—and don’t play that card with me.” Laurel yanked off the towel to rub it furiously over her hair. “I just don’t want to stir anything up.”

“Because it’s hard to drift when things are stirred up.”

“Yes. Anyway, I have other shoes. I have better shoes. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of drawing me into his silly game.

Parker smiled again. “Boys are so lame.”