Liza shook her head helplessly. “I think you’re lying about that, but again, I thank you.”

“Did you show her the alarm panel, Karl?” Irina asked.

“I did, my love.”

“Did you introduce her to the guard in the lobby?”

Karl kissed Irina soundly. “I most certainly did.”

“Good. Liza, there are clean sheets on the bed and food in the pantry and the fridge. There is also a list of restaurants that deliver in the drawer next to the stove. Karl’s company has an account with all of them, so you will not need to pay.”

Liza’s brows shot up. “I most certainly will pay. I have funds. I was Fritz’s beneficiary. I got his death benefits.” She’d told them about Fritz when she’d returned from Monterey, and it seemed that telling people about Fritz got easier every time. She needed to tell her Chicago family soon. She didn’t want them hearing it from Tom. They need to hear it from me. “I put half of the money in a trust for his parents to use for their retirement, and I’ll use the rest for living expenses and tuition not covered by my GI benefits and financial aid. I’ll be fine.”

Karl’s smile was both proud and sad. “Do his parents know about the trust?”

“No. I thought I’d tell them . . . later. Their grief is still too fresh.”

“You are a good girl, Liza.” Irina took Liza’s cheeks in her palms and brought their foreheads together. “Your mother would be so proud of the woman you’ve become.”

Liza had to clear her throat. “Stop making me cry, Irina.”

Karl tugged at Irina’s sleeve. “Come on, my love. Let her get some rest.”

Irina had called her as she, Gideon, and Daisy were driving back from Monterey to tell her that they’d found her a place and had moved her boxes and her car. Gideon had stopped first at the Sokolovs’ house so that Daisy could get her car, then the two of them had escorted her up to the apartment, where they’d helped unpack Liza’s things. With so many hands working, her boxes had been unpacked before she could blink.

“I’ll be by tomorrow to read with Abigail,” Liza assured Irina. “Thank you again.”

Everyone hugged her a final time, then left.

And the silence was . . . awful.

Liza hadn’t realized how much noise there’d been at her old place. Tom always had either a TV on or his opera music blaring. Pebbles was always barking at something.

But this place was quiet. Too quiet.

“Buck up, soldier,” she murmured. “You’re blessed. Be grateful.”

And she was. She really was. She had everything she’d ever wanted.

Except for the one thing she couldn’t have. Exhausted, but too wired to sleep, she sat down at the mahogany desk and opened her laptop.

Step one: Post an ad for someone to sublet my side of the duplex. She wasn’t poor, but she wasn’t going to waste Fritz’s money on rent for a place she wasn’t using. She e-mailed Tom to let him know she’d placed the ad, because he’d ultimately have to approve the new renter.