“I’m not feeling very good,” Angie said, quite truthfully; suddenly she wished she had never picked up the second bottle of beer.

“Who needs handling?” Caroline asked, looking vaguely interested.

“Your aunt Patty-Cake,” said Rivera, ignoring the threatening look Angie threw her. “She’s making things difficult for Angie in the office.”

Caroline’s cheeks turned the same color as her blouse “Oh, dear,” she said, her soft voice taking on a bit of an edge. “The copy machine?”

“And the telephone and the air-conditioning,” said Rivera.

“Really—” began Angie, but Caroline cut her off.

“I was afraid that might happen,” she said. “Never you mind, Angie. I’ll take care of it first thing tomorrow.”

There were many things Angie might have said, but to carry this conversation any further might mean that it would swing back toward the subject of John Grant, something she wanted to avoid. Angie caught Rivera’s eye and sent a small, silent, prayerful message, which Rivera caught like the experienced ballplayer she was.

“I’m hungry,” she said, getting up from the ground and brushing grass off her rear. “Let’s go, Pinkie.”

“You sure you won’t come along?” Caroline asked Angie, hesitating.

“You two go on without me.” She tried for a pitiful expression, but feared that she was no better than Caroline at hiding her relief.

At eight the next morning Angie found Rob Grant setting up a laptop computer in her office. Over his shoulder he said, “Caroline called me last night and filled me in. She talked to Patty-Cake, too, so you don’t have to worry about a counterstrike.”

There was a standing fan by the windows and a smaller one on the desk, right next to a telephone.

“Telephone is working,” he said, following her gaze. “Computer, too. Your Internet log-in information and your PIN code for the copy machine are in the top drawer. Which is open. And the physical plant people should be here later today to look at the air-conditioning. The fans will help until they sort it out.””

Angie put her bag on the desktop. “That was kind of Caroline,” she said. “And it’s good of you, too. Thanks.”

“Nothing to it,” Rob said. “Any other tall orders this morning?”

“Yes,” Angie said. “You can find Tony for me. He hasn’t come back to the house for two nights.”

“Tony is in the editing suite,” Rob said. “He was there when I got in.”

“You are a whiz at this stuff,” Angie said. “Excuse me while I go dismember him, would you?”

“Angie?”

She turned back at the door. He was looking at her as if she had broken out in an unusual rash, one he had never seen before. Then he moved his shoulders in a small, tight shrug, and shook his head.

“I just wanted to say that John is going to be away for the next week.”

“Okay,” Angie said slowly. “And?”