“Regan, we just got out of a screening and heard about the blackout. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Regan answered.

“Are you sure? Where are you?”

“I’m in the car on my way to pick up Kit. She’s still on crutches, and walking up to her thirty-eighth-floor hotel room isn’t an option.”

“You’re driving around? Be careful. The traffic lights must be out!”

Regan smiled. “That they are.” This is definitely not the time to tell her about the break-in, Regan thought. There’s no use worrying her even more. “I’m going to pick up Kit and head back home. Who’d have guessed that all those candlesticks we received as wedding presents would come in so handy this soon?”

“Be careful of setting the place on fire.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Where’s Jack?”

“He’ll be working all night tonight. Someone already broke into an art gallery in SoHo.”

“Oh dear, there wasn’t too much crime or looting during the last blackout in New York,” Nora said.

“That struck in the afternoon. People had time to take measures to guard their businesses before it got dark. When it happens at night and everything gets thrown into darkness so fast, people who ordinarily wouldn’t steal can act impulsively….” What am I saying this to my mother for, Regan wondered. “But on the radio they’re saying that things are pretty peaceful so far. It’s well past rush hour, so most of the commuters have already left the city.”

“Get home as soon as you can and lock the doors.”

“I will. Say hi to Dad. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

At Fifty-fourth Street, Regan turned right. Her headlights shone onto a block party in full swing. Music was blaring, people were dancing in the street, and flames were lapping from barbecue grills that had been carted out onto the sidewalk. Regan inched her way forward, on the lookout for the address Kit had given her. She knew it was on the right hand side of the street. Glancing around, Regan thought it could have been New Year’s Eve. All the stoops were overflowing with revelers. Everyone on this block must have invited their friends over. Finally she double-parked the car and got out.

“Regan!” Kit called through the crowd, crutching her way toward the car. A young guy was clearing the path for her.

Regan hurried over to open the passenger door. She hugged Kit, who she could tell was tense. Her foot must really be hurting, Regan thought.

“Regan, this is Billy,” Kit said brusquely. “He’s coming with us.”

“Sure,” Regan answered, as she shook Billy’s hand, hoping he wasn’t some nutcase. But he looked and seemed like a sweet guy.

While Kit maneuvered herself into the front seat, Billy got in the back, and Regan threw the crutches in the trunk.

When they were all in the car, Regan joked, “This party looks like fun. Are you sure you want to leave? Those hot dogs smell good.”

Kit put her hand on Regan’s arm. “Regan—” she began, then paused.