"You ate all my organic flax bread!" Hanneke Caine wheeled from the counter to stare at her husband and son, tears gleaming in her eyes. "I bought it from Illo's Bakery especially for my new diet! It took me ages to find it. How could you?"

Anthony froze over his breakfast plate, his mouth full of toast. Across the table, his father continued to stare at the financial pages of the newspaper. The lines in his face had gone ominously taut.

Anthony hastily swallowed his mouthful. "Here, Mamma. I've only eaten half my piece." He grabbed his knife and sawed off the bitten portion of toast. "You can have the rest."

His mother recoiled. "With jam on it? Ugh. No, I'll just - go hungry." She sighed, with a catch in her breath. "If my health suffers, so be it. I don't expect anyone to care."

His father shot her an icy look. Anthony leapt to his feet. "There's Oatie-O's in the cupboard. They're healthy, right? I can get you a bowl, if you want."

His mother caught him to her in a painful hug. "My sweet boy! Such a loving heart you have." She sent a baleful look over his head at her husband. "Promise me you won't change. Don't grow up to be as cold and unfeeling as your father."

"I'm not - I mean I won't - " Anthony caught his father's swift glance of contempt and swallowed hard. "Hey, know what?" He wriggled away from his mother. "I'm in the finals of the Grade 3 Math Bee at school. Isn't that great?"

"A Math Bee? What's that?" His father lowered the paper, his face lightening.

"It's like a Spelling Bee, but with math. The teams line up on both sides of the room, and the teacher gives each kid a problem to solve. Anyone who gets theirs wrong has to sit down. The last one standing wins. Then the winning team gets a prize."

"And you think you'll win? That's great." His father speared a look of cool malice at his mother. "It's a good thing you do take after me. At least there's a chance you'll get somewhere in life. Instead of being a parasite, like some people."

"What? I gave up a wonderful career to marry you, and this is how you treat me." His mother's rather prominent blue eyes were wide and blurred with tears, her expression tragic as she turned to Anthony. "Math Bee! How horrible. You are like your father. Numbers, dollars, calculations, that's all he cares about."

His father threw down his paper and came to his feet snarling. "You're damn calculating yourself, when it comes to spending my money. How do you think all your stupid diet foods and expensive clothes get paid for? My accounting business, that's how. If I had a dime for every - "

"A dime!" His mother laughed, her voice shrilling toward hysteria. "My God, the man can't go one single minute without talking about money! You don't have a heart." She stabbed a manicured fingernail into her husband's chest. "There's a cash register in there where it should be."

"You greedy cow! Ungrateful, self-centered - "

"Oh don't be angry with me, Gavin." In a lightning change of mood, Hanneke flung her arms around her husband's neck. "You just don't understand how much I need love. It's as necessary to me as - as breathing. And you're so indifferent - you just don't seem to care." Her voice caught on an appealing little hiccup of unhappiness.

His father cursed and hugged her close. "Don't care! Woman, how can you - " His head dropped to hers. Anthony's hair stood on end as they clung together in a ferocious kiss.

"Bye, Mamma. Bye, Dad." He ran to the front hallway and snatched his coat from the closet. The hanger spun clattering to the floor. He didn't look back as he raced outside.

The walk to school was blessedly quiet. Birds sang in the trees, cars rumbled past, a kid on a bicycle whirred down the street whistling. Everywhere but in his house, the world seemed to be peaceful, and normal. Anthony kicked at the drifts of golden and red leaves that littered the sidewalk.

His parents confused him. They always seemed to be fighting, and when they weren't doing that, they were kissing. Sometimes they did both at once, which was especially awful. He'd made the mistake once of inviting friends to his house after school to watch TV. He still cringed, remembering.

If his mother had just told him she didn't like them dirtying dishes with snacks and drinks, he would have washed everything up right away. Instead, she waited until his dad got home. Then there was a truly horrible scene because she didn't have a dishwasher like some of her friends did. His friends still talked about that fight, like his parents were straight out of a zoo. His dad had been furious about it.

"Have you no decent reserve? Must you always behave as if you were raised in a slum? To throw one of your appalling scenes in front of the neighbourhood children - my God! If you don't have any dignity yourself, you could at least think of Anthony's!"

Anthony's mother had cried, and apologized so much that it made him feel sick. He never asked friends home again.

He should have known better than to tell his parents about the Math Bee. He didn't understand why his mother hated anything to do with arithmetic. She even refused to balance her check book, as though adding and subtracting would suck out her soul.

It was weird, too, the way she assumed that anyone who liked math was automatically some kind of cold-hearted freak. She hated the fact that his dad was an accountant, even though he had his own business and was successful enough that they had a nice home and she didn't have to work or anything. You'd think she'd be proud of her husband, but instead, whenever she introduced him to her friends, it was always with a little embarrassed grimace when she said what he did for a living.

Anthony had learned not to say so, but he sympathized with his Dad. He liked numbers himself. They were trustworthy. A number always meant the same thing. Putting them together the same way always gave the same answer. Not like words. Words were slippery, fuzzy things. They could have totally different meanings at different times and sometimes even two meanings at once. He hated it when older kids laughed at something he said, even though he didn't mean to be funny. Words didn't even follow their rules properly. Everything he had learned about grammar seemed sloppy and contradictory and full of exceptions.

Numbers were exciting, too. There was so much neat stuff that could be done with them. Mathematicians had revealed secrets that no one else could figure out, solved mysteries and created them. Because the Egyptians and Aztecs had been so good at math, they had been able to build pyramids that still impressed people thousands of years later. Early explorers had found their way across the ocean by tracking the North Star and calculating their position from it. Anthony thought that was amazingly neat. Math and starlight, leading people into whole new worlds.

Right now he wished he could find one.

He couldn't understand why his parents had married, when they were so very different. He did know the story of how they met. Hanneke Van Rijn had been a model, one of a number of international beauties hired for a fashion show in Montreal, when Gavin Caine met her. The tall, quiet man with the Oxford British accent had caught her interest right away. It hadn't bothered her then that he was an accountant, or that he was only at the show because he was performing an audit on one of the designers. His natural reserve merely heightened her interest, made him more worthy a challenge for her to conquer.

They were married in Quebec City six weeks later.

It was a romantic story, his mother told him with (of course) tears in her eyes. Anthony was doubtful. It seemed dumb for two people to get married if they were just going to fight all the time. It was a good thing they had, or he would never have been born. Other than that, there didn't seem to be much they had in common.

Anthony's pace quickened as he rounded the last corner and entered the school grounds. He was really looking forward to this final round of the Math Bee. His father was right. Displays of emotion were exhausting, and sometimes scary. That was another point on the plus side for math. It was cool in every sense of the word.

One evening in December that Anthony came home full of music and high spirits from the elementary school Christmas Concert. For the first time, he had been given a small solo part. It had been scary, but he had done OK. Lots of people had praised him afterward.

It was disappointing that neither of his parents had been there, though. His father always worked long hours at year-end, so his absence hadn't been a surprise. But Anthony had been disappointed when his mother decided at the last minute that she didn't feel well enough to go. Now he was eager to tell her all about it.

He stepped into the house to see his father slumped on the couch, hair and shirt rumpled and an empty glass in his hand. He was glowering at the unlit Christmas tree. Anthony stopped short in bewilderment. He'd never seen his father anything but neat and well-dressed. The man slouched in their living room looked like a stranger.

Something was very wrong. He swallowed back his fear. "Where's Mom?"

"Gone." His father lifted his glass and almost casually flung it against the stone wall of the fireplace. It shattered, sending glittering shards to bury themselves in the deep blue plush carpet.

"Gone? Where?"

"Who bloody cares?" His father heaved himself out of the chair and stood looking down at him, his eyes glittering. "She couldn't stand it any more. That's what she said. Couldn't stand me." He laughed bitterly. "She can't stand you, either, because you're turning out like me. How do you flippin' like that?"

He stiffened as Anthony caught his breath. "No. Don't you dare cry for her. You start bawling now, Tony, I swear I'll pitch you out of this house. There's been enough dramatics around here to last me a lifetime."

Anthony choked back the sobs that were burning his throat, and turned away so his father couldn't see his tears.

"I'm sorry." The anger slid from his father's voice. Now he just sounded miserable, and tired. "I didn't mean to hurt you, son. It's just - ." He sighed and shrugged. "Never mind. We'd better both get to bed. It's getting late."

The next morning, Anthony came down after a night of restless misery to find his father eating breakfast and reading the paper just as he did every morning. Anthony eyed him uncertainly. His dad looked haggard and there were shadows around his eyes, but he was as neat and well groomed in his dark business suit as usual.

"Dad." Anthony gulped. "About Mom - "

"Yes." His father looked up with a smile that was somehow frightening. "It is peaceful around the house this morning, isn't it? Thank God for that." He folded his paper, dropped it on the table and rose. "I'm off to the office. You can get your own school lunch ready? Good. There's some money on the counter. Get a pizza delivered for supper if you like. I'll be at the office until late."

His father pulled on his overcoat, picked up his briefcase, and strode out of the house. Anthony watched in blank dismay. He desperately wanted to know where his mother had gone. He wanted to know what he had done that was so bad she couldn't stand him any more. But after that sharp snub, he didn't dare ask again.

In the weeks that followed, his father never once mentioned his mother. Within days of her departure, every trace of her had vanished from the house. Her clothes and shoes, the remnants of her make-up and expensive scented shampoo in the bathroom, the picture that hung in the hall, even the Christmas presents under the tree with her name on them. It was as though Hanneke Caine had been vaporized from the face of the earth.

On Christmas day, his Dad took him out to a Chinese restaurant, where they ate pork fried rice and egg rolls in silence. Afterward, Anthony watched a re-run of "White Christmas" while his father worked on a pile of papers on the dining room table.

Life settled into an uncomfortable rhythm through the remainder of the winter and the long wet spring that followed.

Each morning, he and his Dad discussed the day's plans over breakfast and the chores that Anthony was to do after school. His father set up a bank account and showed him how to draw from it to buy groceries and school supplies. He showed him, as well, how to budget and to do simple accounting to keep track of the money he spent. Anything Anthony wanted that wasn't in the budget, like a new bicycle to replace the old one he'd grown out of, they discussed pro and con in a business-like manner.

His dad almost always bought whatever he asked for, and was never angry about the extra requests. Still, Anthony hated asking for anything that wasn't in the budget. He didn't know when his father would start thinking he was a parasite and a greedy cow, too.

Most evenings, his father worked late at the office. Anthony signed up for every after-school activity he could, to keep from having to go home to his empty house. When his dad was home, they were unfailingly polite to one another. There was no repeat of his father's icy fit of rage, or any more drinking, at least none that Anthony saw. But there weren't any of the comfortable talks they used to have, either. It was as though some kind of invisible wall had grown up between them.

Each weekend they did something together, went to a movie or played Monopoly or shovelled the walk. Anthony couldn't help wondering if his father was spending time with him only because he thought he should, not because he wanted to. His Dad didn't seem to want anyone's company any more. He stopped going to his squash club and never went out to parties. He hardly ever laughed or smiled. He didn't even sing Rolling Stones songs in the shower like he had always done.

Anthony began to have nightmares.

He never remembered the dreams after he woke, but they left him shaking with fear and grief. Sometimes he screamed in his sleep, and his dad would come in to his room. His father was always kind about it, and would sit on the edge of the bed talking quietly about anything or nothing until the lingering terrors passed and Anthony was able to drift off to sleep again. Still, Anthony worried that his father would be disgusted that he was making scenes, like his mother. Even if he couldn't help it. Maybe his dad would decide he couldn't stand him, either.

Anthony was surprised when his father told him, mid-way through the following July, that he was going to summer camp for a week. It was a computer camp, with normal camp stuff like canoeing and swimming and campfires as well. It sounded great, or would have if he hadn't had the suspicion that his Dad was getting rid of him for some reason. His father had been thoughtful lately, and absent-minded. Anthony had the uncomfortable feeling that plans were being made around him. It made him nervous.

He had a great time at camp. Computers were fun, and the ones at the camp were new, powerful, and had some amazing software. He became a total expert at Tetris, and was thrilled with a new software that let him create 3-D designs of houses and cars and even robots that he invented out of his imagination. There were some neat math games on the computers, too. He aced every one of them.

Anthony jumped down from the bus at the end of the week feeling happier than he had for months. His good mood evaporated as soon as he saw his Dad's face. That set, guarded look must mean trouble. They walked to the car in silence. His nerves jumped with anxiety.

When they were in the car, his Dad finally spoke. "Anthony, before we go home, we need to talk. There have been some - changes while you were at camp that you need to know about."

Anthony froze in his seat. His dad didn't look at him, just stared out the window, his brows furrowed.

"I realize you've been upset since - well, with the way things have been this past year. Your nightmares, the way you've avoided being at home when I'm away -". He sighed. "It isn't healthy. You need more stability in your life. And I need - well," he smiled sadly, "let's just say I need things to be different, too. So I've decided to make a major change in our lives. A change for the better. I know you'll be happy with it."

That sounded like an order. Anxiety held Anthony rigidly silent. His father turned to gaze at him, with a smile that looked like it had been glued on his face. "While you were at camp, I married again. Your new mother is waiting at the house to meet you."

It felt exactly like the day he had walked absentmindedly into a swinging baseball bat and had the wind knocked right out of him. When he could finally breathe again, he gasped, "But - you are married! No way you can have two wives. "

His father's face went to stone. "Anthony, settle down. There's no need to get temperamental." He rolled his shoulders as though they hurt him. "As a matter of fact, the divorce was finalized a month ago. I'm perfectly free to marry again."

"You - you and Mamma got a divorce?" Anthony's mind went into overdrive. "But that means - you must have seen her! She was here, and you didn't tell me?" He was almost shouting, but he didn't care. "Why didn't I see her, too? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I said, stop it!" His father's hands clenched white on the steering wheel. His teeth were clenched, too. He clipped off each word as though he were snipping it with scissors. "I have not seen your mother. She's in the Netherlands. Living with a man who is far richer than I am." He drew in an audible breath that shook a little. "My lawyer dealt with her lawyer. She never came back to Canada. I did ask about - about custody. Counselling. Things like that. She expressed no desire to see either of us again."

"Oh." Anthony closed his eyes and let the misery wash over him. He thought he might drown in it, just sink down and down until there was nothing but pain.

"Look, son. I know this is tough, but things are going to be better now. Your mother was never the maternal sort. Clarice is. She likes children. Wants children. She's happy to give up her job and just be a wife and mother. She'll be there when you get home from school, make your lunches for you - all the things that mothers do. It'll be better." There was a hint of desperation in his voice. "I'm sure it will be better."

"Clarice?" Anthony was startled out of his grief. "You mean, Clarice from your office? The one who smiles a lot and always has a dish of candies on her desk to share?"

"Yes." His father smiled a little more naturally. "I'd forgotten you've met her. You like her, don't you?"

"I guess. She's nice." Silence fell as they both stared out the windshield, lost in their thoughts. Anthony sighed and turned to his father. "OK. Can we go home now?"

He did like Clarice, although it took a while to get used to having her in the house. A plump brunette with a lovely smile and mild manner, she was almost embarrassingly eager to be friends with him. He wasn't sure how he felt about that and held himself a little aloof until the night one of his nightmares came and he woke up screaming. It was Clarice who came to him, talked him gently out of his confused panic, and hugged him until the trembling stopped.

It was a novel experience, being hugged. His father had rarely done more than pat his shoulder, and his mother had only clutched him to her when she was in her moods. Those hugs hurt. This one was comfortable and soothing, like curling up into a warm pillow. As he drifted back to sleep, he decided his father might have been right. Maybe things would be better now.

When Clarice asked him to call her "Mom", he agreed willingly. It was easier to have a Mom and Dad like other kids, than to try to explain his family to people.

The weird thing was, Clarice soon felt more like his mother than his real mother ever had. Everything he told her, she listened to with interest. She attended every concert and school play and came to cheer at his soccer and baseball games. She insisted his Dad relax more on weekends, and the three of them did really fun things like going to the circus or getting gloriously lost in an intricate maze that a farmer had carved out of his corn field outside of town and then buying enormous banana split sundaes afterward to celebrate the triumph of finding their way out.

Clarice even helped him with his homework. It surprised him to find out that she liked math too. He was thrilled out of his mind when she convinced his Dad to buy him his very own computer, then showed him how to do basic spreadsheets with it. That was incredibly neat. He loved the way he could plug in a bunch of numbers and, just by manipulating them with formulas, pull all sorts of interesting facts out of the results. His marks had always been good, but with his new Mom's encouragement, Anthony shot up to the top of the class.

There were other great things about having Clarice for his Mom. He had never had relatives like other kids did, aunts or uncles or cousins or grandparents. At least, he supposed there must be some in England and the Netherlands, but he had never met them. His Mom had a brother who lived right in Milborough and a sister only an hour away in Kingston, and both of them were happy to adopt Anthony as their nephew.

He especially liked his new Uncle Max. His Mom's brother was a round, balding, talkative little man who owned a men's clothing store. Despite the fact that his fingers were as short and chunky as the rest of him, his hands were as nimble and neat as a cat's paws. Anthony liked to visit Max' store sometimes, just to watch him pin and tuck and pat a suit onto a customer until it fit smooth and sleek as a glove.

Uncle Max' home workshop was even more interesting than his store. A square metal-clad shed at the back of his tidy suburban home, it was fitted up with more kinds of tools than Anthony had known existed. Max did projects there, everything from cutting posts and railings for a backyard fence to making a lovely little jewellery box for one of his nieces. He was delighted with Anthony's interest in his hobby. It became routine for Anthony to bike over on weekends and help with whatever project was underway. Sometimes, Max let Anthony pick his own project to work on. He made a couple of birdhouses, and a bookshelf for his Mom's birthday which thrilled her.

The whole time they worked, Uncle Max talked. He was interested in people, and had an amazing memory.

"Have to, in my business," he explained. "People expect their tailor to remember them. If I know their wives' names, their kids, the occasion they bought their last suit for, so much the better. Makes them feel special, like they've made an impression. Besides, people are interesting. Just when you think you have them figured out - boom! - they go and do something totally unexpected. Like this one executive type who comes in every year, spring and fall, like clockwork, to buy a new suit. Always grey. Lighter in spring, darker in fall, never anything fancier than a pinstripe. This spring, he shows up, wants a suit made of leather. Black leather, for crying out loud! I knew then what had happened." Max tapped his forehead and winked. "Sure enough, he's got a new lady in his life. A tough biker chick type. Twenty years he's been Mr. Boring, now all of a sudden he's Joe Cool. I figured something else, then. Someone he knew musta died."

Max paused to run a loving hand over the piece of zebrawood he was sanding and grinned at Anthony. "Turned out I was right about that, too. A guy in his office, 45 years old, keeled over right on top of the fax machine. Made Mr. Boring realize we only get one life and he better start living his. Picked a helluva way to do it, though."

"Why? Didn't he like his new suit?" Anthony cast a knowledgeable eye over the progress of the wood and handed Max a piece of 220 grit sandpaper.

"Oh yeah, he loved it. Trouble was, he didn't get to wear it long. It didn't fit too well over the cast." Max chuckled at Anthony's puzzled expression. "Silly goof went out and bought himself a high-powered motorcycle, spun out and broke his leg the first day. The girlfriend left him, he put the leather suit in the back of the closet, went back to being Mr. Boring." Max shook his head. "He just didn't get it. Knowing who you are and making the most of your talents and interests, that's how to be happy in life. Trying to turn into someone you're not - it'll bring grief every time."

Anthony enjoyed his afternoons in the workshop, both for the woodworking and his long chats with Max. He really liked the way his Mom's family assembled for dinners on special occasions, too. There would be a dozen or more people around the table when they gathered, everyone talking at once and arguing and laughing and eating too much. It gave him a warm feeling to be a part of a family just like the ones he saw on TV.

Still, there were small things about his new life that worried him. He didn't quite know why. His Mom never threw tantrums or cried, except maybe at sad movies, and she and his Dad didn't fight. They didn't kiss in front of him either, which was a relief. Everything seemed to be fine. Still, he couldn't get past the feeling that there were undercurrents in their lives that threatened their harmony.

One day close to the end of the school year, Anthony came home after baseball practise to find the house empty. It surprised him. His mom made a point of trying to be there every afternoon when he got home. She would have a snack ready for him and ask about his day before he went upstairs to his computer and his homework. If she was going to be away for some reason, she always told him in the morning.

He checked the calendar and the message board on the fridge, but there wasn't anything written on either one about appointments or anything. She'd had quite a few appointments lately, he didn't know why. She and his dad changed the subject whenever he asked.

He made himself a sandwich with cheese slices and pickles, and wandered out to the backyard while he munched on it. It startled him to see his mom there. She was kneeling at the edge of her flower garden, holding her stomach and rocking back and forth. Tears were pouring down her face.

He flung away the remains of the sandwich and ran to her. "Mom! What's wrong? Did you hurt yourself?" He dropped to his knees beside her, tried to look into her face. "What is it? Are you sick? Should I call Dad?"

"No!" She grabbed his wrist with startling strength. "There isn't anything - he feels badly enough already. Whatever you do, don't call him." With a wracking effort, she gulped back her sobs. "I'm sorry, Anthony. I didn't mean to upset you. I thought you'd just go up to your room and I could - could cry it out without bothering anyone."

"It's OK. I'm not upset." It wasn't true. Seeing her huddled on the ground terrified him. He urged her to her feet and to the wooden swing on the patio deck. It was a relief to see that she could walk. There wasn't any blood or anything to show she'd been hurt.

She dropped onto the swing and wiped away her tears. "Oh Anthony, don't look at me like that. It's nothing serious. At least - " A sob shook her again. "It's just that - I'd hoped that I could tell you there would be a new little brother or sister for you soon. But it hasn't happened. Now the doctors are telling me that it probably won't." She leaned back and closed her eyes. "And I want, so much, to have a child of my own. It just doesn't seem fair."

Anthony felt like he'd been slugged hard in the gut. "You have me."

"Oh, of course!" Clarice's eyes flew open, and she caught his hands and squeezed them hard. "I do have you, and you're the most wonderful son in the world. I don't want you to think that I don't - it's just - it isn't quite the same as - as - ."

"Oh. No, I guess it wouldn't be." Anthony dragged in a breath that hurt every inch of the way. "I guess then, I should just - well, leave you alone so you can cry if you want. I'm sorry I bothered you."

Anthony ran from the yard and down the back lane. He heard Clarice call his name but kept on going. It seemed to ease the aching in his chest to run as hard as he could, until his breath came in laboured gasps and the blood buzzed in his head.

When he reached the park, he slowed to a walk. There were clusters of people in every corner of the park, enjoying the warm spring afternoon, walking or playing Frisbee or sprawled on the new grass. As he trudged along the gravel paths, he was painfully aware of the families with babies. They looked so proud and happy with their strollers and carriers. Resentment flared hot, then faded into sadness as a little girl with bright dark eyes gave him a toothy grin over her mother's shoulder and waved a chubby hand at him.

Yeah, he could see how a woman could want one of those, cute and cuddly, instead of some skinny kid with geeky glasses and a big nose. Especially someone else's hand-me-down kid. No wonder Clarice was so eager for a baby who would be really her own.

He wandered around the park until the air began to cool, then made his way home. His parents were already at the supper table when he walked in.

"Where have you been?" His father frowned at him. "You could at least have the courtesy to be here on time for the meals your mom takes such trouble to make."

Clarice gave him an anxious look. He avoided her eyes as he dropped into his chair. "Sorry. I went to the park after school and lost track of the time. This looks good. Pass the potatoes, please."

Things went downhill from there. Clarice started taking hormone treatments that were supposed to help her have a baby. What they did mostly, it seemed to Anthony, was upset her. She cried a lot, usually over nothing. She was too tired to come to his school events any more. Sometimes she became irritable when he asked for help with his homework. Once, she even blew up and yelled at his Dad. That scared Anthony right out of the house. He went to Uncle Max's and didn't come back until bedtime. His Dad started to look tense and tight-lipped, just like he used to when Anthony's mother had been there. Anthony began to have nightmares again.

The summer seemed endless. It was a relief when school started again in the fall. Entering Junior High was a welcome distraction from the problems at home.

It was a little daunting being in the youngest grade in the new school after getting used to being one of the "big kids". Still, he welcomed the expanded course offerings, the newer computers and the science lab. It didn't take him long to figure out who the good teachers were, the ones willing to help him learn the extra stuff he was interested in. He joined the Astronomy Club and the Chess Club, and became fascinated with the mathematics of both. It amazed him to learn that even if a person played chess every day of his life, 24 hours a day, he'd still never play every possible move. He joined an international Astronomy group and spent hours calculating the positions of planets and stars with his computer. It was interesting and fun.

The new kids in his class were an intriguing bunch. As he sat listening to the chatter in the lunchroom, Anthony decided that some of their families were even more screwed up than his. Different kids just reacted differently to the problems they had to live with. He lost himself in his schoolwork and his computer and learned to be invisible. Other kids got crazy haircuts and piercings and flaunted their outsider status in defiance. He wasn't sure which was the best strategy long-term, but he suspected gloomily that the rebels were more courageous than he was.

As he settled into the new school and started to make friends, he became more and more aware of the girl who sat in front of him in English class. Elizabeth Patterson was perky, blonde and smart. She wore glasses like he did, which for some reason felt like a bond between them, and the big blue eyes behind the lenses were alive with interest in everything and everyone around her. He liked the fact that she enjoyed school (most of the time) and wasn't ashamed to admit it, unlike most of the kids in their class. Her confidence and cheerful attitude impressed him. He wished he knew her better.

They rode the same school bus, and now and then he managed to grab the seat across the aisle from Elizabeth and her friend Dawn. Sometimes the two girls included him in their talk about homework and school gossip. Elizabeth was always friendly. Now and then, he got the crazy idea that she might like him. But he didn't have the nerve to ask her out.



Just about the time he thought he could do it, he'd catch sight of himself in a mirror and his shaky confidence would collapse. Some of the kids called him a dweeb, and they weren't far wrong. With his beaky nose and glasses and big clumsy feet, he wasn't the kind of guy that girls giggled over in the hall. He was the kind they asked for help with their homework in times of crisis and didn't even notice the rest of the time.



Still, he took every opportunity to be with Elizabeth. It warmed his day just to be near her, to hear her laugh or see her eyes light up when the class discussions became intense. It made it easier to get out of bed in the morning, to face the silences and awkward conversation at the breakfast table, knowing that he had the small, bright pleasure of her company to look forward to. He tried to be satisfied with it, not to wish for more.



He could always dream, though.



Christmas holidays were miserable that year. Clarice became pregnant late in October, to her delight. She miscarried two weeks before Christmas. It seemed like she might never stop crying. He wanted so badly to help her, but there was nothing he could do.

It was even worse when she stopped crying, because then she stopped doing everything else too. She missed his school concert, didn't bother wrapping the presents she had bought, and stayed home from the Christmas Eve service. His Dad did talk her into going to Max' house for Christmas Day dinner, but that wasn't a success. A cousin came with her two small children, and Clarice took one look at the toddlers and locked herself in the bathroom for the day. For the rest of the holidays, she didn't even get dressed, but drifted around in her housecoat looking sloppy and sad.

Anthony went back to school in January eager for distractions. He found all he needed in his relationship with Elizabeth, which seemed to be repeatedly teetering on the brink of being something real and exciting, then fading into limbo again. It wasn't until February, just before Valentine's Day, that things finally fell suddenly and gloriously into place. He and Elizabeth weren't just friends any more, they were boyfriend and girlfriend! The wonder of it had him floating in a golden haze of happiness.

It was a fantastic feeling, at least for a while. He felt like he was more alive than he had ever been before, that he was super-charged and there was nothing he couldn't do. He and Elizabeth ate lunch together every day, shared a seat on the bus, did homework at Elizabeth's house after supper. He felt like he could never get enough of being with her.

It couldn't last, of course. He knew from the start that Elizabeth would tire of him. It took just six weeks. Hypersensitive as he was to rejection, he saw it coming every painful inch of the way. For the sake of his dignity, he broke up with her first.

It wasn't hard to find an excuse.



It wasn't a lie. He really had been worrying that he was losing touch with his other friends and becoming too dependent on Liz If there was one thing he had learned in life, it was never to rely on anyone.



The trouble was, he missed Liz after the break-up. It had felt good to be part of a couple, to have a friend he could talk to anytime, about anything. He moped around for days, hating the loneliness. It was a relief to find that Liz was having second thoughts, too.



They settled cautiously back into dating. Anthony kept a little more distance this time. It might be a reprieve, but Liz would dump him sooner or later, and next time it might be for good. He had to enjoy their relationship while it lasted.

It was a bonus that he got along well with her family. He especially liked her Dad. He was quiet and kind of nerdy too, and he also wore glasses and had a big nose. It was a welcome antidote to Anthony's constant self-doubt to see that guys like him could grow up to be respected, successful and happily married.

Liz' older brother Michael and little sister April were less helpful to his ego.



Although he spent a lot of time at the Pattersons, Anthony didn't invite Elizabeth to his house in return. Clarice was seeing a psychiatrist, and she and his dad were taking some kind of counselling. They didn't tell him much, but he knew that their marriage was in trouble. Every day, when he came home from school, it was a relief to find Clarice still there. Sometimes there was so much tension in the house, it made him feel physically ill.

He spent the summer working at his dad's office, taking care of the supply room and developing a simple inventory system. He wasn't paid for his work, which was fine with him. He was uncomfortably aware of how expensive it was to raise a kid. He wanted to earn his keep and not be a burden. Besides, lifting boxes and moving furniture was a good way to develop his muscles. He was growing again. At least if he had some decent pipes, he might not look so awkward and gangly.

It was a pleasure to go back to school in September. Between working at the office and helping at home, Anthony hadn't been able to spend much time over the summer with his friends - or Liz. It was a delight to be back with her again, settling into their old routine of lunches together and hanging out with their friends on weekends.

Late in September, Clarice became pregnant again. Fear of another miscarriage consumed her. She worried about everything she did and ate, was irritable, absent-minded, and switched from ecstatic anticipation to floods of tears without warning.

Anthony signed up for all the extra-curricular activities he could squeeze in. It wasn't as though he'd be missed at home, anyway. As soon as she was past the first trimester, Clarice regained her lost energy with a bound, and set to work cleaning and re-organizing the house from top to bottom.

She was happy, which was a relief, but her mood was still touchy. If he did any tiny thing wrong, like leaving the peanut butter jar on the kitchen counter after he made a sandwich, she would fuss until he was ready to crawl under his bed and stay there until he was old enough to leave home.

Except that even his bed wasn't secure anymore. Clarice had decided that his room should become the nursery and Anthony move into what had been the second-best guest room in the basement. It made sense. His old room was across from his parents' and handy if they had to take care of the baby at night. Still, he hated the idea. His room had been his for as long as he could remember. He didn't want to give it up.

He didn't admit it, but he especially hated leaving behind the glow-in-the-dark star stickers on his ceiling. When he was small, he and his dad had carefully arranged them in the proper formations for the Big Dipper, Orion and Cassiopeia. He had fallen asleep every night since with their soft glow as his night light. After his nightmares, it soothed him to gaze up at his ceiling and think of the millions of years the real constellations had been shining, and all the voyageurs who had used them to find their way home.

Anthony took to hanging out at the Pattersons a lot. They didn't seem to mind. As time went on, Anthony appreciated Liz more and more. His ingrained reserve kept him from telling her the whole messy story at home. Still, she seemed to understand. Even though she normally had a strong curious streak, she never pressed for information about his family or asked why he never invited her to his place.

He admired the way Liz kept her sense of humour through all the drama and turmoil of life in Junior High, too. He knew he was inclined to take things too seriously. Being with her helped him to keep things in a healthier perspective.

During that tumultuous fall and winter, Liz became the fixed centre of Anthony's world, the one person he could count on. Even though he was getting taller and skinnier and more geeky and beaky, despite the humiliation of being hassled by some of the jocks at school as a nerd and a loser, even if he felt like an outsider in his own home, Liz seemed to like him anyway. He came to rely on her so much that it scared him.

Abigail Susan Caine was born May 9, 1995, hale, hearty and hollering. Clarice was beside herself with joy and convinced that Abby was the most beautiful baby in the world. Anthony was less certain. He thought (privately) that his new sister looked like an animated lump of dough. He went along with the general goo-ing and coo-ing, though. It was kind of cute when the Lump made rubbery baby faces at him and grabbed his finger, and it felt good when he held her and she slept warm and trusting in his arms.

Even his dad seemed to be thrilled with the baby. It was a serious embarrassment for Anthony to watch the way he acted with her. Usually such a stickler for dignity and proper reserve, he spent every Saturday shoving a fancied-up pink stroller around the park and bragging to anyone who would listen about the Lump's incredible accomplishments, which so far consisted of sleeping, eating and burping.

It especially stung when his parents hardly paid any attention to the top mark awards Anthony brought home for Math and Science, or the special commendation he earned for his Science Fair project on the calculations involved in navigating the Ulysses solar probe spacecraft. They were too busy raving about Abby's first smile.

There was one completely positive outcome of having a new baby sister. His step-grandparents came to visit. Clarice's mother and father lived on Vancouver Island. They had sent Anthony gifts of money each Christmas, but he had never met them before.

He was surprised to find them interested in him as well as Abby. His new grandmother was a hugger, and left him squashed and breathless before she turned her attention to the baby. His grandfather, thank goodness, was more reserved. He shook hands with Anthony in a nice man-to-man way, his eyes warm and smiling.

The men soon retreated to the den, leaving the women in possession of the living room and the baby. Anthony listened with interest as his father, grandfather and Uncle Max talked. His Dad never said much about his business, but his grandfather and Uncle Max were less reserved. They swapped stories of successes and failures with enthusiasm.

He learned that his grandfather had left school early to work as a carpenter's apprentice. Now he owned two condominiums and dabbled in other real estate. Anthony was fascinated by the older man's stories. It was clear that he took risks with enthusiasm, and when disaster struck, treated it as a lesson learned without embarrassment or repentance. Anthony quizzed him until his Dad scolded him for being too much of a pest.

"Don't discourage the boy, Gavin. I'm happy to blow my own horn." His grandfather winked at Anthony. "He's a bright lad, your son. Asks the right questions and pays attention to the answers. I'd say he's got the makings of a good businessman in him."

Anthony was still glowing with that unexpected praise when he went to work at his father's office again for the summer. It encouraged him to be more assertive about asking questions and pushing for work in line with his abilities. And when his grandparents invited him to visit them on Vancouver Island for the last two weeks of the summer, he accepted eagerly.

It was a great holiday. He loved the island, the ocean, and hunting bargains in the garage sales and flea-markets that were his grandmother's summer hobby. Best of all, he loved talking business with his grandfather. He learned a great deal that summer about real estate, profit/loss margins, depreciation, inflation and tracking trends. His grandfather was obviously delighted to have such a receptive audience. They parted at the Vancouver Airport at the end of August on excellent terms.

That fall, his class moved from Junior High to the Collegiate a mile from his home. It was a long bus ride, but he was enthused about the new school. It was known for its superior science program, and for having excellent math teachers. He took on an extra heavy course load and plunged into his studies with enthusiasm.

It was, to some degree, a strategic move in self-defence. Liz was getting bored with him. They hadn't seen much of each other during the summer. She was always eyeing the older boys, even when he was with her. All the signs were there that the end was near.

If he was immersed in his courses, he hoped it would hurt less when she dumped him.

The end came as a shock. He had assumed it would be gentle and bittersweet. They would talk a while, share some memories and agree to still be friends. Instead, Liz sent her friend Candace in the middle of a school day to tell him he was history.

It was such a rotten a thing to do, his disgust overrode sorrow. Liz could be tactless at times, but this was unreal. He couldn't believe that, of all people, she sent Candace, a motor-mouth who would tell the story far and wide. To make it worse, he could see Liz and Dawn peeking around the corner while Candace told him, watching the whole miserable conversation and no doubt snickering at his humiliation.



He didn't say a word while Candace yammered on about how Liz was a free spirit who yearned to seek the sky and found him an anchor when she needed wings. She finally paused, her eyes bright in anticipation of his protests. He looked back at her, stone-faced.

It was kind of funny, seeing how his silence rattled Candace. She started talking faster and faster, digging for a reaction. When that didn't work, she moved in on him, patted him and put her arm around his shoulders, yakking the whole time. Out of the corner of his eye, Anthony could see Liz watching. She looked upset. He was glad.

The incident ended with Candace asking him to go to the Halloween Dance with her. He thought she did it only because she was disconcerted by his silence, but he was quick to accept. Candace was one of the hot girls in school, the kind who did good things for a guy's reputation. Besides, it was a great way to pay Liz back.

He couldn't resist rubbing it in, the next time he saw her.



Picking up Candace for the dance was awkward. They had nothing in common to talk about on the bus ride there. Anthony was relieved when she ditched him for the first Senior stud who came along. He was over his anger anyway. It was obvious that Liz had suffered for the dipstick way she had dumped him. The brief pleasure of vengeance had gone sour and faded away. It bothered him that she hadn't even come to the dance.

It was a relief when she came to talk to him early the next week.



He and Liz settled into being friends again. It was more comfortable that way. There was too much tension around the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing, too many expectations, dramas and embarrassing questions from the other guys at school. Besides, Anthony knew his limitations. He had heard about them often enough. Liz would never be happy long-term with a geek like him.

High school went by quickly. There was always plenty of interest both in the classroom and the teeming social life in the hallways and lunchroom. His father suddenly seemed to realize that he wasn't a kid anymore, and urged him to spend more time helping at the office. He still wasn't paid for it, but his Dad gave him some real accounting to do. It was interesting enough that Anthony didn't mind working for nothing. With his after-school activities, babysitting Abby, and the hours he spent on the computer, he always seemed to be busy.

One day in February of 1997, Anthony glanced over at Liz as he went to his locker and almost dropped his books. She had always been cute in a girl-next-door sort of way. Now, with a totally new haircut and contacts, she looked fantastic! Shaken, he blurted out what he was thinking. He could have killed himself afterward.



Much to his surprise, Liz didn't seem to mind that he'd made a fool of himself over her. When she asked him to go with her to a movie, he was thrilled.



It was an incredible rush, having Liz in love with him after all the years of yearning after her. They spent as much time as they could together. In the evenings, they met at her house to do homework. Biology and chemistry, whenever the chance arose.



Unfortunately, good opportunities didn't happen nearly often enough.



As soon as he got his driver's license in May, Anthony began to dream of having a car of his own. It was a project that ate up huge amounts of his time and energy. As a first step, he asked his Dad to pay him for his work at the office. His Dad was surprised, and reluctant. It was tough for Anthony to push the issue, but he did. The hunger for a space that was truly his own (and a place where he and Liz could be private) was compelling enough to break a lifetime's habit of subordination. In desperation, he told his Dad that if he didn't get a salary, he'd work somewhere else for the summer.

"You will not!" His father looked genuinely alarmed. "You're the only one who knows our inventory system properly."

Anthony held firm. His Dad finally caved, but not happily. He agreed to pay Anthony a dollar less than minimum wage for his work in the future and after much tough negotiation, promised $1000 in back pay as well.

Anthony began to look for a car in earnest.



It was hard to find a car he could afford; at least, one that would run. His friend Frank, who knew everything about automobiles, found one or two temptingly close to his price range. But then his father pointed out, with a condescending smirk, that he also had to budget for insurance, gas and repairs.

Anthony worked out a spreadsheet of the real cost of owning a car. It was seriously depressing. He thought he might just be able to manage it, if he gave up junk food and movies and stuck tight to his budget.

He came down to breakfast one morning to find a piece of paper by his plate. It was a bill from his father.

"Seems only fair." His father smiled over the top of his newspaper. "If I'm paying you wages, you should be paying me room and board. You've had a free ride long enough."

For one stricken moment, Anthony thought his father was threatening to evict him. All his childhood horrors came back in a sickening rush. Close on the heels of stark terror came fury. At that moment, he hated his father.

"Fine!" He grabbed the bill and tore it to shreds. "Don't pay me, then. But don't expect me to work for you any more, either. I'm going to get a real job. And if you want to - to throw me out of the house, that's fine, too. I'll just - just find somewhere else to live where I don't have to live in the basement and baby-sit all the time and do all the yard work and get treated like total - "

Sitting on her booster seat, little Abby burst into tears. Clarice snatched her up. "Anthony! You're scaring your sister. Yelling like that! What is the matter with you?"

"Genetics." His father flung down the newspaper. "That's the matter." His face twisted. "On top of everything else, the last thing I need now is teenage tantrums."

Anthony was trembling as his father swept out of the house on a wave of disgust.

It was the end of his car-buying dreams.

The quarrel marked a significant shift in his relationship with his father. Despite Clarice's pleas, Anthony refused to apologize. His father was icily furious for days. They hardly said a word to one another over the breakfast table each morning. Anthony avoided being home for supper whenever he could. It was strange, but the break between them felt almost as liberating as it was distressing. He knew he would never grovel for his father's approval again.

He spent a lot of time hunting for a summer job, but it was nearly the end of June and the good ones were already taken. The best he could find was part-time work at a car-wash and temporary jobs painting garages and cleaning up junk piles. It didn't make him much money, and he wasn't sure he would be even getting his allowance anymore. He became very careful about his spending.

It upset Liz, he knew, when he avoided going out on dates with her. But he just couldn't afford to take her out. It was cheaper hanging out with the guys. Mostly, they checked out cars. It didn't cost anything, was kind of fun even if it was pointless, and it saved Anthony from having to admit the humiliation of his newly impoverished situation.

As he suspected, his allowance was cut off. He still refused to apologize. Gradually, his Dad began to thaw. Now and then he even said something to Anthony besides "Pass the salt." Anthony had the weird notion that his Dad actually respected him for not caving. It gave him some meagre comfort as he sat sipping water while his friends chowed down on triple-deckers and fries at the local burger joint.

It was a relief when school started again. At least his dad didn't object to paying for his school activities, including most of the extra-curricular stuff, which helped a lot. But there still wasn't any way to pay for dates, and Liz was getting angry with him for constantly ducking her hints. He was almost at his wits' end when the phone call came.

"Anthony? This is Gordon Mayes. I'm wondering if you'd be interested in a part-time job pumping gas. Weekends, mostly, and some after-school. Would that work for you?"

Anthony couldn't believe his good luck. "Yeah. Sure. Hey, I'd love that. But - um." He hated saying it, but he had to be honest. "I don't have any experience at the pumps."

"No problem. We'll train you. Dr. Patterson recommended you as a steady, honest worker and that's good enough for me. When could you start?"

The job was a godsend. Gordon was incredibly understanding about working around his school schedule, the job wasn't difficult, and the pay was better than he expected.

He tried to thank Dr. Patterson for recommending him, but the older man waved it off with a grin. "To tell you the truth, I've invested a little money in Gordon's business. It's to my advantage if he finds good employees. You're smart, reliable, trustworthy. You might say my motives were purely selfish." He smiled.

Anthony didn't believe it for a minute, but the praise warmed him for days. He wondered if Dr. P's real motive had been to keep his daughter happy. If so, it worked. Anthony had the money now to take Liz out on real dates, at least once in a while. It did a lot to smooth out the strain that had been building in their relationship.

When June came, Anthony won the prizes for top marks in Math and Chemistry. He had hoped for those. When his class chose him as their valedictorian, though, it came as a total surprise. It was an honour that touched him, one he had never expected. Standing at the podium in the new suit Uncle Max had donated for the occasion, he felt like he was ten feet tall.



It was unfortunate that an out-of-town business trip prevented his Dad from attending the ceremonies. At least Clarice and Abby were there, smiling at him from the crowd. Abby stood on a chair to wave madly and hoot when she saw him, which made everyone laugh. It was a wonderful afternoon, with a great night of partying to follow.



Anthony was becoming impatient to get on with the rest of his life, but he had one more year of high school to complete - Grade 13, the Ontario education systems' preparatory year for University. He continued to pump gas at Gordon's garage that year. The Mayes were great people, and Anthony found the business side of the garage interesting. Gordon was surprisingly aggressive as a businessman, despite being so mild-mannered, and his wife Tracey had a knack for recognizing the services people wanted. They were in the process of expanding the repairs area of the garage and adding on a coffee shop. As well, Gordon had more or less slipped into the business of selling used vehicles.

Tracey did the garage's bookwork, but with one active toddler and a second child on the way, was having trouble keeping up. Anthony offered to help, and she was glad to accept. He enjoyed the chance to do some accounting again. It was easy to see why Tracey was so frustrated with their system, which was housed in an older software without the capabilities they needed. Anthony helped convert it to a more suitable platform and upgraded the computer to handle the extra load.



He couldn't resist showing off the capabilities of the new set-up and showed the Mayes how to do expense/income analyses and cash flow projections to track the trends month to month and optimize profits. Tracey didn't have the time or energy to get into it, but Gordon was fascinated with the information that Anthony was able to peel out of the raw data. He insisted on paying for the extra hours Anthony spent in the untidy little office.

When Tracey gave birth to the Mayes' second child, a little girl, Anthony was promoted to the job of bookkeeper for the summer. He offered to set up a website as well, where used cars and parts could be advertised along with service information and the contact info for emergency calls.

It was a kick to see the results of his efforts. Gordon adjusted his inventory on Anthony's suggestions and found his profits increasing while costs held steady. More and more customers mentioned that they had come to Gordon's Garage to check out a car they had seen on the website, or to pick up some specialty part that they wouldn't have known he carried if it hadn't been advertised online.

"We make a heck of a team." Gordon sat back in his chair one day late in August and watched Anthony finish up some calculations on the new expansions. "You're sure you want to go to university? I'd be happy to hire you full time."

Anthony smiled at the compliment. "Thanks, but I've already signed up at the University of Western Ontario. I can't bail now."

"Western. That's where Mike went." Gordon grinned. "I guess Liz is going there, too?"

"No." Anthony kept his head down as he plugged in numbers. "I thought for sure she would since Mike loved it so much. But she decided to go to Nipissing University instead, in North Bay."

"North Bay?" Gordon stared at him. "Whew! That's a long ways away."

"Yeah." Anthony punched the keys in swift staccato. "She said she's ready to experience new things, new people. Says she feels tied down and wants more freedom."

"Oh." Gordon looked crest-fallen. "I see. I'm sorry, Anthony."

"Hey, Liz and I had a good couple of years." Anthony shrugged. "It couldn't last."

"Don't know why not." Gordon sighed and rose. "You're one of the best. But women - who can figure them?"

Anthony agreed with him. For two wonderful years, Liz had been crazy about him. Warm, teasing, affectionate. No guy ever had a more fantastic or supportive girlfriend. He had been looking forward to being with her at university, exploring adult life together without the restrictions of family around. Then out of the blue - bam. She had dropped the bad news.



She made it clear she was eager to get started on her new adventure. A life without him.



If he had learned anything in life, it was that he couldn't stop the people he loved from leaving. All he could do was cherish every last moment with Liz.

Before she left, he made one last effort to keep their relationship together. She hit him with the words that every boyfriend dreads. She wanted them just to "be friends".



With a heavy heart, he packed his belongings into the second-hand car Gordon had sold him at a ridiculously low price, and left for London.

The course was demanding, and Anthony threw himself into his studies to blunt his loneliness. There were some less academic distractions close at hand, too. His roommate Glenn, a high school friend and fellow nerd, unexpectedly emerged from his geek shell in the encouraging atmosphere of university life. In his enthusiasm, Glenn became entangled with three women at once. That made for some interesting moments. And then there were the eccentricities of their landlady.

Mrs. Dingle had leased Mike and Weed's former apartment in her house to Anthony, on Mike's recommendation. A tough, life-scarred old lady, she did her best to intimidate her new tenants. She didn't do so for long. Anthony could see the loneliness under her gruff exterior. He treated her with respect and affection, and she softened magically under the treatment. He soon considered her a friend.

He became friends, as well, with a number of his classmates. One of them, a blonde named Jeannette, he dated once or twice. But he found himself constantly comparing her to Liz. She didn't take long to tire of his lukewarm attentions and break it off.

It worried him that the inability to shake off his lost love was crippling his social life. He needed to make a clean break and move on. When Christmas came, he resolved to go cold turkey and avoid seeing Liz at all.

He lasted a week. The day after Christmas, he was standing on the Patterson's doorstep. Liz greeted him with unexpected and wonderful warmth, and he was lost again.



Anthony returned to London a happy man. But Liz wrote less and less often and his optimism faded again. He thought about their relationship a lot over that winter. When he came home in the summer, he poured the whole miserable story out to Uncle Max.

"It doesn't seem hopeful." Max shook his head sadly over the half-assembled dollhouse he was making for Abby. "Too bad. I like Elizabeth. But it sounds like she's just hanging on until something better comes along. You want to know for sure? Stop making it easy for her. Don't call her, don't drop by. Wait for her to contact you. If she doesn't - well, then get tough. Cut yourself loose and stop the bleeding."

It was the hardest thing he'd ever done, stopping himself from picking up the phone and dialling the number he knew so well. But Uncle Max was right. If there was anything left between them, Liz would call him. If she didn't...

In late August, he finally accepted bitter reality.



He had loved Liz for years, and he was afraid he always would. But she no longer loved him. They had their friendship and it had to be enough. It was time he moved on.

He returned to Western that fall determined to mingle if it killed him. He couldn't go through another year of lonely day-dreams of Liz.



He tried the bar scene, and hated it. An occasional drink with classmates was fine. But to follow his roommate's example and hit up total strangers with lame pick-up lines - he just couldn't do it.

It was his roommate who came up with a solution one Saturday morning when Anthony was brooding over his empty weekend.

"You want to meet girls?" Glenn yawned as he lounged on their battered couch. "There's one sure way to become a total babe magnet. I've never had to resort to it," he smirked and scratched his stomach complacently, "but for you, it might be perfect."

Anthony eyed him without enthusiasm. "Yeah? What?"

"Dance lessons. Dozens of girls sign up for 'em and darn few guys. Anything male that can put one foot in front of another, they'll be all over like flies on road kill. Chicks love a guy who can dance. Just show 'em a few twirls and a dip, and you won't be able to beat the babes off with a stick."

"That's not a bad idea." Anthony brightened. "I can dance already, at least the basics. My dad said it was something every educated man should be able to do."

"Well, there you are then." Glenn yawned and reached for the remote. "You're set."

Glenn was right. There were far more women than men at the university dance club, and many were pathetically grateful for a partner who didn't walk all over them. Anthony became one of the most popular men at the club. The dancing was good exercise, too, and he enjoyed the work-out after hours of sitting in class and at his desk. When the first lessons ended, he signed up for an advanced group.

In his enthusiasm, he talked about the dance club to some of his classmates. The jocks thought it was a hoot that any male would sign up for dance lessons voluntarily. He tried to laugh off their teasing, but knew he had exposed himself again as a total nerd.

Rescue came from an unexpected quarter. He had secretly admired Thérèse Arsenault from the first day of classes. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, slim and always perfectly groomed, she had a classic beauty and cool self-confidence that made him feel like his feet and hands were six sizes too large every time he was near her. She was brilliant, too, always top of the class, and intensely competitive in a quiet way.

"Really? I didn't realize there was a dance club here." Thérèse smiled at Anthony and brought his embarrassed flush to full flood. "I'd love to brush up on my steps. Perhaps I'll see you there at the next meeting."

Anthony muttered something incoherent and fled back to his seat.

"You really are good at this." Thérèse laughed as he spun her around the floor some weeks later. "Why don't you and I enter the dance competition next month? I'm sure we could win for the Viennese waltz. Perhaps the fox trot, too."

The suggestion startled him. "Well - thanks. But I don't think I'm - "

"Oh, don't tell me you're not good enough! You're too modest, Anthony. You have wonderful natural rhythm and you're amazingly light on your feet for a man so tall." She smiled up at him from under her lashes, setting his pulse leaping into a dance move of its own. "Come on, take a chance. It'll be fun."

He was doubtful, but Thérèse was determined and persuasive. They signed up for the contest. It turned out to be far more enjoyable that he expected. Most couples had entered for fun rather than glory. He enjoyed the conversation, the joking, and the generous way they encouraged one another as each couple took their turn on the floor.

Thérèse was more competitive than the others, but she was so charming about it that no one minded. Anthony was delighted when they won the competition for the waltz and came in a close second for the fox trot, just as Thérèse had predicted. She was right; they were good together.

"Of course we were." Thérèse glowed with triumph as they drove away from the dance hall. "Convince yourself that you're a winner, and convincing everyone else is easy." Her wonderful smile flashed. "My father taught me that. He was right, of course."

There was a touch of smugness in her voice. Anthony had the feeling her father was always right, at least in Thérèse's eyes. "He sounds like quite a guy."

"My father? He's brilliant. Shrewd, ambitious, ruthless," she said that smugly, too, "and a total workaholic. Luckily, he's successful enough that my mother forgives him for never being home." She turned to him. "What about your father? What does he do?"

Anthony told her. She stared at him, her dark eyes lustrous in the gloom of the car. "Your father is Gavin Caine? Really?" She laughed. "Talk about small worlds! My father knows yours well. It was his idea that I apply to Caine Accounting for a summer job this year. It's one of the best companies in the area, and that's what I want." Her smile warmed. "How nice. You'll be able to put in a good word for me with your dad."

"Um, well -" Anthony couldn't bring himself to tell her how little influence he had with his father. Ever since the fight over his salary, their relationship had been cool. His father could hold a grudge a long time and there was no sign he was giving up on this one anytime soon. Anthony had discovered a matching stubborn streak in himself. He had never apologized, and never would. He couldn't see where he had done anything wrong.

"Don't worry! I'm joking. I wouldn't really ask you to pull strings for me." Thérèse smiled, but Anthony sensed that he'd dropped in her estimation. Her good opinion meant a lot to him. Maybe, if he asked his dad diplomatically enough ...

To his astonishment, his father responded with enthusiasm to his fumbling hints.

"I know Roger Arsenault. He's a smart man, and a successful one. There's quite a string of businesses in southern Ontario under the Arsenault banner. And I understand Thérèse is his only child." He smiled. "Quite a catch for you, Anthony! Of course I'll give her a summer job."

Anthony hastily tried to correct his father's error. He and Thérèse were just dance partners. Friends. She wasn't interested in him in any other way.

"Oh?" His dad frowned. "Well, I'll be talking to Roger one of these days. Perhaps I can do something to help you there."

Anthony didn't waste breath arguing. It wouldn't make any difference if their fathers were best buddies or not. A girl like Thérèse would never be interested in a guy like him in that kind of way.

He went back to work for Gordon's Garage that summer. Chatting to his grandfather one day, he mentioned that a piece of land adjoining the garage was for sale and Gordon was worried about the possibility that a competing garage might be built there.

His grandfather's advice was blunt. "Tell that boy to get his butt in gear and buy that land himself. Milborough is growing and that area will be hot soon. If he moves fast, he can get a sweetheart deal before the property value skyrockets."

Five minutes after they hung up, his grandfather phoned him back. "Listen, Anthony. You've told me this Mayes is a sharp businessman, and I trust your judgment. If he can't raise the money to buy that land, I'll kick in some capital to back him."

Gordon was startled when Anthony put the idea to him. "Expand again? We've still carrying a hefty loan from adding the coffee shop and extra service bay. It's great that your grandpa wants to put in some money, but it would take years to get into the black if we expand again. How are we going to pay the interest on the loan in the meantime?"

"I'm sure we can make it work. Interest rates are low right now and Milborough has some incentive programs for small business." Anthony's mind was racing. "Let me run some numbers and talk to a few people."

The idea had caught fire in his mind. As soon as he had the numbers crunched and a business plan roughed out, he ran it by his grandfather, then his father and finally Dr. Patterson. All of them were impressed enough to invest, and agreed to defer any repayment until the cash flow was solid. The city business development coordinator was equally interested. He assured him that Gordon would qualify for business incentive loan programs that would reduce the interest on the rest of the financing.

When he presented the whole package to Gordon and Tracey, their reaction was swift and exultant. "Let's do it!"

Processing the land deal kept Anthony busy for the rest of the summer. He was glad for the distraction. It kept him from thinking about the news that had come in mid-June.

"Dr. P dropped by this morning." Gordon jammed his hands in his pockets. "He tells me that Liz has moved in with her boyfriend. He and Mrs. P aren't real happy about it."

Anthony felt someone had punched him in the stomach. Liz was with another man. Not just dating; really with another man. She would never make such a drastic move unless it was a serious relationship.

Gordon kicked at a worn spot on the floor. "I guess they have some doubts about this guy. Dr. P said they really wished she had stuck with you."

"Me too." Anthony managed a smile. "But hey, things change. Liz has moved on. No problem. So have I."

"Yeah. OK. Well. Just thought you should know." Gordon shrugged and trudged out the door.

Anthony was still brooding that evening when the phone rang.

"Are you available next weekend? I need you." The laughter in Thérèse's voice made his heart do an odd little skip. "There's a heritage festival coming up in the Quebec village where the original Arsenaults settled centuries ago. One of us must show up! My parents can't make it, so it's up to me. And you, I hope. It'll be fun in a backwoods sort of way. Very habitant, with log-rolling and poutine and men in plaid shirts playing the spoons. I don't dare go unless I have someone who can jig with me."

Anthony laughed. "It sounds great. But I've never learned to jig. I'd embarrass us both if I tried."

"Nonsense! You'll master it in no time. We'll practise this evening. Come to my place in an hour." With a cheerful good-bye, she was gone.

They had a great time practising the lively steps, and the festival itself was fun. Anthony was fascinated to see a whole different side of Thérèse from the serious, intense woman he knew. Caught up in the spirit of the weekend, she became outgoing, bubbly and alive with laughter. The two of them jigged to happy exhaustion, sang along with the folk music chansons, cheered on the log-rolling and wood-splitting contestants, and feasted on poutine, tortière and maple sugar pie. When darkness fell and the fiddlers switched to slow tunes, they waltzed together under the starlight on the outdoor dance floor.

It seemed only right when Thérèse turned to him in the garden of the little Auberge where they were staying, and kissed him. Anthony drew her close. She was warm and exciting in his arms, and he settled into the embrace with growing enthusiasm. They lingered a long time in the scented darkness before going off to their separate rooms. He slipped into sleep in a happy glow.

On the drive back, Thérèse started out relaxed and full of laughing reminiscences of the weekend, but became quieter as the miles went by. By the time they reached her parents' home in London, she was her usual reserved self again. Anthony was sorry to see the change. He couldn't help wondering if he had done something to cause it. It worried him that she might be regretting the night before.

Theresa had taken only a few steps toward the house when she turned and came back to the car. "Why don't you come in for supper, Anthony? My parents will want a full report on the weekend. You can help with the debriefing."

It was a relief to know that Thérèse wasn't angry with him. He accepted the invitation with pleasure.

His pleasure soon waned. "Debriefing" had been the right word. Thérèse's parents bombarded them with questions as to who had been at the festival, what had been said about them, and any tidbits of gossip from the more prominent families from the region. Thérèse's mother speculated openly as to the incomes of everyone mentioned and the value of their homes, jealously comparing them to the Arsenault assets.

Towards the end of the meal, to his alarm, their attention turned fully to Anthony.

"You stayed at the Auberge St-Julien too? It's very popular. I'm surprised you could get a room on such short notice." Mr. Arsenault's smile turned sly. "Or did you share Thérèse's?"

Thérèse's head came up sharply. "Daddy! Of course not! There was a cancellation just before we arrived. Anthony was able to get that room."

"I see. Just before you arrived, eh? How lucky." He didn't sound like he believed her.

Thérèse shrugged and fiddled with her food. Her mother sent a look at Anthony that brought the heat sweeping up his face. Unnerved, he cleared his throat. "I was - was lucky. It's a lovely inn. Very - um, lovely." He pulled himself together with an effort. "Thérèse tells me you stay there often."

"Yes. We know the owner well. Although even then, it can be hard to get a reservation." Mr. Arsenault lifted a meaningful brow. "It's a favourite with honeymooners, a very romantic place. As perhaps you two discovered?"

Mrs. Arsenault gave a crowing laugh. Mr. Arsenault chuckled.

"Oh, don't worry, son. I won't be getting the shotgun out just yet. There are other men we wouldn't want to see getting too cozy with our daughter. But Gavin Caine's boy - " he smiled expansively, "- we know you wouldn't be courting Thérèse unless you were serious."

He didn't hear from Thérèse for some time after that mortifying evening and made no effort to contact her. She was good company and a great dance partner, but somehow they had given her parents some alarming ideas about their relationship. He would wait until they were back in university before he looked her up again.

He was surprised when Mr. Arsenault walked into Gordon's Garage one day in the middle of July.

"How are you doing, son?" The older man smiled. "Thérèse told us you were working here. Interesting place." He looked around Anthony's tiny office with a critical eye. "One of Caine Accounting's smaller clients, I assume? Well, I suppose your dad is wise to start you off at the bottom. It's good to know every side of the business world."

Before Anthony could explain, Mr. Arsenault went on. "I was in the area and thought I'd pop in to invite your parents to a barbeque we're having at our cottage this Saturday. They assured me you were free that night too." He grinned. "Thérèse will be there, of course. She's looking forward to seeing you again. I guess you've been busy lately? She says she hasn't seen you much."

His father was blunter that night at the supper table.

"Roger mentioned that you've been neglecting his daughter lately. I must say, I don't know what you're playing at, Tony. Thérèse Arsenault is not the sort of girl you can have a one-night stand with and then walk away from."

"I didn't!" Stunned, Anthony protested. "The Arsenaults got it wrong. Thérèse and I aren't dating. We're just friends."

His father's brows lifted. "Oh? Then the manager at the Auberge St-Julien just imagined he saw you out in the garden, stuck together closer than the plaster on the wall? Or perhaps you have a different idea of friendship than we or her parents do?"

Anthony bit his lip. Mr. Arsenault must have called the manager of the Auberge to check up on them. It was a creepy thought. At least the manager would have confirmed that they did have separate rooms.

"Well, no. But it was just - I mean, it was a nice night and - "

"And if you have a lick of sense, you'll make every effort to hang onto that girl." His father shook his head. "She's lovely, bright, and well-to-do. What more do you want?"

Liz. He wanted Liz. He had to clench his teeth to keep from shouting it in his father's face. Not that there would have been much point. Liz didn't want him. He was stupid to keep pining after her.

"I know Thérèse is amazing. But she isn't interested in me." He shoved away from the table. "That night in Quebec - it didn't mean anything. You'll see on Saturday. There's nothing between us."

But on Saturday, when they arrived at the three-story lakeside mansion the Arsenaults called their "cottage", Thérèse was flatteringly attentive. Under the approving eyes of their parents, she and Anthony ate together, played croquet, and swam together off the dock in a lake that looked like liquid gold in the sunset.

"It's wonderful to see Thérèse looking so happy." Mr. Arsenault beamed at Anthony. "To be honest, her mother and I have been worried about her. She had a bad relationship, a year or so ago, one totally wrong for her. She's taken a long time to get over it. A boyfriend like you is just what she needs."

"Well, um. Thérèse and I aren't really - "

Mr. Arsenault ignored him. "You think we're old-fashioned about our girl. Maybe we are. But you can understand why it's important to us who she sees. It's taken years to build up the Arsenault holdings. Thérèse will have it all some day and she'll need a good man at her side then."

He gave Anthony a wink. "I've hinted to her that Caine Accounting would be a good fit for a merger, and not just in business terms."

Thérèse groaned when Anthony told her about the conversation as they walked along the lakeshore under the stars. "Sometimes I wonder what century my parents live in. Mom is obsessed with the idea I should marry money, and Dad dreams of being the patriarch of an Arsenault empire run by his grandsons. They can't get it through their heads that I want my own career first."

"It would be a shame if you didn't. You've got the talent to be incredibly successful." Anthony hesitated. "I don't know why, but your dad seems to think that I'm involved with Caine Accounting. I'm not. I work for Gordon on my own."

Thérèse looked at him in surprise. "But you'll inherit your father's business sooner or later. You're the oldest, and the only son. He won't leave the company to Abby."

"I don't know." He had never thought about inheritance. That was years and years away. It was doubtful his father had ever thought in terms of a Caine dynasty, anyway. "Abby is a sharp kid. She could grow up to be CEO material. More likely Dad will sell the company when he retires."

Thérèse laughed and shook her head. "Anthony, you amaze me. You say that as though it doesn't matter to you. Have you no ambition at all?"

"Of course." He smiled at her. "I want a career I enjoy, enough income to live comfortably, and a home and family of my own. That's ambitious enough, isn't it?"

"And that's all your parents expect from you? I can't believe it."

Anthony shrugged. "They've never expected much of me. I guess I'm lucky that way."

"Poor little rich boy! Never mind." Therese slipped her arm through his. "I expect wonders of you. And I promise I'll nag and harass you as long as it takes to achieve it."

They returned to the cottage as the party was winding down. Only a few lingering revellers remained, laughing and talking around the heavy brick fire pit. Thérèse led Anthony around to a side door that led into the cottage's airy music room. Smiling, she went to the grand piano and began to play a sweet, sad old love song. The slap of the waves on the rocky shore below drifted through the open window in a soft liquid counterpoint. Thérèse sang as she played, her eyes dreamy as she gazed out into the moonlight. Watching her, Anthony felt a surge of happiness so piercing it ached. When she was done, he went to her, rapt and shaken as he took her into his arms.

Just like that, they were a couple. Anthony was thrilled out of his mind. Everything about Thérèse captivated him; her elegant beauty, her astonishing talents, the coolly competitive focus she brought to everything she did. It made him feel like a king when they danced together, moving with fluid grace across the floor while other men watched with envy in their eyes. And when she played and sang to him, as she loved to do, he was lost in awed wonder all over again.

As an unexpected bonus, dating Thérèse helped improve his relationship with his father. For once, Gavin Caine was pleased with his son.

"Thérèse isn't just a beauty, she's incredibly bright. She's come up with a proposal for our new branch office that looks like a winner." He beamed at Anthony. "It's time you came back into Caine Accounting, son. You and Thérèse will make a great team."

Anthony was grateful for his father's offer, but turned it down. He was happy working at Gordon's Garage. It felt good to be independent, to be making his own way, and he loved the excitement of being in on the growing stages of an expanding enterprise. He was already committed to doing the books for Gordon and Tracey part-time through the next academic year.

He and Thérèse continued to date through the next term. She seemed to be very much in love with him. He couldn't get over the miracle of it.

"My parents approve of you. That's so amazing, I had to snap you up." Thérèse ran an affectionate hand through his hair as they lounged on her couch one winter evening.

"They haven't always approved of your boyfriends?" Anthony smiled sleepily up at her.

"No. The last one -." She sighed and looked misty. "I was crazy about him. But my parents went ballistic when I brought him home. I honestly think they might have disowned me if I had stayed with him."

"Really? Why?"

"He was a street singer. Can you imagine?" She laughed, a warm ripple of sound. "Roger Arsenault's daughter, in love with a guy who sits on corners playing his guitar for loose change." She sighed. "I thought Mom would have a heart attack. Although it wasn't as bad as they thought. Marc was smart, and incredibly talented. I still think he could have made it big in the music business with me to manage him. He just didn't have the contacts or the ambition to do it himself."

Anthony's interest sharpened. "It sounds like you're still half in love with this Marc. He must have been quite a guy."

"He was." Her mouth curved into a small secretive smile. "And I am still a little in love with him. He was the kind of lover a woman never forgets. Do you mind?"

"No." Anthony hesitated before deciding he owed her the truth. "I know how you feel. There's a girl in my past, too. One I've never quite gotten over. I guess there's a sweet sadness in thinking about lost loves. Maybe a little masochism, too." He grinned at her.

Thérèse didn't smile back. Her hand stilled in his hair. "What girl? Do I know her?"

"I doubt it. Her name is Liz Patterson. We went out together in high school."

"Oh. I've heard Gordon mention her. She's one of those big-eyed blonde types, right?"

"Um. Yeah. I guess." Something in her tone made him uneasy. "I doubt if she ever thinks of me any more. She's at university in North Bay and has a new boyfriend there. She's living with him now." The thought still depressed him.

Thérèse shoved him aside and rose from the couch, her face hard. "Get out. Right now. I won't tolerate you thinking about other women when you're with me." She grabbed up his coat and flung it in his face.

Distressed and bewildered, Anthony left.

He woke after a restless, miserable night to the sound of the phone ringing. "Anthony! I'm so sorry. My stupid jealousy! I don't know what came over me. Please forgive me."

Her outburst had shaken him, but he was glad to make up again. Thérèse assured him that it would never happen again, and he believed her. It was so out of character for her to lose her habitual cool, he worried that he'd said something really stupid to set her off. He was grateful that she was so sweet and reasonable afterward.

The first weekend of December, they went to a dance competition. Thérèse looked so beautiful in her flowing red gown, he couldn't take his eyes off her. At the end of the evening, he blurted out his feelings in an incoherent jumble of broken sentences.

Thérèse laughed and caught both his hands in hers. "Oh, Anthony. It's sweet that you're so nervous. Of course I'll marry you!"

His head in a whirl, hardly able to believe his luck, he kissed her.

They went shopping for the ring together. Thérèse seemed a little taken aback when he told her his budget for it, but was tactful about admiring only the smaller, less expensive stones afterward. In the end they found a small, perfect diamond in a lovely sculpted setting at an antique store. Anthony was doubtful it was good enough for Roger Arsenault's daughter, but Thérèse assured him that she loved it. Her mother was less impressed when she saw it. Thérèse cowed her into silence with a few sharp words.

It was hard to hold their parents back from planning the wedding right away. Anthony was relieved when Thérèse agreed with him that it was too early to set a date. Their fathers offered to help out financially if they wanted to tie the knot sooner, but they both balked at being under that kind of obligation. It made sense to hold off until after they had finished university and could be self-sufficient.

He didn't see much of Thérèse for the rest of December. She became preoccupied with exams. The few times they found time to be together, she seemed tense and withdrawn. Sometimes he caught her looking at him with an oddly speculative expression.

When she snapped at him one day, saying his appearance was childish and he should at least try to look mature, he humbly agreed to her suggestion that he grow a moustache. It itched, and he was dubious about how it looked. But Thérèse liked it. That was what mattered. After all, she was the one who had to look at his face most often.

They spent Christmas at her parents' home. It was a very long day. Her mother talked of nothing but weddings, and Mr. Arsenault was full of great ideas about the grandsons he was expecting and how they would be trained into the family business. Much as he loved Thérèse, Anthony couldn't help wishing her parents weren't so engrossed in her life. For once, he almost appreciated his parents' indifference.

He and Thérèse drove to Milborough the next morning for a quiet Boxing Day with his family. Afterward, Thérèse returned to London. Her father wasn't well and her parents wanted her home. Anthony was disappointed not to have the chance to introduce her to his friends who were home for the holidays. He knew, though, that her family came first.

He decided to spend the rest of the holiday doing some work for Gordon and Tracey. Gordon had shown exceptional talent as a used car salesman. He knew everything about cars, and because he genuinely cared about finding the right vehicle for each customer, was seeing a lot of word-of-mouth referrals coming in. Although a small part of the garage business, that segment was profitable. Now that the additional land was available for expansion, it seemed worthwhile to crunch some numbers on adding a new car dealership to the garage as well as expanding the used car lot.

Anthony was deep in his calculations two days later, when he recognized a familiar voice.



It was wonderful to see Liz again. She had always been his most constant friend. Even more importantly, she was a good listener. He was eager to tell her his exciting news. Being in a serious relationship herself, she would understand the heady thrill of being ecstatically in love. He was curious about her boyfriend, too, and whether she and Eric were thinking of marriage yet.

He couldn't take the time in the middle of his work day for the long chat he wanted. When Liz mentioned that she didn't have New Year's Eve plans, he suggested that she come with him as a friend to the party his father was giving for his business associates.

They had a lot to say to one another, but the party was noisy and it was hard to talk. Before midnight came, they slipped away for a long walk together.



When the cold began to bite too sharply, Anthony suggested a car ride to admire the Christmas lights around Milborough. It was as good an excuse as he could think of to keep the wonderful evening going a little longer. It seemed they couldn't get enough of talking, eagerly sharing everything that had been happening in their lives.



He couldn't believe it when Liz pointed out the time. It was after five when he arrived home, to find his father waiting up for him in a cold rage. He told Anthony with a voice chipped from ice that Roger Arsenault had arrived late at the party, just in time to see Anthony walk out the door with his arm around Liz.

Thérèse was furious.

"I can't believe you invited Elizabeth to the party. And then to leave with her, in front of all those guests! Were you deliberately trying to humiliate me?" She swept over his stammered protests in fury. "Oh, I know. She was out for a bit of fun, and you couldn't resist going along with it. Men are such idiots! But Anthony, understand this. I will not share! That man-eating blonde bimbo had better keep her distance from now on."

He had been bowed in guilty misery, but her attack on Liz shocked him into protest.

"Thérèse, that's unfair! None of this is Liz' fault. I invited her to the party. It was me who suggested we go for a walk. I still don't believe we did anything wrong. But if we did, I'm responsible."

There was an ominous silence. Thérèse stared at him as though he were a new species of insect. "I see. Liz really has the knack, doesn't she? A woman with a live-in boyfriend puts the moves on another woman's fiancé, and you truly believe she's a total innocent." She shook her head. "I knew you were gullible, but this is ridiculous."

"Come off it, Thérèse. Liz and I have been friends for years. You have no reason to be this upset. We just talked. I swear it."

"This time, perhaps you did. You're a sweet man, Anthony, but I think, a weak one. I'll keep a closer eye on you in the future. If you think I'm going to play the tolerant wife and suffer in silence the way my mother has all these years, you'd better think again."

She laughed at his startled exclamation. "Oh yes, any man as wealthy as my father is always the target of predatory women. Being a man, he couldn't always resist. It was usually the dewy-eyed blondes that were his downfall, too." She glowered at Anthony. "So don't tell me I can't recognize trouble when I see it."

The venom in her voice chilled him. In the face of such bitterness, there was nothing to say.

"By the way," Thérèse turned away with a cold smile, "I'm exchanging my engagement ring for one I like better. I'm sure you won't object."

The bill for the new ring appalled him. It was, he supposed, some sort of peculiarly female revenge. Perhaps Thérèse was entitled to it. His evening with Liz had felt wonderfully right at the time, but now he could see how unfair he had been to both women. He wasn't going to give up his friendship with Liz because of unjust accusations. But now that he understood Thérèse's sensitivities, he would be careful not to do anything to hurt her again.

With Gordon's business still growing, Anthony soon found the bookwork too much to handle along with his studies. He turned the routine accounting over to his father's company and limited his own input to the business management side. He loved the work. It was hard to focus on academics when there were so many interesting real life business opportunities just waiting to be explored. When summer came, he escaped the campus with relief to immerse himself in his work at Gordon's.

Thérèse had taken a position at Caine Accounting again for the summer, which made it easy for them to see each other. Anthony dropped by the office often with the invoices and bills from Gordon's, and took her to lunch whenever he could. Thérèse loved her job and threw herself into it with as much enthusiasm as he did into his. They had endless stories to swap when they got together each weekend. He was pleased to see her so engrossed and contented.

On weekends, they went dancing at every opportunity. Despite the occasional rocky moments they had encountered, he was warmed by the knowledge of how much they had in common. She was good for him, gave him a confidence he knew he lacked. He thought he helped her, too, with a warmer and less conditional support than her parents provided. It seemed like a solid foundation on which to build a strong marriage.

He saw Liz only once that summer, when she dropped by the garage. They went for coffee and talked like the old friends they were. It was a pleasant hour, and healing. He knew he would always care for her, but the old passion had faded to an abiding affection. It was a relief to feel that he had finally moved on.

The last year of university was gruelling. Anthony saw Thérèse rarely, for hurried, unsatisfactory dates. Neither of them brought up the subject of wedding plans, despite their parents' frequent questions. He sometimes worried that Thérèse might be having second thoughts about their engagement. Once, he tried to ask her. She went into a cold fury and accused him of being interested in some other woman. He didn't ask again.

It was her father who provided the final push as they sat together around the table on Easter Sunday.

"The wife is hinting pretty broadly about wanting to do more travelling." He smiled at Anthony as he refilled their wine glasses. "Which means I need to consider handing off some responsibilities. I think the time is right to bring in a bright young graduate I can train to fill my shoes down the road. At least a corner or two of them." He chuckled. "What do you think, son? Can I count on you?"

A little puzzled, Anthony glanced at his fiancée. "To back Thérèse, you mean? Of course. And if it's a bright young graduate you want," he grinned, "you could hardly do better. She's definitely the brightest in our class."

"I'm sure she is." Mr. Arsenault's smile sharpened. "But I need someone who can commit for the long haul. Which lets Thérèse out, since I'm sure you two will want to start a family soon. She'll have a place in the business in the meantime, of course, but it's you I had in mind for this job." He gave Anthony a cool look. "Well? Interested?"

"No." Anthony swallowed hard as the older man's brows lowered. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm committed to the job I have." He didn't dare look at Thérèse. "Besides, you can't do better than Thérèse. She knows your business and how you work. I'd just be in her way if I was there, too."

There was a long and uncomfortable pause. Anthony held Mr. Arsenault's eyes, but felt his colour rise under that steely gaze. After two or three eternities, the older man sat back in his chair with a shrug. "Fine. If you're willing to turn down the best opportunity you'll ever be offered, there's nothing more to say. Thérèse, you're in. You can start in September."

"September?" Thérèse's voice was a shade too high. Anthony saw her clasp her hands tight together under the table. "Why not in May, as soon as classes end?"

Her father looked impatient. "Because you need to be married before you start. I want your full attention on your job and no feminine fuss about weddings to distract you from it." He took a sip of his wine, and glanced from her to Anthony with amusement. "I assume you two can manage to get that small issue taken care of by then?"

Anthony and Thérèse were married on a perfect, sunny day late in August. In the last hours before the wedding, Anthony was painfully nervous. But his tension fell away when he saw his bride walking toward him down the flower-strewn aisle, looking pale and beautiful on her father's arm.

He said his vows with all his heart. It was exciting and humbling to think that he and Thérèse would form the foundation of a whole new family that would grow and strengthen for generations to come. As the final benedictory prayers of the ceremony were said, he made his own heartfelt silent plea that their marriage would be a long and happy one.

Thérèse seemed to fall into an odd apathy once the ceremony ended. She had been a whirlwind of activity up until then, fiercely dedicated to making every detail of the wedding perfect. Anthony had tried to help at first, but after she bit his head off for suggestions which were apparently all too stupid for words, he took her brusque advice and simply stayed out of her way.

It hadn't been hard to find ways to fill his time. The day after he graduated, Gordon made him the business manager for Mayes Midland Motors. In the first week of July, the greatly expanded new and used car dealership held its grand opening. After working so hard for two years to make it a reality, Anthony felt as proud as Gordon and Tracey when the ribbon was cut. The dealership doubled the size of the Mayes business holdings. There was no shortage of work for him to do at the office.

But as he and Thérèse accepted the congratulations of their guests after the ceremony, he could sense that she was in a brittle mood. It worried him, but he didn't know what to do to help her. He knew she must be tired and perhaps anxious about the new job she would be starting in a week. Still, she managed to hide her nerves well until Liz and her date came through the receiving line.



He did his best to smooth Thérèse's flare of jealous temper, but she was cool to him for the rest of the reception. When they arrived late that night at the luxury hotel where they were spending a brief honeymoon, she pulled away from him when he tried to kiss her.

"Stop it, Anthony. I'm not in the mood to be mauled." She drew away, yawning widely. "It's been a long day. I'm exhausted."

He felt like a selfish jerk. She had carried the full load of wedding preparations, and probably hadn't slept much the night before. He resigned himself to a quiet honeymoon.

The next morning, she woke him with a kiss that sent his senses reeling. They spent most of the cool, rainy day in their room.

For the first year of their marriage, they lived in an apartment in London, Ontario. It was a long commute for Anthony to Mayes Motors in Milborough, but Thérèse was insistent they live close to her office so that she could be there as long and often as necessary.

He agreed, knowing how desperately Thérèse wanted to succeed in her new role. Mr. Arsenault was hopelessly out of date in his views on women in the executive suite, but he would surely change his mind once Thérèse showed him what she could do. Anthony had no doubt at all she would outperform every man in the place.

With things so busy at Mayes Motors, the year went by quickly. Anthony settled into his job with enthusiasm, and even enjoyed sorting out the inevitable glitches that came with such rapid expansion. The work suited him right down to the ground, and he knew he was good at it. He appreciated the fact that even when stresses were high, Gordon and Tracey were always straightforward and fair with him. They never hesitated to give him the credit he was due in their success.

Thérèse wasn't as lucky. While she never criticized her father, it was obvious there were disturbing tensions between them. She worked six days a week, twelve hours a day, and still didn't think she was doing enough. Her father gave her only grudging credit for her accomplishments but criticized her mercilessly and with maddening condescension for every small mistake.

Anthony was moved enough by the injustice of it to protest. "You're being unfair, sir. You've admitted yourself that Thérèse is doing a good job. Why blame her for these petty supplier problems, especially since they existed long before she came?"

Instead of appreciating his support, Thérèse turned on him. "You chose not to work for Dad, so don't butt in now. His standards may be high, but I can meet them. I don't need you making excuses for me."

He didn't interfere again. But he often worried. His wife always seemed to be tired and on edge. All too often, she took her tension out on him. He lacked ambition, he dressed badly, he wasn't assertive enough; her list of complaints was endless. Her painful bursts of jealousy became more frequent and irrational, as well.



Anthony tried to be understanding, but her lack of trust hurt. She was always sorry afterward, and tried to be kinder to him. But it seemed everything about him irritated her.

Thérèse's parents worried, too. After a year and a half, her father handed her a devastating ultimatum. She had to quit her job, or he would force her to go.

"Don't get me wrong. You've done well. But you need to relax, spend more time with your husband. I'm bringing in a new fellow with real executive potential to take over your responsibilities. So you don't need to worry about the work not getting done."

Ignoring Thérèse's stricken look, he chuckled. "And if you want to start on giving your mother and I those grandsons we've been waiting for, that would be fine, too."

Anthony did his best to console her. "I know it isn't fair. But you've worked so hard, you could use a break. Gordon's given me a raise, I can support both of us for a while, with care. Why don't you take some time to think about what else you want to do? There has to be something besides working for your father"

"In other words, you want me to stay home and have babies, too." Thérèse looked pale and miserable as she hunched over her morning coffee.

Anthony hesitated. "Well, I would like to have a family someday. But there's no hurry. If you're not ready - ."

She shrugged. "We might as well. Until Dad takes me back into the business, I don't much care what I do." She gave him a bleak smile. "Who knows? Maybe my mother is right. I may discover that raising a child is the most satisfying job in the world."

Anthony was delighted when Thérèse told him just three months later that they were expecting. With their one-bedroom apartment suddenly looking small, they began to hunt for a larger home. Thérèse had her eye on a high-end condominium development in London. But when Gordon and Tracey started building their new home in Milborough and offered to sell Anthony the old one for a very fair price, he was eager to accept.

"There's no reason to stay in London now that you're not working," he pointed out to Thérèse. "My commute would be a lot easier if we lived in Milborough. Besides, being home earlier would mean I'd have more time to help with the baby."

Thérèse was reluctant to leave the city and her parents. Anthony suspected she still hoped her father would relent and take her back into his company. Her optimism was crushed when Mr. Arsenault enthusiastically backed the idea of buying Gordon's house.

"At that price? You can't turn it down. Milborough's a great little place to raise a family. Besides, the way land values are rising, you could double your investment in five years. I'd say, grab it quick."

Reluctantly, Thérèse agreed to look at the house. It didn't impress her. Still, she agreed it was a good investment. They began to make arrangements for the mortgage.

As the pregnancy progressed, Thérèse became more and more panicky about the prospect of being a mother. "I can't raise a child. I don't know anything about children. My God, Anthony, what are we doing?"

Anthony tried to reassure her, but only made her angry. Forgetting that it had been her decision to start a family, she accused him of pressuring her into it. "You're the one who wanted a baby. I'm the one who has to go through the misery of bearing it. I suppose I'll get stuck with all of the drudgery of raising it, too. It's so unfair!"

She bitterly resented all of the inconveniences of pregnancy - the sickness, her nights of disturbed sleep, the loss of her elegant figure. There was no convincing her that she wasn't becoming hideously ugly as her body thickened. Her jealous streak, always intense, became explosive. When she walked into Anthony's office at Mayes Motors and blew up in a fury because he and Tracey were sitting together over the year-end review of the accounts, Anthony made a decision he had been considering for some time.

"Thérèse, I think I understand what's upsetting you. You're afraid that becoming a mother means the end of your career. I know your father talks that way, but it doesn't have to be true. After the baby is born, if you want to go back to work, you can. I'll take care of our child. It doesn't have to tie you down. Not at all."

Thérèse stared at him. "You're not serious. No man with a shred of ambition could say such a thing and mean it."

"I can." Anthony swallowed against the lump in his throat. "I love this child so much already. It'll be wonderful to have the chance to be really involved as a father."

Tears filled her eyes. "Why can't I feel like that? I can't imagine wanting to be spend a whole day with a baby, never mind years and years raising it. There must be something wrong with me." She burst into tears. "Oh Anthony. I wish we'd never started this child! This whole marriage has been such a miserable mistake."

His heart aching, Anthony held her until she cried herself out.

She seemed to be easier in her mind after that difficult conversation. When they took possession of the house in early spring, she was interested enough to help Anthony plan the renovations to the living room and home office, although she shied away from any discussion of the nursery. He painted and furnished the baby's room himself.

Anthony loved the house. On one salary, they couldn't afford a contractor. With a little help from Uncle Max, he was able to do most of the renovations himself. He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed carpentry. It was fun expanding his skills as a handyman, and richly satisfying to see their home become truly their own as the result of his labours. He sang as he worked, until Thérèse begged him to stop.

Françoise Marie Caine was born early in the morning of March 7, 2005. Thérèse was inconsolable.

"My father wanted a grandson s - so much. He'll be so disappointed. I am such a loser."

"Thérèse, look at her! She's beautiful." Anthony cradled his daughter in his arms, his heart breaking with love and fear for his little girl. "Your parents can't help but be thrilled. Wait and see, they'll adore her."

He took the precaution of meeting his in-laws at the hospital door and warning them sternly not to say anything to upset Thérèse. He needn't have worried about his mother-in-law, who seemed genuinely delighted to have a granddaughter. Roger Arsenault wasn't as successful at hiding his disappointment.

"She is a pretty thing. Just like her mother." He gave Thérèse a wink. "Don't worry about it, sweetie. Lots of time yet. I bet the next one will be a boy."

He may have meant well, but the remark plunged Thérèse deeper into depression. She refused to let anyone else visit her in the hospital. When they took the baby home, she hardly seemed able to look at it.

Caring for a baby was harder than Anthony thought, and Thérèse held him to his word and gave him no help at all. He struggled to manage parenting in addition to carrying on with his job part time from his home office. Although he was on paternity leave, he couldn't afford to quit entirely. Still, no matter what the demands of work or his own needs for sleep and food, his daughter always came first. He still carried deep emotional scars from feeling unwanted as a child. He was determined Francie would never suffer the same way.

Most of the time, it was a joy to care for the baby. She was a good-tempered infant, bright, curious and eagerly receptive to every new experience. He loved to dance with her, singing nonsense songs as he twirled, and laugh at the delight in her face as she squealed enthusiastic approval. Even when she was colicky and restless and he was near exhaustion, he could still warm to the miracle of his tiny daughter when he held her.

He sorrowed for Thérèse, who was too lost in darkness to see the marvellous new person they had made together as anything but a burden.

"Post-partum depression doesn't usually last long, but since Thérèse was depressed before the birth, she might suffer from it for months. Even years." Their family doctor looked at him sympathetically. "I'll refer her to a counsellor who might be able to help. If that doesn't work, we can try anti-depressants."

Thérèse refused medication, but she did agree to counselling. It helped. She became less morose, and began to take an interest in the business news again, although very little else. Sometimes, in the evenings, he would look up from his computer to see her staring at him, her expression distant and speculative.

After four months, her apathy vanished with startling suddenness. He would have been relieved, except that it was replaced by anger and a deep sense of grievance.

"My counsellor showed me how stupid I've been." His wife thumped an armful of laden shopping bags down on the table, her dark eyes flashing. "All my life, I've tried to please my parents, to make myself into the person they wanted me to be. No matter how hard I tried, they've never, ever been satisfied, and I've been miserable. From now on I'm going to do what I want, follow my dreams. I'm taking control of my life. No one, no one, will ever manipulate me into making decisions that are wrong for me again." She wheeled on Anthony. "Do you understand?"

Anthony was afraid he did. "Um. OK. So you're - "

"I start work at Global Investments on Monday. It's entry level, but they've promised me a promotion in three months if I do well. I've bought myself some new clothes to start with." Her gaze sharpened into challenge. "I assume you have no objection?"

"No." Anthony winced as he caught a glimpse of the labels on the bags. He was struggling to make ends meet as it was.

"Good." Thérèse relaxed, stretched, and let out a long sigh. "It feels like I'd just woken out of a nightmare. Walking into Global, seeing my new office - it felt like coming back to life again. I cannot wait to get out of this house."

Anthon's heart sank. He had vowed to care for Thérèse in good times and bad. He would honour those vows, even if the only way to make his wife happy and healthy was to let her walk away from him and their child. He had hoped that when she came out of her depression, she would be ready to make theirs a real family. Those hopes were dying fast.

"It sounds great." He kissed her on the cheek and tried not to mind when she stiffened. "I know you'll do well."

"Yes. I will." She gave him a sharp look, then smiled almost naturally. "I appreciate you taking this so well, Anthony. I know it can't be easy for you. But it's what I need."

"It's probably what you've needed for a long time." He managed to smile back at her. "Don't worry, Francie and I will be fine. We'll be eager to hear the news from the office every night when you get home."

"Well, don't wait up, for heaven's sake." Thérèse frowned. "I'll be working late most nights. There's far too much wasted time to make up for."

He rarely saw her during the following weeks. She was often away overnight. When she did come home, it was only to sleep, change and rush away again. After the first week, she moved into the spare room, saying that both of them would sleep better that way.

At the end of the three months, she came home flushed and elated, her eyes bright with excitement and champagne. "I've got the promotion! And the boss tells me that the Corporate Account Manager will be retiring soon. I've got a fighting chance for his job." She laughed, a rich bubble of happiness. "So much for my father's idea that women can't survive in the boardroom."

She accepted Anthony's congratulations with a hint of impatience. "I'm off tomorrow to a training course in Toronto. Three weeks at a five-star hotel. Can you imagine?"

"It's no more than you deserve." He kept his smile firmly pinned on. "You're going to be a big executive some day. Might as well get used to the lifestyle."

It was lonely while Thérèse was away. Busy as he was with work and the baby, Anthony found himself craving adult company. He hadn't realized how much the constant bustle at Mayes Motors had become the centre of human contact in his life. Thérèse's jealousy and unpredictable moods had gradually isolated him from all his old friends.

Gordon must have felt his loneliness, because he made a point of dropping in at the house almost daily. Mostly they talked business, but now and then he dropped some casual remark that made it clear he understood a little of Anthony's unhappiness. Anthony appreciated that quiet, steadfast support.

He was delighted when Gordon brought a visitor with him one day.



It was a bittersweet joy, talking to Liz again. She was as warm and friendly as ever, in love with life and revelling in the adventure of teaching in the north.



Being with her was like stepping unexpectedly out into sunlight after weeks of rain. After she left, he couldn't stop thinking about her. If only things had worked out between them ...

Thérèse returned from her training course just long enough to do laundry and re-pack. He tried to draw her out about her new job, but she brushed off his queries.

"There's no point, Anthony. A man who is satisfied working for a gas station and playing Mr. Mom isn't going to understand the financial circles I'm dealing with now." She looked at him with wondering pity. "You had potential once. It's too bad you didn't have the ambition to go with it. We could have been a good team."

Anthony's heart sank. "Thérèse, wait. Tell me one thing before you go. Where is our marriage going? We have to talk sometime, work things out."

"Nowhere. This marriage is going nowhere. Stop clinging to it. Oh, don't look at me like that!" She snapped her travel case shut. "I hate it when you give me those wounded puppy-dog eyes. If you were any kind of man - "

She stopped short and grimaced. "No, that's not fair. I'm sorry, Anthony. But try to understand. I know now what I can do. Who I am. I can't let anyone hold me back again, or warp me into someone I'm not. Not by bullying or manipulating me, and certainly not by using guilt as a leash. Been there, done that. It's not happening again."

With a cool nod, she was gone.

It was impossible to settle back to work. He paced the house in miserable restlessness. Perhaps picking up his distress, Francie began to cry and would not be soothed. He was walking back and forth in desperation with her when the doorbell rang.

"Here, give me that child." Clarice tossed her purse onto a chair and reached for her granddaughter. "Poor baby, you're upset." She took a long look at Anthony. "Poor babies, both of you. If you're wondering why I'm here, Thérèse came by the house."

"When? She just left here an hour ago." Anthony watched with a sense of loss as Clarice settled the baby to weary contentment.

"She must have come straight to our place. She said you might need someone right now. Anthony, why didn't you tell us your marriage was in such trouble?"

He dropped into a chair, his head in his hands. "I didn't know. I kept thinking that once Thérèse's depression lifted, we'd be able to work things out. Mom," he swallowed hard, "I don't know what to do."

"I doubt there is much you can do. About Thérèse, I mean." Clarice sighed. "Right now, you need to get out of this house for a while. Go for a walk, clear your head. Look up a really good friend and talk. I'll take care of the baby. And Anthony," her smile went misty, "think about what you want, for a change. You're a wonderful man, but sometimes too generous for your own good. It isn't healthy to always put your own needs last."

He was glad to take her up on the offer. The house was beginning to close in around him, and he did need to get out for a while. He walked a long way, deep in thought. Clarice was right. Or at least partly right. He didn't regret putting Francie's needs before his own. That was essential. But perhaps it was folly to ignore his own needs for love and companionship and cling to a marriage that was disintegrating around him.

What did he want? The answer to Clarice's question came easily. Without conscious thought, he had already made his way to Lakeshore Landscaping, where Liz was working for the summer. He needed a good friend to talk to right now, and Liz was the best friend he had ever had.

This late in the summer, the nursery outlet was quiet. He walked in and looked around. Just as he debated checking the greenhouses to see if she was there, the silence was broken by a scream for help.

Anthony was running before the first cry had stopped echoing. He knew Liz' voice, and there was a terror it that tore his heart open. He rounded the corner of the office and saw a pair of figures struggling at the desk.



Fury blazed up, blinding him to anything but the need to wrench her free. He was on the attacker in a heartbeat. The other man was bigger and powerfully built, but rage gave Anthony a strength he didn't know he had. He flung the creep to the ground, hammered him into cringing submission and pinned him hard.





He meant to just talk on the way to Liz on the way to the Pattersons', to keep the conversation easy and soothing for her. But the stress and emotion of the day overwhelmed him, and he blurted out the devastating secret he had only just realized himself. He still loved Liz as deeply as he ever had. His marriage was a sham. He no longer had the will to live the degrading lie it had become.



As soon as it was out, he was appalled at himself. After what she'd been through, the last thing Liz needed was any more unwanted male attentions. He kept his mouth shut and kicked himself the rest of the way for being such a jerk. When they arrived at the Patterson's home, he apologized with miserable sincerity.

"No, don't." Liz caught his arm. "Anthony, I'm fine, thanks to you. I've never seen anything as brave as the way you tackled Howard. Did you know he's been in the army? He's so much bigger than you, too." She drew in a shaky breath. "I was so afraid you'd be hurt. But you were so fearless and strong and - wonderful."

She laughed suddenly. "Gosh, I sound like one of those eyelash-fluttering damsels in the old movies. I believe your next line is 'Shucks, ma'am, that warn't nothin'."

Anthony grinned in spite of himself. "It wasn't, you know. Any decent guy would have done the same. I just wish I hadn't - "

"Anthony, for heavens sake! Even old-fashioned heroes can't keep their feelings bottled up forever. Obviously you're hurting so much, you need to talk. I didn't realize - . Come on. The park is right here. Let's walk a while."

He tried to refuse, but Liz was adamant. "Come off it, Anthony. I'm not made of glass. Honestly, it'll make me feel better. You did so much for me today. I'd like to do this for you." When he hesitated, she looked hurt. "We've been friends a long time. I'd like to think you still trusted me enough to tell me the truth."

Put like that, she didn't leave him much choice. They wandered through the park, keeping to the quiet places. Under her determined prodding, the ugly story spilled out.



He had forgotten how strong a person Liz could be. She didn't get upset or judgmental. She just listened, asked intelligent questions, and soothed him. But she didn't give him the promise he asked for in the depths of his despair.

"Things might look hopeless now for your marriage, but they could change. You're a wonderful man, Anthony. Thérèse may still realize how lucky she is. You can't give up yet. But - you have to take better care of yourself. You're so close to exhaustion that it scares me. Why not let your mom baby sit once in a while? It sounds like she's willing."

She was right. In all of it, she was right. They talked a while longer, and parted with a hug that was sad and comforting at the same time. Anthony went home to his child and his empty marriage, determined to do whatever he could to help both.

He took Liz' advice and accepted Clarice's offer to baby-sit one day a week, so that he could work at the office then. Tracey was delighted to see him. "I've been trying to do a new business case analysis, but it's taking me forever. The way this area is growing, Gordon and I think it could use a real restaurant, something with a full dinner menu. We thought it could go on the other side of the coffee shop, where the detailing stalls used to be. What do you think?"

It was a good idea, but Anthony wasn't sure he could leave the baby with Clarice long enough to do up a proper business proposal.

"We've got a great baby-sitter." Tracey smiled at him. "With Rosie starting school this year, she'll have room for another child during the day. I'm sure she'd be glad to take Francie. We'll be happy to pay a share of the cost."

Anthony appreciated the offer, but took advantage of it only sparingly until he was sure Francie would be all right with the baby-sitter. She seemed to enjoy being with the other children and adapted easily to the new environment. Relieved, he went back to work full-time. He was carrying the full load of the mortgage on the house, and had slipped deeper into debt while at home with the baby. Thérèse was covering her own expenses, but contributed little otherwise.

"You wanted a house and child, it's only fair that you pay for them." She shrugged off his tentative request for help. "Until I get my next promotion, my salary hardly covers the cost of a decent wardrobe and car. In this line of work, I need the kind of professional look that doesn't come cheap."

When Gordon offered him the job of General Manager of all of Mayes Enterprises, he accepted the promotion and the increased salary with gratitude.

At Gordon and Tracey's New Year's party, he heard through the grapevine that Liz had a new boyfriend, a policeman in the northern community where she was teaching. The news left him miserable, but not surprised. A woman like her wasn't going to be available forever. If he had ever had a chance with her, he had missed it long ago.

He did his best to talk to Thérèse. Now and then he thought there was a glimmer of hope for their marriage. She was rarely home during the long winter months, but seemed to be in a good mood when she was. Sometimes he caught her smiling for no reason at all. When he asked her, though, she never said what she was thinking.

The answer came with devastating clarity one cold Friday in April, when he came home from work to find her packing.

She was blunt, and brutal. "I have a new man in my life now. One I've chosen for myself. I've already moved in with him. I just came for my things."



Stunned, he tried to argue with her. It only exasperated her. "Don't be an idiot, Anthony. Our marriage was a mistake from the beginning. I'm not the kind of woman you need, and you can't be the kind of man I want. We should have ended it long ago."



Despite the hurt and shock, there was relief in having the long uncertainty over.



Anthony's energy rebounded once the draining negotiations for the settlement were over and divorce proceedings in the lawyers' hands. For therapeutic reasons as much as need, he started a new set of renovations on the house. It was good to be physically active again, and swinging a hammer was an excellent way to burn off steam.

At Clarice's urging, he made a point of getting out of the house in the evenings now and then. It wasn't difficult to find reasons. Once word got around of the split, he was surprised how many old friends contacted him again. His old roommate Glenn reminisced with such enthusiasm about their geeky high school days that the two of them hunted up a local Astronomy Club and became members.

Inspired, he purchased some glow-in-the-dark stars and recreated his childhood constellations on the ceiling of Francie's room. She loved them as much as he had. He couldn't help laughing when one of her first words was "Owion".

It came as a jolt when he received a summons that fall to testify in the Howard Bunt assault case. He had almost forgotten the trial was coming up.

He and Liz met in the courthouse when they went to give their depositions. It should have been an awkward meeting, but they fell into the comfortable rapport of old friends as easily as if they had never had that difficult, emotional conversation in the park.



He couldn't believe how much fun it was to show her his home. She was interested in everything and quick to notice and admire the improvements he had made. Thérèse had scoffed at his carpentry as amateurish. Liz thought it was charming. Since her father was a handyman of some skill, she was knowledgeable enough that he warmed at her praise.



The longer they talked, the more he realized how much they had in common.



He knew from her father that Liz was still involved with her policeman boyfriend. She hadn't waited for him as he had asked. It was a clear enough signal that she would never want anything but friendship from him. He was sorry for it, but a friendship like hers was a wonderful gift and one he cherished. It would have to be enough to satisfy him.

He was surprised and pleased to see Liz at his office one day in the spring. It was even more of a surprise to find out why she had come.



It was just his luck that he had already asked someone to go with him. He hated to turn Liz down, especially knowing she was free again after breaking up with her policeman. But there was no way he could cancel his date with Julia, the woman he had hired to handle his old bookkeeping job. A bubbly, outgoing sort, she had just moved to Milborough and was looking forward to the wedding as a way to meet people. He couldn't disappoint her.

Liz left so abruptly after his refusal that he worried that he had insulted her. Knowing that she was a bridesmaid and probably busy, he decided to wait until the wedding was over to talk to her and straighten things out.

On the morning of the wedding, he was in the middle of shaving when Francie wandered into the bathroom and stood solemnly watching him.

"Daddy. Are you a gwampa?"

Surprised, he looked down at her. "No, just a daddy. Why?"

"Zach says you look like his gwampa, 'cause you have a moustache."

Taken aback, Anthony stared at himself in the mirror. He hadn't liked the moustache when Thérèse first talked him into it, but he was so used to it that he hadn't given it a second thought. With sudden decisiveness, he swiped his razor through it.

Francie laughed and clapped her hands. "That's funny! Do it again."

There was a heady satisfaction in shaving the moustache off. Foolish as it was, he couldn't help feeling that the end of the lip hair was a small token of new beginnings. When the last traces were gone, he caught Francie up and twirled her around until both of them were laughing and giddy.

The wedding was outdoors, and the weather was lovely. He took pains to introduce Julia to friends and sat chatting with her while they waited for the ceremony to begin. When the bridal party walked down the aisle, his breath caught in his chest at the sight of Liz. She looked so beautiful, he ached for her.

He thought he had managed to hide his feelings, but Julia saw instantly that something was wrong. Under her determined questioning, he gave up and confided a highly condensed version of his long, hopeless love for Elizabeth. She studied Liz with lively interest during the reception before turning to him.



A faint seed of hope had been planted when Liz asked him to the wedding. He had told himself not to be a fool, that out of wishful thinking he was reading too much into a simple friendly gesture. But if Julia saw the same encouragement in Liz' smiling glances as he did ...

He had to know.



Liz felt so right in his arms, smiled at him with such warmth and trust, that his heart raced. Surely this time, it wasn't just his imagination? He needed desperately to know for sure. As soon as the chance came, he drew Liz away into the garden where they could be private.



The answer Liz gave him was all he had ever dreamed of.

Anthony is looking forward eagerly to his new life with Liz. He knows that theirs will be a real marriage, based on a deep-rooted love and sweetly intense and very private passion as well as the friendship that has never wavered through so many years.

Francie was intrigued with Liz at first, then a little jealous. Now his daughter has accepted her happily as her new best friend.



Anthony is delighted to see Francie becoming more outgoing and confident under Liz' sunny, sensible influence. He suspects that Francie was more affected than he realized by Thérèse's desertion. It hurts to know that he couldn't protect his daughter from unhappiness despite his best efforts.

He sees Thérèse occasionally and keeps her informed of Francie's progress. Still intensely committed to her career, she is already in line for a senior executive position. Her father is now pressuring her to return to the Arsenault business. She is considering doing so, but is determined that if it happens, it will be on her terms this time. Any discussion of her new relationship seems to be taboo. Anthony suspects there are problems, but has avoided questioning too closely. He respects his ex-wife's reserve and knows she is still finding her own way. He only hopes that someday she will be as happy as he is.

He knows, with joy, that everything has turned out for the best. After waiting so long for love, it has come to him in abundance.