"I sure will." Pocketing the fifteen dollars I had given her. Brittany went out. giving a little wave over her shoulder.

At the same time, the bedroom door burst open, and Carrington came flying into the main room in her pajamas. "Liberty!" She flung her arms around my h*ps and hugged me as if we hadn't seen each other in a year. "I missed you. Where did you go? Why did you stay out so long? Who's that yellow-haired man?"

I glanced quickly at Mike. Although he had forced a smile, it was obviously not the time for introductions. His gaze traveled slowly around the room, adhering briefly to the worn-out sofa, the places on the coffee table where the wood-grain veneer had chipped. It surprised me that I felt a sting of defensiveness. that it felt so uncomfortable to see myself from his perspective.

I hunched over my little sister and kissed her hair. "That's my new friend. He and I are going to watch a show. You're supposed to be in bed. Asleep. Go on, Carrington."

"I want you to come with me," she protested.

"No, it's not my bedtime, it's yours. Go on."

"But I'm not tired."

"I don't care. Go lie down and close your eyes."

"Will you tuck me in?"

"No."

"But you always tuck me in."

"Carrington—"

"It's all right," Mike said. "Tuck her in, Liberty. I'll look through the videos."

I flashed him a grateful smile. "It'll only take a minute. Thanks, Mike."

I took Carrington into the bedroom and closed the door. Carrington, like most children, was ruthless when she had a tactical advantage. Usually I had no problem letting her cry and holler if she didn't like it. But we both knew I didn't want her making a scene in front of my visitor.

"I'll be quiet if you let me keep the light on," she wheedled.

I hoisted her into the bed and pulled the covers up to her chest, and gave her a picture book from the nightstand. "All right. Stay in bed and—I mean this, Carrington—I don't want to hear a peep out of you."

She opened the book. "I can't read the words by myself."

"You know all the words. We've read that story a hundred times. Stay here and be good. Or else."

"What's the 'or else'?"

I gave her an ominous stare. "Four words, Carrington. Hush and stay put."

"Okay." She subsided behind the book until all that was visible of her was a pair of small hands clamped on either side of the cover.

I went back into the living room, where Mike was sitting stiffly on the sofa.

At some point in the process of dating someone, whether you've gone out one time or a hundred times, a moment occurs when you know exactly how much significance that person will have in your life. You know this person will be an important part of your future, or you know he's only someone to pass the time with. Or you wouldn't care if you never saw him again. I regretted having invited Mike into the apartment. I wished he was gone so I could have a bath and get in bed. I smiled at him.

"Find anything you want to watch?" I asked.

He shook his head, gesturing to the trio of rented movies on the coffee table. "I've already seen those." He gave me a sort of cardboard-looking smile. "You've got a ton of kids' movies. I guess your sister stays with you a lot?"

"All the time." I sat next to him. "I'm Carrington's guardian."

He looked bewildered. "Then she's not going back?"

"Back to where?" I asked, my confusion mirroring his. "Our parents are both gone."

"Oh." He looked away from me. "Liberty...are you sure she's your sister and not your daughter?"

What did he mean, was I sure? "Are you asking if I had a baby and somehow forgot about it?" I asked, more stunned than angry. "Or are you asking if I'm lying? She's my sister, Mike."

"Sorry. Sorry." Chagrin corrugated his forehead. He spoke rapidly. "I guess there's not much resemblance between you. But it doesn't really matter if you're her mom or not. The result is the same, isn't it?"

Before I could reply the bedroom door burst open. Carrington ventured into the room, her face wreathed in anxiety. "Liberty, something happened."

I stood from the sofa like I'd just sat on a hot stove-plate. "What do you mean, something happened? What? What?"

"Something went down my throat without my permission."

Shit

Fear wrapped around my heart like barbed wire. "What went down your throat, Carrington?"

Her face crumpled and turned red. "My lucky penny," she said, and began to cry.

Trying to think above the panic. I recalled the stray brown penny we'd found on the carpeted elevator floor. Carrington had been keeping it in the dish on our nightstand. I rushed over and picked her up. "How did you swallow it? What were you doing with that dirty penny in your mouth?"

"I don't know," she wailed. "I just put it in there and then it jumped down my throat."

I was dimly aware of Mike in the background, mumbling something about how this wasn't a good time, maybe he should go. We both ignored him.

I grabbed the phone and dialed the pediatrician, sitting with Carrington in my lap. "You could have choked on it," I scolded. "Carrington. don't put pennies or nickels or dimes or anything like that in your mouth ever again. Did it hurt your throat? Did it go all the way down when you swallowed?"