"I appreciate you going with me."

Cody spared Abra a brief look as he stopped the car in front of the hotel where W. W. Barlow and his new wife were staying. "Don't be stupid."

"No, I mean it." She fiddled nervously with her choker as the valet hurried to open her door. "This is my problem. A family problem." After stepping out on the curb, she took a deep breath and waited for Cody to join her. "But I'd have hated to face this dinner alone."

It continued to surprise him to find these traces of insecurity in her. This same woman who was afraid to share a quiet dinner with her mother had once stepped carelessly between two angry construction workers with fists like cinder blocks. With a shake of his head he pocketed his parking stub, then took her arm to lead her into the lobby.

"You're not alone. Still, there's no reason to go into this believing it's going to be some sort of trial by fire."

"Then how come I can already feel the heat?" she mumbled as they crossed the lobby.

"You're not being interviewed by the State Department, Wilson. You're having dinner with your mother and her new husband."

She couldn't prevent a short laugh. "And I've had tons of experience." She paused again at the entrance to the dining room. "Sorry. No snide remarks, no sarcasm and no pouting."

He cupped her face, amused by the way she had straightened her shoulders and brought up her chin. "All right. But I had planned to pout at least through the appetizers."

She laughed again, and this time she meant it. "You're good for me."

His fingers tightened as he dipped his head to give her a hard, unexpected kiss. "Red, I'm the best for you."

"Good evening." The maitre d' was all smiles. He evidently had a weakness for romance. "A table for two?"

"No." Cody let his hand slip down to take Abra's. "We're joining the Barlows."

"Of course, of course." That seemed to perk him up even more. "They've just been seated. If you'll follow me?"

It was early for dinner, so the restaurant was all but empty. Salmon-colored tablecloths and turquoise napkins were pressed and waiting for the patrons who would trickle in over the next two hours. A miniature fountain shaded by palms rose up in the center. The candles on the tables had yet to be lit, as the sun still filtered through the windows. As the maitre d' had said, the newlyweds were already seated. They were holding hands. Barlow spotted them first and sprang out of his chair. Abra couldn't be sure, but she thought his smile seemed a bit sheepish.

"Right on time." He grabbed Cody's hand for a quick, hearty shake. "Glad you could make it." He hesitated a moment before turning to Abra. He was wearing an obviously pricey Fioravanti suit, but he still looked like anyone's favorite uncle. "Am I allowed to kiss my new stepdaughter?"

"Of course you are." Trying not to wince at the term, she offered a cheek, but found herself gripped in a huge, hard bear hug. Instinctively at first, then with more feeling than she'd expected, she returned it.

"Always wanted a daughter," he mumbled, making a production of pulling out her chair. "Never expected to get one at my age.''

Not certain what she should do next, Abra leaned over to kiss her mother's cheek. "You look wonderful. Did you enjoy your trip?"

"Yes." Jessie twisted the napkin in her lap. "I'm going to love Dallas as much as Willie does. I hope -  we hope - you'll find time to visit us there."

"Always a room for you there." Barlow tugged at his tie, mangling the tidy Windsor knot. "Make it your home whenever you want."

Abra clasped and unclasped her purse. "That's kind of you."

"Not kind." Giving up his tie, Barlow smoothed what was left of his hair. "Family."

"You would like a drink before you order?" The maitre d' hovered, clearly pleased to have one of the wealthiest men in the country at one of his tables.

"Champagne. Dom Perignon '71." Barlow laid a hand on Jessie's. "We're celebrating."

"Very good, sir."

Silence descended immediately, awkwardly. Cody had a quick flash of his own family meals, with everyone talking over everyone else. When Abra's hand found his under the table, he decided to give them all a little help. "I hope you'll be able to come by and check on the project before you go back to Dallas."

"Why, yes, yes. Planned to." Barlow gripped the lifeline gratefully.

Sitting back, Cody began to steer the conversation over easy ground.

Why they're nervous, too, Abra realized as all three of them struggled to hit the right tone, find the right words. Everyone could have walked on eggshells without causing a crack. Only Cody was relaxed, hooking an arm over the back of his chair and taking the reins the others gladly relinquished. Jessie continued to twist her napkin, though she managed the occasional forced smile. Barlow ran his finger under his collar constantly, clearing his throat and reaching out to touch Jessie's hand or arm or shoulder.

Reassuring each other, Abra thought. Because of her. It made her feel small and selfish and mean-spirited. Whatever happened between Barlow and her mother, they cared for each other now. Holding back her approval or acceptance helped nothing and hurt everyone. Including her.

There seemed almost a communal sigh of relief when the wine was served. The fussy little show began with the display of the label. The cork was removed with only a whisper of sound, and a swallow was offered to Barlow for tasting. Once it was approved, wine was poured in all the glasses.

"Well, now." Barlow sent his nervous smile around the table as bubbles raced to the surface.

"I'd like to propose a toast," Cody began.

"No, please." Abra stopped him with a hand on his arm. During the strained silence, Jessie linked fingers with Barlow. "I'd like to." She couldn't think of any clever words. She'd always been better with figures. "To your happiness," she said, wishing she could do better. She touched her glass to her mother's, then to Barlow's. "I hope you'll love my mother as much as I do. I'm glad you found each other."

"Thank you." Jessie sipped, struggled to compose herself, then gave up. "I must go powder my nose. Excuse me a minute."

She hurried off, leaving Barlow grinning and blinking his eyes. "That was nice. Real nice." He took Abra's hand, squeezing tightly. "I'm going to take good care of her, you know. Man doesn't often get a chance to start over at my age. Going to do it right."

Abra rose to move over and rest her cheek against his. "See that you do. I'll be back in a minute."

Barlow watched her take the same route as Jessie. "Guess if I were any prouder I'd bust my seams." He lifted his glass and took a long gulp. "Quite a pair, aren't they?"

"You could say that." He was feeling enormously proud himself.

"Ah, now that we've got a minute... Jessie tells me you and Abra are... close."

Cody lifted a brow. "Going to play papa, WW?"

Embarrassed, Barlow shifted in his chair. "Like I said, I never had a daughter before. Makes a man feel protective. I know Jessie would like to see that girl settled and happy. She thinks Abra's feelings might be serious. If yours aren't - "

"I love her." There. He'd said it out loud, and it felt wonderful. Cody savored it for a moment, finding it as rich and exciting as the wine. He hadn't expected it to feel good, hadn't expected the words to come so easily. As if experimenting, he said it again. "I love her. I want to marry her." The second part came as a surprise to him. It wasn't that he hadn't thought of the future, with her as a part of it. It wasn't that he hadn't thought of them spending their lives together. But marriage, the solidity of it, the absoluteness of it, came as a surprise. He found it a pleasant one.

"Well, well..." Doubly pleased, Barlow lifted his glass again. "Have you asked her?"

"No, I... When the time's right."

With a bray of laughter, Barlow slapped him on the back. "Nothing more foolish than a young man in love. Unless it's an old one. Let me tell you something, boy. You try to plan these things out - right time, right place, right mood - they never get done. Maybe you're not old enough to think about how precious time is, but take it from me, there's nothing worse than looking back and seeing how much you wasted. That girl...my daughter - " he puffed out his chest" - she's a prize. You'd better grab on before she slips away from you. Have another drink." He topped off Cody's glass. "Marriage proposals come easier if you're loose. Had to get damn near drunk to manage both of mine."

With an absent nod, Cody lifted his glass, and wondered.

Abra found Jessie in the ladies' lounge, sitting on an overstuffed white chair and sniffling into a hankie. Abra cast a helpless look around, then sat beside her.

"Did I say something wrong?"

Jessie shook her head and dabbed at her eyes. "No. You said everything right and made me so happy." She sobbed as she turned to throw her arms around Abra's neck. "I was so nervous about tonight, so afraid you'd sit there hating me."

"I've never hated you. I couldn't." Abra felt her own eyes filling. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I made things so hard on you before."

"No, you didn't. You never have. You've always been the one thing in my life I could count on. I've always asked too much of you. I have," she insisted when Abra shook her head. "I know I've let you down, over and over again, and I regret it. But I can't go back and change it." She drew back, and her smooth cheeks were streaked with tears. "To be honest, I don't know if I would if I had the chance. I've made mistakes, sweetheart, and you've had to pay for them." She dried Abra's cheeks with her damp handkerchief. "I never thought of you first, and you have the right to resent me for that."

Sometimes she had, and sometimes the resentment had edged toward despair. Tonight wasn't the night to think of it. Instead, she smiled. "Do you remember the time, I was about ten or eleven and that boy up the street - Bob Hardy - pushed me off my bike? I came home with my knees all bloody and my shirt torn."

"That little bully." Jessie's pretty mouth thinned. "I wanted to give him a good smack."

The idea of Jessie smacking anyone, even a grubby delinquent, made Abra's smile widen. "You cleaned me all up, kissed all the scrapes and promised me a new shirt. Then you marched right off to Mrs. Hardy."

"I certainly did. When I -  How do you know? You were supposed to be in your room."

"I followed you." Delighted with the memory, Abra grinned. "I hid in the bushes outside the door and listened."

Jessie's color was a bit heightened when she meticulously replaced the hankie in her purse. "You heard what I said to her? Everything?"

"And I was amazed." With a laugh, Abra took her mother's hand. "I didn't know you had even heard those kind of words, much less that you could use them so... effectively.''

"She was a fat old witch." Jessie sniffed. "I wasn't going to let her get away with raising a mean, nasty hoy who pushed my little girl around."

"By the time you'd finished with her she was eating out of your hand. That night she brought that mean, nasty boy to the door by his ear and made him apologize. I felt very special."

"I love you just as much now. More, really." Gently she brushed Abra's hair from her temples. "I never k new quite how to deal with a child. It's so much easier for me to talk to a woman."

Because she was beginning to understand, Abra kissed her cheek. "Your mascara's running."

"Oh, no." Jessie took one look in the mirror and shuddered. "What a mess. Willie will take one look and run for cover."

"I doubt that, but you'd better fix it before we miss out on that champagne." Abra settled back comfortably to wait.

"That wasn't so bad." Cody stripped off his tie the moment they stepped into Abra's apartment.

"No, it wasn't." She kicked off her shoes. She felt good, really good. Perhaps her mother's marriage would go the way of her others. Perhaps it wouldn't. But they had crossed a bridge tonight. "In fact, it was nice. Champagne, caviar, more champagne. I could get used to it." When he wandered to the window to look out, she frowned at his back. "You seem a little distracted. Cody?"

"What?" He turned back to stare at her. She was wearing a white sundress sashed at the waist with a vivid green scarf. She never failed to knock him out when she was wearing something slim and feminine. Who was he kidding? She knocked him out when she was wearing dirty overalls.

A little confused by the way he was staring, Abra tried a smile. "I know I was pretty wrapped up in myself this evening, but I did notice how quiet you got. What's wrong?"

"Wrong? Nothing. I've...got some things on my mind, that's all."

"The project? Is there a problem?"

"It's not the project." Hands in his pockets, he crossed over to her. "And I don't know if it's a problem."

She felt her hands go cold. His eyes were very dark, very intense, very serious. He was going to end it, she thought, her heart trembling. He was going to end it now and go back east. Moistening her lips, she prepared herself. She'd promised herself that she would be strong when this moment came, that she wouldn't ruin what they'd had by clinging when it was over. Quite simply, she wanted to die.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He glanced around the apartment. It was, as always, in chaos. There was no candlelight or mood music. He didn't have a rose or a diamond ring to give her. Then again, he was hardly the down-on-one-knee, hand-on-heart type. "Yeah. I think we should - "

The phone interrupted him, making him swear and Abra jolt. As if in a dream, she moved to answer. "Hello. I... Oh, yes. Yes, he's here." Her face blank, she offered Cody the receiver. "It's your mother."

A little skip of fear raced through him as he took the phone. "Mom? No, it's no problem. Is everything all right?"

Abra turned away. She heard snatches of his con-versation, but they floated in and out of her head. If he was going to break it off, she had to be strong and accept it. As Cody had only minutes before, she walked to the window and stared out.

No, it was wrong. The whole idea was wrong and had always been wrong. She loved him. Why the hell did she have to accept that it was going to end? And why was she automatically assuming that he was going to leave? It was hateful, she thought, closing her eyes. Hateful to be so insecure over the only thing, the only person, who really mattered.

"Abra?"

"Yes?" She turned quickly, torn. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine. I gave my family this number, as well as the one at the hotel."

"That's all right." Her smile was strained around the edges.

"My father had some trouble - heart trouble - a couple of months ago. It was touch and go for a while."

Compassion came instantly and wiped out her nerves. "Oh, I'm sorry. Is he okay now?"

"Looks like." He took out a cigarette, unsure how to balance his relief about his father with Ms nerves over Abra. "He went in for more tests today and got a clean bill of health. My mother just wanted to let me know."

"I'm so glad. It must be terrifying..." She let her words trail off as another thought sunk in. "A couple of months ago? About the time we were having our preliminary meetings?"

"That's right."

On a long breath, she shut her eyes. She could see herself perfectly, standing in the trailer on that first day and berating him for being too spoiled and lazy to leave his orange grove.

"You should have poured that beer over my head."

The grin helped. He walked over to tug on her hair. "I thought about it."

"You should have told me," she muttered.

"It wasn't any of your business - at the time." Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips. "Times change. Abra - "

This time the phone had him snarling.

"Yank that damn thing out of the wall, will you?"

Chuckling, she moved away to answer. "Hello. Yes, this is Abra Wilson. Mrs. Mendez? Yes, how is your husband? That's good. No, it wasn't any trouble at all. Mr. Johnson and I were glad to do it." She shifted the phone to her other ear as Cody moved behind her to nibble on her neck. "Tonight? Actually, I... No. No, of course not, not if it's important. We can be there in about twenty minutes. All right. Goodbye."

Puzzled, Abra replaced the receiver. "That was Carmen Mendez."

"So I gathered. Where can we be in about twenty minutes?"

"The hospital." Abra glanced around for the purse she'd tossed aside when they'd come in. "She sounded very strange, very nervous, yet she said that Mendez was out of Intensive Care and doing well enough. She said he needed to talk to us right away."

Since she was already putting on her shoes, Cody decided she'd made up her mind to go. "One condition."

"Which is?"

"When we get back we don't answer the phone."

They found Mendez flat on his back in a semipri-vate room with his wife sitting beside him, clinging to his hand.

"It was good of you to come."

Cody noticed that Mendez's knuckles were white. The curtains between the beds were drawn. The other patient had the television on, and the squealing sounds of a car chase poured out.

"I'm glad you're doing better." Abra laid a hand on Carmen's shoulder, squeezing lightly as she studied the man in the bed. He was young, too young, for the lines of pain and trouble around his eyes. "Is there anything you need? Anything we can do for you?" She broke off, surprised and embarrassed to see his eyes fill with tears.

"No, gracias. Carmen told me how good you were, staying with her, taking care of all the papers and the questions."

Carmen leaned over him, murmuring in Spanish, but the words were too soft for Abra to hear.

"Si."
He moistened his lips, and though his back brace prevented him from moving, Abra thought he was set as if for a blow. "I thought I would die, and I could not die with sins on my soul. I told Carmen everything. We have talked." His eyes shifted so that he could see his wife and her nod of encouragement. "We have decided to tell you." He swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment. "It didn't seem so bad, and with the baby coming we needed the money. When Mr. Tunney asked me, I knew in my heart it was wrong, but I wanted good things for Carmen and the baby. And myself."

Uneasy, Abra moved closer to the bed. Across the prone body of Mendez, she and Cody exchanged one brief look.

Cody kept his voice calm. "What did Tunney ask you?"

"Only to look the other way, to pretend not to notice. Much of the wire we use on the project is not up to code."

Abra felt her stomach sink and her blood go cold. "Tunney offered to pay you to install substandard wire?"

"St.
Not all, not everywhere. Not all of the men could be trusted - not to be trusted," he said lamely. "When a delivery would come, he would assign a few of us to work with the twelve-gauge. We would be paid in cash every week. I know I can go to jail -  We know. But we have decided to do what is right."

"David, this is a very serious accusation." But Abra was remembering the reels of wire she had examined herself. "That wiring was inspected."

"Si.
It was arranged to have the same inspector. He is paid, also. When he comes, you and Mr. Johnson are to be busy somewhere else in case you would notice something."

"How could Tunney arrange - " Abra closed her eyes. "David, was Tunney following orders?"

Mendez squeezed his wife's hand again. This was what he feared most. "Si, he has orders. From Mr, Thornway." Murmuring, Carmen lifted a cup to his lips so that he could wet his dry lips.

"There is more than the wiring. I hear things. Some of the concrete, some of the steel, some of the rivets. Some," he explained. "Not all, you see? I think when I am asked that Mr. Thornway is a big builder. He is powerful, important, so this must be the way. When I tell Carmen, she is ashamed of me and says it is not our way."

"We will give back the money." Carmen spoke for the first time. Her eyes were as they had been on the day of the accident, very young and very afraid, but her voice was strong.

"I don't want you to worry about that now." Abra rubbed a hand over her temple. "Or anything else. You did the right thing. Mr. Johnson and I will take care of it. We may need to talk to you again, and you'll have to go to the police."

Carmen put an unsteady hand on her rounded stomach. "We will do what you say. Por favor, Se-norita Wilson, my David is not a bad man."

"I know. Don't worry."

Abra stepped out of the room, feeling as though she had taken a long, nasty fall. "What are we going to do?"

"We're going to go see Tim." He put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm going to call Nathan. He needs to know about this."

She nodded, walking away as he headed to a bank of phones.

They didn't speak on the drive to Thornway's house. Abra could only think of the business Thorn-way had built, brick by brick, the reputation he had earned, the pride he had felt and had given her the chance to feel. In one flash the son he had handed it to had tossed it aside.

"I should have guessed," she murmured at length.

"How?" He was dealing with his own demons, and with the crumbling of his own dreams.

"The day Mendez was hurt. I was with Tunney. There had just been a delivery, and I happened to check it. It was twelve-gauge." She turned her head to look at him. "He spun me a tale about someone screwing up the invoice numbers. We were talking when the accident happened, and I never took it any further. Damn it, Cody, I never even thought of it again."

"You wouldn't have had any reason to suspect him. Or Thornway." He pulled up in front of Tim's house. "Why don't I handle this? You can wait here."

"No." She pushed open the car door. "I have to be there."

Moments later they were waiting in Tim's spacious foyer.

Elegant in a dinner jacket, Tim came down the steps. "Abra, Cody. This is a surprise. I'm afraid you just caught us. Marci and I are on our way out. She's still dressing."

"You'll have to be late," Cody said curtly. "This can't wait."

"Sounds serious." Tim checked his watch before gesturing them into his library. "I can always squeeze out a few minutes. Marci's never on time anyway." He went to a small ebony bar. "What can I get you?"

"An explanation." Abra took a step toward him, needing to see his eyes. "As to why you've been using substandard equipment on the Barlow project."

His hand shook once, and the whiskey spilled before he steadied it and poured. That was all she needed to be sure of the truth. "What in the world are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about materials that don't come up to code. I'm talking about payoffs and kickbacks and bribes." She grabbed his arm when he started to lift his drink, and her fingers dug in. "I'm talking about ruining a reputation your father spent his life building."

Whiskey in hand, Tim turned. Though the room was cool, there was already a light film of sweat beading above his mouth. "I have no idea what this is all about, but I don't appreciate being accused of any illegalities." He tossed back the whiskey, then poured another. "I realize my father had an affection for you, Abra, and that you feel a certain personal interest in my company. But that doesn't excuse this."

"Be careful." Cody's voice was too soft and too mild. "Be very careful what you say to her, or I may just decide to go with my instincts and break your arms."

The sweat was dripping now, hot and sticky down his back. "I don't have to stand here in my own house and be threatened."

Cody simply shifted in front of the door before Tim could storm out. "You're going to stand here and be a lot more than threatened. The game's up. We know about the materials, about the inspectors you bribed, about the laborers who were paid off to install and keep their mouths shut. Funny thing, Tim, it turns out that some of them have consciences."

"This is ridiculous. If someone's been skimming on the material, I intend to find out about it. You can be sure I'll initiate an investigation."

"Fine." Abra put a hand on his arm and looked him in the eye. "Call the building commissioner."

"I'll do just that."

"Do it now." Abra tightened her grip when he tried to pull away. "I imagine you have his home number. We can have a little meeting right here tonight."

Tim reached for his glass again. "I have no intention of disturbing the commissioner at home on a Saturday evening."

"I think he'd be very interested." Abra recognized the fear in his eyes and gave him one last push. "While you're at it, why don't you call Tunney, too? The commissioner's going to want to talk to him. Somehow I don't think Tunney's a man who'd be willing to take the fall alone."

Saying nothing, Tim sank into a chair. He drank again, this time in small sips, until the glass was empty.

"We can work something out." He leaned forward, his hands braced on his knees. "It's business, you understand. I took a few shortcuts. Nothing that has to matter."

"Why?" She'd needed to hear him say it. Now that he had, her anger drained away. "Why would you risk everything for a few extra dollars."

"A few?" With a laugh, he snatched the bottle from beside him and poured more whiskey. He'd already had too much and too quickly, but he badly needed more. "Thousands. It came to thousands. You skim here, cut through there, and before you know it there are thousands. I needed it." The liquor steadied his hand as he drank. "You don't know what it's like being the son, being expected to do things as well as they were always done. Then there's Marci." He glanced up as though he could see her in the room above his head. "She's beautiful, restless, and she wants. The more I give, the more she wants. I can't afford to lose her." He dropped his face into his hands. "I bid too low, way too low, on this project. I thought I could pull it off somehow. I had to. There are debts, debts to the wrong kind of people. Ever since I took over, things have been going wrong. I lost fifty thousand on the Lieterman project."

He glanced up when Abra said nothing. "It wasn't the first time. For the past nine months the business has been dropping into the red. I had to make it up. This was the best way. Cut a few corners, sweeten a few pots. If I brought this in under budget and on time I'd be in the black again."

"And when there was an electrical fire?" Cody put in. "Or the supports gave way? What then?"

"It didn't have to be that way. I had to take the chance. I had to. Marci expects to live a certain way. Am I supposed to tell her we can't go to Europe because the business is in trouble?"

Abra looked at him and felt only pity. "Yes. You're going to have to tell her a lot more than that now."

"Work isn't going to start again on Monday, Tim." Cody waited until he brought his head back up. "It's not going to start at all until after a full investigation. You bit this off, now you're going to have to swallow it. You can call the building commissioner, or we can."

Tim was getting drunk. It helped somehow. "You haven't told anyone?"

. "Not yet," Abra said. "You're right that I felt close to your father and that I feel a responsibility to the business. I wanted you to have a chance to make this right yourself."

Make it right? Tim thought desperately. How in God's name could he make it right? One official inspection and everything would be over. "I'd like to speak with Marci first. Prepare her. Give me twenty-four hours."

Cody started to object, but Abra touched his arm. The wheels were already in motion, she thought. Another day wasn't going to stop what had begun. She could give him a day, because she'd cared for his father. "You'll set up a meeting at your office? For all of us?"

"What choice do I have?" His words were slurred now by drink and self-pity. "I'm going to lose everything, aren't I?"

"Maybe you'll get back your self-respect." Cody took Abra's hand. "I want to hear from you by nine tomorrow night, or we'll make that call."

Outside, Abra pressed her fingers to her eyes. "Oh, God, it's awful."

"It's not going to get better."

"No." She straightened and glanced back at the house. The light was still burning in the library. "This was going to be my last job for them. I never expected it to end like this."

"Let's go."

Tim heard their car start up and sat listening as the sound of the engine died away in the night. His wife, his beautiful, selfish wife, was primping upstairs. In a fit of rage, he hurled his glass across the room. He hated her. He adored her. Everything he'd done had been to make her happy. To keep her. And if she left him...

No, he couldn't bear to think of it. He couldn't bear to think of the scandal and the accusations. They would crucify him, and he would lose his business, his home, his status. His wife.

Maybe there was still a chance. There was always a chance. Stumbling to the phone, he dialed a number.