doesn't look like it, but we're nearly done. The carpenters just have a

bit of finish work here and there and mister-I mean the tile man is

coming Monday to finish the bath."

"It looks like a warehouse."

"Actually, it was a factory," Marianne chimed in. "We've sectioned it

off here and there with gla.s.s brick. That was Emma's idea. It's great,

isn't it?" She pointed to the waist-high wall that separated the living

area from the kitchen. "We got some terrific old appliances," she

continued, and taking his arm, gave him the tour.

"Emma's bedroom's going to be here. The gla.s.s makes it private, but

still lets in the light. I'm upstairs-a sort of combination studio and

bedroom. Emma's darkroom's already set up through there, and come

Monday the bath should be not only functional but attractive."

He hated the fact that he could see the potential. Hated it because it

made Emma seem less like his little girl than a woman, and a stranger.

"Have you decided to do without furniture?"

"We wanted to wait until it was finished." Emma knew her voice was

stiff, but couldn't prevent it. "We aren't in any hurry."

"Wanna sign here?" Buddy pushed a clipboard under her nose. "You're all

set." He blew his nose into a red bandana, then eyed Brian. "Hey. Hey,

aren't you-well, sure you are. I'll be d.a.m.ned. McAvoy. You're Brian

McAvoy. Hey, Riko, this here's Brian McAvoy. Devastation."

"No s.h.i.t?"

Automatically Brian's lips curved into a charming smile. "Nice to meet

you."

"This is great, just great," Buddy went on. "My wife's never going to

believe it. We had our first date at your concert here in T5. Can I

get your autograph?"

"Sure."

"Jesus, she's never going to believe this." While he searched in his

pockets for a s.n.a.t.c.h of paper, Emma picked up a notepad and handed it to

her father.

"What's your wife's name?" Brian asked Buddy.

"It's Doreen. Man, she's going to drop dead."

"I hope not." Still smiling, Brian handed over the autograph.

It took another ten minutes, and an autograph for Riko, before they were

alone again. Taking her cue, Marianne disappeared up the curving

wrought-iron s"airs.

"Got a beer?" Brian asked.

"No. Just some soft drinks."

With a restless move of his shoulders, Brian wandered to the front

windows. She was so exposed here. Couldn't she see it? The big

windows, the city itself. The fact that he'd bought the first-floor

unit and installed Sweeny and another man inside didn't seem to matter

now that he was here to gauge the situation himself She was vulnerable.

Every time she walked out on the street.

"I was hoping you'd choose somdthing uptown, with security."

"Like the Dakota?" she said, then cursed herself "I'm sorry, Dad. I

know Lennon was a friend."

"Yes, he was." He turned back. "What happened to him should make you