He didn't seem to notice the ironic edge to her tone. "Just that. Of course, I'd feel like I could really go for it if your situation were settled." He threw her a charming glance and all at once she remembered the way he had been the first time she had seen him. Profound and compassionate, he had been dedicated to helping his students escape from the relentless message of a consumerist society. His first question for the class, that first day, had been, "So, what did you buy today?" The follow-up had been, "Why did you buy it?"

It seemed ages ago, before he'd given her the presence of mind to accept herself. She amended her thoughts. To accept herself as he saw her. She had never accepted herself as she was. That much was clear. Of course, to accept herself as she was she needed to understand who she was. That equation was too complicated and frightening to approach rationally, so she put it away.

"My situation? Oh, you mean job. I'm going to look into the master's degree I turned down. I haven't kept up on the field, at least not much, and a lot changes in four years in the sciences. There may be opportunities I never foresaw. Certainly, there may be developments I can't follow or understand." It was an unsettling thought.

"So you really are going to do it? What are we going to live on? I don't think my paycheck will cover the mortgage."

"It does, you know," she said softly. She wanted to explain to him that he would have to figure it out from now on. She felt as if she was being a little unfair to him. She knew a part of his future and he had no clue. "And we live so cheaply." She felt a fraud to say "we."

"You could get something part-time, maybe? That wouldn't interfere too much with your studies."

Dumbfounded, she realized he was being supportive. He was actually suggesting a solution that would allow her to pursue her dreams. "Would this all be okay with you?"

"I admit that last night I was taken aback. I meditated on it, and what you said was right. Just because I didn't understand why someone wanted something didn't mean they shouldn't want it. Certainly not when it comes to improving the mind. You want this and if you are careful to avoid the negative applications of what you learn, you should be fine."

She pretended the need to change lanes so she could look away from him. It had been four years since she'd dropped that letter into the mail and said good-bye to this future. Why did he have to be this way all of sudden? Understanding, encouraging even? She had not caved in yesterday, had not admitted that she had made what he declared a mistake. Had he finally realized she had a right to a mind of her own?

Had she misjudged him? Was all of this turmoil of her own making? She'd never been friendly with a lesbian before. Maybe it was just her libido talking a" finally. Lesbian sex was foreign, forbidden, exotic. It was Murphy and her hands, and imagining them on Tori's body. A fantasy, but nothing more. Maybe that was all there was to it. Yes, that could be all. She would plug that notion into a formula and see if she could live by it.

"Am I being presumptuous?" His sudden question made her look back at him.

"About what?"

"You said the degree you turned down. That was at MIT. That's a long way from here."

"I a" I wasn't considering colleges yet. I was going to step back and look at the field and try to measure what ground I would have to make up."

His nod was approving. "That's a good plan."

She felt even more like a liar. He had obliquely asked if her plans meant she would consider moving. She had as much as said no. But she was going to move. Wasn't she? Where had her anger gone?

It was well after sunset when they finally reached the Ventura Highway and turned north for the last time. The wedding was at one of the private estates that lined the cliffs from Oxnard to Santa Barbara. The two faculty who were marrying had had to move up the date because of a parent's illness, and had taken a Friday evening at the elegant location instead of settling for another site. On a clear day the Channel Islands were plainly visible and the drive was soothing and beautiful. Tonight the ocean was silent and distant and a light drizzle had begun when they reached Glendale. Clay seemed to have dozed off. Holly was glad of his silence, but not the dark.

The dark was a palette and her mind filled it with images and fantasies. The dark made it too easy. Raindrops wandered down the windshield, becoming prisms in the lights of oncoming vehicles. Each flare of light was a moment from the past that she examined as if she was cleaning out her mental attic. Keep this memory, throw that one away.

Keep the part of Clay she could still respect. He was right about a lot of things a" about pesticides, and testing cosmetics on animals. She remembered the first lecture that first day in class, when he had explained what ought to have been self-evident. A simple thing: for the price of lunch at McDonald's, a person could buy tortillas, rice and beans and feed not just themselves, but four other people as well. So why not do that? Tuning out the relentless pace of modern life, which encouraged the belief that there wasn't time to make your own sandwich, was ultimately rewarding to both body and spirit.

But she had to ask herself, When was the last time Clay had made himself a meal. Why would he, you idiot? He has you.

Oh, but he was right about the public love affair with technology. Much of what he'd said had come true. Technology wasn't helping people transfer work to machines, it was making people and machines interconnected. Look how reliant she was on her Palm Pilot. Clay hated it, but it helped her manage her time. Sure, she could live without it, probably ought to.

Or not. Was he right about everything? Everyone probably would be better off disconnecting themselves from machines and living off the land. Of course if everyone tried it millions would starve. But he was wrong about strawberries in January. And electric blankets. And what he implied was her lot in life.

She'd been so proud when he'd organized a campus protest against invasion of privacy through the routine disclosure of medical records from the school medical center. As a result, the policy for the entire state system had been changed. He'd loved the signs she'd made, the food she'd brought to the all-night vigil. But did he make anything himself?

She wanted this to be Jo's fault. She needed it to be Jo's fault. She did not want to be twenty-six going on sixteen, still a child and discovering that her hero was just a man, as flawed as any, no worse than most.

Clay helped decipher the map when they turned off the highway. It was hard to shake away the last image she'd painted against the darkness, that of Geena holding Tori.

She found a parking space in the congested, narrow street outside the gates of the house and wished the rain would stop. She waited while Clay shrugged into his suit jacket, then they went up the wide marble steps together. The massive bulk of the house was lost in the night, but festive lights drew them to the front door. As soon as the door opened Holly was washed over by lively music from a small baroque ensemble. It was bright and warm inside. The darkness, with its forbidden pictures, receded.

They mingled and Holly chatted with people she knew from faculty parties, then followed the musical cues when it was time for the ceremony. It was simple and heartfelt and she liked it. She knew how Clay felt about weddings, but there was something deeply human about the proclaiming of commitment and loyalty in front of family and friends. Someday she wanted to do that. Maybe without the lilac-hued roses and long white gown and seven attendants, none of which was her style. But the declaration a" yes, she would love to feel that way about someone.

And there it was, she thought. You're still looking, she acknowledged to herself. She could not envision making such a declaration with Clay. Maybe she wasn't angry any longer, but their relationship was definitely over. If they weren't moving toward a point when they gave each other their futures then what exactly were they doing? Playing house, as Tori had said?

Vows were exchanged and followed by a kiss. Holly tried to imagine herself as a bride, but she didn't fit in this picture. She had to fit somewhere, she thought.

They followed the bride and groom to the reception hall when the rituals were concluded. The quiet contemplation during the ceremony had given her an insight she wanted to think more about, but a new band was striking up a lively swing number, making it hard to think.

Clay took her elbow for a moment and she had to consciously resist the urge to pull it out of his grasp.

"Holly, you are looking wonderful. You've lost weight." Winnie Maltin was the dean's wife, and she had always been friendly. The dean was on the other side of the hall, in a cluster of faculty.

"No, I'm just not wearing all my usual layers. It is a party, after all." She felt gratified for having made an effort.

Winnie regarded Clay. "You look the picture of health, as always."

Clay flashed his charming smile. "As do you." After all the years, however, Holly could tell he was already finding the socializing tedious. It was superficial, he had so often complained, and the ability to talk comfortably with people at parties should have no bearing on how a person was evaluated.

"That necklace is beautiful," Winnie continued, turning back to Holly. "I don't think I've seen you wear it before. Certainly not the earrings."

"They were my grandmother's. Her name was Rose. She left them to my mother. I've had them since she died."

"What delicate work. American Beauty roses, aren't they? There's a greenhouse at the rear of the house and they have some beautiful roses in there. George and I were looking at them earlier. You should stroll through it."

Colleagues drew Clay away and Holly chatted with Winnie for a while. The dean stopped to say a few words, then went on his way. Winnie excused herself shortly thereafter, and Holly was abruptly alone and far from where Clay was putting his hands in his pockets and looking disapproving.

What a drip. The thought was unbidden and she knew then that it had to be over. She sipped her sparkling wine with a silent toast to her own future.

After a moment she became aware of a man next to her. She glanced up and he smiled congenially. "How do you know George?"

"I'm a friend of a Fullerton professor," she answered. "And you?"

"Stan Barquette," He held out his hand and Holly shook it, hoping her reluctance didn't show. "I know George from way back. He's a man to consult when you need to make a decision. After a talk with him, I decided to run for the Assembly in district thirty-three."

"Whereabouts is that?"

He launched into a pat speech about his district, its concerns, the needs of his future constituents and how the current representative was headed the wrong way. "He's a good man," he concluded, "and I don't take anything away from his intentions. But it's time for different ideas."

Holly merely nodded politely. Like Clay, she had few illusions about politics and politicians. In response to Stan's polite question she said, "At the moment I'm considering if I'll go into teaching as well."

"Really? Well, we can certainly use all the teachers we can get. Do you have kids? Do you like working with them?"

"No, and I don't know."

"Teaching is a rewarding field, whatever level you decide to teach. Grade-school teachers are the most badly needed."

Suspicious that his assumption was that as a woman she would be most interested in teaching young children, she replied, "I've read that. However, I'm not sure many grade schools have much use for a conceptual mathematician."

It would have been comical if it hadn't proven Aunt Zinnia right. Like something in a cartoon, curtains came down in his eyes and he took a nervous half-step away, feigning a need for one of the napkins on the nearby buffet. Men want decent women, she could hear Aunt Zinnia say, and they'll never be convinced that a woman who is smarter than they are isn't outsmarting them in other ways a" ways that decent women wouldn't consider.

To give the devil his due, Clay had never reacted that way to her brain. But a" oh, shut up, Joa" he had successfully stopped her from furthering her academic success. Was it because he couldn't handle the idea of having a relationship with someone who was smarter than he was, or at least appeared to be?

You don't know how smart you are, she reminded herself. Mathematics could have gone light-years ahead of you while you ran actuarial data. You've never stretched yourself, just rested on what was easiest. Don't go thinking that anyone will be eager to have you. Jo is not right about everything.

Stan had begun to realize he was having a conversation mostly with himself and he ambled away to pursue other networking opportunities.

"How do you know the bride and groom?"

The beautifully modulated voice in her ear startled her and she nearly spilled her wine. She turned to find that the voice matched the speaker, and she was momentarily tongue-tied, but the curvaceous blue-eyed blonde smiled as if she was used to giving people a moment to pull themselves together. "I'm... a friend of a Fullerton professor. How about you?"

"I'm here with a friend of a friend. Window dressing. I don't mind."

Puzzled, but not really caring, Holly asked, "Do you live in Ventura?"

She felt slightly dazzled by the smile she received. "No, I have the obligatory rat-infested apartment in Hollywood so I can write the folks back home in Clearfield, Iowa, that I live there."

"I'm starting to think you look familiar."

"I did a shampoo commercial and a beer billboard." She laughed and then tossed her head so her long blonde hair drifted through the air like spun gold. "Does this look familiar?"

Holly had to swallow hard. "I don't watch television so it must be the billboard. That must be a terribly hard business to break into."

"It is. I'm Galina Gerrard, by the way." She held out her hand.

"Holly Markham." It was a good thing that was all she had to say because the touch of Galina's fingertips sent surprising tremors up her arm. She told herself that she had never been impressed by looks over actions. How could she possibly be tongue-tied, just because Galina was gorgeous?

Galina didn't let go, not right away. Her smile dimmed slightly, but there was new warmth in her eyes.

Holly finally took her hand back and said the first thing that came into her head. "People in Iowa name their daughters Galina?"

"No," Galina said, her eyes sparkling. "Galina is a better name for an actress than Ruby Sue."

She ought to have been in a panic. She ought to have done something to get herself to safety. She was falling, drowning, and all she could think was that she did not want to move.

"Oh shit," the actress said suddenly. "Please say you'll be around for a while. I have to go shmooze with the guy I came with. He's winking at me." She looked torn.

"Go take care of business," Holly advised, not wanting her to go and desperately afraid of why.

"I'll look for you in a little bit."

She nodded. Had she just made an assignation? What was she doing?

Yet she knew exactly what she was doing. She was watching Galina walk away in her skin-tight blue silk dress and imagining... wondering...

She escaped to the greenhouse, leaving the wine and party noise. She needed to be clearheaded. But she didn't want to solve for the simplest answer, or think about the variables that would help her explore the chaos she could feel swelling inside her. For a perilous moment she had envisioned herself in a wedding ceremony, and the groom wore a blue silk dress.

The greenhouse was quiet and dimly lit, heavy with the scent of roses and rich soil. She noticed a profusion of lily-of-the-valley set into a nearby alcove, and she thought of her mother. And wished, as she had not wished in a long time, that her mother hadn't died, because she needed to talk to someone she trusted. How could she be so confused? She'd had female friends before, and never felt this way.

She went to her knees to inhale the delicate fragrance of the nearest bloom and tried to clear her mind. Could she forget this if she meditated? It had never worked for her the way it did for Clay. Her mind would wander and she always found herself worrying about incomplete chores.

It was several minutes before she realized she wasn't alone in the long, plant-crowded room. On the other side of a wall of hanging plants she heard whispered voices. She thought about clearing her throat, then a low cry sent her crouching farther down. It was a woman who cried out and her eager moan pounded in Holly's ears.

Was this what women sounded like? She had never made those sounds, never groaned in what sounded like pain but could only be pleasure. She could hear an echoing moan from the man, then it was drowned out by the woman's fervent, whispered pleas.

The thrumming in her ears twined with the woman's voice, and when the stifled, urgent groans subsided she played it all again in her head. She had never made those sounds, never heard them before, but now it was so easy to hear Tori with Murphy, with Geena. To consider, to wonder, what it would feel like to have no choice but to make those noises, to be so aroused and fulfilled that there was no choice but to moan with proof of it.

When she surfaced from her reverie she was alone, feeling ill and dizzy. It would be cold outside. That would help.

She stood in the drizzle for longer than even her simple hairstyle could take, but she couldn't make herself go back inside.

"What the heck are you doing out here?"

Galina a" Ruby Sue, Holly thought. Anyone named Ruby Sue could not be dangerous. But she was, and so beautiful, so vivacious. Her silk dress was getting wet.

"Trying not to be seen."

"Oh. Shall I leave?"

Holly shook her head and felt weak. "There was a" I was in the greenhouse and then this man and woman came in and before I could tell them they weren't alone they were a""

"Really?" Ruby's eyes seemed to have a light of their own. "Let's go peek."

"They're gone," Holly admitted. She wanted two things at once a" to go and to stay.

"Who was it?"

"I don't know. Some woman in a black dress, that's as much as I saw or wanted to see."

"Let's go make sure. Folks in Clearfield told me that Hollywood parties were just orgies, and I've never yet seen anything the least bit juicy. It's been kind of disappointing." Galina seized Holly's hand and pulled her toward the greenhouse door.

Holly went with her. She felt weak, desperate, wondering how to solve her equation. How do women feel? How would she feel? She could hardly hear Galina's rapid-fire questions over the thrumming in her ears.

"Here? Or over there?"

She pointed.

"Oh, I see." Ruby disappeared around the wall of hanging plants. "From here you can't see either door. During the day the windows would give you away, but at night, in the dark..."

Holly turned the corner into the little alcove created by the plants and benches. There was also a small armchair and an unlit reading lamp. She told herself to make a joke and to get the hell out of there. She was too close to Galina, who had perched on the arm of the chair.

"Where were they? Over here?" Galina pointed to the dimmest corner.

Holly nodded. "I didn't see much. I was right around there, but on my knees to smell the lily-of-the-valley."

"This is kind of professional curiosity." Galina looked at her through long, silky lashes. "I mean, let's face it. This sort of thing doesn't happen all that often. At least not in my circle of acquaintances. Certainly never in Clearfield. I want to be an actress, and sex in semi-public places happens all the time on television and in movies. Just seeing someplace where it did, and putting myself into that woman's position a" was it just a quickie for some couple who likes to take some chances? Perhaps it was old lovers who felt the old passion when they ran into each other. Or did they meet tonight and feel the urge to do something dangerous?"

"I don't know." Questions like this had never occurred to her, not until tonight.