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passed briefly across his face, so quickly it was gone almost before she could notice it. “I’ve had mine. Lilly’s had hers. Hell, Doc Alonzo’s had a couple.”
    She smiled and rested her forehead on her knees. “I guess I’m in good company then.”
    He crushed the paper cups and leaned back on his elbows. They sat for a long while, watching the sun rise above the oaks. A rabbit crossed the lawn, not warily but bold as brass, stopping halfway and staring at them, nose twitching, as if they were intruders on his turf.
    Jack stared out across the lawn. “Phone lines seem to be down,” he said.
    She looked at him and didn’t speak.
    “Fax isn’t working either,” he continued pensively. “I guess anyone looking for you is going to come up empty-handed.”
    “Guess so,” she said softly, and the corners of her mouth lifted in the ghost of a smile. “I appreciate it, Sheriff.”
    “Jack.”
    “Federica, then.”
    The comfortable silence returned. Federica watched a hummingbird flit among the morning glory, which climbed the walls of Harry’s Folly.
    “I think,” she said to Jack, “I’ll go back up to bed for a nap. It’s been a strenuous morning.”
     
    FAX FROM: Frederick Mansion, San Francisco Administrative Headquarters, Mansion Enterprises
    FAX TO: Federica Mansion, c/o Mayor’s Office, Carson’s Bluff
     
    Federica,
    I have sent you five email messages. I can only hope that this long silence means that you are locked in twenty-four-hour negotiations with the Town Council of Carson’s Bluff. Still, you could have had one of the secretaries send me a fax in code. Why is your cell phone switched off?
    You have our negotiating parameters, and I expect you to stick to them. This silence is extremely annoying and I trust you will contact me soon.
    Uncle Frederick
     
    MESSAGE NOT RECEIVED/ NO SIGNAL
     
    FAX FROM: Ellen Larsen, Inter Airways, SFO Airport
    FAX TO: Federica Mansion, c/o Mayor’s Office, Carson’s Bluff
     
    Federica—you there? Knock twice if you’re among the living. I’ve been trying and trying to call you, but to no avail. Have left any number of messages on your answering service. You’re not answering your emails.
    I can only imagine that you’re tied up in business, but do get in touch the minute you’re free. I’m off tomorrow and the next day, so we could get together here if Uncle Frederick slips the leash a bit. You’ll find me at the usual Inter Airways hellhole. This time he’s found a place to put us all up at for $34. He’s overpaying. Eat this fax.
     
    MESSAGE NOT RECEIVED/ NO SIGNAL
     
    Federica awoke from her morning nap and contemplated starting her afternoon nap early when she heard a deep male voice calling her name from downstairs.
    Jack.
    She smiled and swung her legs over the bed, searching with her toes for her flip-flops and finding them. Going barefoot twice was perhaps a bit much.
    Something, somewhere in the back of her mind told her that when she had been someone else, in another incarnation, she had been relentlessly formal. She had never encountered anyone unless she had been dressed, coiffed and made-up properly for the occasion.
    Federica shook her head.
    So much wasted energy.
    She combed her fingers through her hair, gave a quick, disinterested glance at herself in the mirror on the dresser, and went out to the Folly’s spectacular staircase and leant on the balustrade, looking down into the immense foyer.
    Jack Sutter stood in the center of the mosaic-tiled floor. He smiled up at her and held up a big paper bag.
    “Lunch,” he announced.
    Federica felt a sharp tug, somewhere in the vicinity of her heart.
    “Why sheriff,” she said. “Déjà vu all over again.”

Chapter Three
     
    They had lunch on the Folly’s immense lawn, soaking up the sunshine.
    When the sun was directly overhead, they moved beneath the shade of a century-old oak, watching the leaves shimmer in the light breeze.
    “This picnic,” Jack announced, “is a