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it’s Monday. How about tomorrow?”
    She glanced at her calendar and saw that it was buried beneath a three-ring binder stuffed to the gills with notes. But then, she really didn’t need to look at the page. It was another day filled with meetings. “For brunch? I can’t make it—”
    â€œNo, brunch would be a little hard for me, too. And the girls have school. I meant dinner.”
    Elisha smiled to herself. Her brother’s voice was in direct contrast to hers. She always sounded as if she’d just finished running a marathon, while his voice sounded as if he felt confident that he had all the time in the world. Each word he uttered was given the respect of clear enunciation and recognizable cadence. She didn’t know how he did it, or how they could be related for that matter. But she was glad they were.
    She did want to see him. She always enjoyed their visits. Quickly, she began to assess the situation.
    There were several assorted piles on her desk. Manuscripts cohabited with incoming mail, several catalogs she’d brought from home in the vain hope of glancing through them during one of her so-called breaks, and three books by Albert Mann that she’d picked up God only knew when. The thought behind the last was to see whether or not the author might be a good addition to their prestigious stable. She’d heard that Mann wasn’t happy with his present publishing house and now might be the time to begin wooing. If he was worth the effort.
    She sighed. All these things, and others, contributed to making up an almost insurmountable wall around her, cutting her off from the world at large and any pleasure that wasn’t somehow, directly or indirectly, attached to work.
    Which meant that she was going to have to turn her brother down, much as she hated to.
    â€œTomorrow? Henry, I’m sorry, but I’m swamped. I really can’t.”
    â€œWhen do they let you come up for air?” There was no sarcasm in his voice. Henry wasn’t capable of it. But he was protective and she knew he was only thinking of her when he asked the question.
    â€œHow does New Year’s 2010 sound? You can be my date if you’re not married again by then.”
    Instead of a comeback or teasing banter, there was a long pause on the other end.
    Damn, was this a bad day? Had she trod on his feelings again? Since Rachel had died, Henry had devoted himself almost exclusively to the girls and to his job. And to her when she could squeeze him in. Dating just wasn’t something that entered into the picture, even when one of his well-meaning neighbors tried to set him up with someone. He politely but firmly turned them down, thanking them for the trouble they might have gone to on his account. He wasn’t interested in looking for someone to share his life and his bedroom with.
    They had that in common, Elisha thought, except that they had arrived here by different routes. He’d had the near-perfect marriage to the near-perfect woman and didn’t want anything to detract from that memory. She, on the other hand, had had relationships so far removed from perfect they had a completely different area code. She was out of the game because she was tired of looking.
    Her brother was a different matter. She was hoping that, in time, because he had so much to offer, Henry would find someone. Lord knew he deserved to achieve some measure of happiness on that level again, even if it wasn’t completely perfect this time. Henry always seemed to bring out the best in everyone. She had no doubt that her brother could have married the Wicked Witch of the West and in no time at all the woman would have voluntarily transformed so that her personality rivaled that of the Good Witch of the North.
    â€œNo,” he told her quietly, “I can pretty much guarantee that I won’t be married by then.”
    There was something odd in his voice. A note of sadness that she