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turned down this month."
      That was true. Ever since Mitch had rejoined the Washington Metropolitan Police Department a year ago, Mary Beth and a number of other well-meaning policemen’s wives had made it their mission to pair him with some of the capital’s most eligible young women.
      None of them had turned out to be anything more than a passing interest. No matter how much Tom praised the advantages of married life, Mitch’s own experience with matrimony had left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. The women he did date occasionally were women who, like him, had no need for serious attachments. Those relationships, although not terribly fulfilling, accomplished one goal. They helped fill the void.
      "Tell Mary Beth I appreciate what she’s trying to do. But she doesn’t need to worry about me. I’m really a very happy fellow." To prove his point, he gave Tom a broad, silly grin.
      Tom crushed his empty can with a single squeeze of his big hand and tossed it in the trash. "Why don’t you come for Sunday dinner and tell her yourself? She’s making her famous lasagna."
      "No surprise guest?"
      "Nope. Just the Spivak clan. On its best Sunday behavior. "
      Mitch wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulders and walked him to the door. "You’re on, then. I’ll bring the Ruffino."
      Kate’s house was located in Cleveland Park, a quiet, upscale neighborhood in the District’s upper northwest. It was a classic two-story Colonial with green shutters, a screened porch and a large backyard.
      Kate had chosen Cleveland Park not only because of its small-town charm, but also because of its proximity to Potomac, where Alison’s grandparents lived, and to Georgetown, where Eric would be moving after his marriage to industrial heiress, Megan Hollbrook. As much as Kate had wanted to distance herself from her ex-husband after the divorce, it was important for Alison to be near him, to feel she could see him as often as she needed to.
      As usual, the first thing that greeted Kate when she came home was the deafening sound of rock music blasting from Alison’s CD player. Angry at the teenager’s blatant disregard for their neighbors, Kate dropped her briefcase on a chair, shrugged off her camel-hair coat and hurried up the stairs to her daughter’s bedroom. Ignoring the No Trespassing sign hanging from the knob, she flung open the door.
      Alison was stretched out on the bed, her right ankle resting on her left knee and her foot beating in time with the music. In spite of the noise, she seemed totally absorbed in the schoolbook she held.
      At times like these, when her face was free of hostility, Alison’s beauty, caught somewhere between womanhood and childhood, was almost breathtaking. Long, silky blond hair framed a delicate face with high cheekbones, beautiful gray eyes she had inherited from her father, and a small, petulant mouth.
      Unnoticed, Kate marched to the wall-to-wall bookcase and stopped the offending sound with a push of her finger.
      Alison jumped off the bed, a look of shock on her face. "What are you doing?"
      "Turning this earsplitting machine off," Kate said, bracing herself for another fight. "Something I wouldn’t have to do if you didn’t constantly challenge everything I say."
      "You said not to play my music loud. That wasn’t loud."
      "Mrs. Lieberman disagrees. She’s complained twice already."
      In a gesture that was meant to be arrogant, Alison flipped her long hair behind her shoulder and thrust her chin forward. "If we didn’t live in this stupid house, we wouldn’t have to worry about nagging old neighbors like Mrs. Lieberman."
      "This stupid house," Kate replied a little testily, "is your home now, whether you like it or not. So I suggest you adapt." She nodded toward the bookcase. "And that means no loud music. You break that rule one more time and I’ll take your CD player away." Then, half-expecting Alison to retreat to her