Skye and Sean were in Sean's apartment. They had been watching a movie on the DVD player. It was a favorite of Skye's and Sean paid attention to it.

"So how come you are being so nice?" she asked him.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You wouldn't unless you want something."

"I want you to move in with me, remember?"

"But if I did, what would happen to your behavior?"

"Oh, you think this is just to get you to move in and then I'll return to my charming self."

"Uh, yeah."

He laughed and put his arm around her. She eyed him warily.

"What?" he said, trying to look serious. "I'll be good," he said. "I am easy to live with. My college and law school roommates have always said so."

"That's different," Skye said.

"I can do things for you that I couldn't do for them," he said, kissing her on the neck.

This was true, Skye thought.

How could a woman know what to do here? It seemed impossible.

She kissed him, experimentally.

"Oh," he said. "So maybe you forgive me?"

"There's a risk," she said.

"Are you willing to take it?"

His honesty never failed to surprise her. "I think, maybe, yes, I am," she answered. She was sure he was a liar, yet she could never pin down when he was doing it. But there were enough times when he was honest and she could know it that it was indeed always in question that he might be this time.

Yet some day he was bound to do something stupid again. But now he was massaging her back. And she was relaxing.

Damn, she thought.

Soon they were in his bed.

Damn, thought Skye. OK, this is just for the sex. I'm using him for the sex. That's all. "Oh," she groaned. "Don't stop what you're doing."

Later, she asked him, "Have you ever lived with a woman before?"

"No," he said. "Just roommates. One time there were three of us and one of them was girl, but that was just being roommates."

"Oh," Skye said. "You've never been engaged?"

"No. I tried once, I asked Quinn and she said no. What about you?"

"I've never been engaged. I've never lived with a guy, of course. I've only lived at my family's house."

"So you think maybe you should be on your own first, rather than living with a guy?"

She looked at him. "Maybe. Or before trying to live with you, maybe."

He smiled and cuddled her in the most uncharacteristic way. Skye relaxed for a little while. You couldn't always be suspecting a guy of playing you, she thought. Sometimes you had to just let things take their course.

V. called Amanda and asked her if she wanted to come along for a ride to Buffalo to pick up a painting she had on display. The display was over, and V. needed to get her painting back.

This sounded very benign and unthreatening to Amanda. Curious, she said she'd go. She knew V. had helped out Amy and had been good about the pot plants with her Dad. If V. wanted some company for a car ride, Amanda thought, she'd give it to her.

"I was talking to your Dad the other day," V. said, when they were on the road. V. had picked Amanda up at Amanda's apartment.

"Oh, Amy showed you the garden. I know. I'm sorry she put you in that position. Amy can be a real ornery one sometimes. I'm really grateful about you letting it go. With dad, that is."

"I think Amy forgot," V. said.

"No way," Amanda said. "Amy just wanted you to go talk to Dad."

"Huh?"

"You know, doing a little matchmaking. She thinks Dad likes you."

"Do you?" V. could feel her stomach flipping this way and that, and could hear the tremor in her own voice.

"I wasn't around when Amy was. But once she mentioned it, I could see it. At Oksana's wedding, for example, you guys were dancing and – I'm sorry, V. Maybe you don't want to hear this."

"Your Dad's a grown man," V. said, eyes on the road. "He can talk to whoever he wants."

"He can, but if he's nervous, and he has this thing about how he hasn't dated in forever – he didn't even find Patti on his own! His friend Duane Edwards asked Patti to fix him up and she couldn't figure out who to fix him up with except for her!"

"Patti," V. laughed. "Yeah, she had already fixed me up."

"I think I am getting him to wake up to the idea," Amanda said. "He has this idea that his marriage didn't go bad, it got stronger, to the very end, and so it's not like Duane or Patti, when they are divorced."

"That would be hard. It wasn't like he wanted the marriage to end. And with a divorce, even if you didn't want it, your opinion of your ex has to go down because they wanted the divorce."

"Yeah," Amanda said.

"What about you? Does Amy tend to you as much?"

"She'd do better to pay attention to herself!"

"What about the guy you went to the wedding with? Are you still seeing him?"

"He called once," Amanda said, " I couldn't make it."

"Maybe you can ask him over for dinner," V. said.

"I guess I could."

"If you like him, that is."

"I do, but you know, sometimes, V., I don't expect it to last, so I don't lead him on. That would be wrong, wouldn't it?"

"You've got to be honest with him," V. said, feeling didactic. " But your Dad was telling me about how it was your Mom's birthday. And that has a lot to do with it, I think."

"My mom? What could she have to do with Jackson?"

"It's complicated," V. said. "But I kind of know. I mean, I don't keep relationships going very well, either, so I can't talk. But I did get some counseling once, and I thought it helped. But I know where you're coming from. For me, it was my dad. I would think it terms of why fall in love with someone when he might die and I'll have to go on without him? And my mom was devastated and I could see that."

"Yes, I saw that with Dad. He never talked about it losing his wife. If we mentioned Mom, Dad would retreat. It was scary."

"Seeing your parent collapse. Your only parent. The only one you have left. But can he talk about it now?"

"Yes, and that has made things a lot better for us. Amy is so – well, Amy was always talking about Mom. Sometimes I resented it. Like she was getting over it too fast. I know it's because she's younger, and sometimes I'm afraid it will hit her really hard some day. I've had days where I wasn't thinking about it and then out of the blue it will hit real hard. Somebody says something. I was at Oksana's one when Quinn was there, talking about her mom going with her to pick out her wedding dress."

"And you'll never have that experience. I know. It reminds every time there is something that happens, too. My police academy graduation, for instance. My dad would have been so proud."

After V. picked up her painting, she asked Amanda if she wanted to go back with her to the boxcar for a little while.

Elizabeth was there, and Patti was talking to her.

Elizabeth winked at V. V. knew that meant Patti must have started telling Elizabeth about her problems.

"Doesn't sound like a problem to me," Elizabeth was saying, "Unless you're just really prejudiced because of his age."

"I know, Elizabeth," Patti said. "Don't take it wrong, I mean, you're married, and you're about his age, I don't mean you're not mature. Just that well, it's me. I'm so much older than he."

"But you like him," V. said. They looked up at V. and greeted her. V. introduced Amanda.

"Maybe I shouldn't talk about this," Patti said. "I fixed V. up with him."

"It's OK," V. said. "Matt's all yours."

"Matt told me I got the dates backwards," Patti said. "At least, he thought so, or maybe it was just a line."

"Rick and I caught the bouquet and the garter," V. said, trying to joke about it. "What better sign could there be for you and Matt?"

Patti smiled, but shrugged. "That he was closer to my age might be a better sign."

"Don't we need Sarah in on this?" V. said, still trying to lighten Patti up.

Elizabeth laughed, and kept painting.

V.'s cell phone rang.

"Oh, hi Amy," V. said, looking at Amanda. "Sure, that'd be nice. Friday? OK. That's nice, Amy. I'll see you then." She closed her phone and looked at Amanda. "She invited me over for dinner."

"See, she's still working on getting you in the same room with Dad," Amanda said.

"It's OK," V. said.

"It's quite OK," Elizabeth said, to Amanda.

"I think there is some way in which a younger man is a good thing," said Patti, returning to the subject that was on her mind. "I think he is sincere. It's just that he's young and doesn't realize that he might change his mind. But if he did, I can't feel that it would be as hateful as it was for Kevin to do it. Kevin was a married man with three children, and he should have known better."

"Sarah has the fact that Duane didn't want his divorce," Elizabeth said. "Matt's a mystery. You don't know if he can commit. Like Sarah knows Duane can, that's one of her theme songs."

"And I can't really expect him to, and yet I'm not even sure I can, and then I wonder if I should be involved in something that can't be a good example for my kids. Especially Taryn. She's going to think there is no such thing as commitment. She already had issues with it over Jeremy."

"How about your parents, or other long term couples, you can point to them," V. said helpfully. "Tell Taryn it can work out. Amanda's Dad, for example. He was married to her mom until her mom died. Till death do us part."

"Really good evidence of ability to commit," Elizabeth said. "There's my parents."

"My grandparents, too," Amanda said, helpfully. "If you need another example, that is."

"Thanks, Amanda," Patti said. "There's you too, Elizabeth. I can guilt you into staying with my brother."

"You don't need that," Elizabeth said. "There's Sarah too. Once she makes up her mind to a thing, that's it. I'm sure whoever she marries will stay married to her. He'll have to. He won't know what hit him."

"See, plenty of examples," V. said.

"Thank you, guys," Patti said. "You're the greatest. If you ever need to feel better about something, come to me and I'll make you feel better. You've done it so much for me."

Laraine was in her car, looking for Oksana's house. It was an unusual thing for Oksana to ask someone to bring her something at home. Never happened before, everyone at Deception agreed. They thought Laraine was lucky.

It wasn't a neighborhood Laraine spent a lot of time in. Her parents used to drive she and her brothers through, when they were kids, at Christmastime, to see the decorations on the big houses. But in the area closer to the lake, where Oksana's house was, you couldn't see much in the way of decorations, except of the gatehouses.

Finally she came to the house, as it had been described in the directions Oksana's secretary had given her. The gatehouse looked imposing, but no one stopped her there. The gates were open, so apparently there would be no need to get out and get someone to buzz her in. That somehow seemed odd, like Oksana was very trusting, and rich people really shouldn't be, thought Laraine.

There were several cars parked out in front, off to a side of the main house. They were surprisingly ordinary, though one was a dark-colored Porsche sports car.

A servant-like person answered the door and ushered Laraine into a large room with windows looking to the front. Waiting, Laraine went to one of the windows and looked out. She could see her car and a corner of the gatehouse.

Laraine looked around at the expensive furniture and decorations. In spite of them, the house felt comfortable. She could hear a murmur of voices from the back.

Oksana came into the room and thanked Laraine for coming all the way out to the house with the company financial reports. She said it was a big help to her. She was traveling the next day and didn't have time to stop at the office, and she hated reading these things on computers.

"I'm glad to do it," Laraine said. Oksana could just print them out, couldn't she? Well, maybe she'd be flying and didn't have time to do that at her house. Oksana had this way of respecting her employees that generally had them willing to do anything for her, so Laraine didn't question it more.

"Come back to the kitchen," Oksana said, in a friendly, inviting sort of way. "That's where everyone talks. I don't know why. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Thank you," Laraine said. She followed Oksana down that hall. "That's the study room, the library," she said, pointing at an open door. "We call it school."

In the kitchen, there were four people sitting casually around the table. An elderly Asian lady, Oksana's son, her niece and her brother.

"This is my mother, Anna," Oksana said. "My son Aleksander and you know Mikhail and Irina from the park, remember?"

"Yes," Laraine said, stunned and having a hard time understanding why she was. But Mikhail looked just as shocked as she was, to see her there. And had better reason. Laraine wondered why it didn't occur to her that Mikhail might be in this house.

"Hi," Irina said, in a friendly enough tone. She was drawing something on a piece of paper.

"Hi, Irina," Laraine said, feeling the slightest bit relaxed.

"This is Laraine Breyer, she is one of our accountants, and I ask her to bring me some of the finance statements," Oksana told them.

"Asked," Irina corrected.

"Nice to meet you," Oksana's son stood up and shook her hand. "I'm Zander."

Oksana went looking in the refrigerator and asked Laraine if she wanted a coke. "Yes, thank you," said Laraine, unable to think about anything so complicated as picking out a beverage.

Oksana's mother moved and patted the bench beside her, as a way of asking her to sit down. Laraine smiled at her and sat down.

Mikhail was then sitting across from Laraine, pretty much still staring at her. This is getting to be routine, Laraine thought. Whoever gets talked to first gets to recover first.

At the London Underground, he and Clay wore white shirts with black vests and bow ties. Supposedly, that made them look English. She couldn't remember what he wore in the park, she could only remember his eyes. Here, somehow, she had a chance to look more and saw he had on blue jeans and a white wife-beater T-shirt and he only looked about ten times more attractive than before, in that.

Laraine felt severely outclassed for a moment and certain that at least three hundred single women a week must parade through the London Underground. She decided she was going to get this guy out of her head. He couldn't speak much English, anyway.

Then she caught his eye and that resolution dissolved as quickly as she had made it.

Oksana handed Laraine the coke with a touch of a smile that had Laraine suspecting that Oksana might have set her up. It was ridiculous and Laraine felt guilty yet at the same time there was something pretty good about Oksana doing that, if she had.

"Pretty girl," said Anna, kindly.

Laraine smiled at her. "Thank you," she said.

"Dances on Tables," Mikhail said.

Laraine stared. Of course. He worked there. She blushed and felt embarrassed all over again just from being able to feel she was blushing.

"Sounds like a native American name," Zander commented. "You know, like Dances with Wolves." He turned to Mikhail and said something in Russian, presumably explaining what he had just said.

"I wasn't even drunk when I did that," Laraine said. "I was just feeling – very good, because two friends from work were being so nice to me, bringing me there because they knew I had a rough day with the IRS agent – tax man," she added, feeling that phrase might be better for Mikhail.

"Mom said the IRS was there," Zander said. "She's had that happen before with her other businesses. So did my dad. They used to get flustered but eventually they didn't think it was a big deal."

Laraine smiled at Zander. She was really grateful to him for the way he kept the conversation going comfortably.

"There," Irina said, showing Zander the paper she had been drawing on. "That's me, and that's Mom, and that's the immigration guy."

"It's lucky your Mom lives in America, too," Laraine said.

"Tatiana's just visiting," Zander said. "She has to go back after September 29 or she's an illegal alien."

"Oh, that's too bad," Laraine said. "Isn't there some way to get them to let her stay?"

"Unfortunately, nothing right now," Zander said. "It takes years for it to be a person's turn for a green card. Mikhail wound up waiting since even before Irina was born."

"Imagine that," Laraine said to Irina. "You had a green card before you were born."

"More or less," Zander said. "Or the right to one when she was older and the waiting period was up."

"I guess you guys know a lot about that stuff, having had to deal with it," Laraine said. "Have you ever gone to another country, besides the US or Russia?"

Zander looked like he was going to answer that, but then said, "Let me see if uncle can understand that question and answer it."

"Sure," Laraine said.

"Say it again?" Mikhail asked her.

Laraine said it again, rephrasing it a little to simplify it. For a second she thought he didn't understand it. She was about to say something else, when he said, "I understand." It was the answer, or coming up with the words of it, that slowed him down. He looked at Zander and said something in Russian, and "India," and Zander repeated, "India."

"I go to India, work," he said to Laraine. "I went to India."

"For work," Zander said. "Gazprom and its oil pipelines."

"What's Gazprom?" Laraine asked, looking at Zander. No way could Mikhail answer that.

"Russian oil company," said Mikhail.

"That was your employer?" Laraine looked at him, surprised that he could answer, after all.

"No, my company have – had – deal with them."

"A deal," Zander said. He looked at Laraine. "No articles in Russian," he explained.

"They aren't really necessary," Laraine said. "Deal, a deal. No big deal."

Mikhail laughed. Laraine felt witty.

"I feel bad for your mom – grandmom," Laraine said. "She doesn't seem to understand us."

Anna patted Laraine on the arm. "Is OK," she said.

What a nice lady, Laraine thought.

"Mikhail learn English, better," Anna said. "Irina really good."

"Yes," Laraine said. "I think I can't pronounce your name," she said to Mikhail.

"Americans always just say it with a plain English 'h,'" Zander said. "They don't get the Russian letter 'ha.'"

"This is America," Mikhail said. "Don't have to say it right – pronounce how you want."

"I'd be doing it wrong if I were standing in Red Square saying it," Laraine said.

Mikhail smiled. Zander did too.

"It's Michael, right?" Laraine said. "That ha letter sounds like a 'k.' How come we don't at least get that in there?"

"I don't know," Zander said. "It must be just not natural to English. The ha is not the same as a 'k' either. Sometimes the bar customers, the regulars, call him 'Mick.'"

Mikhail smiled, remembering that.

"I'm not going to call him that," Laraine declared.

"You can," Mikhail said. "Take me a long time to get yours right."

"It's OK," Laraine said. "You could say Lane. My mother has the same name, but she's called Lane."

"Nah, you don't want people calling you by your mother's name," Zander said.

"Probably not," Laraine agreed. "My brothers sometimes just say 'rain.'"

"That's a good short cut," Zander said. "Get that down, uncle, and then when you have that build on it."

"Easier than Dances on Tables, too," Laraine said. She turned to Zander. "You call your uncle just uncle, rather than Uncle Mikhail."

"That's a carryover from Russian," Zander said. "The custom there is you just call them aunt and uncle, alone, like mom and dad or grandpa or grandma. But he always wants to go the American way. I'll start doing that. Uncle Mick."

"OK," Mikhail said.

"How about your cousins?" Laraine asked. "Cousin Irina? Just cousin?"

"Not always, but sometimes, yeah, sometimes I just call her cousin. Sort of like people calling each other bro or sis."

"Yeah, we do that in English," Laraine said. "We have plenty in common." She looked from Zander to Mikhail. Mikhail was looking at her. Of course he was.