Her heart clinched in her chest and she tried not to feel guilty. For it certainly wasn't her fault. Whatever happened between Martin and Sherry was… well, it wasn't her fault. It couldn't possibly-

But when his eyes met hers, she realized that there was no way to prevent the guilt from creeping into her chest, where it was bound and determined to overwhelm her. "I-I'm sorry." She managed to say, albeit in a hushed whisper. But as she suspected, Martin merely scoffed.

"Yeah? Well… so am I!"

The words stung and as he moved past her to return to his beloved chair, she bit back a sob. Almost instantly she felt a hand on her back and she turned to find Frasier smiling sympathetically. "I-I'm sorry." She whispered once more.

Amazingly he smiled. "It's all right. I'm sorry for getting so angry. We were just worried about you, Daphne. I certainly was, and Dad was too. And as for Sherry-."

"I-."

"Don't apologize. I know that Dad's a little upset, but to be honest-."

Daphne laughed softly and took Frasier's hand. "I know." She turned to find Martin in his chair; Eddie in his lap. Martin's gaze was fixated on the television. And then she returned her attention to Frasier. "You must be hungry. I'll get your breakfast started right away."

"You don't have to do that."

For the first time since she'd faced the wrath of Martin and Frasier, she smiled. "I want to."

When she returned from the kitchen, she felt a sudden sense of freedom. She was alone, free to run the kitchen the way it was meant to be run. There was no one to tell her what kinds of horrible things to make Mr. Crane for breakfast or to tell her that she needed to put on some weight. The idea that she was, in a sense, completely and utterly alone was, by all accounts, wonderful.

They ate breakfast in silence, Daphne with her omelet, Frasier with his dry toast and juice, and Martin with his oat bran. Every once in a while she would look up and see Frasier smiling politely at her before returning his attention to his breakfast. But when she looked at Martin, he was not smiling. She found herself torn between the guilt of knowing that Sherry was gone and in sharing Frasier's happiness and relief that Sherry was no longer in their lives.

Wordlessly she stood and began to gather the breakfast dishes. "Can I get you anything else?"

Frasier mumbled a barely audible "No." While Martin said nothing. A quick trip to the kitchen to dump the dishes into the sink and then start a pot of tea and she was back at the table, trying her best to pretend as though nothing had happened; nothing at all.

But then something did happen.

She sat sipping her tea, feigning interest at the view from the huge picture window. The sun bounced off of the buildings, casting a beautiful glow across the Seattle skyline. And then she heard the rustling of newspaper.

"Hmm... Looks like we're in for another scorcher, according to that fellow on the local news channel."

This, for some unknown reason, peaked Martin's interest. "Which one?"

Frasier looked up in surprise. "Which one, what?"

"Which newscaster?"

"I have no idea." Frasier replied. "But I also had no idea that a weather-forecaster could be so well-versed."

Daphne tried to hide her smile. It was so like Frasier to carry on a conversation with his father over something so silly.

"Sure was hot last night." Frasier remarked. His words made Daphne stiffen, but she remained calm. That is, until his next comment. "Daphne, I trust that you were comfortable last night in the heat, wherever you were?"

She couldn't look at him; couldn't look at either man. Her head was swimming with thoughts of his handsome, sexy younger brother. Thoughts that were oh-so wrong. Oh God, had she really…

She shouldn't think about such things, even to herself. It was dangerous on so many levels. But she knew that in her heart that the dangers of thinking about him in the romantic (and sensual) manner could only lead to something else.

It was wrong to even think about going down that road… even if she so desperately wanted to.