AN: Hey all! Sorry for the long wait to update. And, sorry for the fact that this chapter is so short, but you'll see why I left it off where I did when you get to the end of the chapter. Oh, and if any of you from around the Newport, Rhode Island area recognize anything a tad bit familiar, that's because that's where the book is set, and it's very hard to change it from Newport to London, so I'm going to be using the same names for some of the buildings. And that's all I have to say, so . . . on with the chapter!

Disclaimer: I'm not even going to say it, because you know already.

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Chapter 2

xxxxxx

Friday, September 27th

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He strode briskly down a main street, his hair blown by the stiff wind that had sprung up earlier that afternoon. The sun had been quite warm at the height of day, but down its rays were no use against the sharp wind. It seemed to him that the shift in the air had reflected his own changing mood.

Till now he had been successful in his plan of action, but with Nuala's dinner party only two hours away, a premonition was coming over him. Nuala would become suspicious and start to confide in her stepdaughter. Everything could start to unravel.

Deep in thought, he paused as he came to The Breakers, that most marvelously ostentatious jewel, that palace, that breathtaking example of what money, and imagination, and driving ambition could achieve . . . pathetic. It was built in the 1890's, and although exquisite, it was nothing compared to the next exhibit.

Fifteen minutes later he came upon it: Latham Manor, the magnificent edifice that had been a worthy, more tasteful competitor to the vulgarity of The Breakers. Originally the proud property of the eccentric Latham family, it had fallen into disrepair in the lifetime of the last Latham. Rescued from ruin and restored to reflect much of its earlier grandeur, it was now the residence of wealthy retirees, living out their last years in opulence.

He stopped, feasting his eyes on Latham Manor's majestic white marble exterior. He reached into the deep pocket of his windbreaker and pulled out a cell phone. He dialed quickly, and then smiled slightly as the voice he had hoped answered. It meant one less thing he had to worry about later.

He said two words, "Not tonight."

"Then, when?" a calm, noncommittal voice asked after a slight pause.

"I'm not sure yet. I have to take care of something else." His voice was sharp. He did not permit questions about his decisions.

"Of course. Sorry."

Breaking the connection without further comment, he turned and began to walk swiftly.

It was time to get ready for Nuala's dinner party.

xxxxxx

Nuala Moore hummed as she sliced tomatoes on the cutting board of her cheerfully untidy kitchen, her movements quick and confident. The late afternoon sun was about to set, and a stiff breeze was rattling the window over the sink. She could already feel a slight chill seeping through the poorly insulated back wall.

Even so, she knew her kitchen was warm and inviting with it's red-and-white colonial paper, worn red-brick linoleum, and pine shelves nd cabinets. When she finished slicing the tomatoes, she reached for the onions. A tomato and onion salad marinated in oil and vinegar and generously sprinkled with oregano was a perfect accompaniment to a roast leg of lamb. Her fingers were crossed that Hermione still loved lamb. When she was little it had been one of her favorites. 'Maybe I should have asked her,' Nuala thought, 'but I want to surprise her.' At least she knew Hermione wasn't a vegetarian—she had ordered veal the night they were together in Manhattan.

The potatoes were already bouncing in the big pot. When they had finished boiling, she would drain them, but not mash them until the last minute. A tray of biscuits was ready to pop in the oven, and the green beans and carrots were all prepared, ready to be steamed minutes before she seated her guests. (AN: Isn't this making you HUNGRY? It's torture typing it!)

Nuala peered into the dining room, double-checking. The table was set, she had done that first thing this morning. Hermione would sit opposite her in the other host chair. A symbolic gesture, she knew. Co hostesses this evening, like mother and daughter.

She leaned against the doorframe for a moment, reflecting. It would be wonderful to have someone with whom she could at last share this terrible worry. She would wait a day or two, the she would say, "Hermione, I have to talk with you about something. Maybe I'm crazy or just an old, suspicious fool, but . . ."

It would be so good to lay her suspicions before Hermione. Even when she was little she had a clear, analytical mind. "Finn-u-ala," she would begin when she wanted to share a confidence, 'her way of letting me know that this was going to be a very serious discussion,' Nuala remembered.

'I should have waited until tomorrow night to have this party,' she thought. 'I should have given Hermione a chance to at least catch her breath. Oh well, typical of me—I always act first and think later.'

But she had wanted to show Hermione off to her friends after talking about her so much. And also, when she asked them to dinner, she had thought that Hermione was arriving a day earlier, but Hermione had phoned yesterday to say there was a problem with one of the jobs, that it was going to take more than expected to complete.

"The art director is a nervous Nelly and is agonizing over the shots," she had explained, "so I can't come until about four or four thirty tomorrow."

Then, at four today, Hermione had phoned. "Nuala, I tried to call a couple of times earlier, but the line was busy. I'm still stuck here with this stupid director, and he won't let me leave until seven thirty, so I'll come right over then.

"But, Hermione, it's an hours drive from London to Fairfield!" Nuala had replied. "You'll never make it in time!"

"Oh, Nuala, don't worry about that! I'll Apparate right inside your house promptly at seven thirty into the guest bedroom that I'll be staying in. I'll be sure to let you know I'm there so I don't scare you, all right?"

"Apparate? What in the world is that?"

"It means that I disappear from the studio and reappear in your house at almost the exact same moment," she had explained.

"Oh, it's another one of those wizard terms I'll have to get used to, I suppose," Nuala had replied with a laugh.

"I'll see you soon, Nuala."

That was how the conversation had ended. Thinking about it, Nuala smiled. It would have been awful if Hermione had been delayed yet another day because of that darn director.

Since there was nothing more she could do for the moment, Nuala decided to sit down and watch the early evening news. That would still leave her time for a nice, hot, relaxing bath before people started to arrive.

She was about to leave the kitchen when there was a rap at the back door. Before she could look through the window to see who was there, the handle turned. For the moment she was startled, but as the door opened and her visitor stepped in, she smiled warmly.

"Hello there," she said. "Good to see you, but you're not due for another couple of hours, so you can't stay very long."

"I don't plan to stay long," her visitor said quietly.

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AN: Oooooh, I bet that just sent chills up and down your spine! Now you see why I simply COULDN'T continue! But, I do promise a very long chapter next time to make up for it, and it will be updated MUCH sooner than this chapter!