"There's too much to tell you." He rested his cheek on my hair. "I thought you might be here, but I wasn't sure...."

He spoke in the voice I had craved for so long, deeper now than in his youth. He was here at the invitation of a friend, he said, also in the oil business. He told me about starting work on the drilling rig—difficult and dangerous—and the contacts he'd made, the opportunities he'd watched for. Eventually he'd quit the rig and started a small company with two other men, one a geologist, the other an engineer, with the goal of finding new pay zones in mature oil fields. At least half the oil and gas in every field in the world was overlooked, Hardy said, and there was a fortune for those willing to go after bypassed pay. They had raised about a million in financing, and on their first try in a spent Texas field, they'd found a new zone worth an estimated two hundred and fifty thousand barrels of recoverable crude.

Hardy explained enough that I understood he was already rich and going to get a lot richer. He'd bought his mother a house. He had an apartment in Houston, which would be his home base for a while. Knowing of his fierce hunger to succeed, to rise above his circumstances, I was glad for him and I said so.

"It's not enough," Hardy said, taking my face in his hands. "The biggest damn surprise of it all is how little it means once you've got it. For the first time in years I finally had a chance to think, to take a deep breath, and I..." A frayed exhalation. "I've never stopped wanting you. I had to find you. I started by going to Marva. She told me where you were, and..."

"And that I'm with someone." I said with difficulty.

Hardy nodded. "I wanted to find out if..."

If I was happy. If I still needed him. If it wasn't too late for us. If and if...

Sometimes life has a cruel sense of humor, giving you the thing you always wanted at the worst time possible. The irony of it split my heart open, setting loose more bitter regret than I could bear.

"Hardy," I said unsteadily: "if only you'd found me a little sooner."

He was quiet, holding me against his chest. One of his hands ran down my bare arm until he reached the tight curl of my fingers. Silently he lifted my left hand, running his thumb over the bareness of my ring finger. "Can you tell me for certain it's too late, honey?"

I thought of Gage, and I was swamped in confusion. "I don't know. I don't know."

"Liberty.. .let me see you tomorrow."

I shook my head. "I promised Carrington I'd spend the day with her. We're going to an ice-skating show at Reliant."

"Carrington." He shook his head. "My God, she must be eight or nine by now."

"Time passes," I whispered.

Hardy held my knuckles up to his cheek, pressed his mouth to them briefly. "What about the day after tomorrow?"

"Yes. Yes." I wanted to leave with Hardy right then. I didn't want to let him go and be

left to wonder if I had imagined him. I told him my number. "Hardy, please... go back inside first. I need a couple of minutes by myself."

"All right." His arms tightened around me briefly before he let go.

We drew apart and looked at each other. I was confounded by his presence, this man who was so like the boy I had known and yet so unlike him. I didn't know how the connection between us could still be there. But it was. We were the same, Hardy and me, we communicated from the same center, we had come from the same world. But Gage...the thought of him wrenched my heart.

Whatever he saw in my face caused Hardy to speak very gently. "Liberty. I'm not going to do anything to hurt you."

I gave a little nod, staring blindly into the darkness as he left.

But he had hurt me in the past, I thought. I had understood his reasons for leaving Welcome. I understood why he'd felt he had no choice. I didn't blame him. The problem was, I had gone on with my life. And after years of struggle and considerable loneliness, I had finally connected with someone else. My feet ached in my Cinderella shoes. I shifted my weight and wiggled my toes beneath the cutting Lucite straps. My Prince Charming had finally showed up, I thought wretchedly, and he was too damn late.

Not necessarily, my mind insisted. It was still possible for Hardy and me. The old obstacles were gone, and the new ones...

There is always a choice. It's a damned uncomfortable thing to know.

I ventured toward the light, fishing in the tiny purse hanging from my arm on a silk loop. I didn't know how I was going to repair the damage done to my makeup. The friction of mouth and skin and fingertips had erased the carefully applied film of color. I powdered my face, and used the tip of my ring finger to wipe smudges of liner from beneath my eyes. I reapplied my lip gloss. The tiny crystal near the corner of my eye was gone. Maybe people wouldn't notice. Everyone was dancing and drinking and eating; surely by now I wasn't the only one with faded makeup.

As soon as I reached the back terrace I saw Gage's dark form, tall and precise as a knife blade. He headed for me in a leisurely stride, catching my chilled upper arm in his hand.

"Hey," he said. "I've been looking for you."

I forced a quick smile. "Just needed a little fresh air. Sorry. Were you waiting long?"

Gage's face was shadowed. "Jack said he saw you leave with someone."

"Yes. I ran into an old friend. Someone from Welcome, if you can believe it." I thought I'd done a pretty good job of sounding casual, but Gage, as always, was terrifymgly perceptive. He turned me toward the light, exposing my face.