"Congratulations on the drilling start-up," Gage said to Hardy. "You've had some impressive finds in a short time. High-quality pay reserves, I've heard."

Hardy smiled and lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. "We've had some luck."

"It takes more than luck."

They talked about geochemistry and an analysis of well cuttings, and the difficulty of estimating productive intervals in the field, and then the conversation turned to Gage's alternative technology company.

"It's gotten out you're working on some new biodiesel," Hardy said.

Gage's pleasant expression didn't change. "Nothing worth talking about yet."

"Not what I heard. Rumor has it you managed to cut down on the NOX emissions.. .but the biofuel itself is still expensive as hell." Hardy grinned at him. "Oil's cheaper."

"For now."

I knew a little about Gage's private views on the subject. He and Churchill both agreed the days of cheap oil were almost at an end, and once we reached the supply-demand gap, biofuels would help stave off an economic crisis. Many oil people, friends of the Travises, said it wouldn't happen for decades and there was plenty of petroleum left. They joked with Gage and said they hoped he wasn't planning to come out with something to replace petroleum, or they'd hold him responsible for lost business. Gage had told me they were only half joking.

After minute or two of excruciatingly careful conversation. Hardy glanced at me and murmured, "I'll head out now." He nodded to Gage. "Nice to meet you."

Gage nodded, turning his attention to Carrington. who was trying to tell him more about the horses.

"I'll walk you to the door," I said to Hardy, profoundly relieved the encounter was over.

As we walked, Hardy put an arm around my shoulders. "I want to see you again," he said in a low voice.

"Maybe in a few days."

"I'll call tomorrow."

"Okay." We stopped at the threshold. Hardy kissed my forehead, and I looked up into his warm blue eyes. "Well," I said, "the two of you were very civilized."

Hardy laughed. "He'd like to rip my head off." He braced one hand on the doorframe, sobering quickly. "I don't see you with someone like him. He's a cold son of a bitch."

"Not when you get to know him."

Reaching out, Hardy took a lock of my hair and rubbed it gently between his fingers. "I think you could probably thaw out a glacier, honey." He smiled and let go, walking toward his SUV.

Feeling tired and bemused. I went in search of Carrington and Gage. I found them in the

kitchen, raiding the refrigerator and pantry.

"Hungry?" Gage asked.

"Starving."

He set out a container of pasta salad, and another of strawberries. I found a loaf of French bread and cut a few slices while Carrington brought three plates.

"Just two." Gage told her. "I've already eaten."

"Okay. Can I have a cookie?"

"After lunch."

While Carrington got out the napkins. I looked at Gage with a frown. "You're not staying?"

He shook his head. "I found out what I needed to know."

Mindful of Carrington nearby, I held back my questions until the plates were fixed and set on the table. Gage poured Carrington a glass of milk and set two small cookies on the edge of her plate. "Eat the cookies last, darlin'," he murmured. She reached up to hug him. then started on her pasta salad.

Gage gave me an impersonal smile. "Bye, Liberty."

"Wait—" I followed him out, pausing only to tell Carrington I'd be right back. I hurried to keep pace with Gage. "You think you've got Hardy Gates all figured out after seeing him for five minutes?"

"Yes."

"What's your take on him?"

"There's no point in telling you. You'll say I'm biased."

"And you're not?"

"Hell, yes, I'm biased. I also happen to be right."

I stopped him at the front door with a touch on his arm. Gage looked down at the place my fingers had brushed, and slowly his gaze traveled to my face.

"Tell me," I said.

Gage replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "I think he's ambitious to the bone, works hard and plays harder. He's hungry for all the visible signs of success—the cars, the women, the house, the owner's box at Reliant. I think he'll throw away every principle he's got to climb up the ladder. He'll make and lose a couple of fortunes, and he'll go through three or four wives. And he wants you because you're his last hope of keeping it real. But even you wouldn't be enough."

Blinking at the harsh assessment. I wrapped my arms across my front. "You don't know him. That's not Hardy."

"We'll see." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "You'd better go back to the kitchen. Carrington's waiting."

"Gage.. .you're mad at me. aren't you? I'm so—"

"No. Liberty." His face softened a little. "I'm trying to figure it all out. Just like you."

I saw Hardy a few times over the next couple of weeks—a lunch, a dinner, a long walk. Beneath the conversations and silences and reconnecting intimacy, I tried to reconcile the adult Hardy had become with the boy I had known and longed for. It troubled me to realize they weren't the same...but of course I wasn't the same either.