She followed him through the house as he gave a guided tour. It was quite lovely - everything - the art and furniture - everything. She found herself wishing her mother's taste in interiors was as clean. His library was impressive - and the computer workstation, too.

"This is where you write?" she asked, touching the edge of a large antique maple desk.

"This is the place," he nodded, corner of mouth curved in a smile, a dimple - a nicely chiseled chin.

"Nice view," she said, looking out the window and across the valley, wondering what was happening at home.

"Melissa - may I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why...