Absolutely, Positively

this. What about that little duet concerning tomatoes that we just sang together? We're opposites.”

    He shrugged. “Opposites attract.”

    “Come off it, Dr. Trevelyan. Don't give me that nonsense. I expect better logic from someone with a Ph.D.”

    “It's not nonsense. It's a basic principle in the science of magnetism.”

    Molly lifted her eyes toward the high ceiling. “We are not a couple of magnets.”

    “Look, I'm not suggesting that we get married,” Harry said quietly. “I'm suggesting an affair. What's so damned difficult about that idea?”

    “You don't think it sounds just a tad cold-blooded?”

    Harry hesitated, as though he sensed that he was on dangerous ground. “I think it sounds like a rational way to establish a relationship. We're obviously attracted to each other physically.”

    “Yeah, but we don't communicate too well, do we?” Molly retorted with grim relish. “If nothing else, I think we established that fact this evening.”

    “What of it? According to the shrinks, men and women rarely do communicate well.”

    Molly was intrigued. “You read those pop-psych books?”

    “I was engaged to a psychologist for a while a year and a half ago. You hang out with shrinks, you pick up a few things.”

    “Nothing contagious, I trust. Look, Harry, I don't think your idea is a particularly brilliant one.”

    “Why not?”

    She sighed. “Because I'd probably drive you crazy.”

    An odd, unreadable expression flashed in Harry's eyes. It was gone in the next instant. “I've thought about that possibility,” he said dryly. “But I think that I can handle the situation.”

    “Gosh whiz, I can't tell you how relieved I am to hear that.” She glowered at him. “What about me? You're just as likely to make me crazy, too.”

    “Are you telling me that you don't think you can cope with my pompous, arrogant, stubborn ways?”

    For some reason, that annoyed her. “If I can cope with business competition, rude customers, and the mountain of tax forms I'm required to file just to keep my shop running, I can probably cope with you.”

    “Is there someone else?” Harry asked softly.

    She grimaced. “No.” She paused to slant him a sidelong glance. “I take it you're not involved with anyone else, either, or we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

    “You're right. There's no one else. There hasn't been for quite a while.”

    “Same here. Doesn't sound like either of us leads an exciting social life, does it?”

    He smiled. “I'm hoping to change that.”

    “You're right, you know,” Molly said with a sigh of regret. “We've got absolutely nothing in common. What on earth would we talk about on a date except the Abberwick Foundation?”

    “I don't know. Want to find out tomorrow night?”

    Molly felt as though she were standing on the brink of a giant, bottomless whirlpool. She was gathering the nerve to dip one toe into the swirling currents when she suddenly remembered a previous engagement. She was amazed at the degree of disappointment she felt.

    “I'm busy tomorrow night. I'm going to take my sister shopping for her college wardrobe. She starts her freshman year in the fall.”

    “Friday night?”

    Molly took a deep breath and prepared to jump into the whirlpool. “All right.” Panic set in almost immediately. “But this will be just a test date. First, we find out whether or not we're going to bore each other silly over dinner. Then we'll decide what to do after that.”

    Harry smiled. “I won't rush you into anything. I'm the slow, methodical type, remember?”

    Except when you're plucking knives out of thin air, Molly thought.

3

    Josh wandered into the kitchen shortly after seven. He was dressed in jeans and a green pullover. His hair was still damp from the shower. He yawned, dropped onto one of the black wire-frame chairs in front of the granite counter, and reached for the French press coffee pot. The rich aroma of the Gordon Brooke Special Dark City Roast blend wafted through the air.

    “'Morning, Harry. Sorry about interrupting things last night.”

    “Forget it.” Harry spread thePost Intelligencer out on the counter. He handed the sports section to Josh and then turned to the headlines.

    Both men fell into a companionable silence as they munched cereal, drank coffee, and read the morning paper. The routine was a familiar one. They had observed it together ever since Josh had come to live with Harry at the age of