Hemlock Bay

can discuss that later. Tell me about your first husband.”
    “All right. His name is Jack Crane. He was even worse than Tennyson. He knocked me around when I was pregnant with Beth. The first and last time. I called Dillon and he was there in a flash, and he beat Jack senseless. Loosened three of his perfect white teeth. Cracked two ribs. Two black eyes and a swollen jaw. Then Dillon taught me how to fight so if he ever came around again, I could take care of him myself.”
    “Did he ever come around after you divorced him so you could beat him up?”
    “No, dammit, he didn’t. I don’t think he was scared of me. He was scared Dillon would get every FBI agent in Chicago on him and he’d be dead meat. You know, Simon, I don’t think having a consultant to select new criteria would help. You can be sure that I thought long and hard about Tennyson, given that Jack was a wife beater.”
    “You didn’t think long enough or hard enough. You have trouble with criteria, Lily, and that’s why you need a consultant, to keep your head screwed on straight, to see things properly.”
    “Nope, it’s more than that. I’m simply just rotten at picking men. Your counseling me wouldn’t work, Simon. Besides that, I don’t need you. I’ve decided that I’m never going to get married again. So I don’t need to consult you or anyone else about it.”
    “A whole lot of men aren’t anything like your first or second husbands. Just look at Savich. Do you think Sherlock ever has any doubts about him?”
    He felt her shrug. “Dillon is rare. There are no criteria that fit him. He’s just wonderful, and that’s all there is to it. He was born that way. Sherlock is the luckiest woman in the world. She knows it; she told me so.”
    She was quiet for a moment, and he could feel her relaxing, warming up, and it was driving him nuts. He couldn’t believe what he was saying to her.
    She said into his neck, “You know, I’m beginning to think that once I marry a man, he turns into Mr. Hyde. He sinks real low real fast. But I guess you’ll tell me it’s because of my lousy criteria, again.”
    “Are you saying that all guys would turn into a Mr. Hyde?”
    “Could be, all except for Dillon. But you see my point here, Simon. Don’t be obtuse. With both Jack and Tennyson, I didn’t believe either of them was anything but what I believed them to be when I married them. I loved them, I believed they loved me, admired me, even admired my Remus cartoons. Both Jack and Tennyson would go on and on about how talented I was, how proud they were of me. And so I married them. I was happy, at least for maybe a month or two. About Jack—he did give me Beth, and because of that I will never regret marrying him.” Her voice caught over her daughter’s name. Just saying her name brought back horrible memories, painful memories she’d lived with for so very long. It had been so needless, so quick, and then her little girl was gone. She had to stop it, cut it off. It was in the past, it had to stay there. She pictured Beth in her mind, decked out in her Easter dress of the year before, and she’d been so cute. She’d just met Tennyson. She sighed. So much had happened and now poor Simon was caught up in all of it. And he suddenly wanted her?
    She said, “You can’t possibly want to consult with me on this, Simon. I think you could say we’ve got a situation here; we might die at any minute—no, don’t try to reassure me, don’t try it. You know it’s very possible, and you’re trying to take my mind off it, but talking about Jack and Tennyson isn’t helping.”
    He just kept holding her and said finally, nodding against her hair, “I understand.”
    “Stop using that soothing voice on me. You know you’re not thinking straight. You know what? I think God created me, decided He’d let me screw up twice, and then He’d keep me safe from further humiliations and mistakes.”
    “Lily, you may look like a princess—well, usually—but what you just said, that was bullshit. I intend to make use of some proper criteria. You’ll choose really well next time.”
    “Just forget it, Simon. I’m the worst matrimonial bet on the planet. I’m warm now, so you can get off me.”
    He didn’t really want to, but he rolled off and came up on his elbow beside her. “This bare mattress smells new. I can make out more of the room now. It’s nice, Lily, very nice.”
    “We’re at Olaf’s house, somewhere in