ngratulated
her on having a cell phone. "I should have had pepper spray," she said
angrily. "I'm getting some today."

"I'm going home," Joe said.

" You sure you don't want your face looked at? They kicked you after
that one guy hit you with something."

"The little one?"

"He wasn't so little."

"The skinny one?"

"Yeah," Rhiannon said.

"They're the ones you got to watch," Joe said. "I'll go home and clean
up, take a couple of aspirin, take it easy."

"I know!" Rhiannon said. "I'll make you dinner." Joe couldn't talk her
out of it.

At five o'clock, she was standing at his door holding a grocery bag.
She was wearing square cut black cotton pants and a maroon sweatshirt
pushed up on her forearms. Her hair was brushed back. Joe was shocked
again at how untouched and beautiful she was. He smelled freshly baked
bread.

"Smells good."

"I didn't know how hungry you'd be. I made a quiche. You can warm it up
tomorrow if you don't want it."

"Are you kidding?" He led her into the apartment, and she took
possession of the kitchen area. "I've got something for you," Joe said.
He handed her a book on Vermeer.

"Oooh," she said.

"My contribution to your education."

"Cool. Thanks." Within minutes a meal appeared on the table. "How do
you cook without pans, Joe?"

"A pot and a wok--what more do you need?"

"Really, Joe." She sniffed his olive oil. "I knew I should have brought
some," she said.

He uncorked a bottle of Chianti and gave her the house glass. "I'll use
the mug. Happy days."

"Happy days, Joe."

They began on the quiche. Joe put down his fork after the first bite.
"This is damned good!" Rhiannon nodded calmly.

"I love this," she said, reaching for Maxie's box. She opened it.

"It's an arrowhead from Vermont. My stepson, Max, found it." She
weighed the arrowhead in her palm, as he had.

"Max made the box. He was in New Zealand . . . It's a special wood from
there. Kauri, it's called." Rhiannon placed the arrowhead back in its
oval and turned the box around, looking at it from each side. Joe
pointed at the picture of Stone Man. "He did that, too." Rhiannon
leaned over the table and looked closely at the photograph. Her eyes
opened wider.

"Awesome."

"He balances there and watches over the valley. His hands are weights.
'Stone Man,' Maxie calls him."

"Looks like New England."

"Yup, Vermont. Londonderry."

"I know where Londonderry is," she said. "My father took us skiing
th