Vera didn't like that thought. It had plagued her for eighteen years, and she didn't like it. Paul wasn't that way. He'd married her from love, not some odd sense of guilt. She had to believe that. They'd had too good a marriage for it to be based on guilt and pity.

She wondered suddenly what Roger was doing. Maybe he'd gone to Loon Key to meet Paul, impulsively wearing away in the hopped-up car he shouldn't have been allowed to buy. Maybe the two of them were together, father and son, having a drink and talking motel business.

Vera sighed heavily. Not a chance. If Paul had gone south to the Keys, then Roger would have headed north. It was that way between them. The more attention she gave Roger, the worse it became. She was in the middle. She wished they could love each other as much as she loved them both, but it seemed impossible.

There was a sound from the front of the house. Paul-finally! She hurried towards the door, heedless of her half-nudity, only glad he was home.

She halted abruptly when her son came bursting into the house, drunk and grinning and foolish. He flung his arms wide and whooped.

"Hot damn! There's a naked lady in my house-and she's just waiting to put me to bed!"

Vera looked at his silly grin, the boyish shock of blond hair and the pretty smile, and she couldn't be angry. She covered her tits with her arm and sighed reproachfully.

"Oh, Roger-you'd drunk as a lord again. Honestly, I wish that law had never been passed."

"Not too drunk to see your titties, pretty lady," he grinned, calling her by his pet name, leering exaggeratedly.

Vera smiled. She couldn't help it She loved him. And with Paul shutting her out of his life, she had come to love her son and more, because she had come to know him.