“I beg your pardon-”

But Morgan was staring deliberately at Kyle. “That will last until she misses her spring trip to Paris to buy clothes. The swimming pool in the backyard, the country club. Everything she grew up to expect. You can’t give it to her here, can you, Kyle?”

Kyle finished his drink, looking at Morgan, not bothering to answer. Erica felt a knot twist in the pit of her stomach. Morgan’s tone was light; he couldn’t possibly know what a knife wound he had just inflicted on Kyle.

“Morgan,” she said flatly, “I have never in my life gone to Paris to buy clothes.”

“No,” Kyle agreed quietly, “it was New York you and your mother went to for your shopping sprees. Twice a year.” He stood up and stretched. “Maybe it’s time we all called it a night. Morgan, you’re going to be here through the morning?”

Morgan shook his head, standing, too. “I’ve got to get back pretty early. This stopover was stolen time as it was.”

The two men talked a few minutes longer, while Erica got up to take the glasses to the kitchen, then fetched linens to make the couch up as a bed for Morgan. Her stomach was still tied up in knots. The two of them always played the old men-against-the-women war when the trio was together; usually it amused her. It didn’t tonight. They both made it sound as though she valued material things above all else. In the past, she knew they had been very important to her, and yes, occasionally she missed the freedom to buy a steak instead of hamburger or to have fresh strawberries out of season. She was no saint. But she didn’t miss those biannual shopping expeditions, or the swank house in Florida, or Beluga caviar. And her new life offered certain riches she had never had before-the thrill of building something together, a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction in her own work, the pleasure of being an active participant in their marriage, in their…life. It was an opportunity to share a life as they never had before.