“You have. We haven’t had a decent dinner in three days; you’re running exhausted every evening; and it would be different if I couldn’t handle the business, Erica-but I know why you’re doing it and it’s completely unnecessary. If you want to do something, do what you did in Florida. You liked that historical society-”

“Kyle-”

“No more of it,” he said flatly. He stood back up, hands on hips again.

She drew in her breath, frightened of that new glacier-blue in his eyes. “You’ve only got so many hours in a day, Kyle. You can’t possibly do it all…” Instinctively, she stood up, too, but he stepped back before she could touch him, and rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers again. He was exhausted and fighting it. “Kyle, I like the work,” she said softly. “Can’t you understand-”

“I understand exactly,” he said wearily. “Hell, Erica, I…” He shook his head as if he could shake off the bleakness that had come with too many overburdened days, and then gave up. “I’ve got to go out.”

And then he was gone, with the chilling abruptness that was so typical of him these days. Erica automatically picked up the cloth again and dipped it in the solution, trying to convince herself that her whole body didn’t suddenly feel tense and off-balance. She studied the wood she was working on, but the project had lost some of its fascination. A few minutes ago, the work had given something back…a beauty, a texture, a feeling of creativity and personal satisfaction, feelings she was only beginning to realize were intensely important to her.

Now she felt appallingly unsure, all too aware what an amateur she was. Half a year ago she would not have known the difference between oak and any other light wood. In itself, that was no crime. Nor was the liberal arts degree that had never been intended as anything but window dressing, nor were the social graces she’d learned rather than practical skills, or the fancy hors d’oeuvres she could still whip up faster than hamburgers. There wasn’t anything wrong with the way she had been raised; it was all just so…useless. She felt an impatient, idiotic blur of moisture fill her eyes.