"I asked Ramsey to teach me to read more. Maybe I'll read about that man in a book."

"Yes, an excellent idea."

"Mama said I was so smart that I'd be reading about crime and punishment before I went to school this fall."

MOLLY looked at her father, who was slightly elevated in his hospital bed, a newspaper on his lap, his reading glasses on. He wasn't happy, but she wasn't about to back down. She wanted Emma out of here, as quickly as possible. He said in that particular mildly contemptuous way he always spoke to her, "You will marry here."

She just shook her head. She wasn't going to argue with him. She said mildly, "You've already seen me get married once. You don't need to do it a second time."

Ramsey said, "We'd like to get Emma out of here and safe."

"She's so safe in San Francisco?" Mason said, his sarcasm biting. "That bastard took her from right under your goddamned nose, Ramsey."

Eve said, "Mason, there are Ramsey's parents. It isn't fair to them."

He didn't even look over at her. "Keep out of it, Eve. This doesn't concern you."

She merely smiled down at him, seemingly untroubled. She said, "I think I'll go get some tea. Oh yes, Ramsey, the car's coming for you at three o'clock, if that's what you decide." She looked down at her Cartier watch, smiling a small but quite amused smile.

They left at five minutes after three, Molly's good-byes to her father curt. The media knew their plans, naturally, likely from a leak from the limo company. Ramsey and Molly watched the media take off after the town car with its thankfully tinted windows. He smiled. "Let's go, Gunther. Good idea. Well done."

I'm married, Molly thought, staring at her pale face in the mirror. Married again. Only this time I'm an adult, not a stupid immature kid. This time I married a good man and he's so sexy I don't think I can stand it. And he loves Emma to death.

She grinned at herself, touched on some lipstick, and slowly slipped the gorgeous peach silk nightgown over her head. Ramsey had presented it to her just ten minutes before, right in front of Emma, since there was no choice. "No more cotton tents," he'd whispered in her ear. "This is for both of us. Actually, tonight, I guess it's for Emma too." He looked as if he wanted to break into tears.

She walked out of the bathroom, leaving the light on for a moment, knowing it backlighted her very nicely.

Emma called out, sounding awed, which really pleased Molly, "Mama, you look like a fairy princess. Ramsey and I have been waiting for you. And waiting. I want to get married so I can wear that, too."

Emma sounded as bright as a new penny, enthusiastic, about as far from being asleep as a new puppy. So what? In the long run, it wasn't important when she had a wedding night, when she was finally alone with her new husband. Things would happen when it was time. She gave Emma a big hug, making her squeak she squeezed her so tightly. "We're married and we're all together," she said, smoothing her fingers through Emma's hair. "We're lucky, Em. I really like our man."

Ramsey was still wearing a beautiful dark suit and pristine white shirt. His tie wasn't as conservative. In fact, it was a psychedelic mishmash of purple, pink, and yellow squiggles. He looked big and tough, and his smile would have charmed the gold out of a miser's teeth.

"He promised me he wouldn't ever get fat, Mama," Emma said.

"That's right," Ramsey said. "I don't believe in it. However, to help me keep that promise, you've got to get me to a gym before too much more time passes. Well, Emma, we're married. Do you approve?"

There was a thread of fine tension in his voice. Molly cocked her head to one side, staring at him. Surely he knew that Emma was nuts about him. She understood. He had to hear it. He was waiting, all quiet.

Emma pulled away from her mom and walked to him. She held up her arms. He picked her up and held her close. She drew back and said not five inches from his face, "You're the best man in the whole world, Ramsey."

"Thanks, Emma. I think you're about the greatest little kid. And just look at your mama. She's not bad herself. I got myself a fairy princess." He hugged her again, then said to Molly, "Emma and I are going to wake you up every hour and tell you how beautiful you are."

"In theory I like the sound of that," Molly said, walking toward the king-size bed. "Now, you cutthroats, how about we play some Old Maid?"

"No, Mama, you know I like gin rummy better."