Two days after the meeting of the Picchu! Opening Party & Reception Committee, Phoebe sat at her desk trying to decide if she should actually make the effort to attend a step aerobics class after work. She tried to imagine herself stepping and reaching and kicking but somehow the image kept morphing into one of her lying prone on her couch with a magazine, eating licorice. The truth was that she was leaning towards the couch, even if her clothing had become a little snug in the past month.

The reason for the snugness, she knew, was because she ate too many treats at work. People were always bringing in treats as a way to make everyone feel better about the fact that they had to work. It was quite easy to feel sorry for oneself after a hard day at the office. For example, just the day before Carlotta had demanded that Phoebe make a lot of phone calls she didn't want to make, inquiring about "signage" for an event they were going to have. Carlotta kept calling it "signage" instead of "signs" and pretty soon Phoebe found herself saying "signage" on the phone to various sign shops and it made her upset with herself, to know she was snobby enough to say "signage" went she simply meant "signs." In any case, she found herself in the staff room sawing off a hunk of dry zucchini bread that someone had brought in from home. As she chewed it, it occurred to her that she should stop eating it because it was so dry. Who could make a dry zucchini bread when zucchini was quite possibly the most moist vegetable out there? And then she looked down and saw a clump of cat hair sticking out of the hunk of bread. It wasn't simply a single cat hair that had somehow attached itself to the bread (which Phoebe could have easily forgiven), but rather a clump that had been baked into the bread. Phoebe resolved not to have any more treats at work unless someone brought in glazed doughnuts from a Daddy-O, her favorite doughnut shop.

As Phoebe contemplated her after-work plans, she failed to notice that James Trehorn had entered her work space. He rapped his knuckles on her desk to get her attention and, when Phoebe did look over, he leaned forward as if trying to see what was on her computer screen.

"Can I help you with something?"

"I wanted to make sure you received the e-mail I sent out with the minutes from Tuesday's meeting. It's very important that all committee members get the list of entertainment options."

"I got it."

"Oh. Excellent."

Phoebe turned to a file folder that was overflowing with clippings that needed copying. She expected him to turn on the heels of his Cole Haan oxfords and leave but instead he lingered. He took everything in * Phoebe's desk, the photos of her family and friends, her wool car coat hanging from its hook and, finally, Phoebe herself in her cashmere sweater, pencil skirt, boots. He smiled without showing any teeth.

"Listen, I was wondering* Have I ever mentioned that I went to Skootill?"

Skootill was a very small, very prestige liberal arts college that Phoebe had heard of, even though she couldn't point to it on a map.

"No. I don't think you ever mentioned it."

"Not ever?"

"No, I don't believe so."

"Huh. That's funny. Around here I find that, even if I don't mention it, someone else usually mentions it on my behalf. It's something of a rarity, having a Skootiller on staff. Anyway, a very dear friend of mine from Skoot is having a housewarming party next weekend. I was wondering if you'd like to come along."

"Come along?"

"With me."

"Oh." Phoebe dropped her eyes down to her hands, mostly because it was becoming too uncomfortable to look up into James' unblinking blue eyes, sharp nose and pale face. He reminded her of a very watchful and disapproving hawk.

"You could meet me at my place and we'd go from there."

"Oh. You wouldn't be picking me up?"

"I would assume you'd like to see my home."

"Your home?"

"Yes, I live with a few friends from Skootill and we've built our own sauna as well as a workshop in the garage for fixing our cross-country skis. It's really something to see."

James pronounced "sauna" as "sow-oo-na."

"Well, I guess that could be arranged, it's just that I don't own a car. I could borrow one, I guess, or take the bus*"

"Great! Terrific. You can arrive between 7:15 and 7:30. I'll e-mail my address and directions." Now James did turn to go, grasping for one of the door handles.

"Should I bring a change of clothes? A towel?" Phoebe blurted this out, still baffled by the entire exchange.

James looked back over his shoulder and something, some small amount of emotion, flickered over his face.

"And the reason for that would be...?"

"For the sauna?"

"Oh, no. No, I simply intended to show you the sauna. I don't think we'll have time before the party to*"

"There's always afterwards."

"Well* Yes, but* You don't know any Skootillers, do you? We like to party until the sun comes up."

"It's fine. I understand." Phoebe did not understand at all.

"Ah* Yes, well* Good! I'll go see about that e-mail."

She watched the back of his head as he hurried out into the hall. She couldn't be sure, but upon reflection, she imagined that what she saw flicker across James' face at the door had been... terror.

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