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She’d barely begun when she saw Cleo.

“A little early for you.”

“When you’re up, you’re up. I’m going to pull myself together and hit the market. I’m hoping to score some andouille sausage because Grand-Mère claims it makes all the difference.”

“Listen to you.” Not a little amazed, Sonya sat back. “I’m not sure I knew there were types of sausage. What’s andouille?”

“Spicy,” Cleo said, with relish. Then frowned, cocked her head. “You had morning sex.”

“How could you know that?” Astonished, Sonya threw up her hands. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Because I can see you’re relaxed in a way I envy. I really miss morning sex. And afternoon sex, and bedtime sex. And now, damn it, I’m thinking about sex I’m not having. I’m going for coffee.”

“It was morning shower sex!” Sonya called out.

“Damn you, Sonya!”

Laughing, Sonya went back to work.

Less than an hour later, Cleo, in spring-weight khakis, a lavender cashmere sweater, stopped at the doorway.

“I’m off. Did you think of anything you want me to pick up?”

“No.” But the glory of her friend’s hair had her vowing to call the salon at her first break. “I have a consultant call in about thirty, so if Idon’t answer when you come back, I’m still on it. And I bet you come back with a cat, so I’m timing my break for then so I can cuddle her.”

“I’m just going to look.”

“Uh-huh. See you and Miss Kitty Cat later.”

As it had before, the barrage began before Cleo could have turned down Manor Road.

The iPad roared out with Springsteen’s “No Surrender.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t.”

When Yoda tried to crawl into her lap, Sonya picked him up, stroked him as her pocket doors slammed closed, slammed open, then closed again. Wind, bitter and cold, lashed through the room and plucked a few books off their shelves. Under her feet, the floor seemed to lift and fall.

On the second floor of the library, the wall screen screamed on with the sound of bullets blazing.

Sonya’s heart hammered in her throat; Yoda trembled in her arms. But she stayed where she was.

“Keep it up, bitch. You don’t impress me.”

Fog crawled into the room. Feeling the ice flow from it, Sonya lifted her feet, crossed her legs under her before it slithered under her desk.

She watched her own breath expel in clouds as the cold dug into her bones.

“We’re staying right here.” She shouted it, but nearly reached for the phone to call Trey when she heard the main doors crash open.

Then it stopped, it all stopped.

She heard her own tattered breathing as the silence fell, and the air warmed again.

“We’re okay.” As he shook, she hugged Yoda against her, stroked his soft, brindled fur. “We’re okay.”

When Christina Aguilera’s “Fighter” filled the room, Sonya let out one long breath. “Yeah, I’m learning to be one.”

She made herself get up, replace the books. When she went out, looked down, she saw the main doors stood closed.