All the crumbled pieces of Venice in a desert on a floor could not be restored could they?
"Perhaps."
Theodore offered his arm.
         "Jerrod!" Cleo could never dream of him and forced herself to wakefulness nights she needed him his smile, warmth, strength, hands, shining black hair, intelligent eyes, beautiful, his form, his movements, but she had never seen him after the day the Countess drowned she felt she must deny herself something significant but she did not realize until too late what a price she had exacted far beyond any demanded by another if any had demanded which none did she did it only as penance before to forestall, to escape, as if
that were possible.
        She heard after several years that Rhys had taken the inheritance, forging or wheedling the entirety from their grandsire and that Jerrod worked in unaccustomed traces, she had not the courage to inquire specifics though she knew self-flagellating that Jerrod had the courage and such courage he would not define it so.
 

        Cleo found herself curiously touring the Great Southwest.
        It was in Taos that she met him while inspecting objets d'arte for auctioning and was informed the tall dark man came from Los Angeles where he was an editor, a newspaper editor.
        He turned, was introduced, spoke mellifluously and in courtesy holding easily his hat in strong fine hands she knew him at once, "Jerrod!"
        He turned, was introduced.
        "Theodore Parker, ma'am, at your service. And that is my brother Lincoln. We're twins, as you can see." He smiled.
        Over his shoulder Cleo returned Lincoln's cheery nod and as he approached and with the briefest wink offered, Cleo took Rhys' hand.
        Checking off items in her catalog Cleo progressed on Theo's arm. "I feel that I have met you before. Have I?"
        That smile she knew, holding secrets but not cruelly, inviting her to share the tease, "Have you been in L.A.?"
        "Not yet," Cleo replied.
        They assessed a Chinese vase of a height with Cleo as the red sun set. "Don't you feel that?"
        "That we've met?" Theodore considered, fingers tapping the timepiece he felt suddenly within his vest he felt its weight, its waiting, he nodded, "Yes, perhaps I do."
        Cleo's heart thudded; she knew it would shatter the vase.