"Not a good idea."

That was exactly the answer that I expected from Barbra when I

first broached the subject of her signing over to me controlling

interest in Mocha Daze.

"Why?" I asked, all innocent.

"That's the question I should be asking you," she said. "Why are

you so anxious to get your hands on the shop?"

"Do I look anxious to you?"

She smiled and reached out to stroke my face. "A little. Around

the eyes."

I moved my cheek in to meet her hand.

I like having my face touched when I'm prepared for it. After the

crash, along with the headaches, I found that all sensations in my

face were heightened, particularly in the hairline by the scars.

"I just want to do my job for you. Be the head of the future

household." I took her free hand and kissed the palm. "I don't

want you to have to work there at all, if you don't want to. Let

me do it."

She kissed me on the mouth, nipping at my lower lip with her

teeth. "That's so very sweet, " she said, "but I don't know what

that has to do with owning Mocha Daze."

"I just want to be responsible for its success. I want to prove

to you that I can do it. Take it all off your hands and handle

the business stuff. I'm the man in the relationship--"

"Yes, you are."

"And, according to the Bible, I'm supposed to make the decisions.

Bring home the bacon. As long as you hold onto part of the shop,

I feel like you don't trust me."

"It's not that..."

"I want to do good by you."

"You have, baby," she whispered in my ear. "Don't worry about

that."

"So you'll sign it?" I said.

She pulled back and crossed her arms, giving me the once-over.

"You're serious about this?"

"You bet," I said, showing as big a smile as I could manage.

"Let me think about it," she said.

*****

Peter, on the answering machine at home: "Had a good time with

you last night. What I remember of it! Glad we're spending time

together. Especially since you're going to be my brother-in-law,

soon."