Tony paced outside the dressing room door, his mind racing with the thousand questions he wanted to ask the girl on the other side. The first one will be, "What were you thinking?" he assured himself.

"I don't think Doris will appreciate it if you wear a hole in that rug. Those things aren't cheap."

Instead of responding, Tony just stared back at Leonard and took a seat at the round table in the small foyer.

"She is fine, Tony, or Doris would have come out already. I know you only slept two hours, but she looked like she needed some serious recovery time.

"Look," Tony finally spoke, "the stuff in that cup tasted like liqueur, but how can I know for sure? I just stuck my finger in it. She looked like she had drunk half of it, if not more."

"If it were something else, Doris would have asked for the doctor. There's a sofa and a lounger in there, and Rissa and Doris are both probably asleep. I would still be asleep if you hadn't made so much noise getting out of the room."

Instead of apologizing, Tony just shook his head in irritation. "I have no idea what to do now."

"Well, for one, you need to stop obsessing."

"You didn't see her, Leonard. Passed out with her head on that table. Who knows what could have happened to her if I hadn't come along when I did? Who knows what Sam had planned?"

Leonard looked skeptically at his friend. "Do you really think Sam as bad as all that? I mean, he's a selfish bastard, but I just don't think he would sully his hands in anything too bad."

At those words, Tony started to relax, but then he remembered "Sean" from the night before, and any comfort flew out the window. "Maybe not Sam, but would he interfere if McReynolds or Moran sicked their men on her?"

Tony took the silence as agreement.

"But we have her now," Leonard assured him. "And Marcel has never let anyone down that I know of."

"What 's she going to do? Sleep here? Hide here all day every day?"

"For the next few days," Leonard shrugged. "Until the elections. Until the paper thing blows over."

Instead of replying, Tony stood back up and began to pace again.

"I mean, she's not the most independent person, and where else is she going to go?" Leonard continued in the silence. "She's too smart to go back to her room over the bookstore after last night."

"Maybe," Tony allowed, "but the election might not end the threat on her life. Besides, she will want to go back to some semblance of a life. I doubt we can convince her to go back to her mom and pop."

"No, I'd think not," Leonard mumbled, leaning forward over the table so that one of the cooks could slide past. "But it doesn't help for you to burn up all your energy before you find out what you need to do. Why don't you follow Lester into the kitchen and get some breakfast? While you're at it, bring me some."

"I'm not hungry; you go get some yourself." Tony had intended the words as a joke, but they had come across as almost rude. His usual sense of charm had fled him somewhere on the path from Calloway's to Marcel's. "I mean..." he corrected.

"I know what you mean, Tony. How bad have you got it for this girl?"

Tony halted his foot in midair. "Got it?" he begged incredulously. "No, I just..."

I just what, he wondered. If Tony had seen anyone else acting as he had for the last hour, he would have assumed the same.

"Uh-huh." Leonard pursed his lips.

"Well, I just didn't really expect to worry this much. I hardly know her."

"You say that. If you were courting this girl, how many ‘dates’ would you say had been on?”

“None,” Tony answered quickly.

“That afternoon at Marcel’s was definitely a date, you fawning all over her and filling up her water glass a hundred times. ‘I’ll take some tea now,’” Leonard mimic in a high-brow accent.

“Maybe, thought it’s a stretch. But that’s all.”

“There was that night in the park – a short but sweet conversation. You have defended her honor on several occasions. She has met and loves your family. You have heard great things about her from everyone who knows her. People have entered engagement with less knowledge or experience of each other.”

“Arranged marriages, but that stopped last century.”

“Not just arranged marriages, but I’m not expecting you to marry her at this point. Just to see what you’re really doing here. From everything I’ve said, from what you know, what would you say about Marissa Erinson?”

Tony avoided Leonard's eyes, but made a slight concession. "From the few times I've talked to her, and from what I've seen and heard of her," he gulped. It felt like he was about to confess a crime. "I'm interested, that's all."

Finally, Leonard smiled. "Well, I do know her, and I can tell you, you of all people should be interested. And if I read her right, she’s interested back."

Tony refused to acknowledge Leonard’s prophecy on Marissa’s thoughts, choosing to contend about his own. "Why me 'of all people'?"

"Let's just say," Leonard offered mysteriously, "you're enough alike to find common interests, and enough different to stay interested."

Though he would never have admitted it, Leonard's words agreed with Tony's own assessment of the girl. Tony finally sat down of his own will, suddenly captured with pondering the idea. Apparently, he was interested.

"And with that, I think I'm dismissed," Leonard teased. "I'm going to drum up some grub. I'll bring some back if there's any left."

From the moment he had heard Mario speaking of Marissa Erinson, Tony had found himself interested, and the realization bothered him immensely. Still, what alternative did he have? At the moment, if he tried to remove himself from her influence, he would have to abandon a soul in need. How could he do that? Who would help her? Mario? Not capable. Barbara? Not to be trusted. Leonard and Jerome? They had more important things to focus on than protecting a green girl who had gotten in over her head.

The opening door slammed a wall down on the course of his thoughts.

"Leonard?" came the deep, mellow voice.

"You just missed him," Tony gestured toward the kitchen. "I guess he's an early eater."

Rather than answer, Doris just smiled at Tony and started in the direction he had pointed.

"Is she okay?" he interrupted Doris' egress.

"Just waking up."

"Can I go in and see her?"

Doris leveled a look at Tony that told him he should know better. "Not in my dressing room. Better if you knock, but you might give her a minute to collect herself."

Neither woman knew that Tony had already given them over an hour more than he would have liked.

"Okay," he agreed noncommittally.

After Doris left, Tony counted to a thousand. He figured the exercise would calm down his mind and give Marissa at least ten minutes to pull herself together. Perhaps a bit intense, he figured, but no one else had seen her just a few hours before. No one else had felt the fear of wondering how long she had lain in that state. If he could just talk to her for a few minutes, he could put his mind at ease that nothing worse had happened than a little forced alcohol consumption.

Finally, he stood and tapped lightly on the door. A moment later, he heard the squeak of the turning knob and the click of the latch as it pulled its way free of the doorframe.

"Leonard," came the timid voice.

"Um, no," Tony admitted as she peered around the door. "It's me, Tony."

For the slightest hint of a moment, Tony thought he glimpsed pleasure mixed with the shock on Marissa's face, but he couldn't know for sure. She clamped down on her emotions so quickly that Tony felt like he had just witnessed the building of a stone wall in an instant.

"Doris isn't in here," she offered petulantly.

"That's okay. I wanted to talk to you."

He didn't know what reaction he had anticipated, but Tony hadn't expected one of violation. As if Tony had committed some great transgression by wanting to talk to her!

"I just want Doris," she began in a supercilious tone. "Is there something that you and I need to discuss?"

Again, Tony found himself the inexplicable subject of her irritation. And Leonard had imagined her “interested” in Tony!

"Oh, no," he began sarcastically. "Only whether or not you were hurt when I jumped out the window of Calloway's with you last night, or when I ran away from the McReynolds' thugs who were after you."

Tony almost regretted his bad attitude when he saw the horror on Marissa's face.

"You did what?"

"So, no one told you?"

Marissa shook her head. "I don't remember falling asleep last night, and definitely don't know why I woke up here twenty minutes ago."

With her unhappy expression, Tony's frustration fled completely. "I'm sorry for dumping that on you," he offered. "Maybe I should go get Doris."

"No!" Marissa nearly grabbed his arm, but restrained herself at the last minute. "Doris doesn't know anything about last night!"

As soon as she said the words, Marissa bit her bottom lip with consternation. "Does she?" she seemed to amend.

"I haven't spoken more than five words to Doris, but she's in with Leonard right now.

"Does Leonard know?" Marissa squeaked.

"He knows that I brought you here, that you were at Calloway's, and that you were pretty much out of it when you arrived."

Marissa's embarrassment enveloped her like a cocoon, and Tony tried to think of a way to make her feel better. "First of all, Leonard won't tell anyone about last night."

"He'll tell Doris," she interrupted.

"Maybe, but the two of them are pretty good at keeping secrets. He didn't tell a soul that you wrote the articles for that newspaper."

At the mention off the newspaper, Marissa's face turned a slight shade of red, but Tony got the distinct impression that the flush grew from anger rather than embarrassment for a change.

"The newspaper that your brother -" she began before Tony cut her off.

"Secondly, Leonard and Doris are the last people on earth to judge you. They will hear the whole story before they make up their minds."

Marissa shook her head. "That won't help," she insisted.

"Why is that?"

"Because it was all my own fault, and I can't even claim nobility in why I went to Calloway's in the first place."

As she spoke, she finally took the few steps into the foyer and seated herself dejectedly at the little table. Tony gauged carefully as he inched toward the table to join. When he had seated himself, he pressed forward, more gently than before.

"Why did you go to Calloway's? Was it Sam?" Even as he spoke the name, Tony wanted to hiss. He forced himself to sound neither jealous nor judgmental.

Marissa rolled her eyes, and Tony found himself watching the motion with fascination. He had forgotten those eyes, but now that she reminded him, they distracted him fromt the first several words that she said as he stared at them.

"...learned not to trust him pretty much the first time I met him. No, I was just being stupid."

"Please don't tell me that I risked my life to save you because you were being stupid." The words left his mouth before he had time to think. Almost immediately, he regretted them – did he think he was having a conversation with his brother?

If he had doubted Marissa's understanding, she cleared up his doubts immediately as she stared at him with a morose expression. When he saw her bottom lip quiver, he reached for her hand. He didn't mean to, but after the previous night's excursion, formality seem so silly. Of course, she doesn't remember last night, he chastised himself.

"Forget I said that," he insisted as the tears rolled down her face. "We all do thoughtless things sometimes. My brother, for instance..." Maybe Tony should have shared a story about himself, but the dumbest things he had done lately all involved Marissa, and he didn't think telling her so would make her feel better. "Mario has had a thing for Barbara for over a year, but he was so intimidated by her that he kept her at arm’s length. He only ever shows interest in weak women who can't stand up to him."

If he thought his words would help, he thought wrong. Marissa actually laid her head on the table and began to weep as he spoke.

"I'm sorry," he insisted, getting to his knees and crouching beside her chair. If she would only look at him! "If I said something, I didn't mean to."

"Do you know why Mario agreed to publish that list?" Marissa finally sniffled without looking at Tony.

"No."

"Because he finally gained the courage to go after Barbara. I guess I was one weak girl too many for him. Once he got Barbara, he decided to agree with her."

Tony tried not to balk at the news, though he welcomed it on many levels. For one, he hated watching his brother act like an idiot around Barbara and never do anything to get her attention. For another, if Mario had chosen Barbara, that meant he had lost interest in Marissa. Tony didn't want to like the news, but he did.

Since Marissa hadn't yet looked at him, Tony didn't suppress his smile.

"See," he urged with warmth in his tone. "I told you my brother did brainless things."

"Your brother, the smartest person I know besides your dad? Brainless?"

Tony tried not to bristle at the praise for his brother. "Yes. Mario has smarts in a few areas, but he's a blithering idiot in others. Do you really think it was smart for him to agree to publish those names?"

At the question, Marissa paused and looked up at Tony. Her red-rimmed eyes brimmed with thought instead of tears.

"No," she acknowledged. "I don't." Marissa had not considered it as a question of intelligence before.

"It seems pretty short-sighted to me," Tony continued. "I mean, would he have done it, do you think, if he had understood how it would affect you?"

"How could he foresee that I would act like an idiot and seek out Sam Lincoln? Who, incidentally, acted the gentleman through the whole night, barring one little attempt to kiss me..."

Her voice trailed off in thought.

"He tried to kiss you?" Tony choked on the words, and Marissa peered at him suspiciously.

"No…" she hedged without conviction. "I mean, maybe leaned in to ask permission. I would never allow that, of course." At least, she hoped she wouldn’t. Much of the previous night seemed shrouded in obscurity.

Tony couldn’t quite rest in her assertions, since she seemed anything but certain. If Tony knew Sam at all – which he did – Sam had tried something. Unfortunately, Tony couldn't quite escape the idea that she was ambivalent at the idea that Sam had wanted to kiss her. Both his budding jealousy and his concern stirred his distaste for the idea.

"Why were you there anyway?" she pressed suddenly.

How did he explain? Did he tell Marissa that her secret was out? That someone in the McReynolds clan knew her identity? As much as Tony wanted to warn her, he didn't want to scare the living daylights out of her. Leonard's entrance saved Tony from having to reveal anything immediately.

"I tried to make cook hold off on breakfast for you two," he offered as he carried in two trays, "but she said she was only cooking one breakfast, and she didn't want anyone to go away hungry. So, here goes."

Before anyone could protest, Leonard laid down some eggs, some hash browned potatoes, and some sort of meat patty covered in a meaty sauce. Marissa gulped and looked distrustful, but Tony took the opportunity to shove the food in his mouth. If he filled his mouth with food, he couldn't explain anything to Marissa.

"Hungry?" Leonard asked mockingly. Tony only nodded.

When Leonard spied Marissa where she picked at a few potatoes, he gave her a sour look. "If you're not going to eat that," he chastised, " at least let me take you in the kitchen and find something you will eat."

Rather than wait for an answer, he lifted her by the elbow and led her toward the bustle of pots and pans.

"Doris," he called out. "Get this girl something she can eat."

As soon as the door closed behind her, Tony swallowed the bite he was eating and sighed. Once again, he had proven the coward with Marissa Erinson. If he kept it up – that and his blubbering solicitousness – she would lose all respect for him. Not to mention that I'll lose all respect for myself.

Without taking his leave, Tony stood and wandered out the back door. He would check in on Marissa after he made some decisions, but mostly after he talked to Jerome. If protecting Marissa cost Jerome the election, Tony would never forgive himself.