" Poor baby, you're in a rut. Why don't you give Steve a little encouragement when we go to the opera Friday night. Just a tiny bit. Might wake you up... And might wake your husband up."I was gobsmacked. Learned that word in an English mystery I read, and it was definitely appropriate here. What you do in that situation is change the subject. So I asked her whether she thought this Baby Doe opera would be any good. It worked, and the subject didn't come up againBack at work I was so busy I almost. "Is that the Baxter tartan?" Ah. Yes and no. Yes, there has been a Baxter tartan for at least six generations, and we think it's a variation on the Buchanan and MacMillan tartans. No, we're not sure that we are descended from the MacMillans. Mr Baker, Miss Baker, I wonder if you can guess what the old Scots word 'Baxter' means?" I've no idea, but if you are suddenly reverting to using our surname, then I would guess 'Baker'?" Brilliant girl! Hamish, you've got a treasure here! Aye, a 'baxter'. She was sticky with the flower's juices but quite intact, considering. "Come on, let's get off this Goddamn island," he said."Best idea I've heard all day," Anne agreed.- - -"Captain! It's Enoff and the girl! They're here!" shouted a sailor from atop the wall. Karl and Anglerod rushed out to meet them."Jack, old boy, you made it!" Karl said."Your bonfire sure helped. Come here, help Anne," Jack answered."Oh, I'm all right. I'm alright now, Jack," Anne said, moving close to him and holding him. She rubbed her scar absently. ‘We went out for a drive. Wound up in this parking lot of some bar,’ Isabel exhaled hard and wiped at her eyes, pinching the skin at the bridge of her nose, taking several deep breaths. ‘And then, he raped me.’ Miranda’s eyes closed as she winced in sympathetic pain. Sam’s eyes were pools of azure misery as tears streamed from her eyes. Wordlessly, she wheeled over to Isabel and threw her arms around the other woman. ‘I’m so sorry, Izzy!’ She held the other woman.