Then again, she'd felt safe in the library too. She had to put that out of her head. She was glad to know Ben. A retired lawyer, Ben had reinvented himself as an eccentric composer of music, an artist, an outsider with the luxury of having the best excuse to be one. She sat on his couch with her hands folded over her knee while he played her selections from the musical he was hoping to pitch to a Broadway producer in May. But to enjoy it meant she had to listen, and to listen meant that her mind had to be unencumbered. Thank God Ben was a good enough friend to notice this when he swung around on the piano bench to get her opinion. "Whoa, sweetheart. My playing is brilliant and my music is phenomenal, which means something has to be troubling you. Out with it." "So it wasn't you." "What wasn't me?" "Ben, is it safe to talk here?
