Darcy was worried.

Gigi knew he was coming to her condo. He always called beforehand, having learned that surprises were quite overrated. But she wasn't there to greet him at the door. He walked quietly through each room, looking for her. After finding an empty kitchen, bedroom and den, he began to wonder if she wasn't home after all, after promising she'd be there. Perhaps – his stomach clenched up at the thought – perhaps the breach between them hadn't healed quite as he had hoped. And then he noticed the screen to the back deck had been left slightly open.

Reminding himself to swallow a lecture about letting insects inside the house, Darcy slipped outside and found his sister sitting on the deck, staring at the pool. Her expression was positively haunted. She wasn't dressed for swimming. Would it have been better or worse otherwise? If it were in his power, he would gladly obliterate everything that reminded Gigi of her heartbreak, from her swimming gear to his own hateful checkbook.

He sat down nearby and said in a soft voice, "We can get rid of it, if you wish."

She looked up, eyes very wide. In spite of all his good intentions, he'd startled her anyway. But then she relaxed somewhat, sighed and shook her head.

"No. Thanks for the thought, but – that kind of feels like giving up. Doesn't it?"

"If it causes you pain," he began, his brow tight with concern.

"You could bulldoze the whole deck and I'd still feel pain," she said, perhaps more sharply than she intended, for she immediately followed it with, "Sorry, William." She pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around herself. It seemed that she was shrinking inward. "I just want to feel normal again," she whispered. "I want to believe it's possible."

"I believe it is, with time," he said, choosing his words carefully. "But you can't rush these sorts of things."

She glanced at him. "When Mom and Dad died, it felt like the world had ended. Then it didn't. Life went on, somehow. It even started feeling normal again, didn't it?"

"Yes. To a certain extent." His throat tended to close up when speaking of their parents, making it very difficult to speak.

"Anyway." She took a deep breath. "It's hard to imagine it now, but someday – someday I'm going to be able to dive into this pool again. I have to believe that. I have to hope. So I want it to stay."

He nodded, still unable to speak clearly. From day to day, even from moment to moment, his feelings toward Gigi shifted from deep concern and protectiveness to overwhelming pride and affection. She was so vulnerable, and yet so strong. A part of him still wanted to bury the pool in cement. But another part, the wiser part, looked forward to the day when he could look on with approval as she flew through the water, with that pure joy that swimming had always given her. So the pool would stay.

"I'm glad you came here before you left town," she said, turning to him with a smile that was almost like the old Gigi. "How long is this trip going to take you away?"

"I'm…not certain," he said, finding he was reluctant to meet her eyes. "I'll be charting the progress of one of the ventures our aunt has invested in. I can't be certain how long it will take to complete the report."

"You're checking out one of Aunt Catherine's investments?" Gigi said, raising her eyebrows. "I thought you always ignored those requests to 'monitor corporate progress.'" She had an alarmingly accurate ability to imitate their aunt's mannerisms. "You said they were a waste of time."

"I have hopes that this will be more productive," he replied shortly, wondering if the truth was plainly evident on his face. Gigi, however, only shrugged and got to her feet. He joined her, and they headed inside.

Hope. Gigi had to hope; perhaps he did as well. He only wished he knew what he was hoping for.