WHEN A NAIL IS NOT A NAILShe said, "What is it? What happened?" He had moved silently to the door leading to the staircase and was trying it. "I locked it before I went to bed," she explained. He nodded. "I don't want your old man busting in here, demanding my intentions," he remarked, eyeing her bleakly.
The bedroom was bitterly cold. The wall hangings shivered in the glacial breeze blowing in through the open window and from the balcony. Her knees up to her chin, Melissa had dragged the satin quilt about her. "Hand me that dressing gown," she ordered, pointing to where her wrapper lay at the foot of the bed, "and for the love of mike, close up some of those windows—I'm perishing." He took the wrapper and tossed it to her—she noticed that he dawdled over shutting the window and balcony d
