The Friday after their dinner with Andy, Toby had lunch with Mary, and, when he got home, Sam asked how it'd gone.

"Weird," Toby said. "She wants me to quit the hotel and go to work with her."

Sam grinned. "I thought she might do something like that. You want a drink?"

"Gin," Toby replied. "On the rocks. Skip the vermouth." He paused for a moment, thinking. "What do you mean, you thought she'd do that?"

"It only makes sense," Sam said, handing Toby his drink. "She's been very impressed with you, Toby, with the way you see things and put things together. Hell, I'm impressed, too." He kissed Toby on the nose. "But I may be prejudiced." He went about fixing his own drink. "Look at it this way. You brought that house together-had really good ideas about it." He touched the rim of his glass to Toby's. "What was the offer?"

They went out to the patio and sat at the umbrella table. "Partnership," Toby said. "Some kind of design thing with Bill as preferred builder." He looked up at Sam. "What the hell do I know about designing stuff? I'm a accountant, for God's sake. A junior accountant!"

Sam grinned and leaned back in his chair. "Which would you rather do, Toby? Figure out how to make a kitchen exactly the way it ought to be or figure out how much to charge for a room to make it profitable?"

Toby actually thought about it for a few moments and then laughed. "The kitchen, of course. Room rates are boring. But Sam, do you really think I could do it? Design someone else's kitchen?"

"Toby, what I think doesn't make much difference because, as I said, I'm prejudiced. I think you could do anything you set your mind to. The opinion that counts here is Mary's. If she thinks you can do it, there's no doubt that you can." They sat in silence for a few minutes before Sam added, "Look, why don't you push it to the back of your mind and let it percolate for a couple of days? The answer will come to you, just as Martin's foreskin came to me. I guarantee it."

Toby smiled. "Okay, Sam. As long as you guarantee it."

"Another thing I can guarantee? There's some pasta primavera over at Boscoso that needs to be eaten. Let's go and help out, okay?"

Over the weekend, they went up to the Beverly Hills house because Toby thought the Oriental rug in the den would be perfect in their new living room. While they were there, they also went through a lot of drawers and cabinets, looking, as Toby put it, for hidden treasure. They found a lot of it.

"Harry really did have a thing about cash, didn't he?" Toby asked, stuffing another packet of bills into a shopping bag. "What are we going to do with it? I mean, put it in the bank or what?"

Sam thought for a moment. "No, I think we should do what Harry would have done. We'll spread it around the cupboards and drawers in the house and use it as we see fit. Besides, if we haul it off to the bank, it'll just cause problems for the accountants."

"That's my Sam," Toby said with a laugh, "always thinking of the other guy."

"Well..."

Toby took him in a hug and kissed him lightly on the mouth. "No, I mean it. You are a very kind man. And I love you for it." His hand slipped down along the curve of Sam's buns. "Among other things."

Sam thrust his crotch into Toby's. "We got time for a quickie?"

Toby pulled back and looked at his watch. "How quick can we make it? We're taking Buster and Jon to Spago in about an hour and a half."

Sam didn't even bother with an answer except to pop the buttons on Toby's jeans.

They took to Buster and Jon the same way they'd taken to Howard and Duane. All four of them knew from first meeting that they were going to be good and close friends. Conversation flowed easily, and they found themselves pretty consistently in agreement on things.

Over the salads Sam asked if they'd heard from Nick.

"Oh, yes," Buster said, "almost as soon as he got back to Cleveland. He thanked us and all that and then surprised the hell out of us by telling us that mother has decided that she'll come out with him on his next trip."

"Nearly knocked us over," Jon added. "She's only been out here once and then found excuses not to come to the house. I thought she just didn't like me, but according to Nick she just didn't like us. The idea of us."

Sam smiled. "Maybe he told her that you're married. Makes a big difference to some people."

"Like your relationship is somehow legitimized or something," Toby said. "I think that kind of happened with my dad. I mean, we're not the best of friends yet, but at least he seems to respect us more."

"You know, he did ask us about that," Jon said, "and what we called ourselves."

Buster smiled. "He was afraid one of us would be the husband and one the wife. I told him our anatomy wouldn't allow for that. He just laughed."

"Yeah, but he looked relieved, too," Jon added. He turned to Buster. "So maybe that's it. He told your mom we were legitimate, just like any other family."

By the time dinner was over, Buster and Jon had been invited down to Palm Springs for a visit, just as soon as the house was in shape.

Back in Palm Springs the e-mails were getting close to desperate, and Zach was enjoying his position as lust object. "José and I are having fun doing all the things he says he wants to do with me. And believe me, he's very creative."

José laughed. "So creative he says he gave himself a wet dream the other night. Maybe you guys ought to hold off for a day, let Zach find out what the guy can really do."

"I don't think so," Zach said. "You're doing just fine. Any better and I don't think I'd survive it. Besides, he'll need all that creative energy in jail. I'm sure he'll find lots of guys who want to do all sorts of things with him in there."

On Tuesday morning, drinking coffee with a sleepy Sam, Toby said, "You were right, Sam."

"Huh?"

"You sure you don't want to go back to bed? I can have coffee at work, you know."

Sam shook his head. "Yes, I'd like to, but no I can't. I have to be over at the house at eight. They're delivering the bed. Maybe, after they set it up, I'll just-"

"Oh, no, you don't, Sam. The first time that bed gets used, it'll be us using it."

Sam grinned. "Okay, maybe I'll just put the sheets and spread on it. Get it ready for... you know." Just to prove that he was paying attention, he added, "Now, what was I right about?"

Toby suddenly looked serious. "That if I just put it away, my problem would solve itself. You know, about what I'd rather do, the kitchen or the room rates?"

Sam nodded. "Who won?"

"The kitchen, of course. You knew all along that it would, didn't you?"

Sam had the courtesy not to gloat. "All I knew was that it was a decision you had to make for yourself. So..."

Toby smiled. "Well, I need to talk to Mary some more before I give notice at the hotel but... I want to give it a shot. I figure I can always go back to being a junior accountant if it doesn't work out."

Andy called on Wednesday to say they had found a couple of good fingerprints on Clark's business card. "And you were right. They don't match the ones all over everything in Martin's condo. Everyone agrees, they're from different people."

"So we're going ahead with it?" Sam was elated.

"Yeah, we're going ahead with it. The chief isn't too happy about doing it at a resort, what with all those other people there, but I assured him there wouldn't be much in the way of danger. I mean, if the guy's naked, he can't very well have a gun on him, can he?"

"Not one that hurts when it fires," Toby said with a laugh.

They also, of course, talked with Roger and Bob at Some Guys. Roger wasn't really happy about the whole plan, but Bob thought it was going to be exciting and convinced Roger to go along with it.

On Friday night, Zach, José, Sam and Toby arrived at Some Guys just before the wine and cheese were served. Roger checked them in and put them in Harry's old room, close to the office and just a little away from the pool. Zach and José planned to stay the night there, and in the morning José would take his clothes and anything else of his and put them in Bob and Roger's living quarters.

Martin arrived about ten the next morning. Zach had left him a note telling him to go to the room, get out of his clothes and meet him at the pool.

It worked perfectly.

Martin checked in, read the note and went to the room. He emerged five minutes later, naked, and spotted Zach immediately. As he hurried toward Zach, Sam stepped out from behind a lattice work and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Martin!" he said loudly. "Martin Shields, my old next-door neighbor."

"Sa..." He caught himself. "Sorry, you're mistaken. My name is Clark. You probably know my brother, Martin."

"No," Sam said with a grin. "Your brother Clark is circumcised. That thing of yours," he reached out and jerked Martin's dick, "still has all the skin it was born with."

Martin seemed to lose focus. "What... circumcised? Clar... I mean, my brother? I don't... How would you know?"

By this time Martin was virtually surrounded by Zach, José, Toby and Andy, but he didn't seem to notice. Neither did he notice the two uniformed policemen coming out of the office.

Sam's voice turned gentle. "I know, because I found him, Martin. In the bathtub. Dead."

"But he... he wasn't... Was he?"

"You'll have to come along with us, sir," one of the uniformed men said, taking his arms and handcuffing him while reading him his rights. He threw a light coat over Martin's shoulders to hide his nakedness. Andy nodded, and they took him away.

By this time, of course, all the activity, especially the uniformed police, had brought a small crowd, all of whom wanted to know what was going on. Andy told them what little he could.

As they were moving away, heading toward the office, a good-looking man leaned over Andy's shoulder and very quietly said, "Man, you could really make some guy happy with that thing between your legs."

Andy grinned at him. "I know. I already do. Me."

Everyone laughed, including the good-looking man.

That evening Sam took them all to Spencer's for dinner; Sam, Toby, Andy, Zach, José, Roger and Bob. They all looked to Andy for information, since he'd been in on all the questioning down at the police station.

"You know," Toby said, "out there by the pool at Some Guys, he acted like he really didn't know Clark was circumcised."

"As far as we can tell, he didn't."

"But, even if Clark had never told him, how could he miss it when he was... Well, when he was murdering him?"

"Look," Andy said, "you're killing someone, you're killing your brother for God's sake, you going to take time to look at his dick? Especially when it's your identical-twin brother. Everything looks like you. You don't check because you don't have to, you already know. Besides that, you're kind of busy."

Over the salad, Sam wondered what Martin had been doing since the murder.

"Being his brother. I gather he spent a couple of days up in L.A, drunk. Then, when he sobered up, he went through Clark's papers and found that Clark had just bought a condo in Florida. So he went to Florida. No one there really knew Clark, so he simply became him. Not difficult when you've only dealt with real-estate people and a few bankers. And you look just like the guy they've been dealing with."

"Except for his dick."

"Except for his dick, but you don't often show your dick to your banker or real-estate broker, do you?"

"So what happens to the brother's money now?" Toby asked.

"An interesting point," Andy said with a smile. "It turns out that there's another brother, this one in San Francisco. The press up there got hold of the story and printed it, taking great glee, I gather, with the circumcision angle. The brother-who's name is Brian, by the way-read the story and called us. After all the red tape gets worked out, he'll get everything."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Including Martin's condo?"

Andy nodded. "Including Martin's condo."

"It'll be interesting if he decides to keep it and use it as a weekend place," Toby said with a grin.

By time for dessert, they'd grown tired of Martin, and the conversation turned to Sam and Toby and their house.

"It looks like next Saturday," Toby said when asked when they would move in. "At least, that's the first night we'll be able to sleep there."

"We'll miss you at Desert Pride," José said.

"I doubt that," Sam said, between bites of chocolate soufflé. "We're not giving up the condo, at least for now. So Pete Addison will still have to let us in for Sunday cocktails, and we'll still be using the gym."

"And we'll probably have a house guest for a few months," Toby said. "A friend who wants to see what gay Palm Springs is all about, so it's not like the place will sit empty."

For the next week, Sam divided his time between checking progress on the house and shopping for things he felt competent to pick out, things like linens and towels. Toby, who had given his notice to the hotel a week before, devoted most of his time there so there would be as few loose ends as possible when he left.

Toby's boss, knowing that he was moving into a new place, gave him the last two days of the week-the last two days of his employment-off, and by Saturday morning things were very much under control. So much so that Toby started to hang the art they had brought from the condo.

"No, wait," Sam said, seeing what Toby was doing. At Toby's questioning look he smiled and said, "There's a couple of other things coming and you should wait, see where they should go."

"Other things? What other things?"

Sam was saved from answering by a U.P.S. truck pulling into the driveway. The driver came to the door with a large, flat package. "Litchfield? Toby Litchfield?"

Toby nodded. "That's me."

"Sign here," the driver said, leaning the package against the door frame and holding out an electronic clipboard.

Toby signed, the driver pushed the package towards him and left.

"And just what is this?" Toby asked, indicating the package.

"Open it and see," Sam suggested with a smile.

When Toby got through the heavy paper, the bubble wrap, and three layers of cardboard, he looked up at Sam and grinned. "The William Keith painting from the house in Beverly Hills. But how'd..."

"I saw how much you liked it when we were up there, so I called Alistair and asked him to have it shipped down here."

"Well, it's perfect, Sam. Thank you." He hugged Sam and gave him a kiss. "Right there," he said, pointing at the north wall of the living room. "That's where it'll go."

"Uh... could we wait just a little longer?" Sam ducked his head and studied his shoes.

"Okay, Sam. Out with it. What've you done now?"

Again, Sam was saved by the arrival of a delivery truck. Two men got out, and one came to the door. "Okay, guys. Where do you want this stuff?"

"Let's see it, first," Toby said, giving Sam a hard look and accompanying the man out to the truck, which the other man had opened.

Inside, fastened to the truck wall, was the Case Paul painting and the near-life-size sculpture of a naked man that Toby had admired on that morning they had gone to buy paintings.

Toby turned to Sam, who had followed them out. "Pretty sure of yourself, weren't you, Sam?"

Sam put his arm around Toby's waist. "I was the most unsure man in the world," he said. "But you said they were good pieces, and I thought they might make a pretty good investment, whether or not-"

"They are, Sam. They are." Toby gave Sam a squeeze and then turned to the delivery men, all business. He directed that the sculpture be taken to a spot by the pool.

"Hey, nice fountain," one of the men said as they were placing the sculpture. "But it's kind of low, isn't it?"

Sam laughed. "It's not exactly a fountain, but you'll have to ask him about it," he said, pointing at Toby.

"He's right," Toby said. "It's really a urinal. So you don't have to go in the house every time you want to pee."

One of the men scratched his head for a moment, then turned and asked. "Could we... you know, uh... use it?"

"Sure," Toby answered. "Go ahead."

The man didn't hesitate; he pulled his zipper down, dug around in his pants a bit and pulled out a standard issue, uncut dick. "You guys going to join me?" he asked as his water began to flow into the "fountain."

The other man shrugged and said, "Why not? I never peed in a fountain before."

In the end, all four of them stood around the circle of glass stones and relieved themselves, everyone watching everyone else.

When the deliverymen had gone, Sam hugged Toby and said, "That was very interesting, all of us out there peeing together. It wasn't particularly sexual though; it was just four guys peeing together and kind of connecting with each other. Weird."

Toby laughed. "Guys connect in all kinds of ways, Sam. And you don't have to be gay to like watching another guy pee."

Sam shook his head. "I've got a lot to learn from you, don't I?"

By late afternoon they'd done all they'd planned to do and, in unison, pronounced the house livable. To celebrate they made use of the new, very big, glass-block shower, where they ended up blowing each other on the tile floor.

Later, at dusk, they sat contentedly by the pool, drinking champagne. "That shower is wonderful," Sam said, with a great deal of enthusiasm. It's big, bright, and even the floor is warm." He thought for a moment. "How is that? I thought it'd be cold-or at least cool-lying on the tile."

"I asked Bill to put some heat cables under the floor," Toby replied. He stretched and grinned at Sam. "So your handsome feet won't get cold in winter."

They cooked lamb sausage on the grill and ate it with green salad and tiny, roasted potatoes. Afterward they took their wine and wandered through the house, taking great satisfaction from all that they-and especially Bill-had done. Then they went to bed and made love for a long, long time.