Date: 1989-01-01 08:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Young Adult
Description: Always the youngest but never the baby, Sibyl sometimes wonders, What good is inner strength if only you know it’s there? Sybil loves Aunt Grace’s dark, old house, even if the upkeep is a burden the Sebastians can’t entirely afford. It feels like home, and after years of surgeries and therapy, all Sybil wants for her sixteenth birthday is to be surrounded by her crazy family in a place of their own. But Evvie’s been keeping a secret, one that puts her at risk, and when the truth finally comes out, it throws the whole family into turmoil as they struggle to face the facts. Sybil may not have Ev
Publisher: Random House
Rights: All rights are reserved.

Sybil at Sixteen

The Sebastian Sisters, Book Four

Susan Beth Pfeffer

CHAPTER ONE

“What a dump!”

“Claire! You came!”

“Of course I came, kiddo. I wouldn’t miss your sixteenth birthday for anything.”

Sybil Sebastian pulled her sister Claire to her and enveloped her in a hug. She had hoped Claire and Thea would come for her birthday, but Sebastian family finances were such that nothing could be counted on, not even the plane fare from New York to Boston.

“Let me get a look at you,” Claire demanded, and she checked Sybil out carefully. “I don’t believe you turned out as well as you did,” Claire said. “Sixteen. You look older.”

“I feel older,” Sybil replied.

“Thea kept weeping, all during the plane ride,” Claire said. “‘My baby sister is sixteen.’ She used to be unbearable before she turned eighteen, and now, she’s even worse.”

Sybil laughed. “Thea came, too?” she asked, not believing her good fortune.

“She’s downstairs cleaving unto Nicky and Megs,” Claire replied. “We were on the same flight as Evvie and Sam. They dropped us off here, and went back to their apartment. They should be here in an hour or so.”

“This is going to be the best birthday I’ve ever had,” Sybil declared. “All of us together.”

“We were together at Christmas,” Claire pointed out. “I don’t recall that as an especially fabulous time.”

“That doesn’t count,” Sybil said. “We’d just moved in, and Nicky was still smarting, and you could only stay until lunchtime because you had to work the next day.”

“Us models need our beauty sleep,” Claire said, trying to look haughty, but failing miserably. “It was too good a job for me to turn down, Syb. I wanted to stay longer, but I couldn’t.”

“I know that,” Sybil said. Of her three sisters, the one she was closest to, both in age and affections, was Claire. Evvie, the oldest, was generally regarded as the family anchor, but she’d left home for college when Sybil was only twelve, and for that matter, she’d left the family in some hard-to-explain way even before then, when she’d fallen in love with Sam Steinmetz Greene. Thea, who came next, always tried hard with Sybil, mostly, Sybil suspected, because she couldn’t get along with Claire, but Sybil had never especially cared for the way Thea tried to baby her. Sybil was the youngest, but she never regarded herself as a baby. Claire, on the other hand, was there for Sybil in a way that no one else in the family, except their father, Nick, could approximate.

Not that Sybil looked anything like Claire or Nick. She resembled Meg, her mother, although not as strongly as Evvie and Thea did. Actually, Sybil had been disconcerted to discover from examining an old family album, that the person she looked most like was the late unlamented Aunt Grace, Meg’s aunt and guardian. Aunt Grace, who had hated Nicky and disapproved of her niece’s marriage to him, had never truly loved Meg’s four daughters, and took pleasure in carrying the grudge beyond the grave. Stubborn, willful, obnoxious Aunt Grace, whose house Sybil now called home.

“How is life in the mausoleum?” Claire asked, glancing around Sybil’s fairly empty bedroom. “Still dank and gloomy?”

“How did you know what I was thinking?” Sybil asked.

“Years of practice,” Claire said, giving Sybil another hug. “Oh, Syb, I miss you so much. Move to New York, right now. Finish high school there.”

“You have Thea,” Claire said. “You can’t be lonely.”

“Thea.” Claire groaned. “I thought she was shaping up, when Kip finally dumped her. It took him long enough, but Thea eventually got the picture. I thought Kip was going to have to send out engraved engagement announcements before Thea finally acknowledged he was involved with somebody else.”

“Thea took it pretty hard,” Sybil declared. “She cried on the phone to Megs a lot. And that was when we were still in Oregon. I shudder to think what those calls must have cost.”

“Whatever the cost, Kip wasn’t worth it,” Claire said. “Not that Thea would admit it. And Megs wasn’t the only one to get those tear-stricken phone calls. I got more than my share, especially late at night. I don’t know why Thea thinks I care that she’s miserable after midnight. But now she’s involved with some new loser, and at least she’s cut down on the phone calls. Good thing, too. She was putting a real strain on my sisterly love.”

Sybil stared at her sister. She had a rough idea of how far Claire would take sisterly love. Sybil knew how much in debt to Claire she would always be. She also knew it was a debt Claire would never call her on.

“New York just isn’t big enough for Thea and me,” Claire said, this time choosing not to read Sybil’s mind. “Eight million people, and I keep bumping into her. If you’d just move in with me, you could handle Thea, listen to her endless confessions. She only plagues me because we have the same last name. You she actually loves. It would be a public service, Sybil.”

Sybil laughed. “We just moved here six months ago,” she said. “I think I should last it out a little while longer.”

“It is a dump,” Claire said, looking around. “An expensive dump, I grant you, but a dump just the same. What a hoot, Aunt Grace leaving the joint to Megs in trust, so Nicky can’t get his hands on it and sell it.”

“I never liked Aunt Grace,” Sybil said.

“I did,” Claire replied. “She didn’t like me because I look so much like Nicky, but I liked her. She had a wicked sense of humor. Her will proves it. Leaving Megs only the house, no furnishings, no artwork, just the house. I’m surprised the trustees didn’t peel the wallpaper off. She must have known Nicky couldn’t begin to afford the upkeep on a Beacon Hill mansion. They can’t even sell it, because it’s only in trust for Megs. And Sam and Evvie can’t get it, because it’s officially left to Megs’s first legitimate Christian grandson. Now that’s the will of a funny lady.”

“I love this house,” Sybil said. She had never said that out loud, had hardly even allowed herself to realize it. Claire was the only person she could have confided that to. “For the first time, I feel at home.”

“I feel that way about New York,” Claire said. “Funny. Nicky and Megs gave us a thousand different homes, but none of them really counted. We had to find our own places.”

“I want to stay here forever,” Sybil said.

“Then have a legitimate Christian son,” Claire said. “You have a good shot at winning the sweepstakes. Evvie and Sam are obviously disqualified, now that they’re both Jewish, and I don’t see myself ever getting married, so that just leaves you and Thea. Knowing Thea, she’ll have girls. They’ll be born wearing lace. Get married, have a boy, and then the house is yours.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Sybil said. “Claire, I see myself at home here. I see myself walking down the hallways, checking polish on the furniture, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror.” She paused for a moment. The truth was, she saw herself gliding, no limp, no moment of hesitation to gird herself before climbing the stairs. No canes, no crutches, no painkillers, no pain. She saw herself as healed. Aunt Grace’s house did that for her. She wasn’t sure why, or if it would last, or even if it was good for her, when canes and crutches and painkillers and pain were a part of her life, had been for years, would be forever, but she needed the fantasy. Maybe it had replaced Claire for her. Maybe that fantasy was the one thing Claire couldn’t give her. Maybe, at moments, she loved the fantasy even more than she loved Claire.

“The stairs don’t bother you?” Claire asked, and the fantasy was gone.

“Sometimes,” Sybil said. “On rainy days. My legs are always bad on rainy days. Nicky and Megs offered to make one of the downstairs rooms into a bedroom, but that wasn’t how the house was supposed to be, so I said no.” She remembered one night, shortly after they moved in, when the pain had been so bad, Nicky had simply carried her upstairs. She wondered if Nicky, or more likely Megs, had told Claire about it, but decided no, it was the kind of thing that didn’t get discussed in their family. A lot of painful things were kept to themselves. Sybil still didn’t know what Megs felt about Aunt Grace’s will, although she certainly had heard Nicky rant on the subject.

“If I could give you my legs, I would,” Claire said, staring straight into Sybil’s eyes. But then she laughed. “What a birthday present that would be!”

“It might cut your modeling career short,” Sybil said. “No pun intended.”

“It’d be worth it,” Claire said. “Besides, I’m only modeling to earn lots of money, and meet fabulous rich men. It’s not like I have the soul of a model. Half the models I meet are in it so people can tell them they’re beautiful. I’ve always known that. I don’t have to hear it endlessly.”

“You look a little more beautiful than you did at Christmas,” Sybil said, examining her older sister carefully. “Something’s different.”

“I don’t think so,” Claire said. “Of course, I can afford decent clothes again, and that helps.”

“No,” Sybil said. “It’s your eyebrows.”

“You do have a good eye,” Claire said. “The agency had me reshape them. Very slight difference, but they claim it shows up nicely in pictures. Are you sure you want to go into finance? You’d probably make a great detective.”

“I’ve never really looked good in a trench coat,” Sybil replied, but before Claire had a chance to answer, there was a knock on the door, and Thea walked in.

“Happy birthday!” she cried, and she gave Sybil a hug. “You look wonderful. So grown up. How do you feel? It’s great to see you.”

“I’m so glad you came,” Sybil said. “I was hoping you’d all come, but I didn’t count on it.”

“Claire paid for my tickets,” Thea declared. “In case she didn’t tell you.”

“No, she didn’t,” Sybil said. “Thanks, Claire.”

“I figured we were due a reunion,” Claire said. “And really, models earn an outrageous amount of money.”

“Which is not true of premed students, even with part-time jobs,” Thea said. She sat down on the bed, took Sybil’s hand, and squeezed it. “Evvie and Sam should be here soon. I guess you see them all the time now, but I think it’s great, all of us together.”

“How long will you be staying?” Sybil asked. She couldn’t believe how happy she was, having her sisters back, in the house she at least could think of as home.

“Until the middle of next week,” Thea replied. “This is my spring break, too, and I figured as long as you were on vacation, I might as well be. So I told them at my job not to expect me until Thursday. They’re flexible, so it was no problem.”

“And you, Claire?” Sybil asked.

“I’ll probably go back on Wednesday also,” Claire said. “I could use the time off. I’ve been working steadily since I hit New York.”

“It’s gotten to the point where every time you open a magazine, there’s a picture of Claire,” Thea said. “I can’t wait for her first Vogue cover.”

“Thea,” Claire said sharply.

“Vogue cover?” Sybil asked. “Really?”

“It’s a possibility,” Claire said. “Nothing definite.”

“She’s bound to get one,” Thea said. “Claire’s taken New York by storm.”

“Thea has a vivid imagination,” Claire said. “I’m working steady, which I grant you is pretty remarkable, but that’s about it. No one in New York knows who I am yet.”

Sybil smiled. Knowing Claire, it was only a matter of time before everybody in New York would know her. “How’s school, Thea?” she asked.

“I love it,” Thea said. “Of course, it’s exhausting, and I can’t wait until I actually start medical school, assuming I can get the scholarship aid I’ll need.”

“That could be tricky,” Sybil said. “On paper we’re worth a fortune now, because of this house. Nicky and Megs are already worrying about getting aid for me when I start college.”

“Aunt Grace was a demon,” Thea declared. “It was just like her to pull a stunt like this. I suppose all that money Claire wrangled out of the Hugheses is gone.”

“Long gone,” Sybil replied. “I stayed four months longer at the rehab place than anybody expected, and Nicky made a couple of investments that didn’t pan out. We barely had enough money to move from Oregon to Boston. As it was, Megs had to sell practically all the furniture, so we could have some ready cash, and we wouldn’t have to pay to transport stuff.”

“How much of the money did you keep, Claire?” Thea asked.

“Five thou,” Claire said. “Enough to pay for a quality portfolio and my move to New York. Both of which investments have paid off handsomely.”

“I’m sorry,” Thea said. “The whole business is still a sore spot with me.”

Sybil looked at her sisters, Claire, with her dark elegant beauty, Thea with her wistful blond loveliness. They didn’t look like sisters, and they hardly acted like them, either. Sybil couldn’t remember a time when they hadn’t fought, in a way no one else in the family did. No, that wasn’t true, either. Claire always fought with Nicky. But the battles were different between her and Thea, and the last, most bitter battle had taken place two years ago, when Claire had casually married, and equally casually annulled, Scotty Hughes. Scotty, who’d spent the previous two years pledging eternal love to Thea, who’d been busy pledging her eternal love to Kip Dozier.

Sybil was startled to realize how painful it still was to think about Kip. Thea had met him while doing volunteer work, visiting his kid sister Gina at the hospital. Gina Dozier, who had died of leukemia the day after the hit-and-run driver had hit Sybil, permanently crippling her, permanently crippling her family. Kip meant Gina to Sybil, and Gina meant hospitals and suffering. In a different lifetime, it would all be past history, but for Sybil, the memories were too much a part of her everyday existence.

Scotty Hughes was a whole other issue, though, one which Sybil had yet to figure out completely. She knew things were being kept from her, but what startled her was that the secretkeepers were Claire and Nick, the two people she was closest to. She suspected Thea didn’t know much more than she did. They’d been fed the official party line. Claire had gotten carried away, eloped with Scotty, and then both of them came to their senses and agreed to an immediate annulment. Scotty’s family was so grateful to Claire for bowing out quietly that they’d handed over fifty thousand dollars for use by Sybil for her rehabilitation. Trust Claire to get carried away with a rich boy. No penniless elopements for her.

“Scotty’s in town this week, too,” Thea said. “I’m going to his family’s for Easter dinner.”

“Sounds charming,” Claire said. “Give them all my love.”

“I think they’d prefer it if I didn’t,” Thea said. “We all get along a lot better when they forget you and I are sisters.”

“Is Schyler in town, too?” Claire asked. Schyler was Scotty’s older brother.

“I don’t know,” Thea said. “You never know with Schyler where he’s going to be.”

“Do you ever see him in New York?” Sybil asked. She wished she knew more about Claire’s life in New York. There was a time when she knew everything there was to know about Claire. But that had changed with Claire’s elopement, just as Evvie had become less open once she’d fallen in love with Sam. Only Thea had stayed the same, and Sybil suspected Thea was unaware of how much was going on that she wasn’t privy to.

“He passed through last month,” Claire replied. “We got together for dinner.”

“Who?” Evvie asked. “What? Who had dinner?”

“Evvie!” Sybil shouted, and as they hugged, she could feel tears rolling down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said, wiping them away. “Being such a baby. It’s just seeing you all here together. It got to me.”

“We understand,” Evvie said. “You should have seen the three of us on the plane. The other passengers didn’t stand a chance.”

“Four of you,” Sybil pointed out. “Sam was there, too.”

“Sam was very quiet,” Thea said. “I noticed that.”

“Sam’s always like that after he visits his grandparents,” Evvie declared. “And what a visit it was. My first Passover seder as a full-fledged Jew. It drove them crazy. I’d been rehearsing for weeks. I knew prayers they hadn’t even heard of. They wanted to quit after dinner, but I insisted we plow through the whole thing. It takes forever if you sing every song, pray every prayer. Sam wanted to kill me.”

“Did you have a good time?” Claire asked.

Evvie laughed. “I loved it,” she said. “Not just the driving them crazy part, either, although I admit that was fun. I’ll always be the shiksa to them, at least until I give them some nice Jewish great-grandchildren. But I really felt part of something during the seder. You know how this family can be sometimes, so connected, so organic and whole? That’s what it felt like. In a funny way, it felt like coming home.”

“I understand that,” Sybil replied. “This house feels that way to me, like it’s where I’ve always belonged.”

“I always feel that way,” Thea declared. Her sisters stared at her. “Well, I do. I know you have Sam, Evvie, and, Claire, you’ve always tried not to fit in, but for me, Nicky and Megs and all of you, even you, Claire, you’re perfect. You are my home, no matter how many different places we live in, no matter how our lives are changing. Sometimes New York seems so big to me, or hostile, or frightening, or I think about the pressure I’m under to get perfect grades, or, don’t laugh, I think about Kip, or that house we had that year when things seemed so full of promise, and instead of getting scared, or sad, or lonely, I surround myself with you, all of you, and Nicky and Megs, and everything’s all right again. I’m home. Megs is baking bread. Nicky’s deal is about to break big. We’re playing Little Women again, and I’m still Jo. And it makes everything all right for me and I can go on.” She looked almost defiantly at her sisters, but none of them said a word.

“Were things ever that good?” Sybil finally asked.

Evvie nodded. “They were,” she said. “Not consistently, but at their best, things were wonderful.”

“Until the accident,” Thea said. “That’s when everything changed.”

“I think Sybil’s aware of that,” Evvie said. “Besides, it isn’t even true.”

“It’s true enough,” Sybil said. It always came back to the accident. Four years before at Thanksgiving. The hit-and-run driver. No insurance to cover the costs of the operations and the physical therapy. Nick’s obsessive need for Sybil to walk again. The constant moves from one rehab place to another, each one promising more than it ultimately could deliver. Meg growing weary, weary of the moves, the false hopes, the endless exercises she worked Sybil through. Meg growing weary even of Nick, the man who had been dearer to her than life. And Nick, losing his obsessive drive to make money, to make deals, to start all over, full of promise, full of potential. All he cared about was Sybil, so all Sybil cared about was herself. She couldn’t let Nick down. She couldn’t let the destruction of her family be for nothing. She owed them her health. She owed them an uncrippled body, two strong legs gliding through the hallways. She owed them for the jobs they’d taken to work their way through college, for Claire’s elopement, and her giving up any thoughts of further education to earn money fast by modeling. She owed them for all those dreams of Nick’s that had been smashed that day by some unknown driver. She owed them for the house they’d had to sell, for the piano Meg had never gotten to own. They might never ask a thing of her, or they might ask the world of her, and it didn’t matter. Whatever she could offer would never be enough.

“Oh, no,” Claire said. “Can you hear it?”

“What?” Evvie asked.

“Nicky’s playing with the radio,” Claire said. “Listen hard. You can hear him fiddling with the stations.”

“This was so much easier when we still had the stereo,” Thea said. “Sybil, are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Sybil said. She got up carefully off the bed, and flexed her legs. They were stiff from sitting in one position for so long, but the pain was manageable. Thank God it was a sunny, dry day.

“The birthday waltz,” Claire said. “I finally kicked Nicky in the shins when I was fourteen, and he stopped making me dance with him.”

“I always loved our waltzes,” Thea said, getting up and stretching with an ease Sybil envied. “It was the only time I could pretend Nicky loved me best of all.”

“We might as well get it over with,” Evvie said. “There’s no stopping Nicky once he gets his mind set on waltzing.”

“If you’re not up to it, don’t do it,” Claire said.

“I’m fine,” Sybil said sharply. Last year, she’d waltzed on crutches. The year before in a wheelchair. She’d manage fine this year, if they’d just leave her alone.

The four sisters walked down the stairs, Sybil holding on to the banister and willing her legs to cooperate. Meg and Sam were seated in the living room, and Sybil noticed that Evvie walked immediately over to Sam. Thea and Claire moved to one side, and Nick strolled to Sybil’s side and took her gently by the arm.

“You’re sixteen now,” he said. “Sixteen is a special age in this family.”

Sybil nodded. She knew sixteen for her would never be the magical age it had been for Meg and Evvie. They had both fallen in love at sixteen. But that didn’t mean sixteen couldn’t be special for her, too. She had her family, she had her home. No wheelchair, no crutches. The world might not be perfect, but Sybil didn’t expect perfection, never really had. All she wanted was a decent chance, and that she finally had.

The radio began a waltz, and Nick bowed his still-handsome head to Sybil, who smiled, secure in his love. It was their moment, their dance, and it was perfect.

CHAPTER TWO

“Have some more pancakes, Thea.”

“Megs, no, I couldn’t eat another biteful.”

“I don’t know what’s become of you girls,” Meg declared. “It used to be you were each good for a half dozen or more pancakes. Now it’s three bites and you’re out.”

“I don’t know what Thea’s excuse is,” Claire said. “I have to watch every calorie for professional reasons.”

“My excuse is I’m full,” Thea declared. “Megs, your pancakes are as delicious as ever. I fantasize about them sometimes. Especially on Sunday mornings.”

Meg Sebastian rubbed her hands across her apron and smiled. Sybil couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her mother so happy. She silently thanked Claire for treating Thea to the trip, and then she thanked Aunt Grace for the use of the house. It was the one semi-nice thing Aunt Grace had ever done.

“Sybil, you can manage a few more, can’t you?” Meg asked.

“I don’t think so,” Sybil replied. “Thanks, anyway.”

“I wish Evvie and Sam had come for breakfast,” Meg said. “Sam at least has an appetite.”

“You should have had sons,” Claire said, and she gave her mother a kiss. “Lumberjacks.”

“Right,” Meg said. “Nicky would have loved that.”

The girls laughed, and Sybil marveled once again at how right everything felt. It wasn’t as though this was the first time in years they’d been together. There had been Christmas after all, and Thea and Evvie had both gone to Oregon for Claire’s high-school graduation. But this was better. This was home.

“When’s Clark coming over?” Claire asked.

“Around two,” Meg replied. “I don’t suppose I can convince all of you to change your plans for tomorrow. He was looking forward so to having us all over for Easter dinner.”

“Sorry, Megs,” Thea said. “I accepted the Hugheses’ invitation ages ago without really thinking.”

“Clark’ll be just as happy not to have me over tomorrow,” Claire said. “There’s no love lost between us.”

“That simply isn’t true,” Meg declared, but Claire merely smiled. Sybil, once again, tried to figure out what had happened at the elopement. Clark Bradford was a cousin of sorts to Scotty Hughes, as well as being Meg’s oldest friend. Scotty had been staying at Clark’s when he ran off with Claire. Knowing Clark, he’d been promoting a relationship between Scotty and Thea, just as a couple of years before he had promoted one between Evvie and Schyler. Evvie ended up with Sam, Scotty ended up, however temporarily, with Claire, and Claire, Sybil suspected, had her heart set on ending up with Schyler. Sybil grinned. Clark was never one for getting what he really wanted, but when confronted with Meg Winslow Sebastian and her four daughters, he really knew failure.

“What’s so funny?” Claire asked her.

“I was thinking about Sam,” Sybil said. “And how much he’d enjoy Easter dinner with Clark.”

Even Meg laughed at the idea. “I suppose it’s for the best,” she said. “You and Claire at Evvie’s, and then Thea joining you there, while Nicky and I have dinner with Clark. We had to do something after all. It’s our first Easter since we moved to Boston. I just hate the idea of us not being together.”

“You’ll still be stuck with us Monday and Tuesday,” Thea pointed out. “And Monday Evvie’s coming over for lunch all by herself. I don’t remember the last time I saw her without Sam.”

“They are joined at the hip,” Claire said. “I thought they’d be past that stage by now.”

“Sometimes you don’t get over it,” Meg said. “Now I want all of us to be very organized on Monday. We have a wedding to plan, and not that much time to do it in.”

“Evvie and Sam,” Thea said.

“Finally,” Claire said.

“They wanted to wait until Evvie’s graduation,” Sybil said.

“And they were right to,” Meg said. “Besides, it’s given Sam a chance to settle in at the paper. June is the perfect time for them to get married. They’ll have the summer to adjust before Evvie starts graduate school.”

“Did you want to be a June bride?” Thea asked.

Meg smiled. “I wanted to be an immediate bride,” she said. “I didn’t care what month or season just as long as it was soon. Which, of course, it wasn’t. Aunt Grace saw to that. And then, when Nicky and I finally did get married, it didn’t matter what time of year it was. It was just the two of us. I’m glad Evvie’s going to have something more formal, even if we can’t afford a big affair.”

“Did I hear the word affair?” Nick asked, walking into the kitchen. “Who’s having one and do I approve?”

“I was talking about weddings,” Meg said. Nick gave her a kiss, and stood with his arm around her shoulders.

“We had a perfect one,” Nick said. “You were the most beautiful bride in the world, Daisy.”

Sybil glanced at her sisters and saw they were as pleased as she was. Even Claire was smiling. There was so much love in Nick’s voice, especially when he used his pet name for Meg. Only he called her Daisy. It had been a long time since Sybil could remember seeing Nick so contented.

“What are your plans for the day, Nicky?” Meg asked. “Don’t forget, Clark is coming around two.”

“You had to remind me,” Nick said. “In that case, Sybil and I had better go for our walk right now.”

“Oh, Nicky, do I have to?” Sybil asked. “Can’t we take the day off for once?”

“It’s too nice a day to stay indoors,” Nick declared. “Come on, Sybil. Let’s stroll around the block a few times, and we’ll give Thea and Claire a chance to visit with Daisy.”

“You can pick me up some milk,” Meg said. “And a dozen eggs. In case any of you develop an appetite.”

“Good,” Nick said. “We now have motivation. Sybil, are you ready?”

“I guess,” Sybil said. She followed Nick to the front hallway, got her cane from the closet, and walked outside with him. Nick was right. It was a beautiful April day. Ordinarily, she enjoyed the ritual of their daily walk. It had begun when one of her physical therapists had suggested walking as a way of strengthening her legs. That had been back in Oregon, well after Nick had stopped doing her exercises with her.

At first he had insisted on doing them, wouldn’t even let Meg help, but it became obvious that he couldn’t handle the job. Sybil had cried easily in those days, and it hadn’t helped that Nick kept pushing her past her limits. She knew why he was doing it, and she never really got angry at him, but she kept crying, and after a while Nick started joining her, and they all realized they couldn’t keep on that way. So Meg had taken over the exercises and she’d proven to be very good at it. She wouldn’t let Sybil quit, but she didn’t push her past the point of exhaustion, either. Claire helped out, and in the beginning so did Thea, but it had mostly been Meg who did the grunt work.

Which, of course, left Nick feeling useless. So when walks were suggested, he immediately volunteered. He and Sybil got into the habit of a daily walk, except when the weather was bad. It had been a long time, she realized. When their walks first began, she was still using a walker. Now she was down to a cane, and sometimes at the beginning of their walk, she didn’t even need that. But it came in handy when she tired out, which she almost always did.

“It’s good having Thea and Claire home,” Nick said, as they began their stroll. “But I’m glad to have some time alone with you.”

“Me, too,” Sybil said. Their walks had become a special time for both of them. “Don’t they look wonderful, though?”

Nick nodded. “Thea seems happier than she’s been in a while,” he said. “Maybe she finally has Kip out of her system.”

“I think she’s excited about becoming a doctor,” Sybil said. “It gives her a focus.”

Nick grinned. “You know all about focus, don’t you,” he said. “You’re the queen of focus.”

“I would have thought Claire was,” Sybil said. “I can’t get over how successful she is.”

“She can’t get over it, either,” Nick said. “A little power is a dangerous thing for Claire.”

“Why don’t you like her?” Sybil asked. She’d never been so direct with Nick before. But now she felt she could ask, maybe because Claire was home to protect her. Sybil had spent a lot of years being protected by Claire. It was a comfortable position.

“I like Claire,” Nick said. “I certainly love her. Why? Has she been playing unloved child again?”

“No,” Sybil said. “It’s just the tone you get in your voice when you talk about her. And you don’t seem to be comfortable looking at her, either. You haven’t been in a long time.” Since the elopement, she thought, but she wasn’t sure, since that had been a crazy time for her, and her perceptions might have been off.

Nick paused for a moment, then took Sybil’s hand and put it in his. They continued to walk hand in hand. “You’ve always had a good eye for other people,” he declared. “I remember once, you couldn’t have been more than four, you asked me why Clark didn’t like me. I knew Clark had never said a negative word about me in front of any of you girls, and your sisters never seemed to realize just how much he didn’t care for me, so you figured it out on your own, just based on watching him and me together.”

“What did you tell me?” Sybil asked.

“I said I married Daisy and Clark loved her, too,” Nick replied. “The simple truth. You understood that. Actually, for a while after that, you were quite cold to Clark whenever we saw him. I’m not sure he noticed, though. Clark isn’t the most perceptive of men.”

Sybil looked at the trees just beginning to bud. Soon they’d be green. Her first spring in Boston. She was eager to see how many flowers there would be, how warm it would get. Winter had been beautiful, but cold and icy, and ice in particular was her enemy. She’d taken three bad falls during the winter. One had left her immobile for close to a week. She tried to remember what it had been like just to be able to walk, no big deal, one easy step after another, but it had been too many years, too many crises ago. “You still haven’t answered about Claire,” she said.

“Claire’s always wanted something from me that I can’t give her,” Nick replied. “She feels that just because she looks like me, she is like me.”

“But she is,” Sybil declared. “Everybody knows that.”

Nick laughed. “Everybody assumes that,” he said. “And in some ways, it’s true. Claire is like me at my worst. That’s not to say she’s bad. Just that she has all my character flaws. Just as you’re like me at my best. You have all the good I have to offer.”

“Like what?” Sybil asked.

“Like determination,” Nick replied. “Ambition. The willingness to work hard to change the conditions of your life.”

Sybil thought about that. It was true Claire never expected to work. Things had a way of happening for her that she seemed to take for granted. Sybil took nothing for granted.

“What about Evvie and Thea?” she asked. “Are they like you?”

“More like Daisy,” Nick said. “Evvie has Daisy’s strengths, and Thea has her weaknesses.”

“I never knew Megs had any weaknesses,” Sybil said.

“You’re right,” Nick said. “Teach me to be too simplistic.”

Sybil laughed. She thought about what Thea had said about the birthday waltzes. These walks for Sybil were the times when she knew Nick loved her best of all. She couldn’t imagine him talking this way to any of her sisters. Not that he didn’t love them. But he was never quite as open with them as he was with Sybil.

“You said Claire expects things of you,” Sybil said. “But we all do. We all expect you to be a magician, to pull fortunes out of a hat. We expect you to make us feel beautiful and smart and important. We expect miracle cures from you.”

“Then I must constantly be letting you down,” Nick said. “Why do you put up with me?”

“You don’t let us down,” Sybil said. “Well, maybe Claire, but I have a feeling that she has higher expectations than the rest of us.”

“Claire thinks if she acts the way I do, then I’ll love her even more,” Nick said. “Only she doesn’t realize I don’t especially care for the way I act much of the time. I used to. I used to think I was quite extraordinary. Not when I was young. But after I met Daisy. I felt blessed then, as though I’d been covered in silver and gold, as though just the sound of my shoes on the pavement was music. And when you have an attitude like that, people smile on you, and the fates are kind, and you get what you want, and I did. I got Daisy. It took longer than it should have, but finally I won. And then we waited a while longer, until the fates were kind again, and we had Evvie, and then Thea, and Claire, and finally you. I couldn’t believe it. With each one of you girls, I’d go into your bedroom, and watch you sleeping, and marvel that not only did I have a family at last, but I had such an extraordinary one. I hope someday you have a taste of that kind of happiness. It can’t last forever, it’s too perfect, but it makes everything else endurable just to have known it for a while.”

“Then what happened?” Sybil asked. She could remember when Meg would tell them the story of the day she and Nick first met. It was their favorite story, even Claire’s, when they were little.

“Then reality set in,” Nick said. “My magic cloak got tattered. My shoes no longer made music. The fates grew bored with me, and rightly so. Sometimes I scored, sometimes I didn’t. Daisy kept loving me, and grew even more beautiful, and you girls grew up and became not just creatures for me to love, but individuals with your own needs and desires, and Evvie went off to Eastgate and came back with Sam, and then Thea fell in love with Kip, and Claire decided she could run the world very well on her own, and things were never quite the same.”

“And I had my accident,” Sybil said.

“Yes,” Nick said. “That happened also.”

Sybil stared into the window of a well-kept brownstone. People on Beacon Hill knew how to maintain appearances. Nick used to be that way. No matter how his life might be going, he always shone. When had he lost that?

“Maybe I’m wrong,” she said, almost shyly. “But I thought things went bad when I had the accident. The way you’re telling it, there were problems before then.”

“Of course there were problems,” Nick said. “We had our share of problems before you were hurt.”

“It never seemed that way to me,” Sybil said. “Oh, I know sometimes we had less money than others. I remember a couple of middle-of-the-night moves when I was a kid. But it all seemed like a game to me. Was that because I was so young?”

“A little bit,” Nick replied. “And a little bit because no matter how bad things were then, it never seemed real. It certainly never seemed important. We could live in a dump for a year or so, and our first dinner there was almost always champagne and caviar, frequently courtesy of Clark, to give him his due, and we knew, at least Daisy and I did, that the dump was temporary, and the next place would be a castle. So what difference did it make that it was a dump. And of course while we were waiting for a change of fortunes, Daisy would turn the dump into something so special it might as well have been a castle. And she would laugh, and you girls would join her, and I couldn’t help laughing myself then, and soon things would be better again and deals would get made and I’d be paying for the champagne and caviar. I think sometimes I preferred life that way, uncertain, with the ever possible risk of failure, to a life like Clark had, all wealthy and secure. In that way, Claire is like me. She loves risk. You can see it excites her.”

“Maybe now you can start taking risks again,” Sybil said. “Now that you have Aunt Grace’s house to live in. And Evvie’ll be married soon, and Claire’s already earning good money. You’ll just have Thea and me to worry about.”

“I’ll worry about all of you until the day I die,” Nick declared. “But you’re right. If I could only get a stake, I might make something of myself yet. The problem is raising the money. This is Boston. In some ways it’s a big city, and in others it’s a very small town. Daisy has position, or at least she had in her days as a Winslow. Grace, Clark, they represent the old money, the right clubs, the places that never accepted me. My only ins are there, and they don’t do me any good. I’ll always be the upstart that stole Grace Winslow’s niece away from her, away from Clark. And I don’t have the money or the connections to get in with the new crowd. So I’m stuck with a mansion that costs a fortune in taxes, and if I can’t think of something soon, I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

“You must have some ideas,” Sybil said. Even at the worst times, Nick always had something cooking.

“We can’t sell the house,” Nick said. “Grace saw to that. But we could probably rent it for a good amount. More than enough to cover taxes at least. Then we could scrape up some money somehow, and go to a more open community. I had good luck in Pennsylvania. Maybe we could try there.”

“When?” Sybil asked, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. Nick was very sensitive to her moods, and this was one time she didn’t want him to know what she was feeling.

“During the summer, I think,” Nick said. “I haven’t spoken to Daisy about it yet, because I know how happy she is to be in Boston. It’s funny. She hated the house when she was growing up here. The summer house in Eastgate she loved, which is probably why Grace didn’t leave that to her instead. But she was miserable in Boston. So you’d think it would be easy for me to convince her to move. But it won’t be. She finally has some security, and God knows she’s entitled to it after all we’ve been through. She thought we were getting that back in Briarton when we bought the house. But that didn’t work out, and we’ve been on the move ever since.”

Briarton was where Sybil had had her accident. They’d been on the move ever since because of her. Nick wasn’t even being kind not mentioning that. They both knew it so well there was no point.

“I’d like for us to stay in Boston, too,” Sybil said. “At least for another year. Until I finish high school.”

“You’ve certainly been to more than your share of schools,” Nick said. “Do you like the one you’re going to that much?”

Sybil didn’t like the school she was going to at all. It was old and filled with stairs and kids that pushed against her because they were late and she was slow. She didn’t have any friends there. She hadn’t made any real friends since Briarton. There’d been too many hospitals and rehab centers and schools since then to make friends. “I like Boston,” she said, choosing not to lie. “I like Aunt Grace’s house. I like feeling like I belong someplace.”

“That’s how Daisy feels,” Nick said. “But there’s no point in living someplace where I can’t make money.”

“Couldn’t you get a job?” Sybil asked.

“Not the kind that would pay me enough money,” Nick said. “I need to make a quick killing, get us out of debt for a while. We left friends back in Briarton. Harrison, too. That whole section of Pennsylvania was very hospitable. You could finish high school there, and then if you want, you could go to college in Boston. Evvie would be happy to keep an eye on you.”

Sybil looked at Nick. He wasn’t pleading yet, so the idea was still fairly new to him. That meant there was time to talk him out of it, to come up with some scheme that would keep them in Boston. It was too soon to panic.

“We’d better get the milk,” she said. “My legs are starting to hurt.”

“Fair enough,” Nick said. “Milk and eggs and a short walk home it is.”

Sybil nodded. It was home, too. Nick might hate it, but she wasn’t about to give it up without a fight.

CHAPTER THREE

“Ah, the hallowed grounds,” Claire said as she and Sybil walked to Evvie’s apartment. “See that little grocery on the corner? I used to meet Scotty there for our secret assignations.”

“How many did you have?” Sybil asked. She had gone to Evvie’s apartment several times since the move to Boston, but this was her first guided tour with Claire.

“One, I think,” Claire said. “Maybe two. It’s all so long ago, and it was so really unimportant. That streetlight over there, right by their house, that’s where I got him to kiss me.”

“Was it hard?” Sybil asked.

“For him or me?” Claire replied. “Actually, Scotty was a very good kisser. The moment would have been romantic, if I’d been in it for romance.”

“Instead of money?” Sybil said.

“Not money,” Claire said. “Not then. I wanted him to kiss me because Thea was there. I didn’t work out the money angle until later.”

“How much later?” Sybil asked. The sky had turned overcast, and the conversation was keeping her mind from the ache in her legs.

“I don’t know what you’re asking me,” Claire said. “But if you want to know if Scotty was in on it with me, then yes, he was. I never would have gotten him to marry me if he hadn’t understood my plan. He did it to make Thea jealous.”

“Poor Thea,” Sybil said.

“She deserved it,” Claire said, walking up to Evvie’s door and ringing the bell. “The way she was carrying on about Kip. She didn’t care how much she hurt Scotty. Thea can be incredibly insensitive when she wants to be.”

Sybil sighed. There was no getting through to Claire about her own insensitivities. Sybil was just glad she could be friends with them both.

And things had worked out reasonably well. Thea and Scotty remained close, although no romance had ever developed. Sybil had gotten the time in the rehab center she needed. Claire had a beautiful portfolio. And the Hugheses still had plenty of money. Sybil suspected there was a lot she could learn from Claire’s techniques.

They walked up the flight of stairs to Evvie’s apartment, and Claire knocked on the door. Evvie opened it, and Sybil noted instantly that Evvie had been crying.

“What’s the matter?” Claire asked. “Evvie, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered. “This is just a bad time.”

Claire and Sybil walked into the apartment. Everything looked the same as it had the last time Sybil had been there, and Sybil found that comforting somehow. She couldn’t remember ever having seen Evvie cry.

“Is somebody sick?” she asked.

“Yes,” Evvie said. “No. Not in the way you think. Look, it’s an awful mess. I’m sorry. I know we invited you for lunch, and I should have called to cancel, but this morning has been awful, and I wasn’t thinking straight.” Sybil noticed that Evvie was keeping her voice low. She looked around the apartment for signs of Sam, and saw the bedroom door was closed.

“Is Sam okay?” Sybil asked. She’d grown to love Sam over the years. As far as she was concerned, he was a perfect big brother. “You’re still getting married, aren’t you?”

Evvie managed a half laugh. “We’re fine,” she said. “He’s fine. Look, it’s very complicated.” She paused, and began to cry again.

Claire gave Evvie a hug. “It’s okay,” she said. “Whatever it is, you’ll work it out.”

Sybil heard some noises in the bedroom, and turned around to see Sam opening the door. He looked even worse than Evvie, tearstained and red with some emotion Sybil couldn’t define. “Get your damn sisters out of here!” he shouted. “They don’t belong. Get them the hell out, already!”

“We’re going,” Claire said. “Evvie, give us a call.”

“Thea,” Evvie said. “She can’t come here.”

“I’ll call her at Scotty’s,” Claire said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you,” Evvie whispered. “I love you both.”

“We love you, too,” Claire said. “Come on home if you need to. No one else is there right now.”

“Maybe,” Evvie said, and half pushed them out of the apartment. Sybil followed Claire down the stairs. She felt like weeping, although she couldn’t be sure why.

“Happy Easter,” Claire said as they left the building.

“Do you think that was what was bothering Sam?” Sybil asked. “That it was Easter?”

“I don’t think so,” Claire said.

“Then what was it?” Sybil asked. “It had to be something terrible. Have you ever seen Evvie crying?”

“Once,” Claire replied. “After your accident. Evvie cried for days after that.”

“But not since then,” Sybil said. “And Sam was so angry. Did we do something wrong?”

“Calm down,” Claire said. “It was probably just a fight. Couples have them. Nicky and Megs don’t have them like the rest of the world, but everybody else does. Evvie probably wanted to put hot sauce in the soup or something, and Sam didn’t like it hot and one thing led to another and they both got upset. Hot sauce will do that.”

“You can’t believe that,” Sybil declared. “That was not a frivolous fight.”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” Claire replied. “It isn’t my crisis. Now, do you want to go back to Aunt Grace’s or should we find a place to eat here?”

“Home,” Sybil said. “And don’t call it Aunt Grace’s.”

“Pardon me,” Claire said. “How’re your legs holding up?”

“They’re fine,” Sybil said. “There’s no need to baby me, Claire.”

“I love the holidays,” Claire said. “Happy family gatherings. They make me wish I was an orphan.”

“Sam’s an orphan,” Sybil said. “So are Nicky and Megs. They all seem to love it.”

“There are orphans and there are orphans,” Claire said. “But if I were an orphan, I might not have you, and where would I be then?”

“Can we take a cab back?” Sybil asked. Cabs were such an extravagance she was loath to request one, but her legs were starting to ache, and she didn’t think she could manage all the walking mass transit would involve.

“We’ll find one,” Claire promised, and indeed soon they were being driven back to Beacon Hill. Claire didn’t seem to mind paying, and Sybil was grateful that one Sebastian at least had a good-paying job.

Claire called Thea, and then made sandwiches for their lunch. Sybil gave herself some medication, and hoped the pain would vanish. She knew she was tired from the excitement of having her sisters home, and her legs always bothered her more when she was tired. That and the weather, and she might find herself spending the evening lying on the living room sofa with everybody hovering about. “I think I’ll take a hot bath,” she told Claire. “Soak in hot sauce for a while. That might help.”

“Fair enough,” Claire said. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

“I won’t,” Sybil said, but it was hard just climbing up the stairs. She was glad Nick and Meg weren’t there to see her. She could feel their eyes on her sometimes, feel Nick’s body strain with her effort.

The bath helped both her legs and her spirits. What she couldn’t get over, she decided as she toweled herself, was the way Sam had spoken. She thought he loved her, Claire, and Thea. She thought Sam felt like a member of the family. She hadn’t realized he could think of her as Evvie’s damn sister. Not even a name. Just a title. Nick was right. Blood really was all that counted. Everything else was window dressing.

She straightened up the bathroom, not wanting to leave any clues of a midday bath that would cause Nick or Meg alarm, and joined Claire downstairs. They were both reading when the doorbell rang. Claire got up and answered it, and when she returned, Evvie was with her. Evvie didn’t look much better than she had in her apartment.

“I needed to explain,” Evvie said.

“Sit down,” Claire said. “Can I get you something?”

“No thanks,” Evvie said. “I couldn’t possibly eat. I’m much too upset.”

“About what?” Sybil asked. “What was going on? Why was Sam so angry at us?”

“He wasn’t angry at you,” Evvie said. “We weren’t fighting about you.”

“Are you sure you don’t want something to drink?” Claire asked. “I could make us some tea if you want.”

Sybil stared at Claire. Claire was kind to Sybil, but to no one else, as far as Sybil knew. Whatever was going on, Claire obviously knew how serious it was. More unshared secrets? Sybil, who’d always assumed she knew everything in the family, was increasingly disconcerted by how much she didn’t know.

“No tea,” Evvie said. “I’m fine, really. Furious, but fine. Furious and worried sick. You probably guessed. It’s Sam’s mother.”

“What mother?” Sybil asked.

Evvie looked at Claire. “You never told her?” she asked.

“No,” Claire said.

“I thought you told her everything,” Evvie said. “You never told anybody?”

“It wasn’t my secret,” Claire said. “It was Sam’s and yours. I told you that then.”

“You did,” Evvie said. “Sometimes I forget I don’t really understand you.”

“That’s okay,” Claire said. “You understand me well enough.”

“Will the two of you stop it, already!” Sybil demanded. “What’s going on? What mother? Sam’s parents are dead. Why was he so angry?” She realized she was angry, too, at Sam, at Evvie, and at Claire for keeping things from her. She felt as if her life was on constant display. Everybody knew everything about her, but they all kept secrets. They couldn’t possibly be trying to protect her. She was far past the point where they could protect her.

Evvie closed her eyes for a moment. “This is very hard for me,” she began. “I’m sorry, Sybil. I assumed you knew the basic story. I thought Claire must have told you years ago, after she found out. I even thought Claire might have discussed it with you today, after you left my place. Now I have to explain everything, and I don’t know where to begin or how much to tell you. Give me a moment, all right?”

“Years ago?” Sybil asked. “You’ve known something for years and you haven’t told me? Does Thea know?”

Claire shook her head. “Not from me, she doesn’t.”

“I never told her, either,” Evvie said. “Possibly Scotty has. I’ve never told Nicky and Megs.”

“How could Scotty know something Nicky and Megs don’t know?” Sybil asked.

“Maybe they do know,” Evvie said. “Clark might have told them. What a mess.”

“Do you want me to explain to Sybil?” Claire asked. “While you calm down?”

“No, it’s okay,” Evvie said. “Sybil, I’m sorry to ruin your Easter with this situation. I’m sorry if you’re upset to learn that there are things going on you don’t know about. I apologize for Sam, too.” She stopped, rubbed her face with her hand and took a deep breath. “When Sam was very young, his parents were involved with a crime. They were political radicals, and they blew up a bank and people died. His father died in the explosion, but his mother escaped, and she’s been underground ever since. Sam hasn’t seen her since then. He was about two, and he went to live with his grandparents, his mother’s parents, and he had no contact with his mother. None of them did. She might have been dead, and they wouldn’t have known. She was last seen running from the explosion. That was all anybody knew.”

“But Sam always said his parents were dead,” Sybil said. “He was lying?”

“He had to,” Evvie replied. “Or at least he felt he had to. He didn’t know the truth himself until he was eleven. Both sets of grandparents agreed to that, but when he was eleven, they finally told him what really had happened. He lived with his mother’s parents, the Greenes, and he was called Sam Greene—they changed his name legally to that—and everybody thought his parents had died in a car crash. No one made the connection between him and his mother because of the different last names. Her name was Linda Steinmetz. When Sam spent his summers at Eastgate, it was different, because there he stayed with his Steinmetz grandparents, and everybody knew the whole story, which is how come Clark knows, and maybe Scotty. Schyler certainly knows. He was the first one to tell me.”

“I didn’t know that,” Claire said. “That little SOB.”

“Aunt Grace knew, too,” Evvie said. “Somebody would have told me sooner or later. Sam would have, himself, once we fell in love. It’s just very hard for him, because his life with the Greenes was filled with lies. Nobody at school knew the truth. None of his friends. I was the first person he really cared about who knew the truth.”

“I can see why he didn’t want his friends to know,” Sybil said. “But why didn’t you tell Nicky and Megs? You must have wanted to.”

“Of course I did,” Evvie said. “I went off to Eastgate thinking our family would never have any secrets. I came back knowing that wasn’t true. It was a brutally painful lesson to learn, and it still hurts sometimes.”

Sybil suspected Evvie wasn’t just talking about Sam, but this was no moment to press for further details. It occurred to her fleetingly that she might not want to know what other secrets there were. Maybe she was entitled to some protection after all.

“Sam’s mother is underground because the police, the FBI, they all want her for homicide,” Evvie said. “She’s wanted on a capital offense, and they’ve never stopped looking for her. There’s even a twenty-five thousand dollar reward on her head from the bank she blew up. It’s something Sam’s lived with for years, and his grandparents have lived with it, too, and now I live with it as well.”

“How do you mean?” Sybil asked. “I thought you said his mother hadn’t contacted him in all those years.”

“She hasn’t,” Evvie replied. “But the FBI’s never given up hope that she will. There were FBI agents at his father’s parents’ funerals. There were agents at his graduation from Harvard. There’ll be agents at our wedding. Our phone is tapped. I don’t care. I think it’s kind of funny knowing they’re monitoring my calls. They must be bored out of their minds. But when Sam got the job at the Globe, he had to go to his editor and tell him not to ever give out Sam’s home phone number to any source, in case he was working on a politically sensitive story. He figures they wouldn’t dare tap his office number. That was when he decided to write under the name of Sam Steinmetz Greene. It practically killed his grandparents when he told them, but Steinmetz was his father’s name, and Sam’s tired of lying and hiding and not being allowed to be normal. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe he should have kept the whole thing secret.”

Sybil tried to picture denying her parents, but it was inconceivable. Her name was Sebastian and she was proud of it. Poor Sam, not even knowing which last name to use.

“I gather Mom Steinmetz has made contact,” Claire said.

Evvie nodded. “Sam got a note yesterday in the mail,” she said. “No return address of course. Just a typed note sent to our house telling him to call a certain number from a pay phone this morning at seven. So he did. I didn’t like the feel of it even then, but there was nothing to say. I didn’t know it was about his mother. Neither did Sam. He went to the phone booth and made the call. I wanted to go with him, but he wouldn’t let me, so I guess he suspected it had something to do with her. There’s a little part of Sam that he can’t reveal, not even to me, and I learned long ago not to push him.”

“But he told you about the call when he got back,” Claire said.

“He did,” Evvie replied. “He took a huge pile of change with him, because he knew better than to put the call on his phone card. Close to ten dollars in dimes and quarters. We practically spent all of yesterday afternoon getting change for a dollar from every shop in the neighborhood. There was nothing in the note that said it would be a long call. I guess Sam’s been waiting for that note most of his life. He knew to take a lot of coins. And he used them all up. He was down to two quarters when he came back.”

“Did he speak to his mother?” Sybil asked.

“Yeah,” Evvie said, and she began to cry again. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just so angry, and Sam’s in so much pain, and he won’t let me do anything about it. He feels he can’t.” She dug out some tissues from her pocketbook, blew her nose, and used the moment to get back in control. “At first he couldn’t be sure. He doesn’t know what his mother sounds like. He’s seen some videotape of her from old newscasts, but that tape was over twenty years old, and it isn’t the same. But she told him things only she could have known. Things about his grandparents. That’s really all they have in common, her parents, his grandparents. So he believed it was her. I wish I had been there. I wish Sam had let me be there.”

“He must be very scared,” Claire said.

“I know,” Evvie said. “You’re right. He’s always been scared his mother would turn up. He’s always been scared that she wouldn’t. It’s his mother, you know, and she abandoned him. Whatever else she’s done, she abandoned him. He was lucky his grandparents took him in. God only knows what might have happened if they hadn’t. I hate her so much. I’ve never said that before. I never had anybody I could say it to. I hate Linda Steinmetz for what she did to Sam.”

“Why did she write to Sam now?” Sybil asked. “Does she know he’s getting married?”

“She wouldn’t care even if she did know,” Evvie said. “Actually, she might know. Sam said she knew he’d graduated from Harvard, knew where he was working. She obviously knew his address. Maybe all these years she’s had friends tell her about him. Sam swears his grandparents have had no contact with her.”

“Did he tell them about the phone call?” Claire asked.

“That was one of the things we fought about,” Evvie said. “No, he didn’t. And there was a reason why she wrote now, and not two years ago, or two years from now. She needs something from him.”

“What?” Sybil asked.

Evvie took another deep breath. “This would be funny if I didn’t love him,” she said. “It seems Linda’s suffering from kidney disease. She’s begun dialysis. But she can’t stay in one place too long, because of the FBI, and there’s a tremendous amount of paperwork involved in getting the dialysis paid for, and she can’t become too visible to any section of the government, so that’s out, and she can’t wait around for a cadaver donor for a kidney transplant. So she needs a healthy kidney, and she needs one fast, and she figured her best bet was for Sam to donate one. He has a spare. He’ll never miss it. Sam is to drop everything, fly clear across, well I can’t tell you where, and get tested to see if his kidney is compatible. And he’s doing it. He agreed! That’s what we were fighting about when you came this morning. We’ve been fighting about it since he made the phone call. He’s crazy. He owes this woman nothing. She never did a thing for him except give birth and maybe change a diaper or two. His father wasn’t any better, but at least he had the decency to die. Not Linda Steinmetz, though. Not tough-as-nails Linda. The invisible woman. Twenty-one years without even a birthday card, and poof, she needs Sam to risk his life, and she doesn’t hesitate for a moment to ask. And he agrees. That’s what I can’t get over. I’m Sam’s family. Me and the Greenes, and his aunt Ronnie. Not this stranger.”

“Maybe he’s just curious,” Claire said. “There’s got to be a tremendous need to actually see, if only for a moment. Look at Nicky.”

“What about Nicky?” Sybil asked.

“He never knew his father,” Claire said. “That’s all. And I know how much he wishes he had had the chance to.”

“His father died,” Sybil said. “Sam’s known for years his mother’s alive. There’s a big difference.”

“The need must be the same, though,” Claire said. “Besides, what does it matter? Has Sam left already?”

Evvie nodded. “He took the shuttle to New York,” she said. “That was part of the plan. He can’t even fly out from Boston, in case he might be followed. He isn’t being followed. His family’s paranoid, but they’ve never worried about that. From New York, he’s going to fly to wherever. He has an assumed name. She gave it to him, and she’ll have fake ID waiting for him. It’s a nightmare. He couldn’t use any of his credit cards, so we’ve been doing everything with cash, using all our cash-machine cards to make withdrawals. He’s traveling with all that cash, and he’s going to a strange city under an assumed name to meet his mother, and he’s going to have to act like she really is his mother, so her doctor won’t suspect anything, and then if everything works out, he gets to stay there for major surgery. And I’m supposed to act like this is perfectly all right. He’ll call me from pay phones when he can at my office at school. Short calls, just in case the FBI gets wind of something and starts tracing my office calls. Sam’s going through the worst thing in his life, and he’s deliberately keeping me out of it. I wish she’d die. I wish she’d die right now, before there’s any need for the surgery. I wish the FBI would find her right this very minute. I wish Sam would come to his senses, and fly back home now.” And this time when she began to cry, neither Claire nor Sybil tried to stop her.

“Maybe they won’t be compatible,” Claire said. “He might have his father’s blood type or whatever.”

“That’s what I keep hoping,” Evvie said. “But that might be even worse for him, knowing he couldn’t help. I don’t know. Claire, I am so frightened. I’m more frightened than I was even in Eastgate, when I learned everything. It’s like the accident. It’s that kind of fear. So many things could go wrong. He might even die. And there’s nothing I can do.”

“You have to tell Nicky and Megs,” Claire said. “Everything. You’re too deeply involved now. They have a right to know.”

“Do you think so?” Evvie asked. “I’ve wanted to tell them for so long.”

“Tell them,” Claire said. “Thea, too. It’s not just Sam’s secret any longer. It belongs to all of us now.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“I don’t like this situation at all,” Meg declared the next morning over breakfast. “I was up all night worrying about Evvie and Sam.”

“They’ll be fine,” Claire said, nibbling on a slice of toast. “They always get through things. That’s their main strength.”

“How can you be so sure?” Thea asked. She’d come home around the same time Nick and Meg had, and got to hear the second telling of the story with them. “Sam and Evvie have never really had a rough time before. It’s always been easy for them.”

“The accident wasn’t easy,” Claire said.

“They were hardly around for that,” Thea replied. “Sam left the next day, and Evvie didn’t stay home much longer. I love them both, but they’re one of those golden couples that nothing bad ever happens to.”

“Unlike you and Kip,” Claire said.

“We buried his sister together,” Thea said. “I’d say that was rough.”

“Will you both calm down,” Nick said. “I don’t care for squabbling this early in the morning.”

Sybil didn’t care for squabbling at all. She still felt raw from the day before. It was odd how much Sam’s anger continued to bother her. She knew now he hadn’t been angry at her, but his words still stung. Damn sisters. They don’t belong. When Sam had his crisis of the soul, he immediately rejected the family he’d loved, or seemed to love, for close to six years.

“I hate to think what Evvie’s going through,” Meg declared. “So many things could go wrong. Oh, Sam will probably breeze through the surgery, if he has it, and his mother obviously knows how to escape detection. But there are so many risks, and Evvie must feel so desperately shut out.” Almost instinctively, she reached out for Nick, who took her hand and clasped it between his own.

“They’ll be fine,” Claire said. “Sam’s been dealing with this situation one way or another most of his life. He has his own tricks for escaping detection.”

“That reminds me,” Nick said. “How is it you’ve known for so long now, and you never told us?”

“I found out at Christmas two years ago,” Claire replied. “There were other things going on. Sam’s mother never came up in conversation.”

“That’s not an answer,” Nick said.

“Nicky’s right,” Meg declared. “You should have told us, Claire. This is a family matter, and we had every right to be informed.”

“It was Sam’s secret,” Claire said. “Not everybody has to know everything for this family to function. As a matter of fact, some things are best left unknown. I only found out because Aunt Grace told me. Have we forgotten how free she could be with secrets?”

“All right, Claire, that’s enough,” Meg said, and Sybil once again had that uncomfortable sensation of being outside the family. She could see Thea was puzzled, too. At first that relieved her: Thea was outside things as well. But then Sybil got angry. Nobody ever told Thea things. Sybil was different. She was harder. She was as hard as Claire, who seemed to know everything.

And how was it that Claire, who made a point of circling in her own orbit, did know all these secrets? And why was it that Claire, who had shared everything with Sybil from measles to her deepest longings, had kept so many secrets from her? Sybil was starting to worry just how many secrets there might be.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Thea said. “I don’t know what anybody’s talking about in this family anymore. I don’t know why we’re feeling so sorry for Evvie and Sam when they’ve both been lying to us for years now.”

“They had to lie,” Claire replied.

“You would say that,” Thea declared. “You like lying. You think it’s all a game. But I thought if this family believed in anything, it was honesty.”

Claire snorted.

“With Claire as an exception, of course,” Thea continued. “But the rest of us have always been honest. There’s never been any reason to lie. Whatever we’ve done, whoever we are, we can accept it and deal with it. Suppose we had known about Sam’s mother. What difference would it have made?”

“It might have made a big difference,” Meg said. “I would never have encouraged Evvie and Sam’s relationship.”

“You think that would have stopped them?” Thea asked. “You, of all people, should know better.”

“Evvie isn’t me,” Meg said. “And Sam isn’t Nicky, and the lies Sam was telling were different from …” She was silent for a moment. “The situations are simply different,” she concluded.

“They are,” Claire said. “Sam has a lot more to lose. There are more people involved. He feels a sense of obligation to his mother, and his grandparents.”

Sybil now felt thoroughly confused. What lies had Nick told? Was he still telling them? How could a man who claimed she was just like him continue to lie to her? It was easier to believe, as Thea did, that the Sebastians had no secrets from each other. Sybil certainly had none. Her pain was their pain, like it or not.

“Then Clark should have told us,” Meg said. “Apparently he’s known for years. Or Aunt Grace. We’re Evvie’s parents. We have every right to know. Evvie’s safety is concerned.”

“Evvie’s perfectly safe,” Claire said. “The FBI isn’t about to start shooting at her.”

“You can’t know that,” Meg said. “Suppose Sam brings his mother home with him. Suppose she decides to show up at his wedding? Suppose now that he’s made contact with her, now that one of his kidneys is keeping her alive, for heaven’s sake, he feels they have to see each other on some kind of regular basis. Suppose Evvie has children, and Sam’s mother wants to see her grandchildren. Or her parents die, and she goes to their funerals? Any one of those things could happen, and the FBI might well know, and guns could go off and Evvie could get hurt.”

“So what are you going to do?” Claire asked. “Tell Evvie she can’t marry him?”

“I wish I could,” Meg replied. “I can’t tell you what a bad feeling I have about all this.”

“Nothing bad’s going to happen,” Claire said. “Linda Steinmetz has no desire to be caught. She’s been free for over twenty years now. And Sam’s first loyalty is to Evvie. He would never put her in any danger. Look how careful he’s being now. He won’t even call her at home.”

“I don’t like that, either,” Meg said. “Evvie’s spending the whole week at work just in case he calls. We had plans for lunch today, and now she says she can’t even do that. Sam’s turned her life upside down. He’s made her a conspirator. For all we know, she’s criminally liable. She might end up in prison.”

“That won’t happen,” Nick said.

“Evvie has never been the same since she met Sam,” Meg declared. “I’ve always blamed it on that summer at Eastgate, on all the things Aunt Grace must have told her, but now I know I was blaming Aunt Grace for nothing. It was Sam’s doing. Evvie was sixteen, and suddenly she was having to lie to her family, to her friends, to all the people who ever cared about her, because she felt she had to, to protect Sam. Only it wasn’t Sam she was protecting. It was his mother. And she’s a murderer.”

“Sometimes you protect your mother, no matter who she is,” Nick said. “It hurts too much if you don’t protect her.”

“The situations are completely different,” Meg said. “Completely. Your stepfather was a brute. Your mother was a victim. Linda Steinmetz is nobody’s victim.” Meg pushed her coffee cup away from her, and drops from it spilled on the table. She didn’t seem to notice.

“Everything will be fine,” Claire said, getting up and sponging the table. “Stop worrying.”

“And stop saying that!” Meg shouted. “I don’t need any Pollyanna routine from you, Claire. Everything will not be fine. It may never be fine again. Can’t you see that?”

Claire carried the sponge back to the sink. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess I have more faith in Evvie and Sam than you do.”

“How can I have any faith in her?” Meg asked. “She’s been lying to me for years now.”

“I’d like to go for a walk now,” Sybil whispered. She meant to say it louder, but her voice wouldn’t cooperate.

“Good idea,” Nick said. “They’re predicting some more rain by noon. Let’s get the walk in before then.”

“Would you like some more company?” Claire asked.

“No,” Sybil said sharply.

“Just asking,” Claire said. “Thea, do you have any plans?”

“I was going to go to the library and do some research,” Thea replied. “I have a paper due in a couple of weeks I’d like to work on.”

“Fine,” Claire said. “I’ll entertain myself. I’ll go shopping.”

“Then we’re all set?” Nick asked. “Sybil, get your cane, and let’s get out of here.”

Sybil followed Nick to the hall, and then outside. The day was already overcast. Her legs had been bad all night, between the rain and the tension. She wondered what it would do to Meg if she had to use her crutches the rest of the day. Meg would probably blame it on Linda Steinmetz. She might even have some cause.

“I’ve never seen Megs so upset,” Sybil said as they began their walk.

“She’s terrified,” Nick replied. “And she’s angry at Evvie as well. And Sam. You can tell Daisy anything, and if she loves you, she’ll accept it, but if she finds out she’s been lied to, she gets terribly hurt and angry.”

“Would you have lied, the way Sam did?” Sybil asked. “To protect your mother?”

“I used to lie for her all the time,” Nick said. “When she broke something, I’d say I did it. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it made things worse.” He stopped for a moment. “Don’t ever feel you have to protect me,” he said. “I can handle anything that comes along.”

“I know that,” Sybil said. She did. There was nothing Nick or Claire couldn’t handle if they had to. Of course, she’d always thought that was true of all of them, but she still was sure about Nick and Claire.

“I think Daisy’s right, though,” Nick said. “I think the possibility for disaster is enormous. And Sam and Evvie can get caught right in the middle of it.”

“You mean they might actually get hurt?” Sybil asked.

“It could happen,” Nick said. “I’m more worried that Sam might get arrested. I doubt they’d go down hard on him, Linda Steinmetz is his mother after all, but you never can tell. And it isn’t like he’s here, where we could help out. Evvie wouldn’t tell us where he was, although I assume she knows.”

“She wouldn’t tell Claire and me, either,” Sybil said. “Not that we asked.”

“Daisy asked,” Nick said. “Along with a lot of other questions Evvie didn’t answer.”

Sybil nodded. She’d been upstairs resting when Evvie had told her story the second time. The painkillers had made her drowsy. When the choice was between being awake and in pain or asleep and in pain, she frequently chose the latter.

“I’d feel better if I just knew where Sam was,” Nick said. “I have connections all over the country. If we needed to get him a lawyer fast, it would help if I already had some names prepared.”

“What would Evvie do?” Sybil asked. “If Sam got hurt or arrested?”

“I don’t know,” Nick replied. “Frankly, it worries me sick to even think about it.”

“And it’s not just the FBI that’s after Sam’s mother,” Sybil said. “Evvie said the police are still searching for her, and there’s that reward, too.”

“What reward?” Nick asked.

“Evvie didn’t tell you about the reward?” Sybil asked.

“Maybe she did, and I’ve forgotten,” Nick replied. “There was a lot I had to take in last night. And frankly, I was worried about you, too. I was distracted.”

“I’m all right,” Sybil said. “You know this kind of weather always makes me ache.”

“I know you’ve been through too much pain already,” Nick said. “When I was a boy, and my lies wouldn’t work, and my stepfather would beat up my mother, I’d think, ‘I’ll never love anybody again; it hurts too much to see them suffer.’ It felt worse when he hit her than when he hit me. And then, in spite of myself, I fell in love with Daisy, and then you girls were born, and the thought of any of you in pain was a nightmare to me. I hope you never know that kind of fear. Evvie’s learned it far too soon.”

“She’s sick with worry about Sam,” Sybil said.

Nick nodded. “It’s almost as bad as your accident,” he said. “That horrible sensation of not knowing how bad the future is going to be. Seeing someone you love in pain, and feeling so helpless to do something.”

“You help me,” Sybil said. “You help me more than anybody. There are days when I wake up and I know what’s ahead and I dread it, and then I think of you, and I know I can manage. I do it for you, not to let you down, and that helps me do it for me.”

“I love you, Sybil,” Nick said. “And things will get better.”

“I know,” Sybil replied. “Just the walking helps strengthen my legs. And I’ll learn to manage the pain better with time. I’m sure of it.”

“I’m sure of it, too,” Nick said. “We’re great at pain management, you and I.”

“I wonder how Evvie is at it,” Sybil said. “Thea was right in a way. Evvie hasn’t had much experience with really bad times.”

“You mentioned something about a reward,” Nick said.

“The bank Linda Steinmetz blew up offered one,” Sybil said. “Twenty-five thousand dollars for her capture.”

“That’s a lot of money,” Nick said. “That kind of reward could only make things worse for Sam, if the wrong people found out he was with his mother.”

Sybil kept walking, but she glanced at her father. “What kind of wrong people?” she asked.

“The kind who don’t care who gets hurt,” Nick replied. “Let’s look at this situation objectively. As of the moment, Sam’s all right. We don’t even know if he’s seen his mother yet. And even if he has, he’s still mobile. But if he does donate a kidney, then he’s going to be in the same hospital as his mother, recuperating from his surgery while she recuperates from hers, and if the wrong kinds of people find out—some clever police officer, or an orderly who makes the connection—then Sam couldn’t possibly escape whatever the consequences might be.”

“Yesterday Evvie said she wished Sam’s mother would get arrested before all that happened,” Sybil said. “She said she wished she’d die.”

“Evvie wants to protect Sam, just as Sam wants to protect his mother,” Nick declared. “Just as I want to protect Evvie, and Sam, too, for that matter.”

“But how can you?” Sybil asked. “We don’t even know where Sam is.”

“There must be a way of finding out,” Nick said. “Of course it would have to be done immediately. And we can’t tell Evvie. She could never feel she participated in any way, even if it is what she wants. She has to be blameless in her own eyes as well as Sam’s.”

“She might get angry,” Sybil said.

“I don’t think so,” Nick replied. “Not if we can keep Sam out of it. I think she’d be grateful.”

“Wouldn’t Sam be angry, though?” Sybil asked.

“Remember how angry you’d get at me?” Nick said. “When I’d make you do your physical therapy. When I pulled you out of one rehab place and put you in another. When I forced you to walk again, because I wouldn’t accept a life for you in a wheelchair.”

“There were times I hated you,” Sybil said.

“I knew you did,” Nick said. “And it killed me that you did, but it didn’t matter. It was worth it. I don’t care what Sam thinks of me for the rest of my life if I can protect him from a mistake that could prove disastrous to him. Disastrous to Evvie, for that matter.”

“Megs would agree,” Sybil said. “It’s better to stop things now, before they get out of hand.”

“You saw her at breakfast,” Nick said. “She’d turn Linda Steinmetz in herself if she could.”

“Maybe we should discuss this with her,” Sybil said. “She might have some good ideas about how to find Sam.”

Nick shook his head. “The fewer people involved the better,” he said. “And Evvie’s closer to Daisy than she is to me. Evvie’ll be angry at first. She’ll have to be, if only to prove to Sam that she’s not at fault. But even if she realizes it was my doing, then she’ll be able to focus her anger on me, and leave Daisy out of it. Sam, too. He’ll cut me off for a while, but he won’t hold it against Daisy. Eventually it’ll all work out.”

Sybil was silent. She tried to picture her family torn into pieces, Evvie and Sam on one side, Nick on another, Meg in the middle. But the picture was too easy. It felt that way already.

“Evvie will forgive me,” Nick said. “Even if Sam doesn’t. She’ll understand I did it just to protect her.”

“Oh, Nicky,” Sybil said. “You don’t have to make up reasons for me.”

“You’re right,” Nick said. “I don’t.”

Sybil knew twenty-five thousand was hardly a fortune, but Nick had turned fortunes out of a lot less. It was a stake. It would pay the bills for a while, giving him the chance to start something fresh and exciting. It would help a little bit with their debts, debts incurred through years of medical expenses caused by her accident. Nick had been a magician for so many years. Maybe this twenty-five thousand was what he needed to get his magic going again. And Sybil owed him. She owed him for all the sacrifices he had made for her. She owed him for all his love and all his time. She owed him at least twenty-five thousand more than she could ever owe Sam. Damn sisters. They don’t belong.

Sybil belonged, all right. She belonged to Nick. “What can I do?” she asked. “Evvie won’t tell me where Sam is. There’s no point even asking.”

“There has to be something,” Nick replied. “Some note or message left in their apartment. The name of a motel. A phone number. Even an area code. The FBI is good at their job. If I can tell them the general location, it shouldn’t be too hard for them to find a woman dying of kidney disease. Sam was in a hurry, and Evvie is careless. She’s bound to have left something.”

“And you want me to look for it?” Sybil asked.

“It’s up to you,” Nick said. “But if you do, I promise I’ll never tell Evvie or Sam you were the one who did.”

“You can’t tell Megs, either,” Sybil said. “If you tell her, she’ll tell Evvie. I know she will. She’ll do it to protect you.”

Nick stood for a moment, and clenched and unclenched his fists. “I won’t tell Daisy, either,” he said at last. “If we can find something, and Evvie assumes I’m to blame, I’ll say I did it on my own.”

“Evvie’s at her office now,” Sybil said. “In case Sam calls. This would be a good time for me to search.”

“You know where she keeps her spare keys?” Nick asked.

Sybil nodded. “Next door,” she said. “Under their flowerpot.”

Nick took out his wallet. “Take a cab,” he said. “Go easy on your legs. I’ll tell Daisy you went to the library looking for Thea. Call me from Evvie’s once you’ve found something, then go to the library, have lunch with Thea. The whole business will be over with before you ever get back.”

“What about Megs?” Sybil asked. “Won’t the phone calls make her suspicious?”

“I’ll send her to Clark’s,” Nick said. “She wants to tell him a thing or two, anyway. I’ll force her to do it, and then nobody will be around when you call me.”

Sybil looked around the street, almost expecting someone, Claire maybe, or even Sam, to spot them, and stop her from her next step. But of course, no one was there, except her and her father and a few busy strangers. She took the money from her father’s outstretched hand.

“It’s for the best,” Nick said. “We’re doing what’s right for all of us.”

“I know that,” Sybil said, and for that moment, at least, she did.

CHAPTER FIVE

Each step she took was a moral decision.

Giving the cab driver the proper address was the first, then getting out when the cab arrived at Evvie’s block. Taking the spare keys from their hiding spot, an act Sybil had seen Sam do more than once, since he was always forgetting his own. Walking to the door of Evvie’s building, and unlocking it. Climbing the flight of stairs to the apartment. Unlocking that door. Walking into the empty living room.

From her arrival at Cambridge to entering the living room couldn’t have taken more than two minutes, yet the time lasted forever for Sybil, since she had to decide whether to find the keys, enter the building, climb the stairs, unlock the door, walk into Evvie and Sam’s home, violate their privacy. She could feel their eyes on her, and even though she was obviously the only person in the apartment, she checked each room out, expecting Sam or Evvie or both of them to jump out of a closet and demand an explanation.

For a moment she even thought Linda Steinmetz might be there, hiding from the police and the FBI and the bounty hunters. Sybil tried to picture what Sam’s mother looked like, but could only imagine a long-haired woman with guns. She had no idea if Linda Steinmetz had long hair, or had ever held a gun in her life.

And she was happier not knowing, Sybil realized. As long as she couldn’t picture Linda Steinmetz, then there was no real person there, just a mythical creature who would never be disturbed by any action Sybil took. Linda Steinmetz hadn’t existed for over twenty years, after all. She hadn’t existed in Sybil’s universe until yesterday. Evvie might have lived with her presence a while longer, but Evvie hated Linda Steinmetz. Evvie would be grateful when Linda Steinmetz was in prison. It was best for her and for Sam. Nick was right. It was best for all of them, except maybe Linda Steinmetz, and it might be best for her, too. In prison, she could get the medical care she needed. She wouldn’t be on the run anymore.

Sybil sat down on one of the living room chairs. She knew what running was all about. In four years, she’d been in two hospitals and five rehab centers. Five, no six, different schools. Six different states, from Oregon to Massachusetts. Seven apartments before they inherited Aunt Grace’s house. Sure, she’d kept the same name, but the doctors and nurses and physical therapists had changed over and over again. After a while, they all looked the same, but they hadn’t been. They’d demanded different things of her, caused her different sorts of pain. Sybil knew what it must have been like for Linda Steinmetz, and she suspected that any sort of a home, even a prison, would be preferable to what Sam’s mother had been going through for twenty years.

But Sybil knew it was a lie to say she was doing this for Linda Steinmetz. It was a lie to say she was doing it for Sam, or even Evvie. She was doing it for Nick, giving him the stake he needed. Right or wrong, her loyalties were with him. Linda Steinmetz meant nothing to her, and Sam meant very little. Evvie could fend for herself. Nick was the one in trouble, and Sybil was the only one who could help.

She forced herself to get up, and she began her search by looking around the living room. She knew she’d find nothing there, but she needed to feel more at ease, and the living room was the room she’d spent the most time in. Since moving to Boston, she’d had dinner with Sam and Evvie almost weekly. Warm, friendly, laughing evenings. Evenings filled with lies and secrets. Evenings Sybil longed to be able to return to.

She found the Sunday paper, and rifled through it. She located a pile of Evvie’s textbooks, and flipped through them. There were books all over the place, and Sybil picked a few of them up, shook them for clues, then put them back. No clues. Not that she’d expected any.

The telephone rang as she stood there, and she jumped with the shock. She made no effort to answer it, and the machine kicked in. Sybil could hear the message. Some friend of Sam’s wanted to know if he and Evvie were free for supper Friday night. In spite of herself, Sybil laughed.

She went into the kitchen then, and some compulsion made her look in the refrigerator, check all the cabinets. There were still some leftovers from her birthday dinner. Meg always cooked enough for an army. Sybil found a box of cookies, and ate a couple. The taste of chocolate calmed her.

There was nothing in the kitchen to tell her where Sam had gone. Sybil knew there wouldn’t be, but she had to check. Just in case.

That left the bedroom, where Sybil knew she had her best chance of finding things. It felt strange and terribly wrong to go in there. She’d spent almost no time there during her visits, feeling somehow that the bedroom was Sam and Evvie’s private, and slightly sinful, sanctuary. Besides, she knew Evvie’s cleaning technique, which was to throw everything into an unused room and close the door. The bedroom door was almost always closed when Sybil came for supper.

The door was open now, though, and Sybil walked in. Evvie hadn’t made the bed that morning, and her night-clothes were tossed in one corner. She hadn’t hung up what she’d worn the day before, either. Sybil found herself wanting to tidy up. There’d been a little period, five or six years back, when she, Thea, and Evvie had all shared a bedroom. Somewhere in Pennsylvania, before the accident. She’d tidied up for Evvie then, Thea, too, on occasion, not that they’d ever asked her to. She was just a naturally tidy person. That was one reason why it was easier when she and Claire shared a room. Claire was compulsively neat. Sybil had always appreciated that. Nick was that way also. His office never had a single paper out of place, while Meg’s kitchen frequently looked tornado-struck. Evvie and Thea were like Meg. She and Claire were like Nick. Claire wouldn’t hesitate for a moment if she wanted to find out where Sam had gone. Claire would do exactly what Sybil was doing, only efficiently and without conscience. Sybil wished with all her heart that she was Claire.

There was nothing on the chest of drawers, except a jumble of cheap jewelry and scarves. Under the pile, though, Sybil found a photograph. She picked it up and examined it carefully.

It was a snapshot of all of them, taken years back. Nick and Meg both looked so young, so extraordinarily beautiful. Sybil had forgotten how handsome they used to be. They were still extremely attractive, but now their hair had gray in it, and they had aged so in the past few years. Evvie looked fourteen or fifteen. Her hair was short, and it seemed to Sybil that she hadn’t let it grow until after she’d met Sam. Thea’s hair was long, though, and she had a dreamy look in her eyes, and that private smile that she used to have. Sybil had almost forgotten that smile. When had Thea stopped taking pleasure in her own universe? Claire, of course, looked the same. She was just a girl there, ten or eleven, but her eyes shone with a defiant beauty. She stood slightly apart from the others, a subtle shading that might not be apparent to strangers.

And Sybil herself was nearly unrecognizable. She’d been almost fat in those days, she was startled to see. Sybil had known that in a family of beauties, she was the ugly duckling, but it had never bothered her. Evvie and Thea were so casually pretty, and Claire so secure in her beauty, that there was no sense of competitiveness and failure. Sybil couldn’t remember once feeling less than her sisters because she was less attractive. Certainly Nick and Meg never treated her that way.

But she hadn’t realized before just how great the disparity had been. She wondered if other kids had teased her, and she’d been oblivious to it, or shielded from the insults by Claire.

Sybil rested against the chest of drawers, and stared into the picture, into her past. She remembered a long-ago incident. She must have been around eight, and she was a round eight, all bulges and blob compared to the rest of her family. She was with Nick at some project he was working on. A building was being renovated, and Nick had put the money people together, and was getting a cut of the deal. That was how he used to operate, where his money used to come from.

Nick loved to show her his projects. He’d explain to her who the prime movers were, how he’d convinced different people of different things, and Sybil had loved equally hearing about it. Thea used to love watching Meg bake. Sybil loved the business.

A man had come up to them, one of the partners, Sybil now assumed, and had started talking with Nick. He seemed like a nice man, and Sybil could remember him at their house more than once. In those days, they frequently had company. It was hard to remember that now, the guests and the parties. The man was complimenting Nick. Nick used to get complimented a lot back then.

“And your daughters are all so pretty,” the man had said. “I imagine even this one will grow into a beauty someday.”

“She doesn’t have to,” Nick had replied. “She’s the real beauty of the family already.”

Sybil stared at the photograph, looked at the image of Nick from that time, a time when everything went smoothly, and people wanted to be with him, to share in his glory, his joys. She stared at the man who had so much faith in her. She thought of the irony. She had become a beauty, not from any natural growth, but because the accident had forced her into almost constant exercise. Pain had killed her appetite as well. She was tall, thin, muscular, and striking in appearance. Canes and crutches were a small price to pay.

It almost hurt to put the picture back. Sybil couldn’t remember ever having seen a photograph of the six of them together. There were other pictures of course, taken at various stages of development, and a few of Nick and Meg alone, where they looked so bonded it was almost as though they were two sides of the same person. But Sybil couldn’t remember one of the six of them before. Not much after that, Sam came into Evvie’s life, and they were never the same six, anyway.

Sybil wondered why Evvie had never framed the picture, but it was like her to be careless with the most important things. Sybil was counting on that after all.

Sybil checked the night table first. There was a pad by the phone, and a pencil by its side, but the pad was empty. She walked over to the desk next and went through the papers. They mostly seemed to be schoolwork Evvie was completing. She only had a month or so to go before getting her bachelor’s degree. Last year had been a good one for graduations, Claire’s and Sam’s. Next year, Sybil would graduate from high school. She wanted to go to Princeton, since that was Nick’s alma mater. Maybe Nick could turn the twenty-five thousand into four years’ tuition with some of his magic.

There on the bottom of an Abnormal Psych paper were the words Sybil had been looking for. Just a few scribbled letters in Evvie’s handwriting: Amer. 29. 2:20. 4:35. Cont. 142. 6:45. 9:15.

Sybil looked at the paper and waited for it to explain its mystery to her. The last two numbers of each sequence were times, departures and arrivals, she assumed. That meant the rest of it must be the flight numbers. She couldn’t figure out at first why there were two of them, though. Why hadn’t Sam just flown from New York to wherever he was going? Why make two flights?

But then she thought about it, and realized there were three flights, not two. The shuttle from Boston to New York, to throw off anybody who might be following him. The next flight must also be a precautionary one. Instead of flying directly to wherever, Sam was breaking up the trip, flying different airlines, using, undoubtedly, different names. He must have told Evvie what names he’d be using, in case one or another of the planes had crashed. But they hadn’t, and Evvie, in her carelessness, hadn’t bothered to erase the flight numbers from the paper. For all her years of lying, she still wasn’t a professional conspirator.

The first flight number didn’t matter, Sybil decided. She only cared about Sam’s final destination. That was Cont. 142. Continental Flight 142. Departing from someplace at 6:45. Arriving at Linda Steinmetz’s side at 9:15.

Sybil picked up the phone and got Continental’s 800 number from information. She pressed the numbers into the phone, and within two rings had a Continental ticket agent.

“I’m calling about your flight yesterday,” Sybil said. “Flight number one-four-two. I think it left from Chicago.”

“Let me check,” the agent said. “No, flight one-four-two left from Kansas City, not Chicago.”

“So it wasn’t your Chicago to Seattle flight?” Sybil asked.

“No, one-four-two left yesterday from Kansas City at six-forty-five P.M. and arrived in San Diego at nine-fifteen,” the agent replied. “Why? Was there some sort of problem with your luggage?”

“No problem at all,” Sybil said. “I was simply given the wrong information. Thank you.” She hung up the phone and sat down swiftly on the bed. San Diego. That’s where Sam had ended up last night.

Of course he might have taken another flight out of San Diego, but there were no notations to indicate that he had, and Sybil could see no reason for yet another flight. Ultimately Sam had to end up where his mother was, and San Diego seemed as likely a final spot as anyplace else in America.

Sybil automatically massaged the backs of her calves. It was a habit she’d gotten into, smoothing out the pain. Sam was in San Diego. It had really been so easy to find out. Evvie thought she was so clever, so good at concealing things from her family, but Sybil had proved smarter. Claire wasn’t the only one who could find out family secrets and use them to her own advantage.

San Diego. They’d considered a rehab center there. Nick had heard about it from one of his acquaintances a few years back. It was supposed to be a wonderful place. They performed miracles. But the cost was prohibitive, and Nick had learned after a little more research that the center focused more on back injuries, anyway. Sybil wondered what kind of kidney specialists there were in San Diego. She supposed the FBI could find out quickly enough if they were so inclined.

For a moment she thought about going to San Diego, finding Sam, and warning him how easy it would be for his secret to be found out. She was sixteen years old, and in less than an hour had located him. She could describe Evvie’s carelessness to him, the way she kept the spare key where it always was, the way she’d failed to change the locks on the door, the way she’d left specific information about where he could be found right in their bedroom. Evvie had betrayed him in a hundred little ways, starting, Sybil realized, by telling her family in the first place. Claire had known and not cared and never broken the confidence. But Evvie, who professed to love Sam, was casual with his life.

But of course there would be no flight to San Diego, no alignment with Sam and his mother against Evvie. Sybil wouldn’t even know how to find Sam once she got there.

That decided, the next step was to pick up the phone and call Nick. He would do the rest on his own, and then the FBI would take over, and Linda Steinmetz would be caught, and there’d be money again. Not enough, but a start. Nick was entitled to a start. He’d had too many finishes over the years.

Sybil wished she could lie to herself. She wished she were the plump little girl in the picture. She wished there were an easier way, one that smacked less of betrayal. She wished Evvie had never gone to Eastgate, had never fallen in love with Sam Steinmetz Greene. She wished as she always did that the car had never swung around and hit her, had never broken up the lives of all the people she truly loved.

But the car had hit her and Evvie had fallen in love and there was no easier way. To betray Linda Steinmetz, a woman Sybil had never met, was to save Nick Sebastian, a man Sybil owed her very being to. It was no contest. Or at least it shouldn’t have been.

Sybil got up from the bed and left the bedroom. She closed the door behind her to block out Evvie’s careless mess. Continental Flight 142. Arrived in San Diego at 9:15 P.M. Had Linda Steinmetz met Sam at the airport? Probably not. How would they even recognize each other?

Sybil thought for a moment of all that Sam was willing to risk for a mother who had deserted him, a mother he had never known. Nick, who had given up so much for her, was asking so little from Sybil in return. Just the name of a city. He would do the rest. Whatever the consequences would be, Nick would take the responsibility.

Sybil whispered a near silent apology to Sam and Evvie for betraying them in their own home, and only possibly for their own good. She then picked up the phone in the living room and dialed the Boston number.

“Hello?”

“He took Continental flight one-four-two to San Diego last night,” Sybil said. “It arrived at nine-fifteen P.M.”

“Good. Now go to the library and find Thea.”

“I will,” Sybil promised. She hung up the phone, walked to the bathroom, and retched with great heaving shudders for a very long time.

CHAPTER SIX

Sybil sat in the kitchen Tuesday evening while Meg cut up a tomato and put it in the salad. “Supper smells good,” she said.

Meg smiled. “It isn’t often I have my four daughters together for a meal,” she replied. “I thought it was worth a little extra effort.”

“I don’t think you should expect too much from Evvie,” Claire said, walking into the kitchen. She grabbed a carrot and took a bite. “Not with everything that’s going on.”

“Evvie will come through fine,” Meg declared. “Just watch.”

Claire jerked her head toward Meg and frowned. Sybil knew exactly how she felt. None of them were normal that day, but Meg seemed the most out of it.

“Tomorrow you and Thea will be back in New York,” Meg said. “And it will just be Nicky and Sybil and me again. Not that I’m unhappy, mind you. But this supper is special. It makes up for our not having lunch together yesterday.”

“Evvie was sorry about that,” Sybil said. “She felt she had to wait at her office in case Sam called. And he did.”

“I know that,” Meg said. “But tonight will be different.”

Sybil couldn’t take it anymore, so she left the kitchen. She found Thea in the living room, poring over a biology textbook. “Does Megs seem strange to you?” she asked.

“Everybody seems strange to me right now,” Thea replied, putting the book down. “You seemed strange to me at the library yesterday. You were practically clinging to me. Sybil, I love you dearly, and I know you love me, but I’ve never seen you cling to anybody before. Not even Claire.”

“I did not cling,” Sybil said, but she was uncomfortably aware that she must have. She’d gone straight from Evvie’s to the library, and had found Thea, just as Nick had instructed her to. The only way she could keep from shaking or weeping was by asking Thea a thousand foolish and distracting questions, so ask them she did, until Thea finally gave up in disgust and went back home with her.

“All right, you didn’t cling,” Thea said. “But you sure seemed odd, and so did Nicky and Megs.”

“They seemed normal to me,” Sybil said.

“They hardly talked,” Thea said. “I don’t think either one of them said more than five words last night.”

“They’re worried about Evvie,” Sybil replied. Actually, she had enjoyed the silence. As long as nobody was talking about Sam and his mother, it felt as though nothing had happened. And as long as Nick didn’t say he had indeed called the FBI, Sybil could choose to believe he hadn’t. He could have changed his mind, after all. He could have decided it wasn’t worth it. Or he could still be thinking about it. Nick was occasionally impetuous, but not always.

“Of course they’re worried about Evvie,” Thea said. “We’re all worried about Evvie. I think even Claire is, and she never notices what’s going on. Unless, of course, there’s a man involved. Last night she came into my room and said she thought something was going to go very seriously wrong, and I should be prepared. I asked her why she felt that way, and she wouldn’t tell me. She said it was just a hunch. She said she could smell trouble the way other people smell flowers. Claire can be very strange.”

“Do you think there’s going to be trouble?” Sybil asked.

“I hope not,” Thea said. “To be perfectly honest, I’d feel better if Evvie weren’t coming over here tonight. Does that sound terrible?”

“No,” Sybil said. “It doesn’t sound terrible at all.”

“I wouldn’t mind under ordinary circumstances,” Thea declared. “I’d love it. Sometimes I feel like I never see Evvie without Sam. There are times I think she uses him for protection, so she won’t be alone with us. Do you ever get that feeling?”

“I do,” Claire said, joining them. “And I don’t blame her. If I were in love with someone as good as Sam, I’d use him as an emotional bodyguard.”

“But why should Evvie need one?” Sybil asked. “I could see why she might feel that way about Sam’s family, but not about us.”

“I don’t know, either,” Thea said. “It’s just a feeling I get.”

“Evvie judges people,” Claire said. “She always has. And if you stand in judgment of people you love, it can get uncomfortable. Maybe that’s why she needs Sam.”

“I think she should stand in judgment of Sam,” Sybil declared. “The way he’s lied to us all these years.”

“Don’t you start standing in judgment,” Claire said. “I don’t think I could take that.”

“I don’t think I can take any of this,” Thea said. “Evvie’s coming for supper tonight, not to spend time with us before we go back to New York, but because Sam decided it was safer to call here.”

“I’m sure she wanted to see us, also,” Claire said.

“I’m not,” Thea said. “I offered to stay at her place last night, so she wouldn’t be alone, and she wouldn’t let me. She sounded very tense, too, jittery, and I wasn’t comfortable leaving her by herself, but she practically shouted at me when I asked her again. And it wasn’t like Sam was going to call. She made that perfectly clear; he can’t call her there because their phones are tapped.”

Sybil took a deep breath. She’d forgotten about the tapped phones. What had she said to Nick? Had she informed the FBI with her message? Would they find Linda Steinmetz and cut Nick out of the reward? If that happened, everybody would hate her, Evvie and Sam and Nick. But Nick was the one who told her to call, so he couldn’t blame her, or would he? The Nick who would turn in Sam’s mother for twenty-five thousand might turn against the person who screwed up the reward for him.

Sybil tried to appear casual as she thought over what she had said. She didn’t think she’d mentioned Sam’s name, and she knew she hadn’t mentioned Linda Steinmetz. She had said San Diego, though, and Sam’s flight number. If the FBI really did follow Sam around, then they might indeed start tracking. But the odds were they didn’t, and they couldn’t be sure who was in San Diego, or what the significance of the call was. She realized with a start just how desperate she was not to be personally responsible for what happened to Linda Steinmetz.

“Hi, girls,” Nick said. “What’s up?”

“We’re talking about how crazy everybody is,” Claire said. “This whole Linda Steinmetz business.”

“I don’t feel crazy,” Nick declared. “Worried about Sam and Evvie, naturally, but that’s it.”

“You don’t think it’s weird the way Megs is ignoring all the problems?” Claire asked.

“Daisy is worried, also,” Nick said. “But she doesn’t want to seem that way, especially since this is your last night home. You could make a special effort, too. It would mean a lot to her.”

The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” Claire said. “It’s probably Evvie.” But they could hear her say, “Clark!” after she opened the door.

Nick shook his head. “That man has the worst timing,” he whispered, but he went to the hallway, and escorted Clark into the living room. “This is a pleasant surprise,” Nick declared. “You certainly are loaded down.”

“I brought a VCR,” Clark said. “Hello, Nick. Where’s Meg?”

“In the kitchen,” Nick replied. “Finishing supper. Care to join us?”

“I’d be delighted,” Clark said. “I know this is unexpected, but I had a special treat, and I wanted to share it with all of you. Meg mentioned to me that Evvie was coming over, and I thought she’d enjoy it, too.”

“Enjoy what?” Meg asked, walking over to Clark and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Sybil examined the man who had continued to love Meg for so many years. Clark looked rich and weak and exactly the same as he always did. He was as close to an uncle as she had ever had. In some ways, she realized, she had as little family as Sam or Nick.

“I brought a VCR,” Clark said. “It seems to me you don’t have one yet.”

“Our TV barely works,” Nick said. “VCRs aren’t high on our list right now.”

“That’s why I brought one,” Clark said. He put it down on the sofa. “Meg, dearest, don’t you think you should buy some decent furniture for this place? Grace must be turning over in her grave with the junk you’ve been using.”

“Then she should have left us her furniture along with the house,” Nick said. “Why did you bring the VCR, Clark? Certainly not for us to sit on.”

“I took all the home movies I’ve shot of you and the girls, and had them transferred to videotape,” Clark said. “I thought this evening after dinner we could watch them together. Meg, they’re priceless. The memories they bring back. I even have some of our summers at Eastgate. Remember that movie camera of Dad’s? That summer when he went everywhere with it? I put all of it on a videotape. There’re even some shots of you, Nick, and of course, there’s lots of film of the girls growing up.”

“Then you’re staying for dinner?” Meg asked.

“Only if you want,” Clark said. “I can join you after dinner, if you prefer.”

“Of course not,” Nick said. “There’s plenty to eat, isn’t there, Daisy?”

“There certainly is,” Meg replied. “Thea, please put another place setting on the table for Clark.”

“I’m being a bother, aren’t I,” Clark said. “Frankly, I wanted to have a chance to see all the girls together, before Thea and Claire went back to New York.”

“You’re never a bother, Clark,” Meg said. Thea got up and went to the dining room.

“I’d like to see the movies,” Claire said. “See what Nicky and Megs looked like when they were young.”

“They looked glorious,” Clark said. “Like young gods.”

“Daisy was the most beautiful girl in the world,” Nick said. “She looked like a Botticelli.”

“Your father was a handsome brute,” Clark said to Claire. “Dark and brooding. He had all the girls swooning that summer.”

“I still swoon,” Meg said, and for a moment she was herself again, and Sybil relaxed. Maybe what they needed was Clark to make things feel more normal.

But then Evvie unlocked the door and let herself in. She walked to the living room and saw Clark there. “What’s going on?” she demanded. “What’s he doing here?”

“Evvie,” Meg said, quiet but firm. “That’s not a proper greeting.”

“I’m not in a proper mood and you know it,” Evvie said. “Megs, I specifically said no one else should be here tonight. Did you invite him anyway?”

“I invited myself, I’m afraid,” Clark said. “I brought over old movies of the whole family. Shots of your parents that summer they met. Some lovely footage of you as a baby. Sam will enjoy them, too, I’m sure. Is he meeting you here?”

“Sam’s out of town,” Evvie said. “I’m expecting him to call me here tonight.”

“That’s nice,” Clark said. “Do give him my best when he calls. I don’t see nearly enough of the two of you. I suppose Sam is terribly busy with his job, though, and you have your work and school to deal with.”

“Clark, I’m sorry,” Evvie said. “This will make no sense to you and I’m not about to explain it. When Sam calls, he’s going to ring twice, and then I’m going to call him back and ring twice, and then he’s going to call, and that time I’ll answer it.”

“What’s going on?” Clark asked. “Why all the secret codes?”

“Clark, please,” Meg said. “That’s fine, Evvie. So we aren’t to answer the phone unless it rings more than two times.”

“He’ll be calling around eight,” Evvie said. “And I’ll take the call in Nicky’s office. You have to swear, all of you, not to pick up the phone or try to eavesdrop.”

“Really, Evvie,” Clark said. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you can hardly think your family would eavesdrop.”

“Megs, does he have to be here?” Evvie asked.

“He’s family,” Meg said. “Just as much as Sam is.”

“Evvie, it’ll be all right,” Thea said. She put her hand around Evvie’s shoulder, but Evvie shrugged it off.

“Dinner certainly does smell good,” Clark said. “Did you make chicken, Meg?”

“Coq au vin,” Meg replied. “Clark, I’m sorry. Of course you can stay for dinner, but you can see things are a little crazed this evening.”

“My home movies will calm us all down,” Clark said. “Which one of you girls is mechanical? You can help me set the VCR up.”

“I will,” Claire said. “I know how they work.”

“You have a VCR?” Sybil asked.

“No,” Claire replied. “But a lot of the photographers I work with do.”

“I’m going to Nicky’s office,” Evvie said. “Thea, would you mind coming with me?”

“Not at all,” Thea said. “When’s supper, Megs?”

“In a few minutes,” Meg replied. “No hurry.”

Evvie and Thea left the living room. Sybil sat where she was, and watched as Clark moved the VCR over to the TV set, and began playing with wires.

“Sam’s mother?” Clark asked.

“What about her?” Nick replied.

“Is that what’s going on?” Clark asked. “Something must be going on there, or else why would Meg have read me the riot act yesterday.”

“We can’t talk about it,” Meg said. “Please don’t push it, Clark.”

Clark shook his head. “I always knew Sam was trouble,” he said. “Oh, he’s a nice enough boy, don’t get me wrong. Even Grace was fond of him in her own way. But a boy who comes from a family situation like that can’t possibly turn out all right. I know you agree with me, Meg. Sam isn’t your first choice for Evvie, either.”

“He’s Evvie’s first choice,” Claire said. “I think I have the VCR hooked up now, Clark. Want to try it?”

“You did that so fast,” Clark said. “You always were clever, Claire. Now where did I put that tape? I’d hate to lose it. It’s all your pasts.”

“It’s here on the sofa,” Sybil said.

“There are some lovely shots of you, Sybil,” Clark said. “Running around. And Thea. She looked just like you as a little girl, Meg. So pretty, and sweet, with those big sad eyes.”

“I had a lot to be sad about,” Meg said.

“No one has a happy childhood,” Clark said. “I think there’s a law that forbids it. Do you think Evvie and Thea are through conspiring in there? We could watch a few minutes worth of the tape before dinner.”

“I’ll see,” Sybil said, glad for the excuse to leave the room. She walked over to Nick’s office. The door was closed, so she knocked first, then went in.

“The video’s ready,” she said.

“I’m going to kill him,” Evvie said. “Did he mention Sam’s mother?”

“Right away,” Sybil said. “You might as well tell him the truth, Evvie. He has it half figured out already.”

“I told Sam it was a bad idea for him to call me here,” Evvie said. “I don’t trust Nicky, and now Clark knows, too.”

“You can trust Nicky,” Thea said. “He loves you.”

Evvie shook her head. “It’s not that simple,” she replied. “Nothing is with Nicky.”

“Clark won’t say anything,” Sybil said.

“Think how lonely he must be to just drop in on us like that,” Thea said. “And with home movies of our family. We’re all he has.”

“I’m tired of being all people have,” Evvie said. “We’re all Nicky has, and Megs, and Clark.”

“And Sam,” Thea said.

“Not anymore,” Evvie said.

“Did he tell you what it was like?” Sybil asked. “Seeing his mother?”

“He hardly said anything,” Evvie replied. “He couldn’t. I was at work. There were other people around. That’s why he’s calling here tonight. I’m terrified for him.”

“We’d better go back,” Thea said. “Before Clark sends out the bloodhounds.”

“Family movies,” Evvie said. “Just what I need.”

“They might be fun,” Thea said. “Don’t you want to see what Nicky and Megs looked like when they met at Eastgate?”

“No,” Evvie said. “I really don’t.”

“I don’t think you have a choice in the matter,” Sybil said. “Come on, Evvie.”

The sisters walked back to the living room together. They found Clark fiddling with the TV, and Nick and Meg sitting on the living room sofa holding hands. Claire was on the floor, waiting for the show to begin.

“This is the best I can do,” Clark said. He turned the VCR on, and soon there was a black-and-white picture on the TV of a group of people Sybil failed to recognize.

“Remember, Meg?” Clark said. “That’s from Lydia Vaughn’s coming-out party.”

“Vaguely,” Meg replied. “I never much liked Lydia Vaughn.”

“I remember her,” Nick said. “Mousy brown hair, and an overbite. She tried to overbite me one evening, behind her guest cottage.”

“When was that?” Meg asked.

“Right before we met,” Nick said. “Middle of June, I suppose. She really was ferocious about it. It took me quite a while to get my lips out from under her.”

“She married very well,” Clark said. “A French diplomat. She lives in Paris most of the time, keeps a little pied-a-terre in New York.”

“There’s Winty Adams,” Meg said, pointing at the screen. “I had such a crush on him when I was fifteen. Now that I see him again, I can’t imagine why.”

“And there you are, Meg,” Clark said. “What a beauty you were. Not flashy, like Claire. More subtle, more regal.”

“I was hardly regal,” Meg said.

“You were a princess,” Clark said. “A natural aristocrat. Don’t you agree, Nick.”

But Nick was silent. He stared at the TV set, at the flickering image of a long-ago Meg.

“Is that you, Clark?” Claire asked. “That wimpy-looking kid with the terrible haircut?”

“That’s me, all right,” Clark replied. “I like to think I aged well.”

“Anything would be an improvement,” Claire replied. “Oh, Nicky.”

It was as though the TV screen filled with his presence. Other people remained on camera, but Nick was the only one that seemed to matter.

“You should have been a movie star,” Claire said. “The camera loves you.”

“You really should have been an actor,” Clark said. “You cut quite a figure in those days.”

“My God,” Evvie said. “Look at you. You’re seeing Megs for the first time. She has on that ruffled dress.”

“Turn it off,” Nick said. “Clark, turn the damned thing off.”

“Why?” Clark asked, but Claire ran to the VCR and pressed the off button. The national news droned from the TV. “Nick, why don’t you want to watch it? I thought it was quite special, that moment. I was sure you’d love to see it again.”

“It was private,” Nick said. “It wasn’t meant for other people to see.”

Clark laughed. “There were two hundred people there that evening,” he said. “Including Winty Adams and Lydia Vaughn with her overbite. That hardly constitutes a private moment.”

“Daisy,” Nick said almost desperately.

“I know,” she said. “Clark, the video is wonderful. And I can’t wait to see the shots of the girls.”

“I will never understand grand passion,” Clark said. “I suppose it’s beyond mere mortals to understand.”

Sybil turned her attention to the TV set. It was easier than looking at her parents. She discovered her sisters had all done the same. The commercial ended, and the news resumed.

“This afternoon in San Diego, the FBI arrested Linda Steinmetz,” the anchor declared. “It’s been over twenty years since Steinmetz, her husband, and two other political radicals blew up a bank and killed a bank guard. Three of the members of the radical group, the DLA, died, and only Steinmetz escaped the blast. She’s been underground ever since. Arrested with her was a young man believed to be her son. Details are still sketchy, but early reports indicate that Steinmetz is seriously ill, and that the FBI received a tip to check various local hospitals. In West Berlin today, student activists …”

“Oh, no,” Evvie said.

Claire turned the TV set off. “Is there someone you can call?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Evvie said. “I don’t know what to do. Maybe I should go to San Diego.”

“If Sam needs you, he’ll call,” Clark said. “You’d be foolish to rush out there. Why bring suspicion on yourself?”

“Of course Sam needs me,” Evvie said.

“He needs a lawyer, too,” Claire said. “Do you know if he has one lined up?”

“I don’t know anything,” Evvie said. She began to cry.

“It’ll be all right,” Meg said, going over to her. “I know it will.”

Evvie shook her head. “It’ll never be all right again,” she said. “Nothing ever will be.”

“I feel partially to blame,” Clark said. “I should have handled things differently in Eastgate that summer. I should have told Meg right away, and she could have forbidden you to see Sam. Schyler was there. You wouldn’t have lacked for boyfriends. You didn’t need to get involved with a boy like Sam Steinmetz. It was a terrible mistake.”

“Oh shut up, Clark,” Claire said. “Evvie, stop crying. Sam needs you, and you’d better not be hysterical when he calls. Go to the bathroom and wash your face.”

“Claire,” Thea said.

“Claire’s right,” Evvie said. “All I’ve been doing the past two days is crying. I’m just so scared.” She looked as though she might crumble.

“Scared is good,” Claire said. “Scared is healthy. But you have to be strong for Sam. He’s even more scared than you are.”

Evvie nodded. She got up and walked shakily from the room. Sybil watched her and wished she didn’t feel as though her entire family were drowning.

“I have a friend in New York,” Claire said. “A lawyer. He has a lot of connections. I’m going to call him and see what he recommends.”

“Don’t,” Nick said. “Don’t get any more involved in this, Claire. It’s not our business.”

“If it’s Evvie’s business, it’s our business,” Claire said, but she hesitated.

“Nicholas is right,” Meg said. “Let it be, Claire. Sam knows to call a lawyer. Your friend can’t possibly do any good three thousand miles away.”

The telephone rang. No one made any effort to answer it until it had rung three times. Then Evvie grabbed it.

“Yes, it’s me,” she said. “I know, I heard. Oh God, no. I don’t believe it. No, I don’t know where he is. He called me yesterday, but not since then. He was supposed to call me here tonight. Yes, I will. As soon as I hear from him. Yes, I’ll write it down. Please, if you hear anything, let me know. Yes, thank you. Good-bye.”

“Who was that?” Thea asked. “Not Sam?”

“It was his grandmother,” Evvie said, sinking into a chair. “Mrs. Greene. Dr. Greene was watching the early news. He saw the item about his daughter and Sam and he had a heart attack. She’s waiting at the hospital now.”

“Oh, no,” Meg said.

“I have to tell Sam,” Evvie said. “If he calls here, I have to tell him about his grandfather. And I don’t know what I can say.” This time when she began to cry, no one made any effort to stop her.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Meg drove Thea and Claire to the airport after lunch the next day. It had been a long miserable morning, and Sybil, who could never remember a time she had willingly parted from Claire, yearned for her absence as soon as she woke up. It was upsetting to be around Thea, but Claire’s eyes had a way of knowing things, or at least seeming as though they did, that Sybil found disturbing.

She wanted to tell Claire the truth, tell Claire that the tip to the FBI had originated with her, that Sam’s family was collapsing because of her, but the words never came out. Maybe it was because Thea was there, and Sybil, who knew Claire would forgive her anything, couldn’t be quite so sure about Thea. Maybe it was because, even if Claire did know and forgive, she wouldn’t be there to protect Sybil. Maybe it was because Sybil suspected that while Claire would forgive her, she would no longer like Sybil or respect her, and Sybil couldn’t bear the thought of conditional love from Claire. Maybe the moment was just never right. Whatever the reasons, Claire and Thea left without knowing of Sybil’s involvement, and Sybil was relieved. So was Nick, she was sure.

They sat in the living room together, Nick reading a magazine, Sybil making some feeble attempt to concentrate on her chemistry textbook, both of them enjoying the silence. At one point Nick said, “We should take a walk,” but Sybil merely shook her head, and Nick didn’t press it as he ordinarily would have. So much of Sybil ached just then it seemed unfair to single out her legs for therapy.

Sybil waited for Nick to say something to justify what they’d done, or at least to acknowledge it. Conspirators were supposed to talk about their crimes, she assumed. But Nick said nothing. Sybil glanced at the VCR, which Clark had left. She wondered if it was meant to be a gift, or whether he’d come back one day and take it. It didn’t matter. The only tape they had was the one of the home movies, and Nick had put a stop to watching that. Not that any of them had been in the mood after finding out about Linda Steinmetz on the news.

“Evvie should call us,” Sybil said. “She must have heard something by now.”

“When she’s ready,” Nick replied. “She has a lot to deal with just now.”

Sybil remembered as a little girl going to visit Aunt Grace in the house they now lived in. None of them had had much to say, not even Meg, and there had been long awkward silences when all Sybil could hear was the ticking of a grandfather clock. She remembered walking over to the clock and staring at it. She’d never seen a clock tick before. Finally Aunt Grace had had one of the servants drag Sybil away, for fear she’d leave fingerprints on the clock, or break it somehow. It must have been a very old clock, Sybil realized now, and Aunt Grace was probably right to protect it. She’d left the clock, along with everything else she owned, to a nephew of hers, a cousin of Meg’s who was secure in his wealth, and unlikely to sell an antique clock for a little quick cash. Aunt Grace had been right once again. Nick would sell anything if he needed the money badly enough.

The doorbell rang, and Sybil got up with a start. She automatically thought it would be the FBI, but she wasn’t sure whether they’d come to arrest her or give her a check. She smiled at her confusion, then opened the door.

Evvie was standing there. “You forget your key?” Sybil asked. It was all she could think of to say.

Evvie ignored her and walked into the living room. “We’re going to talk,” she said to Nick.

Nick put down his magazine. “I’m listening,” he said, and Sybil realized he was, he was offering Evvie the full focus of his attention. Sybil sat down, but Evvie continued to stand in front of her father.

“I’m returning the key to this house,” Evvie said. “I’ll have no further use for it.” She took the key out of her pocketbook and threw it onto the floor.

Sybil got up, retrieved the key, and put it in the pocket of her jeans. She knew if she hadn’t, she would stare at the key, willing it to move. It was easier to do the moving for it.

“A fine dramatic gesture,” Nick said. “It’s a shame Claire isn’t here. She likes that sort of thing.”

“Sam’s grandfather died an hour ago,” Evvie said.

“Oh, no,” Sybil said.

“He died an hour ago, and Sam wasn’t there with him because he only got released from jail at eight this morning,” Evvie continued. “He spent the night knowing his grandfather had had the heart attack, they managed to get that message to him all right, but they wouldn’t release him until this morning. He got the first flight he could to Saint Louis, and from there he’ll get a connecting flight to New York, but he won’t find out his grandfather died until after he gets to the hospital. His grandfather raised him, you know. His grandfather was the only father he ever really had.”

“Evvie, I’m sorry,” Nick said. “Are you going to New York to meet him?”

“The story gets even better,” Evvie said. “It seems Linda Steinmetz wasn’t completely honest with Sam when she called. No reason why she should be; she’s never been honest with him in her life.”

“How was she dishonest?” Sybil asked, hoping that somehow she would be exonerated by Linda’s lie.

“She’s dying,” Evvie said, not to Sybil, maybe not even to Nick. “She’s past the point where she could survive surgery. She was so terrified of being caught she let her kidneys rot away, and now she’s suffering from uremic poisoning, and it’s only a matter of days before she dies. She called Sam from the hospital. She wanted to see him once before she died, and she was afraid if she told him the truth, he wouldn’t come out. She couldn’t bear the thought that if she said, ‘I’m dying, come out here so I can see you and die in peace,’ he would tell her no. It was easier for her to put up with his rejection if she asked something enormous of him, something he’d have every right to say no to. She said she wouldn’t even have disapproved if he had said no. It would have shown he was tough, and that would have gladdened her. But if he’d refused her her deathbed wish, then that would have shown he had no compassion, and she couldn’t have borne that. That’s what she told him when he met her at the hospital. She didn’t have much more time to talk with him because the police came almost immediately and arrested the two of them.”

“Did they put her in jail, too?” Sybil asked.

“You don’t put someone with less than a week to live in jail,” Evvie said. “They moved her to a maximum security section the hospital has, and they have armed guards around her room, just in case she decides to make a break for it, which is pretty ridiculous, given how many wires she’s attached to, and how weak she is, and she isn’t allowed visitors. When Sam was released, he went to the hospital first, and they wouldn’t let him see her. He went from there to the airport, but he won’t get to see his grandfather, either.”

“It’s good he saw his mother,” Nick said. “Even if it was only for a few minutes. Take it from me. It helps to know what the person looks like, to hear their voice. It answers a lot of questions.”

Evvie stared at her father. “I don’t believe you,” she said. “You sit there, acting as though you can identify with Sam, as though you have the vaguest idea of what he’s feeling. His universe has collapsed in just four days. He’s suffered losses so enormous that they can never be recovered. I love Sam and I always have and I always will, but I don’t delude myself that the Sam I love is going to be the same person coming back from San Diego today. Don’t you pretend you care. Don’t you pretend you understand. I won’t have that anymore.”

Nick smiled. “I seem to be damned if I do and damned if I don’t,” he declared. “You wouldn’t be any happier with me if I sat here reading the paper and claiming to have no idea of what Sam must be feeling.”

“You are damned,” Evvie said. “That’s the first thing you’ve gotten right in a long time.”

“Don’t say that!” Sybil cried.

“It’s all right,” Nick said. “Let her get it out of her system. If Evvie wants to vent her rage on me, I can handle it. I’m not the defenseless dolt Clark is.”

“At least Clark’s honest,” Evvie said. “He doesn’t pretend to care about somebody and then turn around and murder them.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nick said.

“You have every idea,” Evvie said. “Do you think I’m a fool? You must have known I’d figure out you were the one who set Linda up. Who else could find out where Sam had gone? Who else was petty enough to destroy a family just for twenty-five thousand? Not even a defenseless dolt like Clark would do something that evil. Only you, Nicky. Only the man who likes to call me his daughter.”

“You are my daughter,” Nick said, but the smile was gone, and Sybil could see pain starting to etch across his face.

“Maybe I was once,” Evvie said. “I know I’ve forgiven you a lot of things over the years because you were my father, because of those damned birthday waltzes, and the way you’d introduce me to your friends, and the way you’d smile and say how proud you were of me. I can’t remember a time when you didn’t have a special look in your eyes just seeing me. I remember all those nights you’d tuck me in and tell me stories, or carry in those endless glasses of water I demanded, or chase away the monsters I knew were lurking under my bed. And I’ve forgiven you a lot over the years because of who you used to be. But not anymore, Nicky. I have too many grievances, you have too many sins. And this last one is beyond endurance. Forgiveness is no longer an option. It’s easier just to deny your existence than to try to make excuses any longer.”

“Things will get better, Evvie,” Nick said.

“No they won’t,” she replied.

“Of course they will,” Sybil said. “They always do. No matter how bad things get, things get better. Look at me. Nobody thought I’d ever be able to walk again, except Nicky, and then I learned how to all over again, and I’ve gotten better and stronger, thanks to him. And we didn’t have a home, and now we do, and soon Nicky’ll be on his feet again, and things will be the way they used to be.”

“How?” Evvie asked. “With the twenty-five thousand he got for killing Sam’s family?”

“I don’t see how I can be held responsible for that,” Nick said. “I’m not the one who put the reward out for his mother. For that matter, the bank isn’t responsible for what she did in the first place. Sam’s life has been tragic, I’m not denying that, but the responsibility lies clearly with his parents and has nothing to do with me.”

Evvie shook her head. “That’s your specialty, isn’t it, Nicky,” she declared. “Denying your responsibility. Letting other people do the dirty work, and then gathering the benefits. I’m glad I was too young to understand how your business dealings worked. You probably belong in prison a hundred times over for those deals you concocted.”

“You’re wrong,” Nick said. “I never did anything illegal.”

“Why should I believe you?” Evvie asked. “You think I don’t remember those midnight moves? I’ve carried with me all those lessons you taught me about what to say to creditors and how to make an impossible situation seem like a trifle. I lied for you a thousand times before I was sixteen, telling people you weren’t in, telling them about previous successes that never existed, except in your dreams, telling people that we were the happiest of families, no cares, no problems, just love and laughter and magic.”

“We were like that,” Sybil said. “I remember how it was. Everything changed because of me, because of the accident. It has nothing to do with Nicky.”

“Are you going to do that to her?” Evvie asked. “Are you going to let Sybil take on the responsibility now?”

“What responsibility?” Sybil asked. “It was my fault. I know, I didn’t have the accident intentionally, but everything went bad because of me.”

“It was bad long before then,” Evvie said. “I don’t know when things started to turn, probably long before I was born, but they were already bad by the time I was sent to Eastgate.”

“I knew you’d bring that up,” Nick said. “You always do when you get in a huff. Sure, I wanted you to go, and I wanted you to get along with Grace. Daisy wanted the same thing, although presumably her motives were purer than mine. And you went, full of resentment, and determined to have a bad time. Only you fell in love that summer with a boy you never would have met otherwise, who you intend to marry in a matter of months, and whose grief you claim to feel as intensely as your own. Smiling at a grouchy old woman seems a small price to pay for that kind of love.”

“You sent me so Grace would leave Megs something in her will,” Evvie said. “You sent me to do what you couldn’t do, soften her rotten old heart, make her remember her responsibilities to Megs.”

“What if I did?” Nick replied. “You want me to apologize? All right. I’m sorry. God knows, if I’d been warned this was going to be the legacy, I would have forced you to stay home. That’s one sin I’m certainly paying for.”

“I don’t see why that makes you mad, Evvie,” Sybil said. “I would have gone if I’d been old enough. Making Aunt Grace like you was just for the sake of the family. We always do things for each other. That’s how we are.”

Evvie turned to face her youngest sister. Sybil wasn’t sure she could understand all the emotions Evvie was displaying. There was pity there, but Sybil was used to that. But there was something more, disgust maybe, or loathing, or maybe just grief. Whatever it was, Sybil couldn’t bear to face it directly. She turned her head away and looked toward the hallway. That had been where the grandfather clock had stood, in the front hallway. She could almost hear its comforting tick.

“She’s the only one left who still believes in you,” Evvie said, facing Nick again. “Oh, Thea maybe, but I’m not even sure about her. You lost just a little bit of her when you forced her to choose between Kip’s needs and your own.”

“I doubt she even remembers that anymore,” Nick said. “You seem to be the only one with an encyclopedia of injuries.”

“The worst of course is Claire,” Evvie said.

“What about Claire?” Sybil asked.

“I’m sure this is great fun for you,” Nick said. “And I don’t mind if you want to keep on for hours, but the time has come for a little privacy. There’s no reason for Sybil to be subjected to your litany.”

“There’s every reason,” Evvie said. “And if you insist she leave the room, then I’ll follow her and I’ll tell her exactly what I intend to tell you, and you won’t even be there to defend yourself. It’s your choice, Nicky. I don’t care how I do it.”

“Tell me what?” Sybil asked. “What about Claire?”

“You’re right,” Nick said. “You’re not my daughter.”

Evvie smiled, and for a moment, she looked eerily like her father. “You want to hear about Claire, I’ll tell you about Claire,” she said, and she pulled up a chair and sat down next to Sybil. “Claire loves you,” she said. “Claire loves less easily than any person I know, Sam included, but, oh, she loves you.”

“Claire loves you, too,” Sybil said. “And Megs and Nicky and Thea. She loves Sam. Claire loves lots of people.”

“Claire was here,” Evvie said. “In Cambridge, visiting Sam and me, and you were in Oregon. Christmas two years ago.”

“I know,” Sybil said. “She eloped with Scotty Hughes, and his parents gave her lots of money for an annulment, and she used it to pay for my physical therapy. Nicky didn’t tell her to do that.”

“He didn’t have to,” Evvie said. “He’d trained her too well. She knew exactly what to do. When she came to Cambridge, she flirted with Scotty, but that was just to annoy Thea. Claire games. Mostly harmless, slightly cruel.”

“I know,” Sybil said. “She told me.”

“But then you called from Oregon,” Evvie said.

“Evvie, stop this,” Nick said. “Not for my sake. I don’t care what you think about me, what you say. I don’t care if you poison Sybil’s mind against me. But what Claire did wasn’t Sybil’s fault, and it isn’t right for you to imply that it was.”

Evvie laughed. “What do you know about right?” she said. “Besides, Sybil did call. You remember that phone call, Syb? You spoke to Claire. You told her how bad things were, how Nicky and Megs were fighting, how Nicky was threatening a lawsuit to break into Megs’s trust.”

“I remember,” Sybil said. “You mean Claire eloped with Scotty just to get money for me?”

“It was Claire’s choice,” Nick said. “You don’t know Claire the way I do. You think her games are harmless because she’s young, because she’s your sister. But she’s never been innocent, not really. She went for the money to help Sybil, of course she did, and to hurt Thea in some petty schoolgirl way, but she concocted that whole elopement scheme to hurt me and …” He stopped for a moment, and Sybil knew there were things he was still unwilling to reveal, and she wished she could protect him from whatever the truth was.

“Claire sold herself because she knew you were incapable of raising the money to take care of Sybil,” Evvie said. “She felt all the responsibility was hers. You did that to her, Nicky. Once again, you placed all the responsibility onto someone else.”

“Fine,” Nick said, and Sybil could see the relief on his face. “I did. I admit it. I had tried everything I knew to help Sybil, and by that point I was bankrupt in every way imaginable. I had no strength left. Claire had plenty, so she took on the responsibility, and she sold herself, as you so prettily put it, and I let her. I cashed that check, and as a result, Sybil can walk. What do you want me to say? That I willingly damaged Claire to save Sybil? I’ll say it. I would have sacrificed anyone or anything at that time to help Sybil. I was willing to sacrifice Daisy by then. Claire was nothing compared to that.”

“That’s not true,” Sybil said. “You love Claire. And she did it on her own. You weren’t here. You didn’t even talk to her. Claire gets these plans and then she acts on them. She’s always been that way. It has nothing to do with Nicky, or any of the rest of us.”

“Claire makes her plans, all right,” Evvie said. “She didn’t choose Scotty by accident, Sybil.”

“Evvie, please,” Nick said.

“What’s the matter, Nicky?” Evvie asked. “You don’t want Sybil to know what a bastard you really are?”

“Stop it!” Sybil cried. “I don’t care what you want to say. It’s not Nicky’s fault. None of it is.”

“Claire chose Scotty because his grandfather is Nicky’s father,” Evvie said. “Everything Nicky has ever said about his father is a lie. He didn’t die bravely during World War Two. Nicky’s mother was no poor bereaved widow. There wasn’t even a Mr. Wilson to take pity on Nicky and put him through Princeton. Instead Nicky went to see his father, Sebastian Prescott, one fine day, and tried to blackmail him for the money for his college tuition. So Mr. Prescott wrote him out a check for a little bitty amount and kicked him out of his office and out of his life. Sebastian Prescott was nobody’s fool.”

“So what?” Sybil asked. “I’m supposed to stop loving Nicky because his parents weren’t married?”

“You’ll stop loving him soon enough,” Evvie said. “One day you’ll look at that handsome face of his and all you’ll see is his corrupt, wicked soul. Claire didn’t get the fifty thousand from Scotty’s parents. She got it from Sebastian Prescott so Scotty and his family would never find out about Nicky. Claire got what she wanted from him because she’s tougher than Nicky ever dreamed of being. Nicky made her that tough, and he took that check from a man he should have despised and instead of tearing it up, so Claire could see there are some things you can’t buy, he cashed it right away.”

“And he used the money for me,” Sybil said. “Claire loves me, Evvie, and Nicky loves me, and if they were the only two people in the world who did, it wouldn’t matter, because as long as I have them, I have people who’ll do anything for me. I’m not noble. I’m grateful to them. I wanted to walk. If I needed to sell Claire and Thea and the National Guard to walk again, I would have. Tell Thea your ugly little stories. Tell them to Sam. They mean nothing to me. I don’t care.”

“You will,” Evvie said. “When Nicky sells you, the way he sold Claire, the way he sold me. When he asks you to do something you know is wrong, but it’s so important to him you feel you can’t say no. Someday soon Nicky will beg a little piece of your soul from you. He’ll wheedle if he has to, or cry, or worse yet, he’ll give you one of those smiles you feel cost him so much, and you’ll do what he asks because you love him, because he loves you. Then the corruption will set in, the way it has with Claire, and your conscience will die, and you’ll start putting a price on everyone. Fifty thousand for a daughter. Twenty-five thousand for a son-in-law. Who knows how much for a sister. That’s what’s going to happen, Sybil. Just wait and see. That’s what Nicky’s love does to all of us.”

“Get out!”

“Daisy,” Nick said.

Meg walked into the living room. Sybil had no idea when she’d come in, how much she must have heard.

“Leave this house immediately,” she said to Evvie. “I won’t have you talking about Nicky that way.”

“It’s all right,” Nick said. “Most of what she’s said is true.”

“Nicky is a good man,” Meg said. “He loves you and wants only the best for you. I won’t allow you to suggest otherwise.”

“Fine,” Evvie said. “I just came to return my key.”

“Evvie,” Nick said, and he reached out for her, but Evvie shook her head.

“Not anymore,” she said. “I had a father once, and I used to love him, but not anymore.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

The next morning was gray and damp, and Sybil’s legs ached even before she got out of bed.

She lingered there for a few minutes, trying not to think, but painfully aware of everything that was going on. Evvie was in New York. Sam’s grandfather’s funeral was that afternoon, and following the scene with Nick, she had taken the shuttle, met Sam, and gone with him to Long Island to be with his grandmother. Sybil knew that, because Evvie had called Thea with her plans, and Thea had called Meg to tell her. Sybil could barely imagine an Evvie who couldn’t share her pain with Nick and Meg, who had to communicate through one of her sisters. Sybil dreaded the thought of how Evvie would feel should she ever find out Sybil was responsible for the whole horror.

Sybil dreaded most of her thoughts that morning. Nick and Meg had been so silent the night before. They were together in a way Sybil could remember from her childhood. They seemed always to be touching, and when one of them was in a room without the other, there was a sense of loss that Sybil knew she could never compensate for. She had seen Nick and Meg that way before, uniting against a common enemy, but now that enemy was Evvie. Not that they’d said anything bad about her. They hadn’t said anything. Sybil loved quiet. She’d spent too many months in public places, hospitals and rehab centers, not to cherish silence, but last night the silence had been suffocating, and she knew she couldn’t take any more of it.

She got out of bed, dressed, and went to Nick and Meg’s bedroom. They must have been up for a while, because the bed was made, and everything was in its place. Sybil flashed onto the image of Evvie’s bedroom, and shook her head.

She dialed Claire’s number. There was no one else she could talk to. If Thea knew what was going on, then she probably was siding with Evvie. But if Claire knew, she’d take Sybil’s side. Not that Sybil knew anymore what her side was.

The phone rang three times, and then a man answered. “Claire?” Sybil asked, sure she’d dialed a wrong number.

“She’s in the shower,” the man replied. “Want me to get her?”

“No,” Sybil said, and she hung up fast. She needed Claire, and she needed Claire alone, and she needed a Claire who didn’t have a life separate from hers. But then, there was a lot Sybil needed she obviously wasn’t going to get.

She went downstairs, and found Nick and Meg in the kitchen, finishing their breakfasts. Nick was reading the paper. Meg was making a shopping list.

“Sleep well?” Meg asked Sybil as she put some bread in the toaster.

“Fine,” Sybil said.

“Good,” Meg said. “I tossed and turned all night, worrying about Evvie.”

At least Evvie’s name could be mentioned. “It must be very hard on her,” Sybil said. “The funeral and everything.”

“I thought about going down there,” Meg said. “But Nicky didn’t think it was a good idea.”

“Evvie has a lot of anger to work out,” Nick said. “And her first concern should be Sam.”

“I know you’re right,” Meg said. “But I hate the thought of her going through this alone.”

“Evvie’ll be fine,” Sybil said. The toaster popped, and she took the bread out, and buttered it. “Remember when you used to bake bread?” she asked.

Meg nodded. “I should do that again,” she said. “It always made me feel good to bake my own bread.”

“It made the house smell wonderful,” Nick said. “What an aphrodisiac that aroma used to be.”

Meg laughed. “In that case, I’ll bake some today,” she said. “I’ll put yeast on my shopping list.”

“I love you,” Nick said to Meg, and Meg nodded.

“I love you, too,” she said, and she took Nick’s hand and held it for a moment.

Nick smiled. “How about a walk?” he said to Sybil. “Before this gray turns to rain.”

“My legs hurt,” Sybil said.

“The walk will do you good,” Nick replied. “Take your cane, and we’ll keep it short.”

“I’ll be out grocery shopping when you get back,” Meg said. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I don’t,” Nick said. “Bake a raisin bread. Something sweet.”

“All right,” Meg said.

Sybil walked to the front hall, got her cane, and followed Nick outside. She wished she’d taken some painkiller with breakfast.

“We didn’t walk yesterday,” Nick said. “Your legs are probably stiff.”

“They hurt more when things are tense,” Sybil said, angry that Nick was forcing this walk on her. “And things are very tense.”

“They’ll work out,” Nick replied. “They always do.”

“I’m not so sure,” Sybil declared. “I’ve never seen Evvie so angry.”

“Evvie loves me,” Nick said. “Sooner or later she’ll remember that.”

Sybil wanted to ask Nick if he was going to accept the reward. She knew if he did, Evvie would never speak to him again, but she wasn’t sure that if he didn’t, Evvie would forgive him, anyway. He’d be better off with the money and no Evvie, than without it and no Evvie. But she knew she couldn’t ask.

“I know you don’t want to take this walk,” Nick said. “But I needed to talk with you, and I wanted some privacy.”

“We could have talked back home after Megs left,” Sybil replied. She was unsure how easy she wanted to make this for Nick.

“I never feel private in that house,” Nick said. “I can always feel Grace there, staring down at me. She hated me more than anybody else in this world did, except maybe my stepfather, and he hated everybody. Grace disliked most other people, but me she hated.”

“Because Megs fell in love with you,” Sybil said.

Nick shook his head. “There were a lot of men Daisy could have fallen in love with that Grace wouldn’t have minded,” he said. “Clark, of course, but there were others. Grace hated me because I stood for everything she couldn’t abide, and in spite of that, Daisy loved me. Sometimes I felt sorry for Grace. I did that summer when she hurt herself, and we sent Evvie to keep her company. Grace knew she’d been in the right, and it didn’t matter. I still had Daisy, and Grace had nothing as a result.”

“We need to walk slower,” Sybil said. “I can’t keep up this pace.”

“All right,” Nick said. He started taking smaller steps, and Sybil found it easier to stay with him. “You’ll be all right, you know,” he said. “Oh, your legs may keep bothering you on days like this, but you’ll be all right. You’ll get whatever you want in this world, love, family, power, money. Whatever you set your mind on, you’ll get it.”

“I hope so,” Sybil said. “I don’t know what it is I want, though.”

“You don’t have to know,” Nick said. “Thea didn’t find out until recently that she wants to be a doctor. If you’d asked her at sixteen, she wouldn’t have had an answer.”

“Evvie knew she wanted Sam,” Sybil said. “And Claire’s always known.”

“Claire may change her mind, too, over the years,” Nick said. “She’s more flexible, more giving, than she gives herself credit for.”

“I shouldn’t have called you from Evvie’s,” Sybil said. “I’m sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have asked you to,” Nick replied. “And I’m sorrier. But I did and you did and now we have to live with the consequences.”

“Should I tell Evvie?” Sybil asked.

“No,” Nick said. “No reason to. It would only make her angrier at all of us. Keep it to yourself unless there’s some pressing reason to tell her. We’re a family of secret-keepers; one more won’t kill us.”

“You could have told me you were illegitimate,” Sybil said. “You could have told me all those things Evvie said yesterday. It wouldn’t have mattered.”

Nick looked at Sybil. “I know,” he said. “And I probably should have been honest with all of you. But I’m like Sam that way. I’d gotten into the habit of lying. It was easier for me. As a little boy, I used to lie. I knew just who I was, where I came from. I was kicked around a lot when I was very young, went from aunt to cousin to grandparent, and they all let me know why I wasn’t living with a mommy and a daddy the way other kids did. But I’d tell myself stories about how my daddy was a brave war hero. And even though I saw my mother sometimes, and I knew she was just a kid who wanted a lot better than she had ended up with, I’d make up stories about her, too. I guess I felt those kinds of stories were necessary for children. The funny thing is, Daisy made up stories, too, about her parents. They loved each other, and they loved her, but her father was a wastrel, and her mother a belle, and the best you could say about them was they died young, beautiful, and together. Daisy was only eleven when they died, and she got kicked around for a year or two herself, before Grace finally accepted her responsibility and took her in. By then Daisy had created perfect parents for herself. By then I had a dream father who never knew I’d been born, who would have given up everything to raise me as his son if only he’d had the chance. I think what Grace hated most about me was how much alike Daisy and I were.”

“You really did fall in love as soon as you saw her,” Sybil said. “But you couldn’t possibly have known that about each other right away.”

“I was always honest with Daisy,” Nick said. “There were things I didn’t want to tell her, and things I held off telling her until it was almost too late, but by the end of that summer, there was nothing about me that she didn’t know. Nothing. That was how we were able to make it through all of Grace’s obstacles. And I’ve been honest with Daisy since. Evvie doesn’t quite realize that, any more than Grace could, that Daisy knows me, knows everything I do, and she loves me so much, and understands me so deeply, that it’s all right. It is truly all right.”

“Claire knows about you,” Sybil said. “And Evvie.”

“They know bits and pieces,” Nick replied. “They think they know a lot more than they actually do. Grace told Evvie that summer in Eastgate. I assumed she would, although Daisy didn’t think so, but I was ready for Evvie to find out, so that was all right. She didn’t confront me though, which I didn’t understand at the time, but now it makes sense. It must have been very hard for Evvie to discover her parents had deceived her at the same time that she fell in love with a liar.”

“And Claire found out that Christmas,” Sybil said.

“She put two and two together,” Nick said. “Grace confirmed her suspicions, and Claire took it from there. I look like Sebastian Prescott, and Claire looks like me. It must have been a nightmare for him to find out that Scotty had eloped with my daughter. His legitimate grandson and his illegitimate granddaughter. Claire wanted twenty-four thousand for your rehab costs. He offered fifty, and she grabbed it.”

“Evvie says you shouldn’t have let her,” Sybil declared.

“She’s right,” Nick said. “Are you all right? How’re your legs holding up?”

“I’ll live,” Sybil said.

Nick grinned. “I never thought you wouldn’t,” he replied.

“Why did you take the money, then?” Sybil asked. “Was it just for me?”

“This is very hard,” Nick said. “When Evvie was in Eastgate, I made up a little scene where I told all of you just who I was, the truth about my parentage. I had it all worked out. Evvie would be stalwart, and Thea grieving for me, and Claire would be defiant, and you, you would just accept it, the way you’ve always accepted things. Only Evvie never brought it up, and I thought there was more time. I didn’t know Schyler and Scotty were my nephews. I didn’t know you were going to be hit by that car. I couldn’t even be sure Grace had told Evvie. So I let time pass, and I lost my chance to make my little confession, and things got out of hand with Claire. No, that isn’t fair. I lost control. I know I shouldn’t have accepted that money, but I didn’t have the strength to take the check and tear it up.”

“You needed it for me,” Sybil said.

Nick shook his head. “I took it for myself,” he replied. “Evvie’s right about that, too. We could have worked something out. I could have borrowed from Grace, from Clark, from one of those rich relatives Daisy doesn’t care for. But part of me still felt I had something coming, that Sebastian Prescott owed me something beyond his looks and the use of his first name. He didn’t owe me anything, but I just couldn’t accept that.”

“Maybe he owed me, then,” Sybil said. “I’m his granddaughter. Thanks to him, I’m walking again. Maybe he owed me that.”

“Don’t,” Nick said. “Don’t lie to yourself. If there’s one thing I want you to learn from my mistakes, it’s to at least be honest with yourself. Claire found an old man in a moment of weakness. She went in for the kill. She did it because she loves you, and she loves me, although she’d be loath to admit it, and because she loves victory. Sebastian Prescott doesn’t owe us a thing.”

“I don’t think I can walk much longer,” Sybil said. “Maybe we should turn around for home.”

“All right,” Nick said. “I’m glad we’ve had this walk.”

“We needed to talk,” Sybil said. “There’s still a lot I don’t understand.”

“Here’s how it was, then,” Nick said. “My mother died when I was fifteen. She was a young woman really, younger than I am now, but she always seemed old to me. There are things you expect from your mother, love, comfort, protection, that she was incapable of giving me. She had two other children by my stepfather, and she was a little better with them, but not all that much. She got cancer and she died, and after we got back from the funeral, my stepfather kicked me out. Bag and baggage. That was it. She died in January. I slept in a church that night. I didn’t want to sleep outside. I thought I’d freeze to death.”

“You must have been so scared,” Sybil said.

“I was more angry than anything else,” Nick declared. “I knew what was coming, and I knew I should be making plans. No way my stepfather was going to let me stay on after my mother died. I meant to save up a little money, have something in my pocket for when I needed it, but Momma died a few days before I’d expected, and my stepfather moved faster than I’d thought he would. I swore I’d never be caught unprepared again, and of course, I have been, time and again. The world always surprises me, Sybil. For better or worse.”

“How did you survive?” Sybil asked. “There really wasn’t a Mr. Wilson?”

“There was one teacher,” Nick said. “But he made it clear that we were to share a bed. That happened to me a lot, both with men and women. Only I wouldn’t do it. I turned down all the easy offers, and I got a variety of jobs instead, washing dishes, caddying, anything I could get. I did best with jobs that paid tips. I lived in Ys, in flophouses, in boarding houses when the money was good. Some nights, when things were really bad, I’d sneak back home for a few hours’ sleep. But I got by. I knew I was smart and I knew I was handsome and I knew people liked me. My fellow dishwashers didn’t like me, but I had their respect, because they could see I wasn’t taking the easy way out. Things would have been fine if I’d been satisfied with the respect of dishwashers. But I wasn’t. I’d lie on some anonymous bed or another, and I’d fantasize about all I had coming to me. It seemed easier to blame Sebastian Prescott for my problems than to try and solve them on my own. I was wrong, but I was young, and when you’re young, it’s easy to make mistakes.”

“So you went to see him,” Sybil said. “Was it terrible?”

“Bad enough,” Nick replied. “I’d convinced myself of all he owed me. At the very least, a college education, four years of Ivy League all neatly paid for. I wanted his respect, too, because in spite of the odds, I’d graduated from high school, done well, been accepted by Princeton. But what I dreamed for was his love. God, I wanted a lot.”

“He should have respected you,” Sybil said. “He should have loved you.”

“He’d given my mother some money when she’d told him she was pregnant,” Nick said. “That was it as far as he was concerned. I know it threw him to see me looking so much like him, and maybe if I’d been as shrewd as Claire, or had had more of an advantage over him, the way she did, I could have gotten something more out of him. As it was, he gave me a check for three thousand dollars and told me to get out.” Nick stood still for a moment, and Sybil stood next to him. They were only a couple of blocks away from home. She tried to will the pain away.

“The worst part wasn’t my taking the three thousand,” Nick said. “He could afford it. But I was so damned impressed that he had that kind of money in his checking account. I told myself that was how I wanted to be, rich and cruel. I wanted to be just like him, because he had refused to let me into his life. If he’d been kind, I probably would have rejected him.”

“That’s not true,” Sybil said. “You’re not cruel.”

Nick laughed. “I’m certainly not rich,” he said. “In any event, I took that three thousand and I parlayed it into four years’ tuition. It was wrong of me to expect the money, and wrong of me to take it, and once I had it, I did wrong things with it to make it grow, but at least I stopped when I had the money I needed. Daisy knew the whole story. She loved me anyway. By then I knew people would want me even if they didn’t understand me, because I was handsome and charming and had that brooding undercurrent that Clark so admired. But I was sure no one could ever really know me and love me. Only Daisy did. I never tested my luck by being honest with my daughters. To all of you, I lied. But Daisy always knew the truth.”

“We would have loved you anyway,” Sybil said. “I love you anyway.”

“I’m a foolish man,” Nick said. “Fear does that to you. I love you all so much. Evvie has all the strength I longed for, and Thea has a soul filled with compassion and forgiveness that is beyond my imagination. Claire may lie to the rest of the world, but she is truer to herself than anybody I’ve ever known, even Daisy. And you have so much courage. Strength, forgiveness, honesty, and courage. You’re miraculous to me.”

“We’re your daughters,” Sybil said. “We must have gotten it from you.”

“I see the car,” Nick said. “Daisy must be home. I love you, Sybil.”

“I know,” she said. She watched as Nick began to walk faster. She couldn’t keep up with him, and she didn’t bother trying. The last block she took by herself, slowly. It had started to rain. The front door was unlocked, so she let herself in, walked to the kitchen, and saw Nick kiss Meg and leave the house.

“Where’s he going?” she asked, as she watched Meg unpack the grocery bags.

“There’s a piece of property Nick heard about,” Meg replied. “In Revere. Nick thinks it’s worth looking at.”

Sybil knew that meant Nick would take the reward. She sat down by the kitchen table and wished she didn’t love him so much. It would be easier if she didn’t know him. “We had a long talk,” she said.

“I know,” Meg replied, closing the refrigerator door. “Have faith. Things will all work out.”

“I sure hope so,” Sybil said.

“I’m going to start the bread,” Meg said. “So it’ll be just finished when Nick gets back. Do you want to help?”

Sybil shook her head. “I need a hot bath,” she said. “And then I’d better start doing some homework. I have school in a couple of days.”

“Fair enough,” Meg said. “Do you want me to massage your legs?”

“They’re not that bad,” Sybil said. She hated the thought of Meg touching her just then. “I’ll be down in a while.”

“I’ll be here baking,” Meg said.

Sybil relaxed in the tub, then dressed, and went to the living room to do her homework. A week before, she had turned sixteen, and her sisters had all been there to celebrate. When Nick was sixteen, he was alone, living in flophouses. When Meg was sixteen, she fell in love. Sybil just hoped the next fifty-one weeks would prove a little easier for all of them.

She was working on her French translation, vaguely aware of the smell of the baking bread, vaguely aware that Sam’s grandfather’s funeral must be just about to begin, when the doorbell rang. She answered it herself. There were two police officers standing there.

“We’re looking for Margaret Sebastian,” the older of the two men said. Neither man looked especially comfortable.

Sybil thought they must be there because of Linda Steinmetz, although why they’d want Meg escaped her. They must have questions, though, about how much the Sebastians had known and why they’d waited so long to contact the police. She only hoped they weren’t planning to harass Evvie that day, too. Evvie didn’t need that.

“Megs,” Sybil called, and Meg came out of the kitchen and looked at the officers.

“Yes?” she said. Sybil always remembered how young Meg looked just then, how trusting.

“Margaret Sebastian?”

“Yes.”

“I’m afraid we have some bad news ma’am,” the older officer said. “Your husband was in an accident.”

“Nicky?” Meg asked.

“Nicholas George Sebastian,” the officer said. “His car skidded off the road. I think you’d better come with us, ma’am. We need to take you to the hospital.”

“How is he?” Sybil asked.

“It’s very bad,” the younger officer said. “Please, get your things, and we’ll take you to the hospital.”

“I have bread in the oven,” Meg said. “I have to take it out. I was baking it for Nicky, and now there’s no need. You’re here to tell me he’s dead.”

“Megs!” Sybil cried.

Neither police officer denied it. “I’ll take the bread out,” the younger officer said. “Get your raincoats and your bags, and we’ll take you to him right away.”

CHAPTER NINE

“I’m very sorry to have to discuss this with you before you’ve even seen him,” the doctor said. “I know you must be numb with shock.”

Sybil looked at the doctor. She was in her twenties, and she did look genuinely sorry. Sybil wondered if Thea would be called on to make similar speeches when she finished medical school.

“Your husband, Nicholas, is brain dead,” the doctor said. “The trauma to his head was massive. However we have him on life-support machines, machines that are keeping his heart pumping, so that, if you consent, we can harvest his organs for donation to people in desperate need of them.”

“What?” Meg asked. Sybil shook with silent laughter.

“His heart, his kidneys, his liver, his corneas, even his skin can all be used by others,” the doctor said. “People who’ve suffered for years from degenerative conditions, whose only hope of survival is through transplants. Your husband’s death will not have been in vain if only you’ll give your consent.”

“I don’t know,” Meg said. “I’ll have to ask Nicky.”

The doctor looked at Sybil, who had just barely controlled her laughter. “Are there any other family members you might call?” she asked. “Your mother’s parents, perhaps, or her sisters or brothers?”

“I’ll call Claire,” Sybil said. “I tried her this morning, but she was in the shower.” She realized the doctor didn’t need to know that, but the words were already out. “I need change,” she said. “Claire lives in New York.”

The doctor got out her change purse and handed it to Sybil. Sybil never forgot that gesture. It kept her going for quite a while. “Take what you need,” the doctor said. “You can leave it for me at the desk. I’ll take your mother now to see your father.”

“Thank you,” Sybil said. The change purse felt heavy. She wondered if the doctor harvested dimes and quarters for these situations, but she wasn’t about to ask.

She found a pay phone by the elevator bank, and sat down to make her call. Claire’s number came automatically to her, and she put in the requisite amount of change. She prayed Claire would answer the phone herself, and she did, on the fourth ring.

“Yes,” Claire said. Sybil wondered when she’d stopped saying hello.

“This is Sybil,” she said. “I’m calling from the hospital. Nicky seems to be dead.”

“What?” Claire said. “Sybil, are you all right?”

“No,” Sybil said. “I mean, I’m fine, and Megs is fine, but Nicky’s dead and they want his organs and I don’t know what to do.”

“Tell me what happened,” Claire said. “And then I’ll tell you what to do.”

“Nicky went to Revere,” Sybil said. “To look at some property. His car skidded on the road, and he hit a tree head-on, and there was massive trauma, and now he’s on life-supports so they can harvest his organs. Do you think Linda would like a kidney? We’re having a sale on them.”

“Who else knows?” Claire asked.

“No one,” Sybil said. “Who was I supposed to call? Nicky’s father?”

“Oh, lord,” Claire said. “You’re sure he’s dead?”

“I haven’t seen him,” Sybil said. “Megs is seeing him now. The doctor said she’d take Megs to see him while I called you, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s dead. Some machine is pumping for him. He was alive this morning. We took a walk. He didn’t tell me he was going to Revere. Megs did. He said he loved all of us. He said you loved him, too, even if you wouldn’t admit it.”

“Sybil, stop that!” Claire said. “I have to think, and I won’t be able to if you make me cry.”

“I haven’t cried yet,” Sybil said. “I laughed when the doctor told us about organs. I still think it’s funny.”

“You may have a point,” Claire said. “All right. Here’s what we have to do. You tell Megs to agree to the organ transplants. She’ll regret it forever if she doesn’t. Tell her it’s what Nicky would want.”

“Do you think so?” Sybil asked.

Claire was silent. “Probably not,” she said. “But it’ll give Megs something to feel good about later. Tell her they have to wait until we can all get there, so we can say good-bye to him. It’ll kill Thea if she doesn’t have that chance, and we can be there in a few hours. They’ll just have to wait that long.”

“Should I call Thea now?” Sybil said. “The doctor gave me a lot of change.”

“No,” Claire replied. “I’ll go over and tell her in person. She’ll be very angry. It’ll be better if she takes it out on me. You call Clark, and tell him to have his chauffeur waiting to pick us up at the airport. He might as well go straight to the hospital to be with Megs. Who knows? He might even be helpful to her.”

“What about Evvie?” Sybil asked. “She’s on Long Island with Sam.”

There was another silence, until the operator asked for some more coins. Sybil fed them into the machine. She had an image of Nick’s organs being kept alive by dimes and quarters. She wished he were there so she could tell him.

“When you call Clark, ask him for two things,” Claire said. “First, ask him to call Scotty. It’ll be good for Thea if he’s around. Just Scotty, all right?”

“Right,” Sybil said. “Does Clark know about Nicky’s father?”

“I don’t think so,” Claire said. “And this isn’t the time to find out. Then ask Clark for his telephone credit card number. Use it to track down Evvie. She might be back from the funeral, at Sam’s grandmother’s house. Hold on a second, I have that number. Here it is. Five-one-six-five-five-five-four-two-three-two. You got that?”

Sybil located paper and pencil in her bag and wrote the number down. “I have it,” she said.

“If Evvie isn’t there, somebody will know how to reach her,” Claire said. “Track her down and fast. Sam was planning to leave right after the funeral for San Diego, and Evvie was thinking of going with him. She told Thea. But she can’t do that. Megs’ll collapse if she doesn’t have Evvie.”

“So I call Clark, get his credit card number, ask him to call Scotty, and then I find Evvie,” Sybil said. “And I tell Megs to agree to the transplants, but not until we’ve all gotten there, so we can say good-bye to Nicky. Right?”

“Right,” Claire said. “I’ll tell Thea, and we’ll take the next shuttle to Boston. What hospital are you at?”

“Boston General,” Sybil replied. “Should I say goodbye to Nicky now, or should I wait until you get here?”

“Oh, Syb, I don’t know,” Claire said. “Now, I guess, unless you can’t handle it. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I don’t believe any of this,” Sybil said. “How could Nicky do it?”

“Do what?” Claire asked, and there was an edge in her voice that frightened Sybil.

“Die,” Sybil said. “How could he die?”

“Easily,” Claire said. “Same way he did everything else. Now let me get off the phone, and you start making your other calls. Does Megs know where to find you?”

“I guess so,” Sybil said. “If she’s with Nicky, it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, God,” Claire said. “How is Megs going to survive this?”

“Claire, please,” Sybil said.

“You’re right,” Claire said. “Make your calls. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

Sybil hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment. She could recall a dozen times when Clark had come through for them, with a loving gesture or a perfect birthday present or just a phone call that made Meg laugh. This wasn’t so different.

She put in a quarter and dialed the number. A servant answered, but then Clark got on the line.

“Nicky died,” Sybil said. “I need your telephone calling number.”

“What?” Clark said, and Sybil realized her approach hadn’t been too smooth.

“There was an accident,” she said. “His car crashed. We’re at Boston General, just Megs and me. I called Claire, and she’s going to tell Thea, and then they’ll take the shuttle back here. Could you ask your chauffeur to meet them at the airport?”

“Of course,” Clark said. “And I’ll come to the hospital right away.”

“Thank you,” Sybil said. “Megs’ll be grateful. Claire also asked if you could call Scotty. She thinks it’ll be good for Thea if he knows.”

“No problem,” Clark said. “What about my phone card number?”

“I need to track down Evvie,” Sybil said. “It may take a couple of calls. It’ll be easier with a credit card.”

“Certainly,” Clark said. He dictated a string of numbers to Sybil, who wrote them down on her sheet of paper. “I’ll be at the hospital in fifteen minutes,” he said. “Then I’ll send my chauffeur to the airport. How is Meg holding up?”

“She doesn’t understand yet,” Sybil said. She noticed her stomach was starting to clench, and the pain in her legs was worse than it had been in years. Obviously, she was beginning to understand. “Thank you, Clark. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

She hung up the phone and wished she could throw away the entire day, the entire week, possibly even her entire life. She wished she didn’t have to be the one to tell Evvie. She wished she were dead alongside Nick, that she had died four years before when the car had hit her. She wished she were home alone, free to weep, free to be comforted by Nick. She wished she could be as young as she had been just a few days before.

But Nick had told her she was brave, and she knew she had to prove him right. So she used Clark’s number, and called Sam’s grandmother’s house.

“They’re still at the funeral parlor,” a woman there said.

“I have to have that number,” Sybil said. “There’s a family emergency.”

“Hasn’t this family suffered enough?” the woman asked, and Sybil wanted to say no, it hadn’t, that there was more suffering on the way, but she couldn’t. She waited while whoever she was speaking to got out the number, and then she took it down, thanked the woman, and dialed again.

For a moment, Sybil forgot Sam’s last name. He seemed to have so many, but without the right name, she knew she couldn’t find his grandfather. Then she remembered. It was Greene. His grandfather was Dr. Greene. “I’m trying to reach the people at Dr. Greene’s funeral,” she said to yet another stranger. “It’s a family emergency.”

“The service is still in process,” the woman said. “Could you wait a few more minutes?”

“No,” Sybil said. “This takes precedence.”

“Very well,” the woman said. “Who do you need to talk to?”

Sybil thought for a moment of asking for Sam. Let him tell Evvie. She was siding with him about everything, anyway. Why should he get away with not telling her?

But Sybil knew she couldn’t do that. She’d done enough to Sam lately, enough not to add this to his list of burdens. “I have to speak to Evvie Sebastian,” she said. “She’s Sam Greene’s fiancée. Tell her it’s her sister, Sybil, and that it’s imperative I speak to her.”

“Very well,” the woman said. “Hold on for a moment.”

So Sybil did. She wondered how Meg was doing, but she realized if Meg was with Nick, it was better for her to be alone. She probably had a lot of things she needed to say to him. Sybil knew she did, although she couldn’t remember what they were.

It took close to five minutes before Evvie got on the line. “What is it?” she asked. “This had better be really important, Sybil.”

Sybil hoped her words would hurt Evvie forever. “Nicky’s dead,” she said. “Is that important enough for you?”

“That’s a very sick joke,” Evvie replied. “And I don’t have time or patience for jokes.”

“There was an accident,” Sybil said. “His car skidded off the road. We’re at Boston General, Megs and me. He’s brain-dead. I haven’t seen him yet. I told Claire and Clark, and Claire’s going to tell Thea, but she said for me to tell you. I’m not joking, Evvie. You have to come here right away.”

“He’s dead?” Evvie asked. “Really dead?”

“He’s on life-support systems,” Sybil said. “They want to use his organs for transplants. Except for that, he’s dead.”

“What a son of a bitch,” Evvie said, and then she laughed.

“Evvie, are you all right?” Sybil asked.

“No,” Evvie said. “I’m nowhere near all right. I was going to go with Sam to San Diego.”

“You can’t,” Sybil said. “Claire says you can’t. She says Megs will need you too much.”

“I’m not about to listen to Claire for moral guidance,” Evvie declared. “I don’t know what I’m doing. You’re really sure he’s dead, and this isn’t just some kind of stunt to get me there for a big reconciliation scene?”

“The police officers said he was dead,” Sybil replied. “The doctors said he was dead. You want to talk with them?”

“Oh, God,” Evvie said, and then she began to cry. “God, I didn’t think I had any more tears left in me.”

“We’re at Boston General,” Sybil said. “Evvie, you have to get here as soon as possible, for Megs and Thea.”

“I’ll tell Sam,” she said. “Nicky’s really dead?”

There was a knock on the phone booth door, and Sybil could see someone else impatient to use it. “I have to get off,” she said. “Boston General. And hurry, Evvie. Please.”

She left the phone booth, took the change purse, and brought it to the nurse behind the desk. “This belongs to one of the doctors,” Sybil said. “I don’t know her name.”

“I know who to give it to,” the nurse said. “Your mother went to say good-bye to your father. You can join her if you’d like.”

“I’ll wait until she gets out,” Sybil said. “They loved each other a lot.”

“I’m sure they did,” the nurse said. “Why don’t you sit down here, and then you’ll be able to see your mother when she comes out.”

So Sybil sat down, and a few minutes later, Meg joined her. “Are you all right?” Sybil asked. “Can I get you something?”

“I’m all right,” Meg said. “Who did you call?”

“Claire and Evvie and Clark,” Sybil replied. “Claire said she’d tell Thea in person.”

“That’s good,” Meg said. “He looks terrible. His head is all banged up. There are cuts and bruises. They cleaned him up, but he still looks awful.”

“Nicky wouldn’t want that,” Sybil said.

“No,” Meg said. “Nicky isn’t vain about his appearance, but he knows how handsome he is. It makes it easier for me to tell them to go ahead with the transplants, though. If he’d looked unharmed, I don’t know that I could have let them cut him up.”

“Could you ask them to wait until the others get here?” Sybil asked. “So they can say good-bye?”

Meg smiled. “I already did,” she said. “You poor thing. You don’t have to take care of everything. I can handle my share.”

“I know,” Sybil said. “Clark’ll be over any minute.”

“Then why don’t you see Nicky now,” Meg said. “You’ll feel better once you do, and Clark’ll probably drive you crazy, anyway.”

“I love you, Megs,” Sybil said. “Are you sure you’ll be all right alone?”

“I’m not alone,” Meg replied. “Now go. And I love you, Sybil. Nicky does, too. You know that.”

Sybil nodded. She kissed Meg’s cheek, and then she walked to the room she knew Nick was in. She wondered for a moment if she should wait until Claire got there, to help her through the door, but then she decided Claire was going to go through an agony all her own, and this was one moment she owed to Claire to take care of herself.

She was glad Meg had warned her about Nick’s appearance. He was cut and bruised. She realized he would have been permanently scarred if he’d survived. She looked at his face, and found the little scar by his eye. A dog bit him there when he was a little boy. She could hardly find the scar, his face was in such bad shape.

“I guess you can’t hear me,” Sybil said. “Your heart is still beating, but that’s it.”

She thought she could hear Nick whispering something to her. Was it possible he hadn’t died, that there had been some awful mistake? How would Evvie react if that were true?

But it was only the machines making their noises. Nick lay absolutely still. He had wires attaching him to the machinery. Sybil remembered the wires and tubes she used to have and how much she’d hated them. She wished she could pull them off Nick, liberate him, but that would come later. For now those wires served a vital function.

“I told you this morning that I loved you, didn’t I?” Sybil asked. “I know I meant to. I think I did.” She tried hard to remember, but they’d said so much on their walk, it was hard to be sure. She knew Nick had told her he loved her. He’d told her he loved all his daughters. She wondered now why he’d made such a point of it. Had he known he was going to die? How could he have?

“You’re the best father a girl could ever have,” Sybil said, but that sounded silly. She was glad her sisters weren’t there to hear her. “Well, you’re the most interesting,” she said. No one could argue with that.

“And I know how much you love me,” she said. “All of us, but me in particular.”

The machines continued their whirring noise. Sybil wanted Nick to get up and hug her. It occurred to her then that Nick would never embrace her again, or walk with her, or hold her hand. He wouldn’t make confessions to her, either. Maybe he’d told her all he had to confess.

“You said I had courage,” Sybil said. “I don’t know if I do. I don’t know if I can stand this, Nicky. I don’t think it was fair of you to make me.”

She felt a tear trickle down her cheek, and she was almost surprised by its wetness. She wiped it away, and forced herself to look at her father.

“I love you,” she said. “And I’ll do everything you want me to. I’ll make you proud of me. I promise I will.”

She took Nick’s hand then. It was limp. A deadweight, she realized. It wasn’t until she felt that hand that it truly penetrated that Nick was gone. If there’d been any spark of life left in him, he would have squeezed her hand. Sybil remembered the endless hours Nick had spent by her hospital bed, not saying anything, just holding her hand. His touch was love to her, and now his touch was gone.

“I’ll do well in school,” she said, trying to remember what it was Nick wanted of her. “And I’ll earn lots of money, and I’ll take care of Megs for the rest of her life, and I’ll make sure that Evvie and Thea and Claire keep loving each other. And I won’t walk with a limp anymore. I’ll get healthy and strong and I’ll run marathons, if that’s what you want.”

She kissed Nick’s hand, and then she bent over and kissed his cheek. She couldn’t bear to give up his hand, so she sat there holding it, pressing it to her lips, while she wept for her pain, her loss, and her promises.

CHAPTER TEN

“Look at all the flowers,” Thea said. “Who could have sent them?”

“I’ll bet Clark did,” Evvie replied. “He probably made up names to go on the cards.”

“No,” Thea said, checking the cards out. “You’re wrong. These are all from real people. Look, here’s a wreath from Ed and Donna Chambers. Remember them from Briarton?”

“And here are flowers from the Princeton Alumni Association of Massachusetts,” Sybil said. “And flowers from the rehab staff in Oregon.”

“And the Harrison Chamber of Commerce,” Evvie said. “It says Nicky was their Man of the Year once. I’d forgotten that.”

“This is wonderful,” Thea said. “Megs will be so pleased. Who organized it?”

“I did,” Claire replied. “Day before yesterday. Remember, I said I was going for a walk? Well, I lied. I went to Clark’s and called up every number I could find in Nicky’s address books.”

“On Clark’s phone bill,” Thea said.

“I had the calls charged to my New York number,” Claire said. “I hated the thought of Nicky not getting a big turnout for his funeral. So I told them all how we’d just moved to Boston, and he hadn’t had the chance to make friends here, and I let them take it from there.”

“I have to hand it to you,” Thea said. “This is beautiful, Claire.”

“I just hope somebody comes to the funeral,” Evvie said. “The flowers’ll outnumber the guests.”

“I don’t think Nicky would want a big funeral, anyway,” Sybil declared. “He was so private. He’d probably just want Megs and us. Everybody else is extraneous.”

“Not for Megs, though,” Thea said. “She needs to see other people, to know that Nicky was cared about. Thank you, Claire.”

Claire smiled. “Do the same for me at my funeral,” she said. “Then we’ll call it even.”

Clark and Meg came in together. Meg gasped at the sight of all the flowers, then walked up to the girls, and began reading the cards.

“I see your scheme worked,” Clark said to Claire.

“They always do,” Claire replied.

“Thank you for delivering the eulogy,” Evvie said. “It’ll mean a lot to Megs.”

“I worked on it all last night,” Clark said. “I hope it’s all right.”

“I’m sure it will be,” Evvie said.

Claire and Sybil walked toward the seats. “I don’t believe Evvie asked Clark to do the eulogy,” Claire said. “Nicky would hate that.”

“Why do you think she asked him?” Sybil replied. “It was her last slap.”

“Oh, well,” Claire said. “If it’s too bad, I can always take a nap.”

“It still feels so funny,” Sybil said. “I keep expecting Nicky to walk right in, change things around, tell us how to make this funeral perfect.”

“For the first time this morning, I realized he was dead,” Claire said. “I’m so used to crises and catastrophes, that I’ve been feeling like this was just another one. Megs seems to be holding up all right.”

“She doesn’t believe it yet,” Sybil replied. “Anymore than I do.”

Claire put her arm around Sybil. “You’re doing fine,” she declared. “But I still wish you’d taken your cane here.”

“I promised Nicky I wouldn’t,” Sybil said. “I’ll manage without it.”

“There’s Scotty,” Claire said. “Good, he’s going over to Thea.”

“Is that Kip behind him?” Sybil asked.

“It sure is,” Claire said. “He was one of my phone calls.”

“And he came from New York?” Sybil said.

“He asked to,” Claire said. “He even wants to say a few words.”

“I hope he’s sober,” Sybil said.

“He is,” Claire replied. “He promised he would be.”

“Aren’t those friends of Evvie’s?” Sybil asked, as four people in their early twenties came in.

“I called them, too,” Claire said. “I didn’t care how we got people here, just as long as there were some. If I’d had to, I would have paid for mourners.”

“And who are they?” Sybil asked as three older couples came in, and walked over to Meg.

“Friends of Megs’s and Clark’s,” Claire replied. “Clark made those calls. Remember, Megs grew up in this town. She knew lots of people when she was a girl.”

“And who’s he?” Sybil asked. The handsomest old man she’d ever seen had walked in. Scotty turned around, saw him, and was obviously startled.

“That’s Sebastian Prescott,” Claire said. “I didn’t think he’d come.”

“You called him?” Sybil said.

“He was Nicky’s father,” Claire said. “He had a right to know. Excuse me while I find him a seat. I’m the only one he’s met.” She walked over to him, smiled, and escorted him to a chair. Scotty left Thea and joined his grandfather.

A few more people came in, and then the minister arrived. Meg had asked Aunt Grace’s minister to conduct the service. There was no one else. Sybil couldn’t remember the last time Nick had been in a church, and the minister’s comforting words about heaven rang hollow.

Then Clark walked up front, and looking at all the people seated there, smiled. “We’re here today to say farewell to a very special man,” he began. “But we’re also here to celebrate him.”

Sybil cast a nervous look at Evvie. She’d been quiet ever since she’d arrived in Boston. Not sullen exactly, but she made it obvious she resented being away from Sam at a time when he also needed her. She hadn’t made a scene, though, nor had she expressed any regrets for the things she’d said to Nick the last time they’d talked. She’d been a help to Meg, and to Thea, who’d cried the most and seemed the most alive to the loss. Claire had been cool and organized. Sybil merely felt shell-shocked.

“I suppose I’ve known Nick Sebastian as long as anybody else in this room,” Clark said. “I met him many many summers ago, when we were young men. He had the nerve to fall in love with Meg Winslow, and she had the courage to fall in love with him. In all the years that I’ve observed them, I never once saw that nerve, or that courage, or that love, falter. Nick and Meg went through some very rough times, but there was a strength and a unity that didn’t merely endure. It triumphed.”

Sybil saw Evvie take Meg’s hand and squeeze it. Meg managed a smile.

“Nick and Meg have four beautiful daughters,” Clark continued. “Evvie, Thea, Claire, and Sybil. Nick was as complicated a man as I’ve ever met, but his feelings for his children were pure and simple.”

This time, it was Claire who smiled. Thea had begun to cry quietly.

“All fathers love their children,” Clark said. “That’s the easy part, or so I’m told. But Nick had faith in his. Each daughter was very different, but Nick believed that they would each achieve great things. The pleasure he took in every one of their accomplishments was dazzling. I remember when he called me up just to say Claire had taken her first step. She was his thirdborn, remember, and by then most daddies are jaded. But for Nick, this was as important a moment as Evvie’s first word.”

Sybil remembered Evvie’s last words to Nick, and swallowed hard. She’d made two vows for that day, that she’d get through without a cane, and that she wouldn’t collapse into tears. Nick expected her to be brave, and she would be.

“Of course we all remember the terrible accident a few years ago,” Clark said. “Sybil was hit by a car at Thanksgiving. I was there, visiting the Sebastians, when it happened. I saw the devastation that Nick felt, and I also saw his determination that Sybil would walk again. Everything for Nick changed that day, and yet I don’t think he would have called any of it a sacrifice. For Nick, Meg and his daughters were his life. Without them, he was nothing.”

Sybil noticed that only she and Evvie weren’t crying. She looked behind her, to see what effect Clark’s eulogy was having on Sebastian Prescott, but she found she couldn’t look at him too carefully. He looked so much like Nick. It seemed wrong that he was still alive.

“I said I’d known Nick Sebastian as long as anyone else here,” Clark said. “But of course, I never really knew him. Meg did, and perhaps his daughters, but no one else was really allowed to know him. I confronted him once, when we were both young men, and he declared that he had created himself, and in many ways that was true. He was endlessly contradictory. I’ve never known a more handsome, self-assured man, yet I cannot remember ever seeing him look in a mirror. In his years with Meg, he was happy, but his smiles were so rare, they seemed like precious gifts. He dazzled people, but in many ways, he was more substantial, more down-to-earth, than most other men.”

I will not cry, Sybil thought. I will not believe this is happening.

“I suppose my favorite image of Nick will always be the time I found him diapering Thea,” Clark said. “Evvie was three, and Meg was pregnant with Claire. I don’t recall what city they were living in then, or what the occasion was for my visit. But Nick was standing at the changing table, with Evvie clamoring for his attention, and Meg complaining about the lack of really fine evening gowns for pregnant women, and Nick was smiling that rare beautiful smile of his, cleaning and wiping Thea and changing her diaper, and all that time he was wearing his tuxedo. I envied him that day, and I was right to. Nick Sebastian led an enviable life. Thank you.”

Then Kip got up and walked to the front. “My name is Paul Dozier,” he said. “I’m a friend of Thea’s. I wanted to come here when I heard about Nick because of something he did for me.”

Sybil noticed Thea tilting her head. Even Evvie looked interested.

“My mother died a year ago,” Kip said. “I told Thea. It was a bad time for me. Well, I suppose it always is when your mother dies. But I had a complicated relationship with mine, and I hadn’t seen her in a while. Thea told her parents. They were living in Oregon then. Nick called me, and asked what he could do to help. I didn’t know him real well. We’d met back in Briarton. I’d had dinner with them a couple of times, and I’d liked him. He said we had a lot in common, and that made me feel better about myself, because times were pretty awful then, and I could see he was happy. It made me feel that things might work out for me, too. But he didn’t have to make that call, and he didn’t say anything polite and meaningless like, ‘Let me know if I can be of any assistance.’ He asked me what he could do, and I told him I was having trouble tracking down my sister, who was living in California. Nick found her for me. I still don’t know how. He paid for her airfare, and mine, so we could have some kind of funeral. I don’t know how he managed that, either, since money was tight for them then. But what I’ll always remember is he sent flowers. I know that may sound like nothing to you, and there are lots of flowers here, but the flowers Nick sent were the only ones my mother got. And there was a note with them about how brave my mother had been and how much he’d admired her during my sister Gina’s illness. I still have that note. I keep it in my wallet.”

Kip took a deep breath. “That’s all,” he said. “I just wanted to be here because people might not have known what a kind man Nick Sebastian was, and I knew, and I thought I should tell you.” He walked back to his chair and sat down.

The minister recited a psalm or two then, and led them through a prayer. Sybil was glad for the meaningless words. She couldn’t bear to concentrate on all Clark and Kip had said. The only way to get through it was not to think about the real Nick. Ritual prayer that had nothing to do with him was a help.

There was to be no burial, since Meg had decided on cremation, so the crowd lingered in the funeral parlor after the service ended. Sybil shook hands with lots of people she didn’t know. She even kissed a few of them. She stood next to Claire, and felt unsure which one of them was protecting the other. Claire had cried, after all, and she hadn’t. As far as Sybil could see, that was her biggest accomplishment in years, not crying at her father’s funeral.

Sebastian Prescott walked up to Meg, with Scotty by his side. “We’ve never met,” he said. “I’m Sebastian Prescott.”

Meg smiled at him. “I assumed that,” she said. “You look so much like Schyler.”

“I only met your husband once,” Mr. Prescott said. “Many years ago. And now I find I regret not knowing him. I wish I had … I wish for so many different things. I feel the loss.”

“Thank you,” Meg said. “That would have meant a lot to Nicky.”

“Please let me know if I can do anything,” Mr. Prescott said. “Can I be of any financial assistance?”

“That isn’t necessary,” Meg said. “Nicky was a great believer in life insurance. We’re well provided for.”

“Then in some other way,” Mr. Prescott said. “Could I see your family sometime? The only one of your daughters I really know is Claire.”

“That’s up to them,” Meg said. “We’ll talk about it together.”

“Thank you,” the old man said. “Come, Prescott. Drive me back to your home.”

“What was he talking about?” Thea asked. “Why should he care about us?”

Evvie laughed, and for the first time in weeks, she sounded like herself. “That’s a long story,” she said. “But I guess you’ll hear it soon enough.”

Other people came by, including Kip, murmuring kind words and offering to do things. Meg smiled at all of them. Sybil wished the ordeal would end. Her legs were aching, and she knew she’d have to sit down soon.

“I’m taking Sybil home,” Claire said, sensing Sybil’s need. “We’ll meet you there.”

“I’ll go with you,” Evvie said. “Clark, can you take care of Megs and Thea?”

“Of course,” Clark said. “We’ll be back shortly.”

“Thank you,” Evvie said. “And thank you for a beautiful eulogy. It was better than he deserved.”

“Evvie!” Thea said.

“Sorry,” Evvie said. “Let’s get out of here.”

The girls drove back to Aunt Grace’s house in Evvie’s car. Sybil sat in the back. It hadn’t been easy, but she’d hardly limped walking out of the funeral home. Maybe she was getting stronger. Maybe Nick had willed that strength to her when he died.

Evvie parked the car, and the girls walked into the house. It seemed terribly quiet there, especially after the last few days of phone calls and planning. Sybil went immediately to the medicine cabinet and took some painkiller. Claire busied herself in the kitchen. Evvie stood there, looking at both of them, but before she said anything, the phone rang.

Evvie took the call, then excused herself, and went to Nick’s office to talk there. It was a few minutes before she came back to the kitchen.

“That was Sam,” she said. “Calling from San Diego.”

“How are things?” Claire asked.

“His mother died this morning,” Evvie said. “Sam and his grandmother were there with her. They’re hoping the government doesn’t give them a lot of grief about bringing her back East for a funeral. If there’s too much red tape, they’ll stay on in San Diego and bury her there.”

“I’m sorry,” Sybil said.

Evvie shrugged. “Now that Linda’s dead, they’ll have to start grieving for Sam’s grandfather,” she declared. “That’s when the real pain will set in.”

“Do you intend to grieve for Nicky?” Claire asked.

“How can I?” Evvie asked. “After what he did.”

“He loved you,” Sybil said. “He told me so that morning. He told me how much he admired your strength.”

“Sure he did,” Evvie said. “He was the weakest man I know.”

“That’s not fair,” Sybil said. “Nicky was very strong.”

“Give me a break,” Evvie said. “Nicky always looked for the easy way. He wouldn’t even take a simple job. He preferred to wait for the big kill, even if there wasn’t one. That’s how he lived, and that’s exactly how he died. Just another big kill.”

“What are you saying?” Claire asked. “That it was suicide?”

“No,” Sybil said. “It wasn’t. It couldn’t have been. It was an accident.”

Evvie shook her head. “You don’t really believe that,” she said. “I’m not saying we should tell the insurance company. I think it’s great he had all that insurance. It was the one decent thing he ever did for Megs, for all of us. At least now we won’t have to worry about where the money’s coming from for Thea’s and Sybil’s educations.”

“I would have paid for it, if I’d had to,” Claire said.

Evvie shot Claire a look of pure loathing. “Of course,” she said. “How could I have doubted that. Nicky’s soul lives on all right, inside of you.”

“I wish you’d say what’s on your mind,” Claire said. “You’ve hardly spoken to me since Nicky died.”

“It disgusts me to be in the same room with you,” Evvie said. “I came here for Megs and Thea and Sybil. Not for Nicky, and certainly not for you.”

“Claire didn’t do anything,” Sybil said.

Evvie laughed. “You’re the only one who still has illusions,” Evvie said. “About precious Nicky and precious Claire. Even Thea sees through Claire.”

“What have I done this time?” Claire asked.

“You’re the one who told Nicky where Linda was,” Evvie said. “You think I didn’t know? I went back to my apartment that Monday, and I could tell someone had been there. At first I thought it was the FBI, and I didn’t say anything about it because I didn’t want to get Megs even more worried. But then I remembered there was a reward involved, and wherever there was easy money, Nicky was bound to show up. And you know, I might almost have forgiven him. I forgave him a lot of things over the years, and frankly, I wanted Linda caught and out of Sam’s life. But I knew he wouldn’t have gone looking himself. That wasn’t his style. Sneaking around is your specialty, Claire. You’re the one who’s always digging out little secrets. You’re the eavesdropper, the spy. It had to be you who broke into my apartment, who found some little private shred and turned it into twenty-five thousand. I told Nicky off that night, and I don’t regret a word I said. And now I’m telling you off. You’re not my sister anymore. After today, I don’t ever want to see you again, or speak to you. If you show up at my wedding, I will physically throw you out. Do you hear me, Claire?”

“I hear you,” Claire said.

“Evvie!” Sybil said.

Claire raised her hand to silence Sybil. “It’s fine with me,” she said. “I never liked the way Evvie stands in judgment of me. If she doesn’t want to have anything more to do with me, well, frankly, I can live without her.”

“Fine,” Evvie said. “Just as long as we’re both clear on the issue.”

“Clear on what?” Meg asked, walking in the back door. Thea followed her.

“Where’s Clark?” Claire asked. “It’s a shame for him to miss this little scene.”

“He’ll be here in a few minutes,” Meg said. “He thought we might need some time alone. What little scene?”

“It’s nothing,” Evvie said. “I just wanted to make it clear to Claire that she’s the same kind of scum her father was. That’s all. I made my point. Everything’s taken care of.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Evvie,” Meg said. “I would think on the day of your father’s funeral at least, you would pretend to still love your family.”

“I love what remains of it,” Evvie said. “I love you, and Thea and Sybil. And I always will love you. But not Nicky and not Claire. If you can’t deal with that, I’m sorry. But I’m not about to change just to make things easier for you.”

“Sam’s mother died,” Claire said. “That may have brought this on.”

“You go to hell,” Evvie said. “You don’t deserve to even say Sam’s name.”

“Evvie, please,” Sybil said.

“I’m getting out of here,” Evvie said. “Megs, I’m sorry, but I just can’t be hypocritical anymore about this. Nicky killed Sam’s grandfather for twenty-five thousand, and Claire was right there to give him a hand. I sat there through that funeral for you, and I’ll be here again when you need me, but right now I have to leave.” She grabbed her pocketbook, and rushed out of the house.

Sybil stared in horror, and then she chased after Evvie. She ran as best she could through the front hallway, and opened the door, to see Evvie rushing down the stairs.

“Evvie, wait!” she cried, and reached out to grab her, but Evvie moved too fast.

Sybil lost her balance then, and felt herself falling down the stairs. She supposed she must have screamed, but she couldn’t be sure because within seconds everything was dark and agonizing and she was filled with terror.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Oh, well,” Claire said, after the doctor had left. “Never a dull moment in this family.”

“Thank you again, Clark,” Meg said. “You must be the only man in Boston who could arrange for a house call.”

“I simply explained the situation,” Clark replied. “How are you feeling, Sybil?”

“I feel fine,” Sybil said, and sat up in bed to show them. The doctor had given her a shot of something that made the pain seem distant and terribly unimportant. She closed her eyes for a moment, and tried to remember what it was that did matter. Evvie. That was it. “I need to see Evvie.”

“Evvie needs to see us,” Meg said. “Clark, may I impose on you again?”

“Always,” he said.

“Drive to Cambridge, and bring Evvie back here,” Meg said. “Tie her up if you have to, but make her come back.”

“Don’t bother on my account,” Claire said.

“This isn’t for you, Claire,” Meg said. “It’s for Evvie.”

“I’ll get her here,” Clark said. “Are you sure you’ll be all right without me?”

Meg smiled at him. “It won’t be easy,” she said. “But we’ll get through.”

Clark smiled back. He gave Meg a quick kiss on her cheek and left the room.

Meg looked at her daughters. “This has been a terrible day,” she said. “And it isn’t over yet. If you’ll excuse me for a few minutes, I need to change, and to collect myself.”

“Do you want some company?” Thea asked.

“Company is exactly what I don’t want,” Meg replied. “Just give me a little time by myself, all right?”

Thea nodded. Meg managed another smile, and then she left, too. “I could kill Evvie,” Thea said.

“It isn’t her fault,” Claire said.

“Will you stop being so noble,” Thea said. “It doesn’t become you.”

“Everything becomes me,” Claire replied. “Grief, nobility, silent rage. They all look good on me.”

“I have to talk to Evvie,” Sybil said. She was starting to feel more alert, more in control. The pain was still distant, but at least her brain cells were reactivating.

“No, you don’t,” Claire said. “Leave things alone, Sybil.”

“But I’m the one who told Nicky,” Sybil said. The words were out. She wondered if her sisters would hate her for them.

“I knew that,” Thea said.

“You did?” Claire asked. “I assumed you’d guessed me.”

Thea laughed. “You always underestimate me,” she said. “I knew Nicky got help from somebody. It wasn’t his style to do things by himself.”

“I thought Nicky could do no wrong in your eyes,” Claire said.

“I love Nicky,” Thea said. “But I’m not a fool. And I know how desperate he’s been lately. Naturally I thought of you first, Claire. But I decided Nicky wouldn’t have trusted you. Besides, you’d demand too big a cut. So that left Sybil.”

“He asked me to do it,” Sybil said. “But I didn’t have to agree.”

“It’s very hard to turn Nicky down,” Thea said. “We all know that.”

“I still don’t see why Evvie has to know,” Claire said.

“Because I want you at her wedding,” Thea replied. “You can keep me company and make fun of me and put everything in its proper perspective. Besides, believe it or not, I love you, and I don’t think it’s right for you to be blamed when, for once, you’re innocent.”

“Evvie can hate me,” Sybil said. “I don’t mind.”

“She won’t hate you,” Thea said. “She doesn’t hate any of us, not even Nicky. She just thinks she does, because she’s hurting so badly. I know how that is, that kind of pain. It goes away with time.”

Sybil looked at her sisters. “I’m falling asleep,” she said.

Claire laughed. “Do that,” she replied. “We’ll wake you when Evvie gets here, so you can make your big confession.”

Sybil wondered for a moment why nobody was taking her seriously, but she was too sleepy to care. It was the painkiller, she knew. For a moment she loved the drug that made everything seem so unimportant. Not even Nick’s death mattered as she drifted into unconsciousness.

She woke up on her own, to the sound of voices downstairs. Evvie was saying something, and while Sybil couldn’t make out the words, she could hear the anger in her voice.

She decided to test her legs, and she got out of the bed gingerly. Standing was difficult, but not impossible. The next trick was walking. Her cane was in a corner of the room, alongside the crutches. She knew the crutches would be easier, but she hated walking downstairs with them. She used the furniture to pull herself across the room, and reached the cane, but by the time she got there, she was exhausted. So she hobbled to the nearest chair, the one by her desk.

She looked down at the desk, saw her textbooks, and unfinished homework. She’d missed one day of school already, for Nick’s funeral, and she knew she’d miss the next day as well. Maybe by Wednesday her legs and her psyche would be healed enough for her to return to classes.

Sybil took a deep breath and pictured walking down the stairs. It shouldn’t be too hard, she told herself. Her fall had caused no permanent damage. She’d landed lucky, the doctor said. Even Sybil suspected she was in more pain from the events of the past few days than from her legs.

But she wasn’t ready to try the trip yet, so she continued to stare at her desk. Years back, Meg had found an old desk at a garage sale, and she and Sybil had spent the summer stripping it and refinishing it. That must have been the summer Evvie spent in Eastgate. Nick loved that desk, and it was one of the few things that traveled with them wherever they went. Sybil realized she wanted it for herself. She’d ask Meg for it, to replace the one in her room.

There was a piece of paper stuck under the desk light. Sybil lifted the light up, and saw the paper was neatly folded. She couldn’t remember putting anything there, but maybe it was a note she’d written awhile back, something about a homework assignment in the days when those things seemed important to her.

She unfolded the paper and saw there was only a single sentence written on it. It was in Nick’s handwriting. Sybil began to cry, and it was hard to read what the note said through her tears.

You are nothing like me.

Sybil stared at the paper. There was nothing else on it, no name or date or explanation. Just the single sentence. But it was from Nick, and he meant for her to find it, so she knew it was important.

“Sybil? Are you awake?”

Sybil wiped her tears away, and thrust the note back under the light. “Come in,” she said. “I’m up.”

So they all entered her room. She was relieved to see Clark wasn’t with them. This was family business, and Clark, in spite of how he felt, wasn’t family.

“What are you doing up?” Meg asked. “You should be in bed.”

“I thought I’d go downstairs,” Sybil said. “My brain was willing, but my legs weren’t too enthusiastic.”

“Can you make it back to the bed?” Claire asked. “Do you want some help?”

“I’m fine,” Sybil said. “I’d rather stay here. Stop treating me like a cripple.”

“Fine,” Claire said. “In that case, I’ll sit on the bed myself.” Thea sat down next to her. Evvie continued to stand.

“I don’t see why I was dragged back here,” Evvie said. “Or why it’s so important for Sybil to be involved in all this. Sam might be calling me.”

“He’ll call you here if there’s no answer in Cambridge,” Meg said. “Now, sit down, Evvie, and start behaving yourself.”

“There are no seats left,” Evvie said.

“I’ll get one,” Thea said, and she hopped off the bed, ran to the next room, and brought a chair back. She left the chair by Evvie’s side, and gently pushed her down onto it. Nobody laughed.

“There are some things that have to be said,” Meg declared. “Things none of us may want to hear, but we have to. We are a family—yes, we are, Evvie—and we’re going to behave like one. And that includes straightening out some misconceptions.”

“She’s talking about me,” Sybil said. “Evvie, you were wrong. Claire didn’t find out where Linda Steinmetz was. I did.”

“You did what?” Evvie said.

Sybil knew what the full brunt of Evvie’s rage looked like, and she dreaded the next few moments. “I went to your apartment,” she said. “And I looked around for clues, and I found some flight numbers. I called the airline, and they said the flight was to San Diego, so I figured that must have been where Sam went. I called Nicky from your apartment and told him. Then I went to the library and found Thea, and we came back here.”

“That’s why you behaved so strangely that day,” Thea said. “I knew something was wrong, but we were all so crazy, it was hard to figure out what.”

“Nicky didn’t make me do it,” Sybil said. “He didn’t bribe me with lollipops. I knew every step of the way what I was doing. I didn’t like me for doing it. But we needed the money, Evvie. Nicky was talking about our leaving Boston, moving back to Pennsylvania, and I hated the thought of leaving here. This is the first home I’ve ever really had. And I was angry at Sam for acting like we weren’t his family, and I was angry at you, too, for keeping secrets, and I know what I did was wrong, but I did it. So don’t hate Claire. She had nothing to do with it.”

“I don’t believe this,” Evvie said. “I thought Nicky was scum, but I underestimated him. At least with Claire, she’d already been corrupted. Now I find out he was willing to corrupt Sybil.”

“Give me a break,” Claire said. “You’re not Little Miss Innocent, Evvie. Corrupted, my foot.”

“Claire’s right,” Thea said. “Ever since you met Sam, you’ve been different, Evvie. Something that summer changed the way you felt about Nicky. I remember talking to you about it way back. You pulled away from all of us. Maybe it was because you fell in love with Sam, and because of his situation you had to change. But you lied to us when you didn’t explain what was going on. And you weren’t really here for us after Sybil’s accident. You had your own little world and that was all you asked for. You never seemed to care what was happening to the rest of us.”

“That’s not true,” Evvie said. “I cared. I made sacrifices.”

“Not like the rest of us,” Thea said. “I watched you today, Evvie. Sybil fell down those stairs, and you had to have been aware something happened. We were all there, and our voices must have carried. But you just kept on walking away. I know you’re hurting badly, Evvie. I know you’re worried sick about Sam, and you hate the fact you can’t be there with him. But, dammit, you should have at least turned around to see what was happening. For four years now, you’ve been refusing to look, and I’m sick of it. Our father died last week. His funeral was today. You owe it to us to mourn.”

“I can’t,” Evvie said. “I’m so angry at him. I keep waiting for him to walk into a room, just so I can scream at him for what he did. I know I’m being hateful, but I’m so full of hate right now. I feel like I have to take it out on everybody.”

“Take it out on me, then,” Meg said.

“Why you?” Evvie asked. “You’re the only one who’s innocent around here.”

“I’m the one who’s most guilty,” Meg replied. “I’m the one who turned in Linda Steinmetz.”

“No you didn’t,” Sybil said. “Nicky did. I told him, not you. You weren’t even home.”

“I got home a few minutes later,” Meg said. “Nicky was sitting by the phone, very quiet, very disturbed. I asked him what was the matter, and at first he didn’t tell me, but then, of course, he did. Nicky always told me everything. We never had any secrets.”

“You must have,” Claire said. “This family is nothing but secrets.”

Meg shook her head. “Nicky and I told each other everything,” she said. “That was how we survived.”

“Nicky told me that,” Sybil said. “The day he died.”

“So I knew where Linda was,” Meg said. “Or at least where Sam had gone. I asked Nicky if he had made the call, and he said no, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He even laughed. He said he’d been running so long, he was starting to identify with the outlaws.”

“But why did you call?” Evvie asked. “If Nicky wasn’t going to, why did you? It couldn’t have been for the money.”

“Why not?” Meg asked. “You think I don’t have needs, too? I wanted to stay here, and I knew it was just a matter of time before Nicky insisted on a move. We couldn’t afford this place. It really was Aunt Grace’s last act of cruelty to leave it to me in trust. Twenty-five thousand could pay a lot of bills. It could give Nicky just a little cushion to get started again.”

“No,” Evvie said. “I don’t believe that.”

“Then believe this,” Meg said. “My oldest daughter had been lying to me for six years. Because of some woman I’d hardly even heard of, her life was in jeopardy. Yes, it was, Evvie. As long as Sam had any kind of involvement with Linda Steinmetz, your life was at risk. And I wouldn’t stand for that. What’s Linda Steinmetz to me? I love Sam, but he’s not my son. I knew it would bring him pain if his mother was arrested, but I didn’t care as long as it kept you safe.”

“But I confronted Nicky,” Evvie said. “And he never denied making the phone call.”

“We’ve gotten into some bad habits the past few years,” Meg said. “We’ve taken to protecting each other. Claire was protecting Sybil just now, and I’ve seen you protecting Thea. Nicky was protecting me. We talked about it. He felt you were going to be suspicious as soon as Linda was caught, but as long as you blamed him, you’d still talk to me. We’d continue to have that connection. He was terrified of losing you, Evvie. He’d been scared of that since the day he talked you into going to Eastgate. He loved all his daughters, but you were his firstborn. You were his first real family.”

“So he took the blame so I’d hate him?” Evvie asked.

“You were going to hate him no matter what,” Meg said. “He couldn’t stand the idea that you would hate me as well. And I was a coward. I couldn’t stand that idea, either. So I let him convince me to lie to you.”

“Did you know I was responsible?” Sybil asked.

“Yes,” Meg replied. “Nicky told me everything.”

“What a mess,” Claire said.

Evvie slumped into her chair. “I love Sam,” she said. “I love him so much.”

“His pain is your pain,” Meg said. “Nicky knew that.”

“I don’t even have any tears left,” Evvie said. “Claire, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Claire said.

“And, Sybil,” Evvie said, “I don’t even know what I feel about you.”

“I don’t know what I feel about myself,” Sybil replied. “Everything keeps shifting on me.”

“It’s been so easy to hate Nicky,” Evvie said. “I’ve watched him make so many mistakes. I don’t know if I can hate you, Megs, and somehow I feel like I ought to. It isn’t fair for me to hate Nicky for something you did, and then not hate you for doing it.”

Meg nodded. “When Nicky met me, I was nothing,” she said. “I was dead. I said all the right things, and I guess I had enough friends that nobody thought I was peculiar, but inside me was nothing. Nicky saw that. He understood me from that very first night. That’s why he felt he had to protect me. He felt we should have lots of children, because I’d been so alone the first time we met. He worked at home so he could be near me, to touch me, to hold me, in case I needed him. Because of his love, I grew stronger, but he never stopped wanting to protect me.”

“Is that wrong?” Evvie asked. “I want to protect Sam.”

“Sometimes you can’t protect people,” Meg replied. “Sometimes the best you can do is hope the love you’ve given has made that person strong. Sam’s going to come through this, Evvie, because of all the love you’ve given him. I’m going to come through this because of all the love Nicky gave me. We all will.”

“I’m sorry,” Evvie said. “I’m sorry about everything.”

“I feel like that all the time,” Claire said. “But at least I’ve had a good time first.”

Evvie laughed. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

“I still have a question,” Thea said. “Why does Sebastian Prescott want to get to know us better?”

There was a moment’s silence, and then they all burst into laughter, except for Thea, who continued to look puzzled. “Come on, Thea,” Claire said, getting off the bed. “Let’s go to my room, and I’ll tell you the whole sordid story.”

“I think we need to talk,” Evvie said to Meg.

“I agree,” Meg said. “Sybil, are you going to be all right? Do you want some help getting into bed?”

“I’m fine,” Sybil said. “If I need help, I’ll ask for it.”

Meg nodded. “Come to the kitchen,” she said to Evvie. “I could use some tea.”

Sybil was glad to see them all leave. She remembered nights when she’d been a kid and had fought going to bed while the others were still awake. All the best things happened when she wasn’t around to witness them, she’d been sure of that. Part of her wanted to be with Thea while Claire explained about Nick’s complicated parentage. She wanted to be with Meg, too, accepting her share of the blame for what happened to Sam’s family. She wanted to be involved.

But more than that, she needed to be alone. She took the note out from under the light, and stared at it again. You are nothing like me. It must have been enormously important for Nick to send that message to her. Everything he’d ever said to her was important, she knew that now. And this was something that meant so much to him he’d written it down so she could keep it if she needed to, the way Kip had kept that note about his mother.

How could Nick say she was nothing like him when just the week before he’d said how much alike the two of them were? It made no sense. Not that much of anything made sense to Sybil just then, between the exhaustion and the drugs.

She felt the note in her hands, the neatly made folds. Nick was fastidious. Even his handwriting showed that, clear and precise. You are nothing like me. Did Nick mean that as some form of repudiation? Was he angry at her for finding out about Sam? That didn’t feel right. There’d been no anger in him during their last walk together, just caring conversation about how much he loved her, loved all his daughters.

And then Sybil realized that what she held in her hands was Nick’s suicide note. It was so obvious that the paper seemed to burn her hands, and she dropped it onto the desk. Nick had examined his life those last days and seen all his failings. He had lost control, and without that, how could he protect Meg or any of his daughters? All he had left to give them was the money from his insurance and a guilt that wasn’t really his. So he told Sybil how much he cherished each of his daughters, and he told Meg he loved her, and he got into his car knowing he would never return. But first he’d left Sybil a note, his legacy to her, so she would never worry that her life would be as filled with failures and deceits as his. You are nothing like me.

The tears came easily then to Sybil, but through the intensity of the pain, she knew Nick had left her one final secret. He trusted her with his despair, trusted her not to tell the others, so that if they chose to believe his death had been an accident, they could indeed take comfort from that fantasy. So Sybil picked up the sheet of paper, and tore it into a hundred little pieces. She brushed them as best she could into the wastepaper basket, but it didn’t matter. No one else would ever know what Nick had written. She suspected at that moment she was very much like him, but she could no longer tell. The day would come, she knew, when she would look in a mirror, and see just who she was, but for the moment, all there was was fog.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Thank you for coming,” Sam said. “I think it’s time we had a talk.”

Sybil nodded, and walked into Sam and Evvie’s apartment. She could hear Evvie in the kitchen, making their dinner.

“I need wine!” Evvie called out. “Sam, would you please get a bottle?”

“Care for a walk?” Sam asked.

“Okay,” Sybil said.

Sam grabbed his keys, and closed the door. Sybil followed him down the stairs. “The liquor store is only a couple of blocks away,” Sam said. “How’re your legs holding up?”

“My legs are fine,” Sybil said. “I wish people would stop asking me about them.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “I’ll never mention them again.”

Sybil looked up at Sam. It had been a month since she’d seen him, a month since that horrible string of deaths and funerals. He didn’t look changed, but then she doubted she looked different, and she knew she was.

“I’m sorry, too,” she said. “I just feel like I’ve been defined by my accident the past few years. Not just by my family, either. I’ve been feeling that way about myself. Like everything that’s happened to all of us happened because of the accident. Like the only way I can prove my worth is by not using canes or crutches. I actually promised Nicky that, after he died. That I’d run marathons if that’s what he wanted.”

“And what do you want?” Sam asked.

“I want to be able to get around,” Sybil said. “That’ll do for the time being. If that means canes, crutches, or even wheelchairs, then fine. I want not to be obsessed by my legs. I want to be whole again. No big deal.”

Sam laughed. “You never had small ambitions,” he declared. “If we can’t talk about your legs, can we talk about the weather? It’s a nice day.”

“It’s a beautiful day,” Sybil agreed. May had brought perfect spring weather to the Boston area. Some days the warm temperatures and the budding flowers made her miss Nick even more intensely, but other days they brought her comfort, as though Nick somehow were responsible for the sun. But then again, there were times when she was a child, that she’d felt Nick was the force behind the sun.

“How’s school?” Sam asked.

“All right,” Sybil replied. “No better. How’s your job?”

“A little strange at first,” Sam said. “When I got back to work, I was more a news story than a news reporter. But the curiosity wore off, and things are pretty much back to normal.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Sybil said. “That really happens?”

“At work it does,” Sam said. “We’re having spaghetti with meat sauce. It’s the only thing Evvie knows how to cook. I hope that’s all right with you.”

“It’s fine,” Sybil said. She felt a sudden wave of shyness, as though this were the first time she’d ever met Sam. In certain ways it was.

She thought back to the moment that had taken the greatest amount of courage in her life, when not only had she admitted her guilt to Evvie, but explained her reasons. “How’s your grandmother?” she asked. It took almost as much bravery on her part to get those words out.

“She’s doing all right,” Sam said. “I speak to her every night, which drives Evvie crazy, but she talks to Megs just as frequently, so she can’t really complain. We’re going down to Long Island next weekend, to spend some time with her. After the wedding, she’s going to spend a month in Israel. She has a sister who lives there. It’ll be good for her to get away.”

“That’s nice,” Sybil said. “I mean, I’m glad she’s …”

“Still functioning?” Sam asked. “I’m glad, too. I wasn’t sure that first week how she’d do, and frankly, I’m not ready to lose another family member just now. I don’t have that many to spare.”

“I’m sorry,” Sybil said.

Sam stood still for a moment. “We’re all sorry,” he said. “That’s why we need to talk.”

“But so much was my fault,” Sybil said. “I live with that every day, Sam. I know there’s nothing I can do to make it up to you, but at least I want you to know how badly I feel.”

“Evvie and I have been talking a lot about it,” Sam said. “About everything that happened that week and who’s at fault for what. It isn’t easy to assign blame. There isn’t any one villain. I feel just as guilty as you do.”

“But why?” Sybil asked. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Didn’t I?” Sam replied. “The day I spoke to my mother and I decided I had to go out there, Evvie and I had a terrible fight because I refused to tell my grandparents. I claimed I was protecting them. Well, maybe if I’d thought about all the possible consequences, I would have realized my grandfather could find out about my mother—his daughter—some other way, like the way he did find out, and what that would do to him. He’d been having heart problems for a while. That’s why I thought it was best if he never knew. Like I could keep that kind of secret from him forever. I should have told him, but I was afraid if I did, he’d talk me out of going there, and at that moment nothing was more important to me than meeting my mother.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Sybil said.

“It was a little bit,” Sam said. “It was my mother’s fault, too, for putting me in that position. It was your fault for tracking me down, and your parents’ fault for turning her in, and the media’s fault for making a news story out of it, and hell, we can always blame things on the FBI. In my family, that’s a tradition. I’m just starting to realize how remarkable it is my grandfather lived as long as he did. It took a terrible toll on him all those years not knowing if his daughter was even alive. And he expended so much energy raising me, worrying about me, doing a thousand things I took for granted but that were really extraordinary acts of love and sacrifice. I worry now that he didn’t know how much I appreciated him. That’s one reason why I keep talking to my grandmother every night.”

“I miss Nicky so much,” Sybil said. “Can I say that?”

Sam smiled. “I miss him, too,” he said. “And Evvie, well she’s grieving for a lot of lost years.”

“It scares me to talk with her,” Sybil said. “When she called to invite me to supper, I almost said no.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Sam said. “I put Evvie in a terrible position six years ago. I told her at the time that being involved with me would force her to lie, but she was angry at Nick because of all the lies she’d just learned he’d told about his past. Angry at Megs, too. I really don’t know if she would have made such an immediate commitment to me if she hadn’t read that detective’s report about Nick. I’m glad she did. I can’t imagine what my life would be like without her. But it would have been better for Evvie if we’d met a couple of years later, if she hadn’t been thrust into deception quite so abruptly. I knew at the time I was doing something wrong, but I couldn’t help it. I loved her so much. But I know it’s because of me she never worked things through with Nick, and that’s one reason why he died. There’s plenty of blame to share.”

“Is that the liquor store?” Sybil asked. It was still too hard to talk about Nick’s death.

Sam nodded. “We need a bottle of red,” he said. “Something cheap and peasantlike. How does that sound?”

“Fine,” Sybil said. She followed Sam into the shop and looked around as he made his selection. The champagne reminded her of Nick.

“Parents are strange things,” Sam said, and then he laughed. “Not that I’ve had that much experience with them.”

“How was it?” Sybil asked. “With your mother. Can you talk about it?”

“A little bit,” Sam said. “Actually, at first, it was all I could talk about. Evvie and I were a royal mess that first week. We were so caught up in our own grief and guilt, we could barely hear what the other one was saying. And then right after that, I found I couldn’t even think about my mother, let alone discuss her. I guess that was the week I went back to work, and naturally there were questions. I just closed in. I’ve spent most of my life being closed in, and I reverted right to form. That week was even worse than the first, because that was the week it really hit Evvie that Nick was gone, and she’d burst into tears at the strangest moments, and I was refusing to feel anything. She was a fountain, and I was a stone wall. We were a great pair.”

“But things are better now?” Sybil asked.

“I’m walking with you, talking about it,” Sam replied. “That must mean things are better. I’m glad I saw my mother. When you don’t know who your parents really are, you create mythical creatures. It’s better to have the reality.”

“Nicky said that,” Sybil declared. She paused for a moment, and supported herself on her cane. “He said that about his father.”

“He would know,” Sam said. “A lot of the time my mother was unconscious, or delirious. But there were moments throughout that week when she was aware, and we talked. She told me things about my father I never would have learned otherwise. She told me how thrilled they were when I was born, just like any new parents. That meant a lot to me somehow, to know that in between the radical politics and the bomb-building, they were a young couple delighted with their baby. I didn’t have that before, and now I do.”

“Sebastian Prescott’s been calling once a week,” Sybil said. “Megs doesn’t know what to do about him.”

Sam laughed. “Evvie and I have been talking about inviting him to the wedding. She says she’s a little old to be getting grandparents. But neither one of us has so much family that we can afford to toss away another relative. Besides, I’ll bet he’d be good for a big wedding present.”

“Nicky said he didn’t owe us anything,” Sybil said. “Maybe you shouldn’t accept what he gives you.”

“Maybe,” Sam said. “In any event, we haven’t decided yet what to do.”

“Claire would like it if you invited him,” Sybil said. “Just because they look alike. I worry sometimes that she’ll feel even less connected to the rest of us now, because Nicky is dead, and he was the one she looked like. Claire looks for excuses like that.”

“We all look for excuses,” Sam said. “Can I tell you something I’ve never told anybody else?”

“I guess,” Sybil said. She was still wary about confessions.

Sam shifted the wine bottle from one arm to the other. “Before I met Evvie, I’d never told anybody about my parents,” he said. “In Eastgate people knew, and undoubtedly they gossiped, but never to my face. And back on Long Island, where I was Sammy Greene, nobody knew the truth. My grandparents saw to that. Evvie was the first person I ever told. And I wouldn’t have told her, except Schyler Hughes let her know first.”

“Claire’s in love with him, I think,” Sybil said.

“She can have him,” Sam said. “Anyway, Schyler’s plan backfired and Evvie accepted the truth, and I went back to Long Island asking myself why I’d made such a big deal out of lying all those years. I even got self-righteous. It was my grandparents’ fault that I’d been made to lie. It would serve them right if everybody knew exactly who my mother, their daughter, was. The more I thought about it, the more I was determined to start letting people know. The truth shall set you free. That sort of thing.”

“The truth doesn’t set you free,” Sybil said. “Sometimes it just binds you even closer.”

“All right, you’re smarter than I was,” Sam said. “That isn’t so surprising. Anyway, I decided I’d start with my best friend, Big Red.”

“Big Red?” Sybil said. “That sounds like a dog.”

“His name was Billy Moscowitz,” Sam said. “Moscow’s in Russia, so that meant he was Red, and Big just naturally followed. Big Red and I had been best friends for years. We were even blood brothers at one point. He was Big Red, and I was the Jolly Greene Giant. Neither one of us ever made it past five foot eight, but we felt real big.”

Sybil laughed. “Where is he now?” she asked. “Do you still see him?”

Sam shook his head. “Not since high school,” he replied. “I picked Big Red to tell the truth to for a lot of reasons. He was cool. And he knew my grandparents better than any of my other friends did. His parents and my grandparents went to the same temple together. He was the perfect choice. He’d be sure to tell his parents, and my grandparents would find out and be humiliated. Which was what I wanted. I wanted them to be hurt, because after I met Evvie, I had to come to grips with just how much I’d been hurt. Before then, I’d never really noticed.”

“How did Big Red take it?” Sybil asked.

“He didn’t believe me,” Sam said. “It wasn’t like I laid the whole case out in front of him with documents and transcripts. I just told him who my parents were, and how my father had really died, not in some well-mannered car crash …” His voice trailed off. “Sorry,” he said.

Sybil was silent for a moment. “Sometimes I think about it,” she said. “How it must have been for Nicky right at the end. But mostly I try not to.”

Sam nodded. “You can’t really know,” he said. “Anyway, Big Red didn’t believe a word I said. He howled with laughter. The more I insisted, the funnier he thought it was. He kept accusing me of making the whole story up, and after a while, I said I had. I said I’d been testing him to see how gullible he was, because Lisa Levine had been claiming that she liked him, and if he believed me then he might believe her, too. Something like that.”

“And Big Red believed you?” Sybil asked. “That you’d made it up?”

“He did,” Sam said. “After all, his truth was that my parents had died in an accident when I was two. I’d known differently for a while, but he never did. But the thing was, as soon as I stopped insisting on telling him the truth, the minute I reverted back to the lie, I hated myself. I felt I was scum.”

“Why?” Sybil asked.

“Because I’d repudiated my parents,” Sam said. “Both of them. My father died in a way I doubt I would have approved of, but it was his way. He was fighting for a cause he believed in enough to die for, and I denied him that when I claimed he died in an accident. And my mother wasn’t dead at all, or if she was, I didn’t know it. She’d spent fifteen years at that point running and hiding and leading some kind of hellish existence, and I didn’t even have the courage to force my best friend to believe me. It cost me that friendship. I felt I’d picked him over my mother, and maybe I had.”

“Maybe you were right to,” Sybil said. “What had your mother ever done for you?”

“That’s what Evvie keeps asking,” Sam said. “Of course the two of you are used to a mother who does a lot. You have different standards. I kept on lying, and I lied through college. A few people at the newspaper knew, because I wanted to use my father’s name as well as my mother’s, and some of the reporters had good memories for old news stories. But I never felt the same about the lies. After Big Red, I always felt bad, like I was protecting myself, and not my grandparents or my mother. Evvie was the only person I had I didn’t have to lie to. I just made her lie for me.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Sybil said.

“That’s what Evvie says,” Sam replied. “But I don’t know. When I finally saw my mother, all I wanted to do was apologize to her for lying to Big Red. I wanted to tell her the whole story, just so she would forgive me. Only I didn’t. We had so little time, and we were never alone; there was always an armed guard in the room. They frisked me every day when I went to visit her. They frisked my grandmother, too, which was a real outrage as far as I was concerned. She’s seventy-two years old, her husband had died two days earlier, and they think she’s smuggling guns in to her dying daughter.”

“I guess they were doing their job,” Sybil said.

“I guess,” Sam said. “The tap’s off my phone. I told Evvie not to expect the FBI at our wedding. She claims she’s disappointed.”

“Do you think your mother loved you?” Sybil asked.

Sam laughed. “You’re the first person to ask me that,” he replied. “Not even Evvie’s had that much nerve. Yes, I think she did. Maybe not the way I’d have wanted her to love me. But I think she did what she knew was best for me, letting me grow up in a stable environment with her parents. She did move around a lot, change her name, her job, everything she could change. She spared me that, out of love.”

“Nicky loved us,” Sybil said. “All of us.”

“Oh, yes,” Sam said. “That was obvious. That shone through.”

Sybil saw the apartment building half a block away. “Is Evvie all right?” she asked.

“Not yet,” Sam said. “But she will be. Are you all right?”

“Not yet,” Sybil replied. “But talking with you has helped.”

Sam nodded. “There’ve been a lot of mistakes,” he said. “Going way way back. All we can do is accept who we are, and try to make things better.”

“That’s where Nicky was when he died,” Sybil said.

“My mother, too,” Sam said. “Maybe we can learn from them, and shorten the process a little bit.”

“I hope so,” Sybil declared. “I’m ready for some healing.”

“And some spaghetti?” Sam said. “We’d better get in there. Eve wants this wine for the meat sauce.”

“Eve?” Sybil asked.

“I promised Evvie I would call her that on our wedding day,” Sam said. “A long time ago I made that promise. I’ve been working on it on and off ever since, trying to get used to the way it sounds. Eve. I kind of like it. What do you think?”

“It beats hell out of Sybbie,” Sybil replied, and she and her future brother shared their laughter for the first time in many many weeks.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Now this,” Claire said. “This is truly a dump.”

“You and your dumps,” Thea said. “I can’t get over this place. Evvie, it’s just perfect.”

“It sure didn’t feel that way when I stayed here,” Evvie replied.

“Oh, come on, Evvie,” Thea said. “I remember when you came back that summer. All you talked about was how beautiful Aunt Grace’s house was, the views of the ocean and the gardens.”

“All she talked about was Sam, you mean,” Claire said. “Evvie used to be a very interesting person before that summer.”

“She’s still interesting,” Sybil said, looking around the room. “So this was really the bedroom you used?”

“It had been Megs’s room,” Evvie replied. “I loved it. I can’t get over being back here.”

“Aunt Grace was a definite hoot,” Claire said. “Leaving her summer home in Eastgate to the state, with the proviso that any Winslow heirs who wanted to use it for weddings and christenings must be allowed to.”

“I’m surprised the state accepted those terms,” Thea declared.

“No one argued with Aunt Grace, even from the grave,” Evvie replied. “Sam and I couldn’t think of a more appropriate place to get married than here in Eastgate. We met here, and in a lot of ways it’s home for both of us.”

“Nicky and Megs met here, too,” Thea said. “I hope Megs can cope with the memories.”

“I asked her a hundred times if it would be okay,” Evvie declared. “She said it would be every single time.”

“She’s fine,” Sybil said. “She’s so excited about this wedding nothing could bother her.”

“What bothers me is Grace not leaving this joint to us,” Claire said. “Weddings and christenings. I wish she’d included mad flings in her list of sanctioned events.”

“Sam’s the one who’s going to be mad if I don’t get dressed right away,” Evvie said. “Sybil, want to go downstairs and see how he’s doing?”

“I’d be delighted,” Sybil said. She loved excuses to walk around the house. The family had arrived in Eastgate the night before, and stayed at Clark’s summer house, down the road from Aunt Grace’s. Clark’s house had been spectacular, too, but Grace’s held so many memories. Sybil smiled. Meg was fine. Somehow seeing the house had made her happy about Nick again, as though he’d gone back to being nineteen and full of promise. Another unexpected legacy from Grace.

“What’s taking her so long?” Sam demanded as soon as he spotted Sybil. “I’ve been waiting six years for this moment. I don’t want to wait six more.”

“Calm down,” Sybil said. “It’s Evvie’s wedding day, too. Besides, it’s against the law for brides to hurry.”

“Sammy never was very patient,” his grandmother said. “I remember as a boy, he always wanted to skip right over dinner and go straight for the dessert.”

“That’s because you always made spinach,” Sam said. “Growing American boys don’t want spinach. They want ice cream.”

“Speaking of which, does your mother need any help in the kitchen?” Mrs. Greene asked. “I peeked in a few minutes ago, and she was puttering away, looking so in control of things, I was scared to ask.”

“I’ll check for you,” Sybil said. “Sam, calm down. Evvie’s almost ready.”

“If she chickens out, I’ll kill her,” Sam declared. “You know, I think I’ll go upstairs and tell her that right now.”

“You do, you die,” Sybil said. “It’s bad luck to see your bride on your wedding day. Until the ceremony, that is.”

“Don’t worry, Sybil,” Sam’s aunt Ronnie said. “I’ll sit on him, if I have to. Tell Evvie to take her time.”

“I have a family of sadists,” Sam said, but he looked resigned to waiting.

Sybil walked into the kitchen, and found Meg putting the last touches on the wedding cake. “It’s beautiful,” Sybil said. “Can I have a piece?”

“Not right now,” Meg said, but she laughed. “It did turn out well, didn’t it? I haven’t decorated a cake in so long, I was afraid I’d forgotten how.”

Sybil stared at the delicate design of flowers and lace on the cake. “You still remember,” she said. “I hope it tastes half as good as it looks.”

“It’ll taste better,” Meg replied. “It’s pure chocolate in there. Sam loves chocolate cake, and I’ve never understood why wedding cakes always have to be so bland and boring.”

“Mrs. Greene wants to know if you need any help,” Sybil said.

“I really don’t,” Meg declared. “But tell her yes, I do. It’ll be nice to have a chance to talk with her. Besides, we can set things up together.”

“Fine,” Sybil said. She went back to the living room, and found Mrs. Greene straightening out Sam’s tie. “Megs said she’d be pleased if you’d come help,” she said. “And you should see the wedding cake.”

“We aren’t going to need a wedding cake unless Evvie hurries up,” Sam said.

“What a worrier,” his grandmother said. “I swear I never raised him to worry. He must have gotten that from your side, Ronnie.”

“Steinmetzes are born worrying,” Ronnie declared. Mrs. Greene smiled at her, and left the room.

Ronnie shook her head. “So much happiness and joy,” she said. “In Eastgate, of all places. I swore after Momma’s funeral, I’d never come to this miserable town again.”

“Eastgate’s all right,” Sam said. “I liked my summers here.”

“This has got to be the first Jewish wedding this town’s ever seen,” Ronnie declared. “And at Grace Winslow’s house to boot. She must be turning over in her grave.”

“I don’t think so,” Sam said. “Grace kind of liked me, in a hostile condescending way. But she was hostile and condescending with everybody. That was just her style.”

The doorbell rang. Sybil walked over and opened the door.

“We’re here,” Clark said, giving Sybil a hug as though he hadn’t just seen her an hour or two before. “What can we do to help?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Sybil said. “Hi, Scotty. Schyler.”

“Hello there,” Schyler Hughes said. “You’ve grown since the last time I saw you, Sybil.”

“I’m definitely older,” Sybil said. “Thea and Claire are upstairs helping Evvie get dressed. Come on in. Sam’s pacing around the living room driving all of us crazy.”

Clark walked around the living room. “The state seems to be taking good care of this place,” he said. “Everything appears well tended to.”

“Oh, Sam,” Schyler said, walking over to him. “My grandfather extends regrets, but he can’t make it today. Why you’d want him, I don’t know. Anyway, he asked me to give you this.”

Sam took the envelope from Schyler. “This is it,” he said. “The down payment on our first house.” He ripped the envelope open, then stared at the check with disbelieving eyes. “Twenty-five dollars!” he yelped. “He only sent twenty-five dollars?”

“I’m sure that’s more than he’ll give me,” Schyler declared.

Sam walked over to the staircase, and looked up. “Evvie!” he shouted. “Sebastian Prescott sent us twenty-five dollars!”

Evvie’s laughter could be heard throughout the house. “Cash it fast!” she called down. “Before he stops payment.”

“Twenty-five dollars,” Sam muttered. “From now on Claire negotiates with him.”

Sybil laughed. “Your other presents have been nice,” she pointed out. “You have no cause to complain.”

“Right,” Sam said. “But a man can dream.” He looked for a moment as though he was going to rip the check up, then he put it back in its envelope, and rammed it into a pocket.

The doorbell rang again. This time Scotty answered it. “We’re here for the Greene wedding,” a young man said. “Is this the right place?”

“It sure is,” Sam said. “Big Red! Come on in.”

“This is Big Red?” Sybil asked.

“Bill Moscowitz,” Big Red said. “And my kid brother Alex. I hope you don’t mind Alex coming, too, Sam. If there isn’t enough food, he promises he won’t eat.”

“Billy,” Sam said, and he embraced his old friend. “And Alex. God, I haven’t seen you since you were in diapers.”

“I was a little older than that,” Alex said.

“He starts BU in the fall,” Bill declared. “And since you mentioned Evvie having all those beautiful sisters living in Boston, I thought this might be a good way for him to meet a few people.”

“This is one of those beautiful sisters,” Sam said. “Sybil, this is the legendary Big Red and his kid brother, Alex.”

Sybil smiled. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said. “And there’ll be plenty of food. You may have to share a plate, though.”

“May I share one with you?” Alex asked.

“Is he good or what?” Bill said. “So you’re actually getting married, huh, Greenie?”

“Only if my bride ever makes it down the stairs,” Sam said. “Evvie!”

“I’m almost ready,” Evvie called down. “Is the rabbi there yet?”

As though to answer her question, the doorbell rang again. This time Clark got the door, and let the rabbi in.

“Beautiful day for a wedding,” the rabbi said. “Is everything set outside?”

“It should be,” Clark said. “We followed your directions explicitly. There’s a canopy, what do you call it?”

“A chupah,” the rabbi replied. “And the wine glass? Is that ready as well?”

“All set to be smashed,” Sam said. “Thank you for joining us, Rabbi Tannenbaum. Literally as well as figuratively. Evvie! Hurry up! The rabbi’s here!”

“I’m ready, I’m ready,” she said.

“She’s beautiful,” Thea called down. “She’s worth waiting for, Sam.”

“I’ve been waiting half my life,” Sam said. “At least it feels that way. Sybil, want to go to the kitchen and tell Gran and Megs we’re just about ready?”

“My pleasure,” Sybil said. She walked to the kitchen, and found her mother and Sam’s grandmother engrossed in conversation. “I think we’re ready to start,” she said. “At least everybody’s here.”

“I’m a nervous wreck,” Meg declared. “How do I look?”

“Young enough to be a bride,” Mrs. Greene said, giving Meg a hug. “Come on, before we get so teary we flood the place.”

The three of them walked out the back door and over to the garden where the chupah had been set up. There were flowers all around, roses in full June bloom, and arrangements that Clark had provided. Sybil could hear the ocean in the background. Evvie and Sam had decided its waves were the only music they needed.

Clark, Schyler, and Scotty walked out together, followed by Bill and Alex Moscowitz. Sybil was pleased for Sam that he had invited his oldest friend to share in the day. Evvie was surrounded by sisters, after all. Sam was entitled to a blood brother. Ronnie and Claire walked out together. Claire immediately joined Schyler, and Sybil was taken, as she always was when she saw them together, by how perfect they looked as a couple, more like twins than half cousins. Thea and the rabbi strolled out together. The rabbi continued walking to the chupah, while Thea stopped and stood between Scotty and Clark.

Then, finally, Evvie walked out. She and Sam had decided on a small wedding, basically informal, since they both were in mourning for the death of parents. Evvie had even discussed with Meg whether she should postpone the wedding, but Meg had vetoed that idea, much to Sam’s relief. So they’d gone ahead with their June plans, but they’d cut the guest list down, and instead of an elaborate bridal gown requiring veils and bridesmaids, Evvie was wearing a simple, white, waltz-length dress and a big picture hat. Around her neck was a pearl pendant, that Sybil recognized as a gift from Nick and Meg to Evvie on her sixteenth birthday. Sybil had assumed it must have been pawned years before, and congratulated Evvie silently on having held on to it.

“This is a very joyous occasion,” the rabbi began. “The union of two special people, Samuel Steinmetz Greene and Eve Sebastian. Theirs is not a runaway courtship or a hasty decision.”

Claire turned to Scotty and smiled.

“It’s rare for two young people to have made a commitment to each other that has been so severely tested,” the rabbi continued. “And yet their love never faltered, and their desire for a permanent union always shone.”

Sybil knew she should listen, but her mind wandered. The setting was perfect. Clark had arranged for caterers, and two of them stood at attention while the rabbi continued to speak. There was the gentlest of ocean breezes, not even enough to disturb the tablecloths. No clouds in the sky blocked out the sunlight, which seemed to offer its blessing to Evvie and Sam. Some curious sea gulls flew overhead, but they were the only uninvited guests.

Sybil looked at her family and Sam’s and those friends so close that they might as well be family. Clark was filled with delight; his pleasure in the event was obvious. Schyler and Claire stood so close together they might almost have been one. Scotty and Thea shared their space companionably. Bill kept grinning, while Alex seemed merely respectful and polite. Every now and again, though, he tossed a look over at Sybil. When she noticed, she blushed. She’d forgotten that boys her age could find her pretty.

Ronnie, Meg, and Mrs. Greene were all standing together, and of them, only Ronnie was crying. Sybil smiled at that. Evvie and Sam had been worrying for weeks that once their mother and grandmother got together, their tears would drown out the ceremony, but Mrs. Greene was smiling, and Meg simply looked at peace with herself.

Mrs. Greene and Meg walked up to the chupah, and each of them lit a candle, then handed those candles to Sam and Evvie. The rabbi said something about generations and the passing of love. Sybil wasn’t ready yet to think about generations. It was easier to admire the way the silver and the china glistened in the sun.

The rabbi read from the service. Much of what he said was in Hebrew, a language Evvie had been taking at Harvard, but still professed to have trouble with. Sybil liked the way the words sounded, so exotic on this New England coastline. Then Sam and Evvie exchanged their vows. They spoke in Hebrew as well. Sam stumbled over a word, and Evvie smiled at him. She had no trouble with hers.

“Sam and Eve both have things they’d like to say,” the rabbi declared. “Vows that have special meaning for them.”

“I thought I loved you the very first time I saw you,” Sam began. “At my grandparents’ bookstore. But I didn’t really know what love was. I’m still learning about it. Every day you teach me something new about love, about giving and sharing and commitment. It isn’t simply that I can’t imagine a life without you, Eve. It’s that I delight in a life shared with you, day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute. I promise to love you and to grow with you, to wipe away your tears and share your laughter. Whatever I am, I give freely to you.”

“When I met you, Sam, I thought I knew everything,” Evvie said. “And when I fell in love with you, I was sure I knew everything. But lately I’ve learned how little I do know. That was frightening for me, but having you by my side, knowing that throughout all my pain and confusion, you were there and your love was supporting me, kept me whole, kept me alive. My love for you today could overwhelm the world, and yet I know it’s nothing compared to what my love for you tomorrow will be. I promise you, Sam, that no matter what happens to us, I’ll be there with you. We’ll share the good times and the bad, and at those moments when you feel most alone, you’ll know I’m right there by your side. Whatever I am, whatever I become, I give freely to you.”

They exchanged rings then and looked at each other with such wonderment it was as though they had never really met, yet were delighted with the prospect of spending their lives together anyway. The rabbi said a blessing over a glass of wine, which Evvie and Sam then sipped from. Then Sam walked over to where a wine glass covered by a napkin was on the ground, and he smashed the glass with his foot.

“L’chaim!” Clark sang out.

Everybody stared at him.

“Did I do wrong?” Clark asked.

“You did absolutely right,” the rabbi said. “To life! And to Evvie and Sam!”

And soon everybody was cheering and crying, and Evvie and Sam were too busy kissing to notice.

“I’ve been to a lot of weddings in my day,” Mrs. Greene declared. “Big fancy ones at all the best hotels. But in my opinion, I’ve never seen such a beautiful one as this. Of course I may be just a little bit biased.”

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” Bill said to Thea. “My name is Bill Moscowitz. I’m Sammy’s best friend from way back. But don’t hold that against me.”

“Of course I’ll marry you, Schyler,” Claire said. “When your net worth exceeds ten million.”

“I was sure you were supposed to say l’chaim,” Clark said. “I’ve been rehearsing it for weeks, to get that gutteral out right.”

“And it was right by the gazebo over there that Nicky and I burned my ruffled dress,” Meg said.

“I don’t know Boston very well,” Alex said. “Maybe you could show me some of its sights.”

“I want a more formal wedding,” Thea said. “I’ve always imagined myself in a long satin gown. But the important thing isn’t really the wedding. It’s the marriage.”

“Why ten million?” Schyler said. “Why not the world?”

“I’m happy to say this wedding brings back no memories for me,” Scotty said. “Not a single vivid flashback.”

“I still say Grace Winslow must be spinning in her grave,” Ronnie said.

Sybil listened to all of them, as she wandered around, sharing conversations, making comments of her own. She walked over to Evvie and Sam, who were standing on the beach, posing for photographs.

“Oh, Sybil,” Evvie said, and she gave her sister a hug. “Wasn’t it perfect?”

“It sure was,” Sybil said. “You were beautiful, Evvie.”

“I thought so,” Sam said. “She was worth six long years of waiting.”

“So was he,” Evvie said, and she gave Sam yet another kiss. “Oh, Sybil, don’t go away. I want to give you something.”

“What?” Sybil asked. “Brides don’t give things. They get them.”

“No one’s ever accused me of being traditional,” Evvie said. “Sam, unclasp my necklace for me, all right?”

“Sure,” Sam said. He handed the pendant to Evvie.

“This is for you,” Evvie said. “I hope you like it.”

“But Nicky and Megs gave it to you,” Sybil said. “On your sixteenth birthday. Don’t you want to keep it?”

“I want you to have it,” Evvie said. “Don’t worry. It isn’t because I’m angry at Nicky, or anything like that. But I think he would have wanted you to have it. It’s a feeling I got when I put it on this morning, that it should be yours. Think of it as a gift from him and from me, and when you wear it, you’ll know how much we both love you.”

“Oh, Evvie,” Sybil said. She put the pendant on with trembling fingers.

“It looks perfect on you,” Evvie declared. “Of course, today everything is perfect.”

“Even me?” Sam asked.

“Don’t push it,” Evvie said, but then she laughed. “Even you.”

Sybil kissed them both and walked away, so the photographer could resume taking pictures. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen so many joyous people. Even the rabbi was beaming, and he hardly knew them.

She stood outside the group for a moment, enjoying the day, enjoying the pleasure they were all sharing. And then time paused, and their happy babblings were silenced by the ocean. Sybil turned away from her family and looked toward the sea, toward the sky. She could see Meg there, on her sixteenth birthday, unaware of her own beauty, uncomfortable in a ruffled dress Aunt Grace had purchased for her. And she saw Nick, walking in with his friends, then stopping, seeing Meg for the first time, seeing his future, seeing his life. Sybil stood still for a moment, witnessing their love, and then they vanished, and the wedding sounds came through again, and Sybil was sorry and glad and suddenly very eager.

“There you are,” Alex said. “Would you care for a glass of champagne?”

“I would love one,” Sybil Sebastian replied, and strolled arm in arm with Alex back to her own bright and promising world.

Turn the page to continue reading from the Sebastian Sisters series

CHAPTER ONE

“What a dump!”

“I know,” Sybil Sebastian said. “But I only got home yesterday. I haven’t had a chance to unpack yet.”

Claire Sebastian laughed. “Home,” she said. “You’re the only one of us who feels comfortable calling this dive a home.”

“I call it home too,” Thea Sebastian said. “Maybe not the home of my dreams, but home.”

“It’s the home of my dreams,” Sybil declared. “And I’ll thank all of you to treat it with respect.”

Evvie Sebastian Steinmetz Greene smiled. “Fear and loathing is more like it,” she replied. “It’s been what, five years since Aunt Grace died and sort of left us this place, and I still expect to see her every time I walk through the door.”

“Her memory does linger,” Thea agreed, wrinkling her nose. “Sort of like moldy cheese.”

“You never gave her a chance,” Claire said. “Sure, on the outside, she was cold and cruel, but inside, she was miserable and rotten. I always liked that about her.”

“Five years,” Thea said. “Do you remember that first awful Christmas here?”

“Let’s not remember the awful times,” Sybil said. “There were too many of them that year.”

The sisters were silent for a moment, thinking of all that had happened five years before, the move to Boston, the big fight between Evvie and their father, Nick, and then Nick’s death.

“He would have been so proud of you,” Evvie said to Sybil, and they all knew whom she was talking about. “Graduating with honors from Princeton.”

“I liked it there,” Sybil said. “But I was always glad to come back here for vacations.”

Evvie laughed. “Thank goodness for Aunt Grace’s nasty will,” she declared. “Leaving the house in trust until the birth of her first legitimate Christian grandson.”

“Speaking of which,” Claire said. “When are your legitimate Jewish sons arriving? I want to play aunty.”

“Sam’s bringing them in a couple of hours,” Evvie replied. “If you thought they were monsters before, wait until you see them now. They’re both crawling and they have this terrible tendency to bump into each other. Sam keeps trying to point them in opposite directions, but that means twice as much chasing for us. I think twins were Grace’s curse on me.”

“I can’t wait to have children,” Thea declared. “Of course medical school came first, and then meeting the right man, which I don’t seem to have done quite yet, but I really want a large family.”

“You want it all,” Evvie said. “You always did.”

Thea smiled. “I did, didn’t I,” she said. “I just never thought of it that way.”

“You have it all,” Claire pointed out to Evvie. “A husband, children, and a career. Almost a Ph.D. What a lousy example you’ve set for all of us.”

“Sure,” Evvie said. “And that’s exactly the life you’ve made for yourself, Claire. Domesticity. Education.”

“I took some classes once,” Claire replied. “No, that isn’t even true. I tried three times to take classes, but all three times, something came up right around the second or third session. Shoots in London. Vacations on the Riviera. What’s a girl to do?”

“Keep looking beautiful,” Thea said. “You’re on the Riviera beaches while I’m memorizing bones.”

“That’s the difference between bones and bone structure,” Claire said. “I knew from birth high cheekbones were my way out of this madness.”

Sybil tossed some clothing off her bed and stretched out. “What about Schyler?” she asked. “Any change in that relationship?”

“Schyler wants to marry me,” Claire said. “And I’m not opposed. I am twenty-three, after all, and it’s about time I made my first marriage.”

“Are you going to marry him?” Thea asked. “Two weddings this summer? Can I stand it?”

Claire shrugged, and the sisters smiled at the familiarity of the gesture. “I keep telling him he just isn’t rich enough,” she replied. “I know he’s gorgeous, and he’s doing well enough, but shouldn’t my first husband be somebody just terribly rich? Then after that doesn’t work out, I can marry for love.”

“Do you love him?” Thea asked.

“I don’t know,” Claire said. “You’re the love expert around here. You tell me.”

“Evvie’s the expert,” Sybil said. “I wish I could have been at your anniversary party.”

“Five years,” Evvie said. “It feels longer somehow.”

“It is longer,” Claire said. “You and Sam have been together what, ten, eleven years?”

“Something like that,” Evvie replied. “It’s gotten so I can’t remember a time without him. It was a funny kind of a party, Syb, with none of you there.”

“I’m sorry,” Thea said. “Interns cannot call their lives their own. You wouldn’t believe the maneuvering it took to get this weekend off.”

“They insisted on a screen test,” Claire said. “I begged them. I said, ‘My oldest sister is celebrating her fifth anniversary and she’s married to the last decent man in America,’ and they said, ‘Shut up and act.’ As though I knew how.”

“Have you heard anything yet?” Sybil asked. “I can’t imagine you a movie star.”

“Oh I can,” Thea said. “Claire was born to be one.”

“I, of course, agree,” Claire said, but then she giggled. “That’s a first. My agreeing with Thea. My agent’s optimistic, but that’s the nature of agents. I don’t care. If the movie comes through, great. If it doesn’t, I still have a lot of good years of modeling left, and there’s always Schyler, and what’s his name. Donald. He asked me to marry him a couple of days ago, and I said I’d see if the wedding this weekend put me in a romantic enough mood. Of course if it does, I’ll still never marry him. Donald’s certainly rich enough, but that’s where his charms begin and end.”

“You wouldn’t marry him just for his money,” Thea said.

“Well, on second thought, why not?” Claire asked. “Isn’t that what Megs is about to do?”

“Claire!” Evvie said sharply. “That’s not true.”

“You’re not about to tell me it’s love,” Claire said. “Not after Nicky.”

“There are different kinds of love,” Evvie replied. “Besides, you of all people wouldn’t want Megs to fall in love like she did with Nicky. All that grand passion you kept mocking.”

“I had my doubts too,” Sybil said. “When Megs first told us. But I think she’s going to be very happy. She loved being married, you know. She loved all that domesticity.”

“She’s loved her job too,” Evvie said. “I’ve never been so proud of her as when she went back to school and got a degree in physical therapy. And I’ve lived close enough to her to see the difference it’s made in her. She’s more self-confident. She’s proud of herself for the first time. She was always proud of us, and of Nicky too, rightly or wrongly, but the past couple of years have been different. Her face gets that glow when she talks about her work, and how well she does it.”

“So what are you saying?” Claire asked. “Are you happy or not happy with this marriage?”

Evvie took a deep breath. “I can’t really say,” she replied. “I know it’s been five years, but there’s a part of me that still hasn’t accepted Nicky’s death. Maybe because the end was so ugly. I don’t know. Things aren’t resolved for me yet, but at least I’m in therapy where my doctor and I work on it. I alternate between guilt and anger. That isn’t even true. Sometimes there is so much longing for him. When Rob and Mickey were born, I wanted him there. I wanted him to see his grandsons. Mick looks like him. You can see the Prescott side in him.”

“Then Nicky would have favored Robby,” Claire said. “That was the way he operated.”

“Old resentments die hard,” Thea declared.

“Yes they do,” Claire said.

“We all had a different Nicky,” Sybil said. “I thought about that a lot, especially the last couple of years. Megs was pretty much the same for all of us, even you, Claire. But Nicky was a different person for each one of us. Maybe because we each had our best view of him at different spots in his life. Not ours, but his. I never knew him as well as I did the day he died, and you didn’t really know him at all then, Evvie.”

“I didn’t know anything or anyone then,” Evvie replied. “I was so confused about so many things.”

“I knew Nicky,” Thea said. “He never changed for me.”

“That’s what I mean,” Sybil replied. “Nicky changed enormously after my accident. We all did, but Nicky changed the most. It isn’t that I knew him the best, that I had the single best view of him. Just that the Nicky I knew was the one who was changed by my accident, and the Nicky you knew was the romantic, and the Nicky Claire knew, well, I shudder to think about that one, and the Nicky Evvie knew was the ambitious and loving family man. Do you know what I mean? Am I making sense?”

Claire nodded. “You’re making sense,” she declared. “After all, Megs knew a completely different Nicky. She fell in love with him when she was sixteen, and no matter what happened, that was the Nicky she knew.”

“It isn’t like that with Sam and me,” Evvie said. “We grow, we change. We just do it together.”

“You and Sam aren’t Nicky and Megs,” Sybil replied. “The only thing you have in common is that you fell in love at sixteen.”

“That’s not the only thing,” Evvie said. “But I guess the differences are more relevant than the similarities.”

“You even sound like a psychologist,” Claire said.

“Have you been in therapy?” Thea asked.

“Moi?” Claire replied, raising her eyebrows in mock horror. “Perfect me?”

“What’s the matter?” Thea asked. “Afraid it would lower your cheekbones?”

Claire shook her head. “There was a moment,” she said. “Right after that ridiculous elopement business. We were back in Missouri, Megs and I, while Nicky was staying on in Portland with you, Sybs, and I was feeling really very wounded. Megs wouldn’t talk to me about what I’d done, and frankly, I wanted some kind of reaction from her. Approval, rage, I almost didn’t care, just as long as she would acknowledge it. Which, of course, she couldn’t, because to acknowledge it would be to acknowledge that I was stronger than Nicky, that I had taken on his responsibilities.”

“It wasn’t that simple,” Evvie said.

“Maybe not,” Claire replied. “But it seemed that way to me. So I was hurting. And I was feeling bad about the elopement itself, what I’d done to Scotty, what he’d done to me for that matter. I was only sixteen. At the time I felt like I was thirty. Nicky knew that. He even told me how young I was, but I didn’t believe him. Look what I’d just pulled off. Getting all that money from his father.”

“What’s the point?” Thea asked. “Well, I’m sorry, but it’s not my favorite topic, that elopement. I was involved too, you know. I was used.”

“You weren’t even there,” Claire pointed out. “You had to be told about it.”

“Exactly,” Thea said. “I had to be. Do you think Scotty would have gone along with your grand scheme if he hadn’t been in love with me?”

“It was seven years ago,” Sybil said. “Do we have to fight about it today?”

“I’m sorry,” Thea said, and she managed a smile. “Some battle wounds don’t heal.”

“I think that’s my point,” Claire said. “You were the one who asked me about therapy, after all.”

“I’m sorry I ever did,” Thea said. “Can we change the subject now?”

“No,” Evvie said. “Let Claire finish. Neither one of you has ever been any good at that, letting the other one finish.”

Claire shrugged. “It isn’t important,” she said. “Just that I decided then I could either be whiny and miserable like Thea, or I could accept who I was and what my life had been and go on from there. Which I did. So no, I’m not in therapy, never have been, never will be. No insult intended, Evvie, I’m sure you’ll be brilliant at it.”

“I’m not so sure,” Evvie said. “But I’ll give it my best shot.”

Sybil looked at her sisters and laughed. “Why is it we love each other so much and whenever we get together, we want to kill each other?”

“That isn’t true,” Thea said. “Sure, Claire and I have our moments, but otherwise we all get along just fine.”

“I seem to remember a certain moment at my graduation,” Sybil said. “Just six weeks ago. A battle royal between you and Evvie.”

“The twins were too young to be weaned,” Thea said. “That’s all. I am going to be a pediatrician, after all. I would have thought Evvie would be happy to benefit from my experiences.”

“You experience nursing twins and working on your thesis simultaneously,” Evvie said. “Then come back to me with your profound advice.”

“They’re going at it again,” Claire said. “Good move, Sybil.”

“I was just making a point,” Sybil said. “Not trying to start World War Three.”

“I’m sorry,” Thea said. “It’s this damn wedding.”

“Ah,” Claire said. “The truth comes out.”

“Will you listen for just once,” Thea said. “I know I should be happy for Megs, getting married again. But inside of me, there’s a part that’s just dying. It’s been like that since she told us, which, if you remember correctly, was at Sybil’s graduation. That was when I started picking fights with all of you. And that was when you were all more than willing to fight right back.”

Evvie nodded. “He’s a good man,” she said. “And it’s obvious how much he loves her.”

“But does she love him?” Claire asked.

“Does it matter?” Evvie asked.

“Of course it does,” Thea said. “Megs is still a young woman. She shouldn’t settle, the way Claire seems to be willing to.”

“Potshot, Thea,” Claire said. “Not really called for.”

Thea ignored her. “I want to be happy for Megs,” she said. “The wedding’s tomorrow, for God’s sake. It’s just, do you remember that night when Clark brought over the videotape?”

“Thea,” Claire said. “Drop it.”

“I can’t,” Thea replied. “I think about it a lot. How many people get to see the moment when their parents met? The moment when they fell in love.”

“They didn’t fall in love just at that instant,” Claire said.

“They didn’t?” Thea said. “Then you didn’t see the same videotape I did.”

“They did,” Sybil said. “I know they did, and what’s more important, they know they did. But what difference does that make? You can’t possibly want Megs to stop her life at that moment, Thea. Of all of us, you know the most about loss and the need to go on.”

Claire smiled. Thea didn’t seem to notice.

“We all want Megs to be happy,” Evvie declared. “We just have different images of how that should be.”

“Do you like the idea of this marriage?” Thea asked her. “Honestly now.”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Evvie replied. “Sometimes I’m very happy for her. Sometimes I think about Nicky, and I know it’s ridiculous, but I feel like she’s betraying him. If their love was so perfect then how can she be marrying someone else?”

“Would you ever remarry, if Sam died?” Sybil asked.

“I can’t even think about that,” Evvie said. “It panics me. Isn’t that ridiculous? Levelheaded Evvie, in a state of total terror.”

“I’m happy for her,” Sybil said. “I think it’s really nice she’s getting married.”

“You have a vested interest,” Thea declared. “Megs moves out of this house, and you move right in. Your very own Beacon Hill mansion. At least until there’s a legitimate Christian grandson.”

“That’s not fair,” Claire said. “This house is available to all of us. Sybil’s just going to be going to graduate school here, that’s all.”

“That isn’t all, and we all know it,” Thea said. “We know what Sybil was willing to do to keep this house.”

“My,” Claire said. “We are in an ugly mood today.”

“We have our share of ugly truths,” Thea said.

“She was sixteen,” Claire said. “Just. And you know the kind of pressure Nicky could assert. Besides, whatever happened was between Sybil and Evvie and Sam, and if they can all handle it, I don’t see why it should bother you.”

“I hate this house,” Evvie said. “Megs offered it to Sam and me when I was expecting, and I’m so glad I turned her down. It does ugly things to us to be here. Sybil may think of it as home and she’s welcome to it as far as I’m concerned, but it’s a cruel house, and it makes us all say and think cruel things.”

Thea started to cry. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Sybil, I know it wasn’t your fault. It’s just I associate that business, your birthday, all of it, with Nicky’s dying, and now Megs is getting remarried, and somehow that makes it feel like Nicky really is dead. Is that dumb? It’s been five years, but I still have dreams that he’s alive, that it’s all been a scheme of his, and he and Megs are just waiting, the way they waited all those years ago, when Aunt Grace wouldn’t let them get married. It’s like when Megs gets married tomorrow, we’re really burying Nicky, and that hurts so much.”

“I didn’t believe he was dead until we scattered the ashes,” Claire said. “When was that, a year after he died? Scattering them in the ocean at Eastgate. I could feel him then, so intensely, what he was and what he wanted to be, and then for the first time ever I guess, I felt at peace about him, and I felt he was at peace too. I know you think I didn’t love Nicky, but in some ways I loved him more than any of you.” She paused for a moment. “And in some ways, not,” she declared. “No point getting too maudlin.”

“I wish Megs would come downstairs already,” Evvie said. “Clark is coming over in an hour or so, and we have a lot of things to do this evening.”

“Let her stay up there as long as she wants,” Thea said. “The longer she stays there the less it feels like she’s getting married tomorrow.”

“She needs the time alone,” Sybil said. “She’s burying a few of her own ghosts this afternoon.”

The sisters were silent for a moment, then Thea changed the subject.

“Do you really think you’ll be happy here?” she asked Sybil. “Megs can rent out the house, you know, and you could get an apartment, or live in university housing. You don’t have to stay here, if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” Sybil said. “I’ve wanted to since the moment we first moved here. Evvie may hate this house, but it’s where I feel strongest. It’s funny. I even walk better here.”

“It’s all yours, as far as I’m concerned,” Claire said. “I promise if I marry Schyler or what’s his name, Donald, I won’t reproduce.”

“I wish I had time to,” Thea said. “I wish I had time to sneeze. They run you ragged when you’re an intern.”

“And you love it,” Evvie said. “Admit it, Thea.”

“I love it,” Thea said. “And I love all of you, my lousy mood notwithstanding. I even love Clark. What’s he going to think if the bride to be is hiding in the attic reading old love letters when he comes in?”

“I doubt he’ll be surprised,” Evvie said. “Clark doesn’t have any illusions.”

“Clark is nothing but illusions,” Sybil said. “He even thinks we’re wonderful.”

Claire laughed.

“You too,” Sybil said. “He had your first Vogue cover framed, and gave it to Megs. I thought that was a wonderful thing for him to do.”

“I’ll be nice to the old goat today, I promise,” Claire said. “Sybil, you absolutely have to straighten out this room. I cannot bear to see such chaos.”

“Help me, then,” Sybil said.

“We all will,” Evvie said. “Come on, Thea. Let’s show some family unity here.”

Thea nodded. “Family unity,” she said. “I like the sound of that.”

The sisters threw Sybil’s things around, trying to make some order out of the mess. They worked mostly in silence, and could hear the sounds of their mother in the attic, moving boxes, pausing to examine things.

“Margaret Winslow Sebastian,” Evvie said suddenly. “I guess today she’s putting that name to rest as well.”

CHAPTER TWO

“What a dump,” Margaret Winslow whispered, and then, as she was in the habit of doing at her aunt Grace’s home, she looked around to confirm no one had heard her.

Not that there were spies listening to her every word. Far from it. As far as Meg could see, no one cared a whit what she said, or why she said it. But there was so much Aunt Grace disapproved of, and calling perfectly lovely places dumps would probably rank high on her list.

Meg examined her bedroom at Aunt Grace’s summer cottage in Eastgate. It was, she knew, a perfect room. One window overlooked the gardens, the other window showed the ocean. Aunt Grace had had the room redecorated three years ago when Meg had officially moved in with her, and given Aunt Grace’s rather peculiar attitudes toward what young girls liked, she had done a fine job. Or the decorator had, and Aunt Grace hadn’t cared enough to argue. The walls were powder-blue, the woodwork a gleaming white, and there was even a canopy bed. The first time Meg had seen that bed, she’d burst into tears, and that had precipitated one of those dreaded confrontations between her and her aunt.

“What’s wrong with it?” Aunt Grace had demanded, not unreasonably, Meg knew then and now.

“It reminds me of the one I used to have,” Meg wept.

That turned out not to be an adequate enough reason to get rid of it, so the canopy, and for that matter, Meg, remained. In three years’ time, Meg had learned to like the bed. She liked the room too, she supposed, at least as much as any other room she’d stayed in since her parents’ deaths.

Meg sighed deeply, and looked through the window toward the ocean. It was her sixteenth birthday, and she knew she shouldn’t be spending it thinking about her parents. There was no point thinking about them anyway; dead was dead and they would never come back and rescue her. The thought made her smile. Before her parents had died, her favorite book had been A Little Princess. In there, the orphan truly needed rescuing. Only by Meg’s own lonely standards, could she claim to be so burdened.

Birthdays, Meg realized suddenly, were the worst, the absolute worst. She’d been unhappy the entire week, without being able to figure out why, and now the truth was staring right at her. She hated her birthday. When her parents were alive, her birthdays were splendid, filled with festivities, and presents, and sweets. There were at least twenty children at her party, and for weeks, she and her mother would conspire about all the details, going shopping for new dresses for both of them, having endless discussions with the cook about just how the birthday cake should be decorated, debating which lucky children should be invited, and which should be left out. Her birthday plans had been fun, and the days themselves were never anticlimactic. She could still remember the morning she woke up to find the four-foot-high doll-house in her bedroom, with real electricity, and the most cunning furniture: a Queen Anne style dining room, and a perfect Victorian parlor, which, now that she thought about it, bore a strong resemblance to Aunt Grace’s Beacon Hill parlor. Had the furniture been commissioned to match? She would never know, since with her parents’ deaths, the dollhouse, like so much else of their lives, vanished, sold or put away in storage, or given to some cousin or other, to help pay off her father’s debts. Not for the first time, Meg was uncomfortably aware of how similar the words death and debt were.

But that dollhouse! It had simply materialized in her room that day. She woke up to find it there. How had her parents managed that? It seemed magical to her then, and now as well, now that she lived with Aunt Grace, whose every footstep seemed to thunder through the houses she owned.

Meg turned away from the ocean and tried to remind herself how fortunate she was. When her parents had died, she’d been left with nothing. Her parents, Aunt Grace had explained to Meg on more than one occasion, thought the sole function of money was to spend it. Meg couldn’t see what else one was supposed to do with it, but she was always too frightened to challenge Aunt Grace on that, or any other subject. What few assets did remain, though, Aunt Grace, and Uncle Marcus, Aunt Grace’s younger brother, managed to save and invest, and turn into what was always referred to as a “small” trust fund for Meg. How small Meg was never sure, but she assumed it was very small indeed.

“You are fortunate you have family to provide for you,” Aunt Grace had declared at the funeral. That was the only real memory Meg had of the funeral, that, and the strange feeling she had because such an important dress had been bought for her without the help of her mother. It couldn’t have been easy to find a black dress for an eleven-year-old. It was velvet, Meg remembered, and hot in the early-fall weather. It had a white lace collar, but so many ladies had bent down to kiss her that the collar ended up permanently stained with lipstick and powder, and the dress had been given to the poor. They were welcome to it.

Meg tried to remember if her eleventh birthday had been her most perfect one, but it didn’t seem any better than any of the others she could remember. The dress, the cake, the party, the gifts, nothing stood out at the time or now. A week later, she and her parents had taken the Queen Mary to England, and spent the summer traveling around Europe. She remembered Switzerland the most fondly, but she’d always loved Switzerland. They’d spent a winter there, when she was younger, and it was a magical country. Meg had flown home alone, to start the school year at Miss Arnold’s School, which she had begun attending the year before, and her parents had flown to Kenya for a safari. It was in Kenya that their plane had crashed, a small chartered airplane, whose pilot had made a fatal miscalculation. The communication system was so primitive that Meg’s parents had been dead for almost a week before anybody knew. Their bodies, Uncle Marcus had explained to her, had been destroyed so badly that cremation was the only proper thing to do. Meg supposed the bodies had burned, but possibly the heat had swollen them, or animals had eaten them. No one told her, and the choice of nightmares kept her awake for many, many nights thereafter.

So the funeral had been closed casket, and almost two weeks after the actual deaths, and someone had bought a black velvet dress for her to wear. “Miss Arnold wishes to see you. There’s been some bad news.” The memories were all a jumble, and in her dreams, Miss Arnold frequently turned into a lion or a hyena, who threatened to eat her while Meg’s parents stood by helplessly. Of course, Miss Arnold had actually been very nice about it, and had attended the funeral, and seen to it that all the girls at her school treated Meg kindly for the first few days. After that, Meg no longer cared how she was treated. Not that anyone was cruel. No one was ever cruel to her, not even Uncle Marcus’s endless noisy children, with whom Meg was forced to spend that Christmas. Sometimes they’d even stop playing when she entered the room, as though games were an affront to her mourning. They weren’t cruel to her that summer either, or the following Christmas, or even that following summer, so no one was able to understand, not even Meg, why on her thirteenth birthday she’d gone swimming in the ocean, well after everyone else had gone to bed, and swum so far out that her obvious intention was never to swim back. Only the good fortune of a pair of young lovers on the beach, seeing what she was doing and having the strength to swim out after her and pull her back to shore, had kept her from drowning. Meg’s life was filled with good fortune.

“I wash my hands of her!” Uncle Marcus had declared, and there was only Aunt Grace left to take her in. Meg’s mother had been an only child, and her parents had died within a year of their daughter’s accident. So Aunt Grace had the bedroom at Eastgate redecorated with a canopy bed, and Meg had moved in.

It wasn’t so bad, she knew. Her school year she continued to spend at Miss Arnold’s, and Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter were spent in Beacon Hill. Summers at Eastgate were all right, even with Aunt Grace’s many restrictions. Not too much sun. No unsupervised swimming (well, she’d brought that one on herself). No socializing with the year-rounders (but then, none of them were supposed to do that, including Isabelle Sinclair, who was madly in love with the grocery bag boy). No excursions without Aunt Grace’s explicit permission. No fun, really, but then Meg wasn’t sure she remembered what fun was anymore. She supposed she must occasionally have fun at Miss Arnold’s, all the other girls did, and they didn’t shun her, as they did some of the more studious, less entertaining girls. She knew she had gone from Poor Meg to Meg at some point during her years there, but she couldn’t spot the exact moment, and she couldn’t recall ever really enjoying herself. But that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

I’m sixteen, Meg thought. Today I am sixteen. In two more years, I’ll be finished with high school, and I’ll make my debut. All her friends were already discussing what they would wear at their coming-out parties. Meg hoped Aunt Grace wouldn’t be offended if she got one of her friends’ mothers to help her with the gown. Aunt Grace had the most abominable taste in clothes. Not her own, which were tweedy in the wintertime, and floral in the summer, but in the ones she selected for her niece.

Meg tried to imagine herself in her first formal evening gown. She knew she’d be pretty; everyone always said she was, and that wasn’t the sort of thing people lied about. Boys would dance with her all night long. It wouldn’t matter that all she had left to her was a small trust fund. She was Grace Winslow’s ward, and Grace was a wealthy woman. That made Meg an heiress, as Aunt Grace was fond of pointing out to her. “You can never be too careful about the boys you get to know. Some of them can smell money a mile away. They’ll pretend to be in love with you, only because of your relationship with me, and then they’ll steal your money and break your heart. You must only see suitable young men, young men who come from your own world. No one else can be trusted.” That speech, Meg knew, was the equivalent for Aunt Grace of the birds and the bees.

Only suitable boys, then, would be asked to her coming-out party, and Meg supposed that a year or two after, she would marry one of them. She didn’t know which one yet, or care. Maybe she’d met him, maybe she hadn’t. She’d go to college for a year or so, then announce her engagement, and get married, probably by the time she was twenty. Being married had to be better than living with Aunt Grace.

Meg hated herself when she felt like that, disloyal to the only member of her family who was willing to put up with her. She knew she should love Aunt Grace, or at least be grateful to her, or at the very least respect her, but mostly all she could manage was dread. Just being in the same room with her frequently made Meg shiver. And when Aunt Grace turned her full focus of attention on her, Meg didn’t know how she survived.

“What a dump,” she whispered again. It was a catchphrase she used to give herself strength. Bitsy Marshall had taught it to her. Bitsy’s mother said it all the time. Bitsy’s mother went to the movies, and could do imitations of all the stars, but her best was her Bette Davis, and Bette Davis had said “What a dump” in some movie or another, so Bitsy’s mother said it, and Bitsy said it, and Meg said it too, when no one was listening. It wasn’t as though she could do a Bette Davis imitation, so she didn’t try. She just said it, mostly to herself, but sometimes under her breath. “What a dump.” It kept her going, that phrase. She frequently felt grateful to Bette Davis for ever having said it.

There was a knock on the door. Meg flushed with guilt. Had someone heard her saying it, and did they think she was complaining about her room? “I will not tolerate whining and complaints,” Aunt Grace had said to her shortly after she’d moved in. “You are a most fortunate child, and you should appreciate all the kindness you’ve been shown.”

“Come in,” Meg said, hoping her voice hadn’t cracked with terror. Aunt Grace didn’t like that either.

Aunt Grace walked in. “Your dress has arrived,” she declared. “I thought I would bring it to you myself. Happy birthday, Margaret.”

“Thank you,” Meg said. She’d risen from her chair as soon as Aunt Grace had walked in, and now, she knew, she was expected to walk over to her aunt and give her a kiss, as well as take the box from her. She willed herself into action. Aunt Grace’s skin was as soft as her face was hawklike. Meg brushed her lips against her aunt’s cheek in what passed as a gesture of affection in that household.

“I trust you’ll like the dress,” Aunt Grace said.

“I’m sure I will, Aunt Grace,” Meg said.

“What’s that you said?” Aunt Grace asked. “You must learn to speak up, Margaret. This mumbling of yours is a disgusting habit.”

“I’m sorry,” Meg said. She didn’t think she mumbled, although it was true she spoke softly, and many people had to ask her to repeat what she’d said. It surprised her that anybody cared enough to want to hear. She would have to learn to speak louder, she supposed. “I said I was sure I would like the dress, Aunt Grace.” Lies had to be spoken loudest of all.

“Your guests will be arriving shortly,” Aunt Grace said. “Have you bathed?”

Meg nodded. “I’m all ready, except for the dress,” she said.

“Very well,” Aunt Grace said, and then she cleared her throat. Meg immediately tensed up. “You are sixteen now, Margaret. I suppose a mother’s duty on her daughter’s sixteenth birthday is to discuss with her some of life’s harsher truths.”

There had been no harsh truths in her mother’s heart, Meg knew. And Aunt Grace wasn’t her mother. She felt herself getting faint with resentment.

“When a girl is sixteen, she is physically capable of bearing children,” Aunt Grace declared. “Her body is eager for that sort of animal labor, so her emotions turn to boys, who can give her their seed. She mistakes those feelings for love.”

Meg nodded. It was the only action she was capable of.

“Boys will of course take advantage of this confusion,” Aunt Grace continued. “The male of the species enjoys nothing more than taking advantage of a female’s need to reproduce. They whisper words of love that the female wants to hear, promise her a future together, and then they have their way with her. Do you know what having their way actually means, Margaret?”

“I think so,” Meg said. It seemed the safest response.

“In any decent society, a girl’s reputation is paramount,” Aunt Grace said. “A girl who allows a boy to have his way with her is thought of as cheap. Such a girl never makes a good marriage, but goes on to a life of sin and degradation. True, she may marry, but if she does, it will be to a man of a lower social order, one who will not treat her with respect, and indeed, she doesn’t deserve that respect. No girl who goes to her marriage bed impure deserves the respect of her husband. Virginity is the one true gift a bride can offer her groom. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes, Aunt Grace,” Meg said.

“Very well,” Aunt Grace declared. “I know your parents would have wanted you to be informed of such matters. Your mother might not have been from Boston, but she was a fine girl just the same, from an excellent family, and I regard your care as a sacred trust. I’m sure if they were alive, they would wish you a very happy birthday and tell you how proud they are of you. Stand up straight, Margaret. Nothing is less appealing than stooped shoulders.”

“Thank you, Aunt Grace,” Meg said, trying to unstoop her shoulders.

“Because it is your birthday, you may stay up until midnight,” Aunt Grace said. “The band has been hired to play only until eleven-thirty. I know many of your friends have parties that last until one or two o’clock, but I do not approve of that sort of revelry for a girl so young. You must dance with any of the young men who ask you. I’m sure they all will, because it’s your birthday, and they will be disappointed if you seem to favor one of them over the others. You will be allowed one glass of champagne, when the toast is made. You are to thank each person who brings you a gift, and those who do not, you must thank as well, for attending the party. Tomorrow you will spend writing thank-you notes for whatever gifts you may receive. You are not to wander off from the party with any of your friends. I want to know where you are at all times. If you need to excuse yourself, please inform me first.”

“Yes, Aunt Grace,” Meg said.

“You’re mumbling again,” Aunt Grace replied. “I trust you won’t spend the evening mumbling and stooping, Margaret. It is your birthday, and people will expect to see you proud and tall. In addition, they’ll want to hear you when you say your various pleasantries. Now, put on your dress, and meet me downstairs. I want you ready to greet your guests as they arrive.”

“Yes, Aunt Grace,” Meg said, and watched with relief as her aunt left the room. At least she hadn’t been forced to open the box while Grace was there.

Maybe this time it’ll be all right, she thought, but one look at the dress killed that fantasy. It was pink, a color Meg hated, because she blushed so often, and wearing pink seemed to emphasize her embarrassment. Pink chiffon with endless ruffles. Meg was not one for looking at Vogue, but even she knew ruffles were all wrong. It was a dress for a little girl. It even had a ruffled collar. The black velvet dress she’d worn when she was eleven was more sophisticated than this.

Meg put on the dress, and glanced at herself as best she could in the mirror over the bureau. Aunt Grace regarded full-length mirrors as an invitation to vanity, and refused to have one in her home. At that moment, Meg was just as glad. As awful as the dress was, it was comforting not to be able to see a complete view. Pink with a ruffled collar and puffed sleeves, and worst of all, even worse than all those ruffles, a bow to tie around her waist. The only thing you could do with a dress like that was burn it.

Meg allowed herself one moment to dream about wearing a different dress to her party, not that the rest of her wardrobe was so much better. But even if it had been, she was stuck with the pink ruffles for the evening. Aunt Grace had allowed her no alternatives.

She brushed her hair so hard she began to cry, then stopped, put on the white shoes that Aunt Grace had also insisted on, and the white gloves to complete the outfit, and went downstairs. No one had arrived yet, thank goodness.

“Very pretty,” Aunt Grace said, checking Meg out. “You took such a long time, though, I thought you were putting on makeup.”

“It was hard to get to all the buttons,” Meg replied.

“You should have rung for Mary,” Aunt Grace said.

“I figured she must be busy,” Meg said. “Preparing for the party.”

“You do not need to worry about what a maid is busy with,” Aunt Grace said. “They’re paid very well to do what we ask them to. I would have assumed that that, at least, your mother taught you.”

Meg could feel herself blushing. “I’m sorry,” she said, although she was unsure what she was apologizing for.

“Don’t mope,” Aunt Grace said. “This is your birthday. What will your guests think if they see you standing there looking so gloomy?”

Meg trusted that was a rhetorical question, since she had no idea how to answer it.

“Go outside now, and wait for the guests,” Aunt Grace said. “I’ll speak with Delman to make sure everything is in order.”

“Thank you, Aunt Grace,” Meg said. It seemed to her that was all she ever said, “Thank you” and “I’m sorry.” No wonder she mumbled, with such a restricted vocabulary.

She stood in the garden, in front of the bar, and blushed when she felt the bartender’s eyes on her. He was a year-rounder, hired for these occasions, and Meg had seen him at parties she’d attended.

“Nice dress,” he said. “How old are you? Fourteen?”

“Sixteen,” she choked out.

“Oh,” he said. “Sorry.”

Meg nodded, and walked away from him. The bartender wasn’t half as sorry as she was. What a dump, she thought. What a dumpy dumpy dump. The words proved no comfort at all.

Then the guests began arriving, and although Meg was sure their looks were full of pity for her, at least there were a lot of people, and she didn’t feel unprotected anymore. Aunt Grace stood by her side, and made sure she said thank you to everybody.

“Hi, Meg,” Tinker Thomas said as she came over, carrying a large, promising box.

“Her name is Margaret,” Aunt Grace declared, and Meg took a certain pleasure in seeing Tinker blush.

“I meant Margaret,” Tinker said. “Hi, Margaret.”

“Hello, Margaret,” Aunt Grace said. “We do not approve of slang here.”

Tinker clenched her teeth, and Meg’s pleasure in the moment evaporated. She liked Tinker, and thought Tinker liked her, and now Tinker would avoid her or feel sorry for her or simply not bother to be her friend. “Hello, Margaret,” she said. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you, Tinker,” Meg said, and watched helplessly as Tinker ran from her side to join some of the other kids. Meg could see them all staring at her, and knew they were laughing at her, at her dress, at her party, at her obvious misery.

“Hello, Margaret.”

“Hello, Clark,” Meg said, smiling at the one true friend she had among the party guests.

“I brought you this,” he said. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” Meg said. “Thank you for coming.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it,” he said. “Hello, Miss Winslow.”

“Clark,” Aunt Grace said, and jutted her cheek out for Clark to kiss. He did, with an ease that Meg envied. Clark Bradford was eighteen, and had grown up in Boston. In many ways, he knew Aunt Grace better than she did, and maybe because she wasn’t his aunt, he even seemed to like her. It occurred to Meg then that she might marry Clark. It made sense. Aunt Grace would approve, as would Clark’s family, and Clark, she was sure, loved her. It would be nice to have a husband who wasn’t afraid of Aunt Grace. Maybe Clark would propose to her that very night, pink ruffles and all. If she were engaged, that would make her special. She would feel protected if she were engaged.

She smiled at the thought, and Clark smiled back at her. “I hope you’ll save me a dance,” he said.

“Of course I will,” Meg said. She could talk to Clark. He didn’t frighten her. They’d played together when they were children, and her parents had gone up to Boston for holidays and family occasions. Clark was safe and appropriate and he loved her. Meg immediately felt better about things.

“Oh no,” Clark said. “My father has his camera out again. I apologize for him, Miss Winslow. Ever since he got the camera for his birthday, he takes it with him wherever he goes.”

“Motion pictures?” Aunt Grace said.

“Home movies,” Clark said. “Dad, really. Do you have to point that thing at us?”

“Smile, Margaret,” Mr. Bradford said, and Meg did as she was told. “Very good,” he said. “Lovely party, Grace. Happy birthday, Margaret. Many happy returns and all that. I’ll be sure to film you while you’re dancing with Clark.”

“Thank you,” Meg said.

Clark grinned at her, and moved up the line. Meg continued to stand by Grace, accept her presents, and say her thanks, but her mind was on Clark. She didn’t know why she’d never thought about marrying him before, but maybe marriage was one of those things you didn’t think about until you were sixteen.

“Happy birthday, Margaret.”

“Thank you, Isabelle,” Meg said. Isabelle Sinclair looked wonderful. She was wearing a pale green strapless gown with not a single ruffle on it.

“Happy birthday, Margaret,” Robert Sinclair said. He was Isabelle’s older brother, and Margaret knew he would ask her to dance that evening as a courtesy.

“Thank you, Robert,” she said.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Robert said. “I brought along a friend of mine. He’s staying with us this summer. Margaret Winslow, I’d like you to meet Nick Sebastian.”

CHAPTER THREE

This is the handsomest man I’ve ever seen, Meg thought, and then just as quickly she thought, but that doesn’t matter, and the two thoughts bumped into each other and made her blush. She felt like a fool standing there, turning red in that ridiculous dress, with Aunt Grace standing by her side, making sure she didn’t slouch or mumble or forget to thank people. He’ll hate me, she thought, and then she couldn’t remember his name, or why it was important that he not hate her, and she wished she could vanish, and she wished the moment could last forever.

“Let’s dance,” he said.

“But I have to stand on line,” she replied. Did she mumble? Probably.

“Do you?” he asked.

Meg considered his question. “No,” she said. “I don’t, do I.”

He stared at her and she stared back, and she knew she wasn’t blushing anymore. He took her hand, and led her away from the line, away from Aunt Grace. The band was playing Gershwin. They began to dance.

“I don’t know your name,” Meg admitted. “I heard it, but I guess I didn’t listen hard enough.”

“Nick Sebastian,” he said. “Do people really call you Margaret?”

“My aunt does,” Meg said.

“I’ll call you Daisy,” Nick said. “You should be called Daisy.”

“That’s what my parents called me,” Meg said. “Most people call me Meg. Aunt Grace insists on Margaret.”

“May I call you Daisy, then?” Nick asked.

Meg nodded. She couldn’t get over how wonderful it felt to be in his arms. She prayed he wanted to have his way with her.

“Robert and Isabelle said something about a birthday,” Nick declared. “Yours, I take it.”

Meg nodded.

“I should have brought something,” he said.

“You brought me my name,” Meg said. “That’s a very special gift.”

“I want to give you more than that,” he said. “But there’ll be other birthdays. We’ll dance on each of them, I promise.”

“Don’t tease,” Meg said.

“You know I’m not,” Nick replied. “What birthday is this, Daisy?”

“Sixteen,” she said. Please let that be the right answer, she thought.

Nick shook his head. “You’re older than that,” he said. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Meg thought about the hideous baby dress Aunt Grace had forced her to wear, and she pledged at that very moment to spend the rest of her life with Nick Sebastian. She intended to tell him that but Clark tapped Nick on the shoulder, and cut in on the dance.

“Do you know him?” Clark asked her. Meg felt herself inch away from Clark, stiffen her body just slightly, turn back into Meg Winslow, stoops and mumbles and all.

“He’s a friend of the Sinclairs’,” she said. “Robert introduced us.”

“He’s a bit pushy, don’t you think?” Clark said, being sure to lead as they danced. Meg hated it that Clark led. Not that she’d minded Nick leading. “There were people on line waiting to wish you happy birthday.”

“They’ll know where to find her,” Nick said, tapping Clark right back, and stealing Meg away from him before Clark had the chance to react. “Daisy, may I?”

“Who’s Daisy?” Clark asked, but they didn’t wait to answer. They left him sputtering on the dance floor, as they ran, hand in hand, away from the party guests.

“This is terrible,” Meg said, when they’d reached a safe distance. They could hear the sounds of the party, but they knew they couldn’t be seen. “Aunt Grace will be so angry.”

“I’m sorry,” Nick said. “I needed to be alone with you.”

“I know,” Meg said, and then she laughed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed like that. “I’m not sorry. The hell with Aunt Grace.” She waited for the gods of gratitude to strike her down, but the only thing that happened was the band kept playing, and people still danced. The gods have the night off, she thought. I have never been so happy in my life.

“I know you don’t know me,” Nick said.

“You don’t know me either,” Meg said.

“I know who you are,” he replied. “In some ways I know how you got here. Robert and Isabelle told me a few details. Margaret Winslow of the Beacon Hill Winslows. Your parents died in an accident a few years ago. You go to school with Isabelle. You do well academically; you’re fairly popular. You live with your aunt, Grace Winslow. People treat Grace Winslow with respect. They do not steal her niece from under her nose.”

“It’s such a terrifying nose,” Meg said. “I remember even when I was little, Aunt Grace’s nose scared me.”

“I don’t want you to be frightened ever again,” Nick said. “I’ll do everything I can to protect you.”

“What can I do for you?” Meg asked. “I want to do something too.”

“You can love me,” Nick said.

Meg laughed. “That’s too easy,” she said. “I do that already.”

Then Nick smiled, and Meg realized all those wonderful flirty words were true, that everything they’d both been saying, they meant. She looked then, really hard, at Nick, tried to see who it was she felt so instantly connected to, tried to understand what it was about him that made her feel more eager to live than she’d ever dreamed. But all she could see was he loved her, and for the moment, that was all she needed to see.

“What’s your middle name?” she asked. She wanted to know his complete name. He required a full identity, this man she loved.

“George,” he said. “I hate it.”

“I hate my dress,” she replied.

“We can burn it,” he said. “We can turn it into ashes.”

“We’ll do the same with your name,” she said. “We’ll print it on a piece of paper and tear it into a hundred pieces and put it on the fire, and let it burn. And then you won’t be George anymore.”

He kissed her then, and Meg was so surprised that she shifted awkwardly, and he thought she was resisting. “I’m sorry, Daisy,” he said.

“Oh don’t be,” she said. “Don’t ever be sorry again.” She yearned to kiss him, but before she had the chance, Clark came storming over to them.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked, and Meg was uncertain which one of them he was speaking to, until she saw him grab Nick by his jacket collar as though intending to punch him.

Nick merely shook him off. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” he said. “I’m Nick Sebastian.”

“I don’t care if you’re Santa Claus,” Clark replied. “You have some nerve dragging Meg off like that. Her aunt is furious. And I imagine Isabelle Sinclair isn’t any too pleased either.”

Nick laughed, but there was no warmth in the sound. “Isabelle doesn’t matter. Neither do you nor Aunt Grace. Daisy is all that matters.”

“Who’s Daisy?” Clark asked again.

Meg found herself standing so tall Aunt Grace would have to look up to her. “I am,” she said.

“What’s gotten into you?” Clark asked. “Have you been hitting the champagne?”

“I’m happy, Clark,” Meg said. “That’s your problem. You’ve never seen me happy before.”

“You won’t stay happy once Grace gets through with you,” Clark said. “Look you, Sebastian, whatever, if you really care for Meg the way you claim you do, you’d better bring her back to the party and apologize like crazy to her aunt. Otherwise Grace will take it out on Meg for what you’ve done.”

“Let her,” Meg said. “I don’t care.”

“You heard her, Clark,” Nick said. “Will you leave us alone now, please?”

“I don’t know who you are,” Clark said. “And I don’t know what you’re doing to Meg to make her act this way, but I’m going to tell Grace, and that will be the end of that. Meg, I’ll do what I can for you, but Grace is furious already, and your best chance is to go back to her alone and apologize like the blue devil.”

Meg shook her head. “Aunt Grace can’t do anything to me anymore,” she said. “Nick will protect me.”

“It’s drugs,” Clark said. “You slipped her some kind of drug, didn’t you. If you hurt one hair of her head, I’ll kill you.” He paused, and Meg used all her self-control to keep from laughing at him.

“Calm down,” Nick said. “You’ve done your good deed for the evening. You’ve earned your merit badge. Go back to the party and have a good time. It’s been a pleasure knowing you. Good night, Clark.”

“Meg, please,” Clark said, but Meg took Nick’s hand in hers, and entwined her fingers with his. Clark looked at them, shook his head with funereal solemnity, and walked back to the party.

“We don’t have much time,” Nick said. “May I see you tomorrow?”

“Of course,” she said. “We’ll find a way.”

Nick nodded. “I love you,” he said. “Do you know that?”

Meg smiled her reply.

“We’ll get married, you know,” Nick said. “I suppose we’ll have to wait a couple of years, but we will get married. I’ll make you so happy, Daisy. I’ll give you everything you want.”

“You already have,” Meg said. She looked up at him, to commit his face to her memory, and saw a small scar by his right ear.

Nick turned his head slightly away from her. “I’m imperfect,” he said. “Damaged goods.”

“How did it happen?” Meg asked.

“The truth?” Nick asked, and Meg realized he wasn’t being flippant.

“The truth,” she said. “You can tell me anything.”

“My stepfather hit me there,” he said. “With a skillet. We were fighting and he wanted to kill me. My mother was so scared she called the police, and I wound up living in foster care for a few months. No one knows that about me, none of that. No one. They think my parents … they think I’m respectable.” Nick looked straight into Meg’s eyes. “You have power over me now,” he said. “I’ve trusted you with who I really am.”

“I won’t fail you,” she said, and she kissed him. “No matter what, I won’t ever fail you.”

“Daisy,” Nick said, and there was so much in just that one word, so much past and future, that Meg felt free of all fears and burdens, yet tied to time, to place, and reality.

“It will be all right,” she said. “I never knew that before, but now I do.”

“We’ll save each other,” Nick said. “That’s it, isn’t it.”

“Of course it is,” Meg said. There was so much she wanted to tell him, even more she wanted to hear, but the sound of footsteps interrupted them.

“You’d better get out of here,” Clark said to Nick. “Grace has called the police. If you don’t want to get arrested, you’d better leave right now.”

“Arrested?” Nick said, and he laughed again. Meg marveled that his laugh could be so cold when his smile was radiant.

“The police,” Clark said. “Meg, please. There’s going to be awful scandal.”

Meg laughed. “I imagine there will be,” she said.

“He’s nobody,” Clark said. “Robert says he hardly knows him. He isn’t even a year-rounder.”

“I love him, Clark,” Meg said, and it seemed odd that Clark should be the first person she told, but then it was right. Clark was her friend. In his own foolish, feeble way, he cared about her.

“You don’t even know him,” Clark said. “Meg, come back with me, and you, you get out of here if you know what’s good for you.”

“I do know what’s good for me,” Nick replied, and he held Meg’s hand.

“The police, Meg,” Clark said. “Do you really want this guy arrested?”

“No,” Meg said. “Nick, you’d better go.”

“I don’t care,” he said. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said.

“No,” he said. “I’ll take you back to the party. That’s the least I can do.”

Meg thought about the scene Grace was likely to make and shuddered.

“You don’t have to be scared of her,” Nick said. “Come on, Daisy. Let me take you back.”

“I’ll go with you,” Clark said. “Meg, you don’t have to protect him. You can tell Grace the truth, that he made you leave with him.”

“I know what the truth is, Clark,” Meg said. She walked hand in hand with Nick back to the party. The band stopped playing as they approached.

“I guess they don’t know the death march,” Nick whispered. Meg laughed out loud. Clark looked grimly determined to guard Meg from further contamination.

“I bring you back your niece, Miss Winslow,” Nick proclaimed as they rejoined the party. “Safe and sound.”

“Get off of my property this minute!” Aunt Grace shouted. “I’ve called the police to chase you away!”

“I’m leaving,” Nick said, but he seemed in no hurry to go.

“Margaret, go to your room immediately,” Grace said. “Your behavior has been shameful. We will discuss your punishment later.”

“No,” Nick said. “You won’t punish her.”

“Will you shut up,” Clark whispered. “You’re only making things worse.”

“It was my fault,” Nick said. “I made her go with me. She didn’t want to. She begged me not to, but there were things I had to say to her, and I needed privacy. Daisy, Margaret, was a victim. You don’t punish a victim.”

“Nick,” Meg said.

“I’ll stay if you want me arrested,” Nick said. “If that will give you pleasure, fine. But you have to promise not to do anything to Margaret. It’s her birthday. This party is for her. Isn’t the embarrassment she feels punishment enough?”

“I don’t know who you are, young man,” Grace said. “But I intend to find out.”

“Do you promise not to hurt Margaret?” Nick asked.

“I’ll promise you nothing,” Grace said.

“There, there, Grace,” Clark’s father said. “This has all been very unpleasant. Let the boy go, and let’s forget the entire incident. Margaret’s unharmed, no damage has been done. We don’t really want to see this incident in the papers, do we?”

Grace stood still for a moment, considering the situation.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Grace,” Meg said, but the words weren’t hateful, the way they usually were. She could say anything if it protected Nick. “I’ll apologize to all the guests if you want.”

“Daisy,” Nick said, but Meg shook her head slightly, to force him into silence.

“Go,” Grace said to Nick. “And don’t ever return here again.”

Nick held Meg’s hand for one last moment. “Tomorrow,” he whispered so quietly she could barely hear him.

She nodded back as imperceptibly. Nick smiled at her again, and then turned to Aunt Grace. “Thank you for having me,” he said. “It’s been a lovely evening. Good night, everybody.”

“Wait up, Sebastian,” Robert Sinclair said. “I’ll go with you.”

“Fine,” Nick said. The two young men walked out of the party together. Meg waited to burst into tears at the sight of his departure, but found she was too happy to cry.

“What exactly happened?” Grace demanded, as Meg humbly but with good posture faced her.

“We needed to talk,” Meg said. “That’s all. Clark blew it all out of proportion.”

“I did not,” Clark said. “Margaret was behaving very peculiarly. I felt it my duty to report it.”

“Very noble of you, my son,” Clark’s father said. “I’ll call the police now, Grace, tell them not to bother.” He walked back to the house, carrying his camera with him. Meg wondered how much of this amazing evening he had preserved on film.

“I suspect you have been a very bad girl,” Aunt Grace said, and Meg realized her aunt had no vocabulary for what she felt. It gave Meg a sense of power, which she tried not to show.

“I suspect I have been,” Meg replied.

“When you write your notes tomorrow, you will include an apology to every single guest,” Aunt Grace said. “You should probably apologize to each of them in person, but this party has been memorable enough without that for people to gossip about.”

“Gossip,” Meg said. It had never occurred to her that she was capable of doing anything interesting enough for people to gossip about.

“I blame this all on your mother,” Aunt Grace said. “She was a nice enough girl, but from New York, and New Yorkers have no real sense of appropriate behavior.”

“They certainly don’t,” Clark said. “I bet that guy …”

“Don’t say ‘guy,’” Grace said.

“That man then, whatever he says his name is, I bet he’s from New York,” Clark said. “Or someplace even worse.”

Nick hadn’t said where he was from, Meg thought. Not that it mattered. He knew where she was, so he could find her and be with her, and rescue her forever. Knowing all that made her feel strong and reckless.

“Come on, Clark,” she said. “If you’re so determined to dance with me, let’s dance.”

“That’s not a very nice invitation,” Clark said, but he followed Meg onto the dance floor. She laughed silently from the pleasure of leading.

Buy Meg at Sixteen Now!

About the Author

Susan Beth Pfeffer wrote her first novel, Just Morgan, during her last semester at New York University. Since then, she has written over seventy novels for children and young adults, including Kid Power, Fantasy Summer, Starring Peter and Leigh, and The Friendship Pact, as well as the series Sebastian Sisters and Make Me a Star. Pfeffer’s books have won ten statewide young reader awards and the Buxtehude Bulle Award.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 1989 by Susan Beth Pfeffer

Cover design by Mimi Bark

ISBN: 978-1-4532-0224-1

Distributed in 2014 by Open Road Distribution

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Table of Contents

- Title Page
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Preview: Meg at Sixteen
- About the Author
- Copyright Page