"And do what?"

"Fire then- asses! I'm so sick of having cameras everywhere and people asking stupid fucking questions." She'd never heard Mitch exasperated this way before; he'd always accepted scrutiny as the price of living the high life. "You know some sonofabitch got a photograph of Garrison in jail, sitting on the can. And some fucking rag printed it! A picture of my brother taking a dump in a cell. Can you believe that?"

The outburst shocked her; not because somebody had taken a picture of Garrison relieving himself, but because until this moment she hadn't imagined his being behind bars. She'd just assumed that Cecil, or the phalanx of lawyers the family had hired to defend Garrison, had secured his release on bail.

"When does he get out?" she asked him.

"We're pressing for that right now," Mitch said. "I mean, he's innocent. We all know that. It was a horrible accident and we all wish it hadn't happened, but it's ridiculous keeping him locked up like he was a common criminal."

A common criminal: that went to the heart of it. Whatever else Garrison might have been, Mitchell seemed to be saying, he was American royalty, and deserved to be treated with appropriate respect. It was an impression Rachel had reinforced when she went over to the mansion: the atmosphere was one of besiegement; the drapes closed against the curious eyes of the hoi polloi, while the noble Gearys debated their response to the crisis. Loretta set the tone for these exchanges. The imperiousness was intact, but it was shaded now with a certain bruised melancholy, as though some martyrdom had been visited upon her which she was bearing with fortitude. She welcomed Rachel back with a dry kiss.

They gathered for supper around the dining room table, with Loretta at one end and-rather pointedly positioned, Rachel thought-Cecil at the other. Besides Deborah, Rachel and Mitch three other members of the clan were present. Norah was there, tanned and brittle; George's brother Richard had come up from Miami, where he'd just successfully defended a man who'd cut up a hooker with an electric carving knife, and Karen, flown in from Europe. She was the one member of the group Rachel had not met; she'd been out of the country during the wedding. She was a contained woman, her body, her gestures and her voice neat and unassuming. Rachel had the impression that she'd not come back out of love for either Garrison or the family, but because an edict had gone out, demanding her presence. She certainly had little to contribute to the debate. In fact she said scarcely a word throughout the supper, seldom even looking up from her plate.

There was no doubt as to the star of the evening: it was Loretta. She made a statement of intent the moment they all sat down.

"We're going to start acting like a family again," she said to everyone. "This business with Garrison is a wake-up call, to us all. It's time to put our differences aside. Whatever problems we have with one another-and they're bound to come along in the best of circumstances-this is the time to forget about them and show people what we're made of. Cadmus, as I'm sure you know, is now bedridden, and I'm afraid he's very weak. In fact, some of the time he doesn't even know who I am, which is of course very painful. But he has periods when his mind's suddenly very lucid, and then he can be astonishingly acute. Earlier this evening he started talking about hearing voices in the house. And I told him that yes, we were having a little family gathering. I didn't tell him why, of course. He doesn't know about… what happened… and I don't intend to tell him. But he did say to me, when I explained to him that we were all gathering together, that he was going to be here with us. And I think in a very real sense he is. He should be our inspiration right now." There were murmurs of assent around the table, the loudest coming from Richard. "We all know what Cadmus would say if he knew what was going on," Loretta said.

"Fuck 'em all," said Mitch. Norah laughed into her wine glass.

Loretta moved on without glancing in her stepson's direction. "He'd say: business as usual. We have to demonstrate our strength as a family. Our solidarity. Which is why I'm particularly grateful to you, Rachel, for coming back at such short notice. I know things between you and Mitchell aren't very easy at the moment so it means a lot to me personally that you're here. Now, Cecil, why don't you tell us all the situation as far as Garrison's bail is concerned?"

The next hour was dedicated to legal issues: the history of the judge who would be presiding over the hearing, supplied by Richard; brief assessments of the prosecutors from Cecil, then onto the business problems arising from Garrison's temporary indisposal. Rachel didn't understand many of the issues under discussion, but there was no doubt that despite Loretta's talk of business as usual family affairs were hard to keep on track without Garrison to give the orders. A dozen times, maybe more, a question had to be left unanswered because it fell into Garrison's area of expertise.

Finally, the conversation returned to Rachel.

"Has Mitchell told you about the fund-raiser on Friday night?" Loretta asked her.

"No, I…"

Loretta threw Mitchell a weary look. "It's for the hospital. The pediatric ward. It was about the only charity Margaret had the slightest interest in, and I think it's important we have a presence there."

"I was going to talk to Rachel about it later," Mitchell put in.

"Later's no good, Mitchell," Loretta said. "We've had too much 'later' in this household. Things being put off and put off…" What the hell was she talking about, Rachel wondered. "We've got to get on and do what we need to do. Even if it makes us uncomfortable or-"

"All right, Loretta," Mitchell said. "Calm down."

"Don't you condescend to me," Loretta replied, her voice monotonal. "You're going to listen to me for once in your pampered little life. We're in a mess here. Do you understand me?" Mitchell just stared, which inflamed Loretta all the more. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" she yelled, slamming her palm down on the table. All the silverware jumped.

"Loretta-" Cecil said softly.

"Don't you start pouring oil, Cecil. This isn't any time to be making nice. We're in terrible trouble. All of us. The whole family. Terrible, terrible trouble."

"He'll be out in a week," Mitchell said.

"Is this willful or are you just too stupid to see what's right in front of your nose?" Loretta said, her voice not quite so loud, but still several notches above the conver sational. "There's more to all this than what happened to poor Margie…"

"Oh don't start your Cassandra act, for God's sake," Mitchell said, his voice thick with contempt.

"Mitchell," Cecil said, "a little respect…"

"If she wants some respect she should start being practical, and not telling us it's all in the fucking stars."

"That's not what I'm saying," Loretta said.

"Oh I'm sorry. What is it today? Tarot cards?"

"If your father could hear you-"

"My father thought you were as crazy as a coot," Mitchell said, getting up from the table. "And I'm not going to waste my time sitting here listening to you chatter on like you understand a damn thing about the way the business life of this family works."

"You're the one who's out of his depth," Loretta said.

"There you go again with your inane little threats!" Mitchell yelled. "I know what you're doing! You think I don't see you trying to get Rachel over to your side?"

"Oh for God's sake-"

"Sending her off to that stinking little island, thinking it's some kind of secret."

Rachel caught hold of his hand. "Mitch," she said. "You're making a fool of yourself. Shut up."

He looked as though she'd just slapped him, hard. He pulled his hand out of her grip. "Are you in with her then?" he said, looking at Rachel but pointing at Loretta. "Is this some fucking conspiracy? Cecil? Help me out here. I want to know what's going on."