He didn’t give me time to comment before he continued, “I am allowed to leave these premises to confer with my lawyers. I’m going to confer with them a lot, and I’m doing it on Park Avenue. Vince has to be my eyes and ears at headquarters. He’ll be spending a lot of time there as well.”

Peter took another sip of coffee. In the brief time he stopped speaking, I realized that in less than two weeks I had become so accustomed to having Vincent Slater constantly present that it would seem odd if he weren’t around.

“Gary can drive us back and forth to Manhattan,” Peter was saying. “I intend to get the necessary permission to go to New York a minimum of three times a week.”

There was purpose and direction in the way Peter spoke, and in his expression as well. Then he added, “Kay, I know I could never hurt another human being. Do you believe that?”

“I believe it and I know it,” I told him.

We reached across the table to each other and our fingers entwined. “I think I fell in love with you the minute I saw you,” I said. “You were so deep into your book, and you looked so comfortable in your big chair. Then, when you stood up, your glasses slipped off.”

“And I fell in love with the beautiful girl whose hair was slipping around her shoulders. A line from ‘The Highwayman’ jumped into my mind: ‘And Bess, the landlord’s daughter, the landlord’s black-eyed daughter, stood plaiting a bright red love-knot in her long, dark hair.’ Remember that from grammar school?”

“Of course. The poem’s rhythm had the cadence of horses’ hooves. But think about it: I was the landscaper’s daughter, not the landlord’s,” I reminded him. “And I don’t have black eyes.”

“Close enough.”

It was odd, but that morning, my father was never far from my mind. I thought of how Maggie had told me only a few days ago that he loved working on the Carrington estate, and he especially loved the freedom of having the opportunity to design the magnificent gardens without regard to cost.

Over scrambled eggs and sinfully cholesterol-filled bacon, I asked Peter about that.

“My father was both a tightwad and burst-of-generosity guy,” he said. “Which is what I intend to make our high-priced lawyers realize. If Maria Valdez was going back to the Philippines because her mother was very ill, it would have been like him to write a check to help her out with doctor bills. Yet on the same day he’d go nuts over the price of a set of china Elaine had ordered.”

I thought of how Peter had told me to hire an interior designer and do whatever I wanted to redecorate the house. “It doesn’t sound as though you’re anything like him,” I said. “At least not with what you’ve told me about making changes in the house.”

“In some ways I am like him, I guess,” Peter said. “For example, he hated it when Elaine hired the chef and the butler and the housekeeper and the maids. Like my father, I’d rather have a couple like the Barrs on a daily basis who go home to their own place at night. On the other hand, I never could see why my father would get upset about money spent on daily life here. I think he must have been a throwback to the Carrington who started out without a shirt on his back and made a fortune in oil wells-they say he was the all-time skinflint. I doubt if he’d have paid for grass seed, never mind acres of expensive plantings.”

We finished breakfast and Peter started organizing the day as he had planned it. He called Conner Banks on his cell phone and told him to get permission for him to come into New York that afternoon for a meeting at a conference room in his law firm. Then he spent several hours on the phone with Vincent Slater and executives from his own company.

I realized I was looking forward to going with Peter into the city. At this time, it didn’t make sense for me to sit in on Peter’s meetings with his lawyers. I wanted to use what time I had to visit my little studio apartment. Some of my favorite winter clothes were still there, and I had some framed pictures of my mother and father that I wanted to have around me here.

Peter got the necessary permission to leave the premises, and we set out for New York in the early afternoon. “Kay, even though your apartment is on the way, I think I’ll have Gary drive straight to Park and Fifty-fourth,” he said. “If by any chance we’re followed by the cops or media, and somebody takes a picture of the car stopped in front of your place, it might raise a question of violating bail. Maybe I’m paranoid, but I can’t risk going back to jail.”

I understood completely, and that was the way we did it. By the time we got to the front of the lawyers’ building, the rain had at last begun to ease up. The weather forecast was for clearing skies, and it looked as though it was actually going to be accurate.

Peter was dressed in a dark business suit, shirt, and tie. His overcoat was a beautifully cut midnight blue cashmere, and he looked every inch the corporate executive that he was. When Gary opened the door for him, Peter gave me a quick kiss and said, “Pick me up at four thirty, Kay. We might as well try to beat some of the rush hour traffic.” As I watched him walk rapidly across the sidewalk, I couldn’t help thinking how absolutely incongruous it was that less than twenty-four hours ago, he had been standing in an orange jail jumpsuit, his hands manacled, hearing the charge of murder directed at him.

I had not been back to my apartment since the day Peter and I were married. Now on one hand it looked cozy and familiar, and on the other, with new eyes, I saw how small it really was. Peter had been here a few times in our whirlwind courtship. On our honeymoon, he had casually suggested that I just pay off the rest of the lease, and, except for personal items, get rid of everything in it.

I knew I wasn’t ready to do that yet. Yes, I had a new life, but some part of me didn’t want to completely cut off so much of my old life. I checked my phone messages. None of them was important, except one that had come in just that morning from Glenn Taylor, the guy I’d been dating before I met Peter. Of course, I had told him about Peter as soon as we started seeing each other regularly. “I was just about to take you shopping for a ring,” he’d said, with a laugh, but I knew he was only half joking. Then he’d added, “Kay, be sure you know what you’re doing. Carrington comes with a lot of baggage.”

Glenn’s message that morning was just what I would have expected of him-concerned and supportive: “Kay, I’m so sorry about what’s happening to Peter. Some way to start a marriage. I know you can handle it, but remember, if I can be of help in any way, let me know.”

It was nice to hear Glenn’s voice, and I thought about how we had loved to go to the theatre together, and that perhaps one day he and Peter and I could go to dinner and a play. Then I realized that there weren’t going to be any evenings out for Peter again unless he was acquitted at his trial. It’s my confinement as well, I realized suddenly, because in that moment I knew that I would never leave Peter alone in the evenings.

I gathered some clothes from the closet and laid them on the bed. Almost all of them bore the labels of budget chain stores. Elaine wouldn’t be caught dead in any of these, I thought. On our honeymoon, Peter had presented me with an American Express Platinum Card. “Shop till you drop, or whatever that expression is,” he’d said with a smile.

I surprised myself by crying. I didn’t want a lot of clothes. If it had been in my power, I would have traded all the Carrington money just to have Peter exonerated of the deaths of Susan and Grace. I even found myself wishing he could move into this apartment with me, and be struggling to pay off school loans, just as Glenn was doing. Anything to simplify our lives.

I dabbed my eyes and went over to collect the pictures on the dresser. There was one of my mother and father with me in the hospital right after I was born. They looked so happy together, beaming at the camera. I was wrapped in a blanket, a squished-faced infant, peering up at them. My mother looked so young and so pretty, her hair loose on the pillow. My father was thirty-two then, still boyishly handsome, and with a twinkle in his eyes. They had so much to live for, and yet she had only two weeks of life ahead of her, before that embolism took her from us.