There was a pause, replaced by the sound of panicked rustling of some kind, and then Rita came out, still brushing at her hair with one hand. "Brother?" she said. "But that's-Oh." And she stumbled to a halt, staring at Brian.

"Dear lady," Brian said with knife-edged mocking joy, "how lovely you are. Dexter always did have an eye for beauty."

Rita fluttered her hands at her head. "Oh, my God, I'm such a mess," she said. "And the house is-But, Dexter, you never even said you had a brother, and this is-"

"It certainly is," Brian said. "And I apologize for the inconvenience."

"But your brother," Rita repeated. "And you never said."

I felt my jaw muscles moving, but no matter how carefully I listened, I did not hear myself saying anything. Brian watched me with real enjoyment for a moment before he finally spoke up.

"I'm afraid it's all my fault," he said at last. "Dexter thought I was long dead."

"That's right," I said, feeling like one of the Three Stooges picking up a bobbled line cue.

"Still," Rita said, still fussing absently with her hair. "I mean, you never-You said you were-I mean, how could you not…?"

"It's very painful," I said tentatively. "I don't like to talk about it."

"Still," Rita repeated, and even though there was no guidebook for the territory we had entered, I knew I had not heard the last of this. So, hoping to maneuver us back onto firmer terrain, I blurted out the only words I could find.

"Could we have a cup of coffee?" I said.

"Oh," Rita said, her peevishness changing at once to a look of startled guilt. "I'm sorry-would you like-I mean, yes, here, sit down." And she moved to the couch and removed the assorted litter that blocked it with a rapid series of precision moves that did us all proud, domestically speaking. "There," she said, piling the armful of clutter beside the couch and waving at Brian. "Please-sit down, and-Oh! I'm Rita."

Brian stepped forward with brittle gallantry and took her hand. "My name is Brian," he said. "But please sit down, dear lady; you should not be on your feet so soon."

"Oh," Rita said, and she was actually blushing. "But the coffee, I ought to-"

"Surely Dexter is not so hopeless that he can't make coffee?" Brian said, arching one eyebrow at her, and she giggled.

"I suppose we'll never know unless we let him try," she said, and she actually simpered at him as she sank onto the couch. "Dexter, would you please-It's three scoops for six cups, and you put the water into the-"

"I think I can manage," I said, and if I sounded a little surly, who had a better right? And as Brian sat beside my wife, on my couch, I stalked into the kitchen to make coffee. And as I clattered through the motions of filling the pot from the sink and pouring the water into the machine, I heard from deep inside a quiet settling of bat wings as the Passenger stood down. But from the icy coils of Dexter's allegedly powerful brain I heard only stammers of confusion and uncertainty. The ground seemed to be turning under my feet; I felt exposed and threatened and assailed by all the wicked armies of the night.

Why had my brother returned? And why did that make me feel so terribly insecure?

A few minutes later i had poured the coffee into mugs and set them on a tray with the sugar bowl and two spoons. I carried it carefully to the doorway into the living room, and stopped dead. The picture I saw was one of domestic bliss, charming in every aspect-except for the fact that it did not include me. My brother had settled onto the couch with Rita as if he had always lived there. Cody and Astor stood a few feet away looking at him with fascination, and I froze in the kitchen door and stared at the tableau with a growing sense of discomfort. Seeing Brian here, on my couch, Rita leaning toward him as she spoke, and Cody and Astor watching-it was just too weirdly surreal. The images did not quite mesh, but they were very unsettling, as if you had entered a cathedral for high mass and found people copulating on the altar.

Brian, of course, seemed completely undisturbed. I suppose it is one of the great advantages of being incapable of feeling things; he looked as comfortable on my couch as if he had grown there. And just to emphasize the fact that he apparently belonged there more than I did, he saw me lurking with the coffee and waved a hand at the chair next to the couch.

"Sit down, brother," he said. "Make yourself at home." Rita jerked upright, and Cody and Astor swung their heads to me and watched as I approached with the coffee.

"Oh!" Rita said, and to me she sounded a little guilty. "You forgot the cream, Dexter." And before anyone could speak she was gone into the kitchen.

"You keep calling him brother," Astor said to Brian. "How come you don't use his name?"

Brian blinked at her, and I felt a surge of kinship. It wasn't just me-Astor had reduced him to mere eye movements, too. "I don't know," he said. "I suppose it's because the relationship is such a surprise to both of us."

Cody and Astor swung their heads to face me in perfect unison.

"Yes," I said, and it was very true. "A complete surprise."

"Why?" Astor said. "Lots of people have brothers."

I had no idea how to explain, and I stalled by putting down the tray and sinking into the chair. And once again it was Brian and not me who jumped into the silence.

"Lots of people have families, too," he said. "Like you two. But brother-Dexter and I did not. We were, ah, abandoned. Under very unpleasant circumstances." He gave her the bright smile again, and I am quite sure I only imagined that there was some real glint behind it this time. "Especially me."

"What does that mean?" Astor said.

"I was an orphan," Brian said. "A foster child. I grew up in a whole bunch of different homes where they didn't like me and didn't really want me, but they were paid to keep me."

"Dexter had a home," Astor said.

Brian nodded. "Yes, he did. And he has another one now."

I felt cold talons on my back and did not know why. Surely there was no threat in Brian's words, but still "You two need to realize how very lucky you have been," Brian said. "To have a home-and even somebody who understands you." He looked at me and smiled again. "And now, two somebodies." And he gave them a horrible fake wink.

"Does that mean you're going to hang around with us?" Astor said.

Brian's smile grew a fraction. "I just might," he said. "What else is family for?"

Brian's words jerked me into action, and I leaned toward him as if somebody had burned me on the back. "Are you sure?" I said, and I felt the words turn into cold and clumsy lumps in my mouth. Nonetheless, I stammered on. "I mean, you know, um, it's wonderful to see you and all, but-there's a certain amount of risk involved."

"What risk?" Astor demanded.

"I can be very careful," Brian said to me, "as we both know."

"It's just, you know, Deborah might come around here," I said.

"She hasn't come around for the last two weeks," he said. And he raised a mocking eyebrow at me. "Has she?"

"How do you know that?" Astor said. "Why does it matter if Aunt Deborah comes around?"

It was very interesting to hear that "two weeks," and know exactly how long Brian had been watching us, and we both ignored Astor's interruption because it quite clearly mattered a great deal. If Deborah were to see Brian here, we would both be in unspeakably hot water. But what Brian said was true: Deborah did not come around very often lately. I hadn't really thought about why that might be, but perhaps in light of her recent meltdown on the subject of my having a family before she did, I could assume that she found it painful in some way.

Luckily for me, I was spared another lesson in family dynamics, as Rita came bustling in bearing a small milk pitcher, and even a plate of cookies. "There," she said, putting down her load and arranging things in a more perfect display. After all, she was Rita the Mighty, absolute Ruler of the Domestic and All Things Kitchen. "We had some of that Jamaican blend left that you said was so good, Dexter. Did you use that?" I nodded mutely as she moved things around on the coffee table. "Because after all, you liked it so much, maybe your brother would like it, too." And she loaded the word "brother" with so much extra weight that I was very sure I had not heard the last of it.