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touch with anything emotional, rather aggressive in his manner of dealing with anyone, the kids in particular. So the two of them, after five years of that regime, were both withdrawn and shut-down. Defensive, uncommunicative. From what I could tell, his relation to them was based on attack, being held accountable, much like what he had done with me. Of course, I'd been seeing them alternate weekends and that sort of thing, and I had the usual summer visitation. I just didn't have any idea how far it had gone. And his death was a kick in the head to them on top of that. I'm sure they both had a lot of feelings that were never resolved. Diane went straight into therapy. And Gregory's seen someone since, though not regularly." She paused a moment. "I feel like I've giving you case histories here."
    "Oh no, I appreciate your candor," I said. "Are the kids here in town too?"
    "Greg's living south of Palm Springs. Salton Sea. He has a boat down there."
    "What sort of work does he do?"
    "Well, he doesn't have to do anything. Laurence did provide for them financially. I don't know if you've checked on the insurance yet, but his estate was divided equally between the three kids – Greg, Diane, and Nikki's son, Colin."
    "What about Diane? Where is she?"
    "She's in Claremont, going to school. Working on another degree. She's interested in teaching deaf children and she seems to do very well. It worried me some at first because I suspect, in her mind, it was all tied up – my divorce, Nikki, Colin, and her responsibility – even though it had nothing to do with her."
    "Wait a minute. I don't understand what you mean," I said.
    Gwen glanced up at me with surprise. "I thought you'd already talked to Nikki."
    "Well, I talked to her once, " I said.
    "Didn't she tell you Colin was deaf? He was deaf from birth. I don't really remember what caused it, but there was nothing they could do about it apparently. Diane was very upset. She was thirteen, I think, when the baby was born and maybe she resented the intrusion. I don't mean to be so analytical at every turn but some of this came out with her psychiatrist and it seems pertinent. I think now she can articulate most of it herself – in fact she does – so I don't think I'm violating any confidence."
    She selected a couple of strands of ribbon from about twenty spools hung on pegboard on the wall above the grooming table. She laid a blue and an orange on Wuffles's head. "What do you think, Wuf? Blue or orange?"
    Wuffles raised her (I assumed) eyes and panted happily, and Gwen chose the orange, which I must admit made a certain jaunty sense against Wuffles's silver-gray mop of hair. The dog was docile, full of trust, loving every move even though half of Gwen's attention was turned to me.
    "Gregory was into drugs for a while," Gwen said conversationally. "That's what his generation seemed to do while mine was playing house. But he's a good kid and I think he's okay now. Or as okay as he'll ever be. He's happy, which is a lot more than most of us can say – I mean, I'm happy but I know a lot of people who aren't."
    "Won't he get tired of boating?"
    "I hope so," Gwen said lightly. "He can afford to do anything he wants, so if the leisure begins to pall, he'll find something useful to do. He's very smart and he's a very capable kid, in spite of the fact that he's idle right now. Sometimes I envy him that."
    "Do you think it would distress the kids if I talked to them?"
    Gwen was startled at that, the first time she'd seemed disconcerted by anything. "About their father?"
    "I may have to at some point," I said. "I wouldn't like to do it without your knowledge, but it might really help."
    "I suppose it would be all right," she said, but her tone was full of misgivings.
    "We can talk about it later. It may not be necessary at all."
    "Oh. Well. I don't see how it could hurt. I must say, I don't really understand why you're into this business again."
    "To see if justice was done, I guess," I said.