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his voice was low and indistinguishable. She couldn’t hear the words or recognize the speaker.
    Uncle Dan spoke again, still loudly, still angrily. “Goddammit, I won’t have it! I’ll stop it.” His voice lowered and she just caught a few more words, “. . . glad you told me. I’ll . . .” A door closed. The voices were gone.
    Serena stood uncertainly for a moment, just outside the office window.
    Something was terribly wrong.
    She gathered up her skirt and began to run lightly back toward the French windows. She must find Uncle Dan, talk to him. She came back into the brightly lit room. Voices rose and fell cheerfully, music throbbed in the background. Couples danced. The party was exactly as it had been a few moments ago—and that shocked Serena because she knew something was terribly wrong.
    She saw Uncle Dan then. He was all the way across the room, standing in the archway to the hall, listening courteously to Rosa Montoya of Crazy Horse Ranch. But Serena thought she saw, even at this distance, a look of strain on his face.
    She started across the room, but one person stopped her, then another. From each she disengaged as quickly as possible, then, near the organ, she found her way blocked by Julie and Jed.
    Serena tried to slip past. “Excuse me,” she murmured.
    Julie reached out a slender hand, the nails long and perfect and vividly red. “Why, Serena, where have you been? In the kitchen?”
    Her lazy tone suggested that the kitchen, of course, was Serena’s proper place.
    Serena managed a smile. “Actually, Julie, I’ve been out on the patio. It’s a lovely night.”
    â€œAll alone?”
    â€œThat would be telling,” Serena replied coolly. Then she looked directly at Jed. “Have you had a good time tonight?”
    He looked from one of them to the other, then said, almost angrily, “I always have a good time.”
    â€œDamn lucky. That’s what you are. Damn lucky.” The words were thick and slurred. “Don’t have a good time. Not anymore.”
    The three of them turned in unison, like marionettes, to look up at Will. A very drunk Will. He swayed back and forth, from toe to heel, like a huge tree ready to topple.
    Serena felt a pang of distress. Before dinner, Will had smiled at her, his light blue eyes eager, and asked her to promise him a dance. “Like old times,” he had said happily. “Of course, Will,” she had answered, looking forward to the evening, “it will be like old times.”
    And she had not looked for him, not the whole evening long. There had been the kitchen to check and old friends to greet and Jed to wait for. Now the evening was almost over and she had never danced with Will.
    Will’s face was puddly and slack. “No damn good,” he muttered thickly, “no damn good any more.”
    Serena looked past Will toward the archway. Uncle Dan had little patience with those who drank too much. A drunk was never invited back to Castle Rock. If he saw Will like this . . . Serena reached out, took Will’s arm, “Come on,” she said gently, “let’s take a walk, Will.”
    It took Will a long moment to understand, then he tried to smile. “With me, Serry, will you walk with me?”
    â€œOf course I will. Come on now, let’s go this way.”
    They started off toward the French windows and he leaned against her, big and heavy. Then he stopped. “Serry,” he said slowly, painfully, “you won’t want to walk with me. Not any more.”
    She tugged at his arm. Uncle Dan was still standing in the archway, moving now toward the foyer as some of the guests began to leave.
    â€œOf course I’ll walk with you, Will. Let’s go out this way.” She wanted to get him out to the patio and around the side of the house and up the outside stairs to his room. She tugged again.
    Then Peter and Jed came up on either