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lunch in front of Byron without a word.   Her mind raced on what to do next.   She had to act naturally.   Although she wasn't thirsty in the least, she went back to the counter to pour herself a glass of tea as well.
    "Good sandwich," Byron said.   "I can see why old Ed keeps you around.   Of course, the fact that you're still pretty flexible probably doesn't hurt, either."
    "Mom, can I have something to drink?" Sarah asked.
    "Here, kid."   Janet heard a glass slide across the table behind her.   "You can have some of mine.   Call it a peace offering, just to show that all your little mean comments didn't hurt my feelings."
    "Sarah," Janet said, whirling in place.   Sarah held the glass halfway to her lips.   Janet's tone came across stronger than she intended.   "You know you can't drink tea."
    Sarah paused, saying nothing.   Elizabeth happily continued to eat her sandwich.
    "What?" Byron said.   "The bitch doesn't like tea?"
    "The caffeine," Janet said, surprised at how easily the lie came out.   "It keeps her buzzed all day.   Come on, sweetie, you know better.   Lemonade or water.   What would you like?"
    Confusion touched Sarah's face, but only for a moment.   The truth was no one drank more caffeine in the house than Sarah.   But she didn't object, didn't contradict her mother's lie.   Janet felt overwhelming pride as Sarah set the glass back on the table.
    "Sorry, Mom.   Lemonade, please."
    Byron laughed, but it wasn't a laugh of joy.   He was taunting Sarah, laughing at her.
    "Oh well," he said, taking another bite of his sandwich.   He slid the tea back in front of him.   "More for me, then."
    Janet sat across from them.   She desperately wanted to sit next to her children, but knew Byron wouldn't allow it.   She had to settle for reaching across the table and holding Elizabeth's hand.
    Excitement blended with apprehension as Byron took one long swig of tea.   Would he keep drinking it?   She didn't know exactly what she was looking for.   Would he get sick?   Die right there at the table?
    "Damn," he said, staring at the glass.   "What did you put in here?   Bourbon?"
    "Just sweetener," she said, smiling innocently.   She wanted to keep his mind off the tea, keep him drinking absentmindedly.   "So, what's next?   You're just going to torment us until my husband gets home?"
    "Ah, Janet."   Byron smiled, darkness behind his eyes.   "Still trying to come up with some plan to win the day?"
    Another drink of tea.
    "No.   I'm past that now.   I just want to know what's going on.   Are you going to watch us all day?   You have to sleep sometime."
    His demeanor changed.   The condescending smile drifted to a scowl.   His eyes narrowed, and he nearly snarled.
    "You would think so, wouldn't you?"
    More tea.   The glass was nearly empty.
    Mark once again stepped from behind the house, peering into the kitchen.
    "What are we doing here?" Janet asked.   "What do you want with my husband?"
    Byron tipped the glass all the way back, draining the last of the tea.   He set the glass on the table and stared at her.   Janet kept her thoughts clear.   She didn't know what would happen, but if he as so much had to bend over to vomit, or cough violently, she'd be ready.
    "You really don't know," Byron said, as if he were amazed.   "Well, you couldn't accept the truth.   But let's see if you understand this.   Sometimes things aren't what they seem, and the world isn't what you think it is."
    "Now what does that mean?"
    "Stop the act," he said.   "Stop trying to engage me, get to know me.   All you're looking for right now is to see how I'm feeling, if I'm going to puke all over your table, or even fall over dead."   He leaned forward on his elbows.   The girls tried to lean away from him.   "What do you think, Janet?   How do I look?"
    Her hands turned clammy as she broke into a cold sweat.   "I…I don't know what you're talking—"
    Byron reached out and turned the empty tea