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introduced Zach first to Grandfather, since the meeting the day before hardly constituted an introduction, then to Leo. You couldn't imagine two people less alike than Zachary and Leo. Zachary was like a negative of Leo, though you couldn't possibly say that Leo was a positive of Zachary. Where Leo's straw-colored hair was bleached by the Island sun and salt, Zachary's was black as midnight. Leo's skin was ruddy-brown and freckled from wind and weather; Zachary's, winter pale. Leo's eyes were hazel and wide apart and guileless; Zachary's were steel-grey, not sea-grey like Adam's but metallic. Well-Adam's eyes were grey,and Zachary's were gray,the way his last name is spelled. And the combination of dark and pale-Zachary was just as gorgeous as I had remembered him during those long months in New York when I never heard from him. Leo said, "I'd better be getting on home. Jacky and I go back to work tomorrow. This is our busiest season." In answer to Zachary's look I said, "Leo and his brother, Jacky, run charters to the mainland and the other islands, if someone doesn't want to wait for the ferry. They also take people deep-sea fishing." Leo bowed slightly. "At your service." "I may take you up on that. Are you expensive?" Zachary asked. , 41 "More than the ferry. We charge the going rate for charters. Monday's our day off. See you, Vicky?" "Sure," I replied, thinking at him, -Go, Leo, go, before you find out who Zachary is, if he isthe rich kid whose boat capsized; and if he is, before he finds out who you are. He went. "How about our ride, Vicky-O?" Zachary asked. I looked at his jodhpurs. "I don't have any riding clothes." "Jeans are fine. Sandals aren't so good. Got anything else?" "Sneakers." Zachary glanced down at his beautiful boots. "Better than sandals." "I'll go change." And I went off to the loft, leaving Zachary sitting out on the porch, in Leo's chair, accepting a glass of iced tea. When I returned I heard Mother saying, "Zachary, I'm so sorry." Sorry about what? That Zachary was in the capsized boat? That he was the one the Commander rescued? If so, better to have it out in the open. But it wasn't that. It was Zachary's mother. She was dead, killed in an automobile accident in California, only a few miles from home. "It was her own fault," Zachary was explaining. "She never should have been allowed to drive. She'd been off, buying her spring wardrobe. Pop sent it all back, several thou'worth." He spoke in an even voice. I wondered if he grieved for her, if her death was what 42 had caused the pain in his eyes the day before, and I wasn't sure. If someone had asked me yesterday morning who I knew best, Zachary or Leo, I'd have answered without thinking: Zachary. If I stopped to think, I knew it was the other way around; and certainly I knew Leo better after this morning than I ever had before. We'd met Zachary a year ago, during the camping trip we took after we'd rented the house in Thornhill and before moving to the apartment in New York. Zachary and his parents had pulled up to the campsite next to ours in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park in Tennessee, and we watched them set up camp in amazement and amusement. The black station wagon was last year's version of this year's, and I couldn't have told them apart, except that they were both obviously bran-span new. And Zachary had very quickly made it clear that the Grays' things were always new, and whatever was latest. They had every gadget we'd ever heard of, and several we hadn't. Mr. Gray even unrolled a linoleum rug to cover the canvas floor of the tent, and tied an enormous piece of plastic over the top. He had an aura of money; he positively reeked of it. The Woods probably have as much money as the Grays, but they don't reek. Mrs. Gray in this day and age wore corsets-or is it a corset? Whatever, her pouter-pigeon figure was definitely not her own. She looked as though she'd be lots more at home sitting at a bridge table than watching her husband