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that affair. He was brutal. He didn’t give the two of them a chance.”
    Tracy found herself setting her cup down and flying to her feet. “And maybe he was right! Look at my father’s life! He went through women like he did shirts! He ignored me, then he ignored Jamie! He would have made a rotten, rotten husband—and my stepfather made a wonderful husband and parent!”
    “I thought you loved your father.”
    “I did! Damn you, you have no right to question that! I loved him very much—but I have never pretended that he didn’t have faults, and maybe my grandfather had a right to his feelings! Dad didn’t stay married to Carol, and he probably wouldn’t have stayed married to Lauren—”
    “Did it ever occur to you that Jesse loved your mother? That they might have made it—if they’d ever been given a chance?”
    He voiced the question so softly. She wondered just what Leif knew and what he didn’t know. Almost everything, probably. He and Jesse were like brothers.
    She sucked in her breath suddenly, wishing desperately that he were gone—that he had never reappeared. She had tried so hard. And surely, surely memory had become dim at times. She had loved him; she had hated him. He was here with her now, and though time had passed, he was still the same man. Still so attractive. Alluring in movement, in masculine grace, in the deep tone of his voice. Arrogant, confident—impatient.
    “Sit down, Tracy.”
    “I will not—”
    “You will!”
    And she did, tense, rigid, inflamed, because he stood up, placed his hands on her shoulders, and pushed her back down.
    “Leif! You just said it—I’m a quarter of a century old now! I don’t have to tolerate this from you or anyone else.”
    “Where did you go, Tracy?”
    “What?” she said, faltering.
    He was staring at her so intently—as if her answer were of extreme importance.
    “Switzerland!” she snapped back.
    Something strange came to his gaze; a further cover of smoke. He stared at her then, guarded, careful, and she discovered herself then the one at a loss.
    “Leif! Would you quit this, please!” She begged. “Why do you care! You married Celia. You settled down. You— you had a baby.”
    He stood up and walked to the balcony and stared out into the night, not facing her. For a long moment he stayed there, back stiff, shoulders squared, hands upon his hips. Then he turned back to her, and the shields were in place. There was no telltale emotion of any kind to read from his hard-planed face.
    “Tracy, tell me—have you got a plan?”
    “Well, I—”
    “You don’t, do you?” he queried softly.
    “No! Do you?”
    “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”
    “And what is that?”
    “A memorial service.”
    “Leif—you’re crazy.”
    “No, I don’t think I am. Jesse died almost a year ago. He was easily a man to be remembered and honored. Those of us who loved him did so deeply. And our lives became very tangled and entwined. My house isn’t far from the city. To get everyone together as guests at a house party to end back in New York with the service might very well be the perfect occasion to try to figure out just who had the strongest motive to want Jesse dead.”
    Tracy shook her head. “They won’t all come!”
    He shrugged. “Jamie’s mother will come—we’re still pretty good friends, and Jamie will be there. The last Mrs. Kuger will arrive with bells on—life has been rather dreary for her lately, I hear. You’ll be there; Jamie will be there. Sam and Tiger and I are still good friends—very good friends. They planned to come for Jamie’s final concert anyway.”
    “No way, Leif. I won’t be there. And you can guarantee that neither my mother, stepfather, or grandfather will show up!”
    “And why won’t you be there?”
    “I can’t. I don’t ever want to go back into that house again.”
    “Don’t be absurd.”
    “I’m not! Leif, you don’t know—”
    “I don’t know what?”
    “Never