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want to move for fear of what that might signal to Chester. If they left their cramped, many-storied home in the heart of the city, it would be a sort of surrender, giving in to the massive stroke that had robbed Chester of his faculties. And Bev didn’t care what the doctors said; he was in there, somewhere, garnering strength to reemerge. As long as they stayed on Beacon Hill, there was hope that he would improve, and one day they’d stroll hand-in-hand through the Public Garden.
    A cell phone rang, and Bev dug into her large leather purse and checked the number. It was Janie, her office manager.
    “Yes, dear? What can I do for you?”
    “I’m sorry to bother you at home, Mrs. Duprey, but I thought I should call.”
    “Of course, it’s no bother. Just let me scoot into the other room. I don’t want to disturb Mr. Duprey.” Bev held the phone against her chest and patted Chester’s hand, which was thin and delicate like tissue paper. “I’ll be right back, sugar.”
    “What is it, Janie?” She asked once she had closed the kitchen door.
    “I have a client who wants to see Molly tonight, but she’s not available. I tried to convince him to see someone else, but he’s throwing a tantrum.”
    “Well, we don’t like that, do we? No tantrums allowed.”
    “Nope, and normally I would tell him to be in touch when he could control himself, but I noticed that there’s a flag in his file.”
    “What kind of flag?”
    “Just a note that you should be contacted if anything out of the ordinary happens with him.”
    “What’s his client number?” Bev looked at her reflection in the kitchen window. Her hair was looking a little more gray than silver. She’d have to see to that.
    “Seven-four-six-eight.”
    Bev stopped running her hand through her hair. “You were right to call me. He’s an unusual and important client. Give me Molly’s number, would you, darling? I’m going to call her and see what I can arrange.”
    Bev called Molly and convinced her that one appointment at twice her usual rate was a fair trade for missing her favorite reality TV show.
    “You take good care of him,” Bev instructed.
    “Yes, ma’am.” Bev taught her girls Southern manners even if they had grown up in Alaska. Everything went more smoothly when there was a measure of civility.
    Bev hung up and riffled through the cabinet. She pulled out a bag of chocolate chip cookies and popped a few in her mouth. She knew she shouldn’t, but between Chester and the business, the stress was doing her in.

    Fina spent the day pounding the pavement, trying to meet face-to-face with everyone in Melanie’s life and ferret out where she might be. Melanie knew a lot of people, and Fina’s lower back was aching by the end of the day. She went home to Nanny’s, soaked in a hot bath, and was drying off when her phone rang.
    “Hi, Milloy.”
    “Sorry I’m a few minutes late. I’ll be outside in five.”
    Fina paused and glanced around as if she might find some illuminating information on the bathroom walls.
    Milloy sighed. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”
    “Of course I didn’t forget. I’m just finishing up getting ready. Where are we going again?” Fina dropped her towel, dashed into the bedroom, and began pulling clothes from the closet. “Hamersley’s?”
    “No, Davio’s. It’s my mom’s favorite.”
    “Right, of course. I’ll see you soon.” Fina threw the phone onto the bed and pulled on a pencil skirt and a silk blouse, released her hair from its messy updo, swiped on some lipstick, and carried a purse, shoes, and some earrings with her into the elevator.
    Milloy’s parents visited a couple of times a year from Oakland, and during the more recent visits, Fina had done duty as his dinner companion. They didn’t explicitly claim they were dating, but they didn’t disabuse Milloy’s mother, in particular, of the notion that they were romantically entangled. Fina suspected that his father was onto their ruse, but