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doctor advised you."
    "I have cut back. But I make an exception in November."
    "I just want you to take care of yourself," he told her.
    "This is how I take care of myself."
    They were both quiet for a moment. "Anyway," Paul began again, "Kay is worried Vivien will be difficult to work with."
    "Oh, she'll be difficult. I wouldn't do it, Paulie. Wouldn't give her the satisfaction of having a Skoglund working for her. But I know you won't listen to me. So I guess whether it's more of a headache than it's worth depends on what the job is and what you get out of it."
    "Right now a regular paycheck would be worth quite a bit to me."
    "Just make sure you charge her an arm and both legs—she can afford it," Aster growled. "Vivien. We used to ask her: Why live alone up there? She never set foot in the woods. But she'd rather be miserable up there for decades than ever give up the place. Oh, hell," she said dejectedly. There was something in her tone, something in her relationship with her half sister, that Paul couldn't place.
    "We don't have to talk about it now—"
    "Just keep it businesslike, Paulie. Keep your medical history and Mark's and your divorce to yourself. And for Christ's sake, don't go talking about me. She'll give you the interested gaze, the insightful questions, a little flattery—but all the time she's collecting. Keeping files on you."
    "What I don't understand is what happened between you two. When I was a kid, you were pretty close. What changed?"
    She exhaled slowly. "That's family for you. Skeletons in the closet— you might as well get used to it, let 'em lie. You may find yourself with your own skeletons one day, and then you'll understand."
    Paul found Lia upstairs, reading in bed, Kellerman's Radical Pedagogy propped open on a pillow across her legs. She glanced up and made room for him next to her. "Not a good call, I take it," she said.
    "How can you tell?"
    "You come through the door with your chin first when she's made it difficult for you. You stump as you walk—like a chastened but defiant kid."
    "It's just when she's been drinking. She lets herself go in November because that's the month my father died. She's not . . . graceful when she's drunk."
    Lia pulled him and he toppled backward, head on her pillowed stomach. She stroked his head, waiting for him to spill.
    "It's the classic psychology of the suicide survivor," Paul went on.
    " Tt's my fault. I failed him.' We all feel it a little. But Aster really seems to blame herself."
    "Have you ever asked her about it? Why Ben did it?"
    "Sure—she looks stricken, then changes the subject. Or tells me something like, T wish I knew, Paulie. Then maybe I could live with myself.' "
    "But it's no one s fault but Ben's. Ultimately, we're all responsible for ourselves."
    "Of course." Paul allowed himself a little tic, snapping himself in the temple with one finger. "I don't really have a problem with it. I just sometimes worry about my mother. You know."
    "What did she say about the project?"
    "Wildly enthusiastic and supportive. No—basically she said that Vivien will be a pain in the ass and I shouldn't do it. Also that she's got lots of bucks and that I could make out pretty well."
    She yanked his head around so she could bore her gaze, that diamond drill, into his eyes. "Paul, your luck is changing. Don't you get it? Things are going to go well for you. For us." She bent to kiss him. "Let's go down there and look it over. You could use a job for a while. Get the bill collectors off your back." She kissed him again. "Go call your aunt." "Right Okay." He heaved himself off the bed and slumped out of the room.
    "Hello, Paulie!" Vivien said. "Well. Your sister said I might expect your call." Her voice was clear, each word spoken with clipped precision. "I've hardly spoken to you since you were a little boy."
    "No—it's probably been thirty years since we've seen each other, Vivien."
    "Tell me, Paulie Skoglund, how are you? Who are you? Catch me up. Of