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mother was dying, delirious, when she didn't know what she was doing, he got her to sign that damned paper, giving him guardianship over the inheritance. You know that isn't what she really wanted."
        Littlefield sensed that Tucker was about to hang up on him. "Michael, let's not argue, please. This is old stuff, hashed over too often already."
        Tucker did not reply.
        "Come around and see me tomorrow," Littlefield said. "You'll like what your father's proposing. You must be as weary of the courtroom as we are. Come see me for lunch, please."
        "I'm busy at lunchtime," Tucker said.
        "Three o'clock then?"
        Tucker thought about it. If he could pry even a fraction of his inheritance out of his father, he would be a millionaire. There would be no need at all to fly out to California, no need to set up this operation at Oceanview Plaza, no need to get inextricably involved with the unstable Frank Meyers, no need to take any more risks. He would be able to devote more of his time to his art interests. Perhaps he could even promote his free-lance dealership into a viable business that would help to pay some of the bills. And, most importantly, there would be more time to spend with Elise, more time to keep in touch with her career, to give her the support and confidence she had so often given him… "Three o'clock," he agreed at last.
        "Wonderful," Littlefield said.
        "Just you and me."
        "Excuse me?" the lawyer said.
        "This meeting," Tucker said. "It's just between the two of us, right?"
        "Well, of course. Michael-"
        "I would not be at all receptive to a surprise appearance by the old man."
        "Just the two of us," Littlefield assured him. "And I'm certain we can come to an agreement tomorrow despite the bitterness of these last few years."
        "We'll see," Tucker said. He hung up.
        Out in the corridor again, he stood in front of the Edo shield and spear for several minutes, hoping that the sight of them would settle his nerves, as had so often been the case in the past months. This time their beauty did not affect him. Even after he had finished the drink that Elise had waiting for him in the bedroom, he was tense and jumpy. He had trouble getting to sleep. He kept waking from bad dreams, all of which involved his father, Frank Meyers, Oceanview Plaza, and dozens of armed policemen…
        

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        Ever since Elise had brought him there on a long winter's afternoon last December, the Museum of Natural History had been one of Tucker's favorite places in New York. It had everything from dinosaur skeletons and cross sections of giant redwood trees to insect and rodent exhibits, the enormous and the apparently insignificant all crammed into one great, drafty old building. A tour of the museum provided a breadth of experience and a sense of eons that was more than intellectually stimulating; indeed, it could be an emotional experience, especially for a man who, like Tucker, appreciated the antique and the primitive. Wandering through these rooms and halls, Tucker was always impressed by the fact that he was witnessing millions of years of change that, by this very evidence of its transpiration, proved the meager role of mankind in the greater workings of the universe. An hour here could make his daily problems seem petty, even laughable.
        This impact, this realization was especially forceful when he had time to think in a moment of quiet between the screaming packs of undisciplined schoolchildren who roamed like wild creatures through the stone halls and chambers. And one of the best places to find quiet in the museum was the Eskimo totem-pole room. Although all teachers touched on dinosaurs, redwood trees, and other wonders, few ever mentioned the Eskimo culture to their energetic charges. Therefore, the kids ran and screamed and played tag around other exhibits, leaving this place to older and much