He resisted the urge to chastise John for bringing this all back to him. Does she blame me? Does she blame me? Yes, they were in the midst of relics touched by the true pioneers of the hair shirt, but if only because John's voice sounded so pathetic his question didn't seem quite so narcissistic. "Did she seem to blame you a few minutes ago in the park?" he asked in response. Yes, they were in the midst of relics touched by the true pioneers of the hair shirt, but if only because John's voice sounded so pathetic his question didn't seem quite so narcissistic. "Did she seem to blame you a few minutes ago in the park?" he asked in response.

"No."

"Well, there's your answer."

"I'm glad."

Spencer wandered toward the gla.s.s looking out on the garth garden and the fountain from a twelfth-century French monastery. It felt good to be strolling through here with John. Anger, always an exhausting emotion, was particularly trying when you were already investing so much energy in simply trying to b.u.t.ton your shirt. The main reason, he guessed, he had agreed to resume speaking to his brother-in-law was precisely because not speaking to him was becoming so much work. "Can I ask you something?" he said when he felt John standing beside him once more.

"Absolutely. Ask me anything."

"How much weight have you lost? You look like h.e.l.l."

"I don't know. Ten, maybe fifteen pounds."

"That's impressive. All since mid-August?"

The man shrugged with both shoulders, a motion Spencer noticed largely because he couldn't do it. "Early August, mid-August. I don't know."

"Why are you on a diet?"

"I'm not. I'm just not hungry."

"Well, the two of us look pretty scary."

"I know. I saw in the paper today that there's a play opening downtown about the Bataan Death March. We should have auditioned."

He grinned in spite of himself. "I'm amazed I'm not losing more weight. I spill more food than I get to my mouth. At breakfast this morning I overturned a bowlful of cereal. Sent the whole thing somersaulting onto the floor. Fortunately, Tanya was right there. To be honest, that's the main reason I got the dog. It wasn't for Charlotte. It was for me. She'll eat anything."

"Even soy milk?"

"Oh, yeah. I checked her references. I made sure she was a vegan."

"Really?"

"I'm kidding. The animal shelter doesn't categorize its animals that way."

"But you will try to make her a vegetarian-like your cats. True?"

"Oh, I don't know. I may even pick up a few cans of Friskies for the cats one of these days. Just leave them on the kitchen counter for Catherine and Charlotte to discover one evening when they go to feed them. Everything is so much harder now, and not just for me. Sometimes I need to give in and accept the fact that I can't do as much as I'd like."

"You're getting mellow in your old age."

"You learn to compromise when you're down to one arm. And the truth is, Catherine eats meat-did you know that?"

"She told me a few weeks ago."

"Yup: My wife eats meat and the sun continues to rise."

They were quiet for a moment. The garden was starting to empty, and he wondered if something special was about to occur in the park. The jousting, maybe. That would explain why people were beginning to leave.

"Spencer?"

"Yes?"

"I was thinking of staying in town for the press conference."

"That would be interesting. Did you discuss this with Paige?"

"I'm not going to stick around. At least I don't think I will. And I wouldn't have been staying to help you. I was going to threaten threaten to stay- to stay-threaten to talk about the benefits of hunting-to try to convince you not to announce your lawsuit with a press conference. It was a stupid idea. And I'm only telling you now so you understand the depth of my concern. I mean, I have no objections to the lawsuit itself. Absolutely none..." to talk about the benefits of hunting-to try to convince you not to announce your lawsuit with a press conference. It was a stupid idea. And I'm only telling you now so you understand the depth of my concern. I mean, I have no objections to the lawsuit itself. Absolutely none..."

Spencer circled his left index finger at John, signaling him to continue.

"But if I were at the press conference," John said, "a lot of reporters would want to talk to me. It would be chaos. And, in the end, less time and s.p.a.ce would be devoted to the FERAL message, because the writers and producers would have the chance to quote me-the guy who owned the gun. And I would talk very reasonably about managing the size of the deer herd through hunting, and how contraception only works in very controlled little worlds. But it was all just brinkmanship. Public relations brinkmanship. I couldn't have gone through with it."

He thought about this, picturing John in the rear of that large conference room in Paige's firm where they were going to announce the lawsuit, and the vision didn't make him angry. Certainly it would have once. Mostly, he guessed, he was surprised that John-exactly like his sister-had so little faith in what he was going to do at the event, in what he was going to say.

"You sound like Catherine," he said after a moment.

"Was she threatening to go, too?"

"No. It's that both of you seem to think I am going to mismanage the press conference, and my daughter is going to be humiliated. That's not going to happen. I know what I'm doing."

"I won't ask what your plans are, but..."

"Good," he said, "it's too nice a day and it's too good to see you again." He reached into his left pants pocket for one of the Percocet he carried there loosely like change and popped it into his mouth without water. When he had swallowed it he continued, "Seriously, John, you can sleep easy. I know what I'm doing, and I would never embarra.s.s my daughter. Now, shall we rejoin our families and see if the jousting is about to begin?"

A MAGICIAN dressed up like Merlin was throwing bolts of fire into the autumn air from his fingertips, while a group of costumed adults were performing a living chess match on the tournament field. Willow decided that her art teacher, Grace Seeley, had been correct: This festival was wonderful. She had to remind herself that the whole reason she was here was to talk to her cousin about their depositions, a conversation toward which she had made no overtures thus far. Mostly they had discussed the school musical in which Charlotte had a lead and her cousin's new dog. When she put the two subjects together, it almost made Willow breathless with envy: How interesting her New York City cousin's life was compared to hers! dressed up like Merlin was throwing bolts of fire into the autumn air from his fingertips, while a group of costumed adults were performing a living chess match on the tournament field. Willow decided that her art teacher, Grace Seeley, had been correct: This festival was wonderful. She had to remind herself that the whole reason she was here was to talk to her cousin about their depositions, a conversation toward which she had made no overtures thus far. Mostly they had discussed the school musical in which Charlotte had a lead and her cousin's new dog. When she put the two subjects together, it almost made Willow breathless with envy: How interesting her New York City cousin's life was compared to hers!

They were walking alone now, a dozen yards ahead of their mothers, their grandmother, and Patrick, when Charlotte surprised her by saying, "Are you still worried about those oaths we may have to take?"

"Yes." She considered adding more, but since her cousin had brought this up she had the instinctive sense that she should remain patient and see what Charlotte had to say.

"I've been thinking about them, too."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. And I know you don't want us to lie, but I believe we have to. We have to for my father. This whole lawsuit could crash and burn-isn't that a powerful expression? I learned it from my history teacher-if people find out I was stoned when I pulled the trigger. And that would be a disaster for him both personally and professionally. This isn't about you or me, and it sure as heck isn't about Gwen. It's about my dad. Your uncle."

She worked hard not to raise her voice. "But what about my my dad? It isn't fair to him if we don't tell the truth-" dad? It isn't fair to him if we don't tell the truth-"

"Your dad isn't crippled. Mine is. Your dad doesn't have a cause here that matters to him. Mine does."

"But lying is wrong. It's-"

"Willow, have you ever told someone you couldn't come over to their house because you were going to visit your grandmother? You know, told a little white lie so you didn't hurt someone's feelings? In my opinion, not telling the whole truth at the depo-whatever-"

"Deposition," she said, unable to restrain herself from correcting her cousin.

"Right. Deposition. Not telling the truth at the deposition is like a white lie. It makes things better than telling the truth, which would only make people's lives worse. Do you see the difference?"

"We're not talking about a little white lie. We're talking about a really big one."

"No. The point is-"

"Here's what I think the point is. Your dad can't use his arm anymore and my dad is in trouble because you picked up his gun and started fooling around with it. And why were you fooling around with it? Because we were both stoned."

"First of all, your dad is not not in trouble. Second, I would have taken the gun even if in trouble. Second, I would have taken the gun even if we we hadn't been smoking pot," she said evenly, her voice lowering a register and picking up a slight trace of a British accent. "That's hadn't been smoking pot," she said evenly, her voice lowering a register and picking up a slight trace of a British accent. "That's my my point, and I am quite certain of it now." point, and I am quite certain of it now."

"So, you know what's going to happen, then?" Willow responded, hoping to keep her tone equally as measured. She stared straight ahead at the chess players in their medieval garb, wondering suddenly where they'd gotten all those costumes. Everyone looked like they had just arrived here from Middle Earth. "You won't say anything about the pot and the beer, but I will. They'll find out anyway-everyone will-and that certainly won't make your dad's case look very good."

"You can't do that!"

"I can! I won't lie in the deposition, Charlotte. I won't. It's wrong, and it's not fair to my dad."

"You can't-"

"Girls, is everything okay?" It was her aunt Catherine's voice. She turned around, and the grown women-her aunt and her mom and her grandmother with the pram before her-all looked slightly concerned. Willow didn't believe they had overheard enough of their conversation to understand exactly what they were discussing, but clearly they'd heard their daughters fighting.

"Oh, we're fine, Mother," Charlotte called back in that new voice of hers. "Just two girls bickering."

"Are you hungry? There seem to be some vendors along that road over there," Aunt Catherine told them, and she pointed at the row of food carts on the street, closed today to automobiles, that wound its way up to the Cloisters.

"Cousin, are you hungry?" Charlotte asked her.

"No."

"That's probably good. I smell a lot of seared flesh," she murmured softly. Then she raised her voice for their parents and said, "We're both fine!"

"Okay, then. Just let us know if there's something you want," her aunt said.

Charlotte picked up her pace and Willow had to walk faster to keep up. When they had some distance once again on the grown-ups, Charlotte spoke: "This is very complicated, you know. I'm trying to do the right thing."

"Me, too."

"But here's something else," she said firmly. "How could we be friends after you revealed everything? How could we? Telling everyone everything would be so hurtful to my dad. That's what I don't get: Here I am trying to make up for what I did-yes, what I I did, I know I'm to blame-by making this lawsuit and this press conference go perfectly, and you're trying to stop me." did, I know I'm to blame-by making this lawsuit and this press conference go perfectly, and you're trying to stop me."

"I'm not trying to stop you."

"Oh, but you would. You would undo everything if you talked," Charlotte said.

"But-"

"Look, we're not going to figure this out right this second. Would you do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Think about what I've said. Okay? Just think about it today, and we can talk more tonight. Deal?"

Willow couldn't imagine she'd change her mind, but they really were getting nowhere. And so she nodded and mumbled, "Okay." Then she halted where she was to watch a pair of tumblers who were dressed like the court jesters on her grandmother's playing cards, while Charlotte walked on ahead.

"What were you and Charlotte talking about?" She turned and saw her mother standing beside her. Her grandmother and her aunt were continuing to walk, slowly narrowing the gap between them and her cousin. At some point her mother had taken the carriage back from Grandmother, and so Willow peeked inside now and saw her brother smiling up at her. He seemed to be batting his eyelashes like a baby flirt.

"Oh, nothing."

"It didn't sound like nothing."

"I'll tell you later," she said, though she had no expectation that she would tell her mother the real subject at any point soon. How could she until she and Charlotte had come to some sort of resolution?

But then, maybe that shouldn't matter. And maybe it wouldn't matter. This had to resolve itself this weekend, because it was possible that after tomorrow she wouldn't see Charlotte again before their depositions. And so it crossed her mind that she should simply tell her mother and father tonight what had occurred that awful evening at the club in New Hampshire. Let them figure out how to deal with the information.

An idea began to form. She wasn't sure if it was a good idea or-even if it was-whether she had the courage to go through with it. But it was certainly a notion that intrigued her. With her uncle Spencer now speaking to her father, she had no doubt that later that day or that evening both families would have a meal together somewhere. Maybe a nice dinner at a j.a.panese or Chinese or Indian restaurant on the Upper East or West Side. Then, with everyone gathered together, she would reveal the details that both she and her cousin had withheld since that horrible night. Charlotte would be furious-there would be no dignified British orphan scene once this word got out; this would be a performance, she guessed, comprised largely of screaming and hysteria-but wouldn't it be better to expose everything here in New York, with all the grown-ups a.s.sembled in one place, than as a complete surprise in a deposition?

And, she knew, one way or another it was going to come out. No matter how hard she tried, she could no longer keep that part of the story to herself.

HOW ODD, Catherine thought. Spencer was here and she was walking with him, and he had just had a long talk with her brother. This was exactly what she had wanted, exactly what she had hoped would occur but hadn't thought possible. They were strolling along the terrace that overlooked the Hudson River, while everyone else was back in the park getting something to eat. But then Spencer had told her of his conversation with John about the press conference and she had grown angry. Their family was lurching spastically toward public humiliation, estrangement, or both, and their daughter was, according to Dr. Warwick, a volcano of guilt and despair just waiting to explode-despite whatever serenity she was projecting on the surface. And here Spencer was bringing up the press conference. Again. The gentle feel of his fingers on her neck last night-their taste when she kissed them-seemed very far away to her now, and she knew exactly what she would say. Catherine thought. Spencer was here and she was walking with him, and he had just had a long talk with her brother. This was exactly what she had wanted, exactly what she had hoped would occur but hadn't thought possible. They were strolling along the terrace that overlooked the Hudson River, while everyone else was back in the park getting something to eat. But then Spencer had told her of his conversation with John about the press conference and she had grown angry. Their family was lurching spastically toward public humiliation, estrangement, or both, and their daughter was, according to Dr. Warwick, a volcano of guilt and despair just waiting to explode-despite whatever serenity she was projecting on the surface. And here Spencer was bringing up the press conference. Again. The gentle feel of his fingers on her neck last night-their taste when she kissed them-seemed very far away to her now, and she knew exactly what she would say.

She paused against the stonewall and gazed out at the Palisades across the water.

"I've made a decision," she said, and she could feel him stopping beside her, though she couldn't imagine he knew what she was thinking.

"Oh? About what?"

She took a breath, exhaled. Took another and began: "If you go ahead with that press conference on Tuesday, I will leave you."

"What?"

"I will pack up our daughter and we will go across town to my mother's, and I will immediately start looking for a new home for us. For Charlotte and me."

"Whoa. Where is-"

"You know where this is coming from. At least you should. Things haven't been right between us for a very long time. As a matter of fact, if the accident hadn't intervened, I was going to tell you in New Hampshire that I wanted us to start counseling. Marriage counseling. At the very least I wanted that. Certainly we needed needed it. I might even have left you then, but you got hurt and so I couldn't. I just...couldn't." it. I might even have left you then, but you got hurt and so I couldn't. I just...couldn't."

He was leaning against the stones beside her, and she wondered why she wasn't crying. She thought she might if she turned to look at him, and so she didn't. She focused on the sh.o.r.e across the water, on a plane descending toward Newark.

"Why isn't counseling an option now, then? Why this threat-"

"Maybe we could explore counseling once I've left. Maybe not. Right now I don't know. But I am quite sure that I cannot live with you if you are capable of subjecting our daughter-and, yes, my brother-to the indignities that will follow your press conference. It's just that simple."

"But it will help the lawsuit," he said, a quiver of panic marking his voice. "And it's such a great opportunity for us to point out the horrors of hunting. Good Lord, the pain I'm enduring is precisely what deer experience-"