"I did and it's a pretty darn good run in this age."

"And in the business that Lorelei's in, it's very unusual."

"But I have known Lorelei for a long time, too, and this seems . . ." I hesitated. "More extreme than usual. She clearly doesn't care at all about it. I don't think she's the least bit interested. If you want me to visit and talk to her, I'll be happy to do that as a family friend. I'd prefer it to this pretext. We don't need a business arrangement. Do you think there's any point in doing the closet project? We can tear up that contract if you want. I have plenty of people waiting for my time, so you wouldn't need to worry about that side of things. I could drop in some evenings to chat."

"I know you've got a good head for business, Charlotte honey. And I know you're kind and care about Lorelei. That's why I want to stick to our agreement. It's fair to you, and I'm hoping it will be good for her, too. Get her mind off things, you know what I mean. She loves clothes. She loves pocketbooks. She loves footwear. Those things make her smile. So maybe that will provide a break from sitting and brooding. I can't ask for anything more of you. If the closets get rearranged, that will be a bonus. You have probably already figured out that Lorelei is more likely to value something you pay for. That's the other reason it's a good idea."

My cell phone vibrated again in my pocket. I continued to ignore it and was regretting not turning it off.

It was hard to know what to think about Harry's idea. On the one hand, I felt aware of the pain Lorelei and Harry must have been feeling. On the other, I'm an organizer, not a physician or a psychologist. I had a feeling that Lorelei needed one or both of those professions desperately. It would be a long time before she could turn her mind to her closets or anything else. If there was a third hand, it would be that I don't want to take advantage of vulnerable clients. And I sure didn't choose to spend my time keeping people's minds occupied so they don't seek the help they need.

Okay. End of soapbox.

Harry said, "Excuse me, Charlotte honey, I think we should hurry back and see if she's all right."

The phone vibrated yet again.

Who the hell was in such a hurry to speak to me?

I said, "Do you want to go ahead? I'd like to use the powder room."

Harry hurried ahead of me, after apologizing and pointing to a door to the left off the corridor. Inside the lovely pale marble room, I checked the pesky cell phone.

Pepper.

Three voice messages.

And three texts.

That was even more than the number of vibrations had seemed to indicate. I checked all. The essence of both texts and phone messages was, Have you seen Nick? He's on duty, but he's not responding to calls.

Typical Nick. So why the panic?

I sat on the lush upholstered bench and rubbed my temple. Oh well, not much choice but to respond with a text that summarized the news that I had indeed seen Nick at Hank's and he had seemed morose but otherwise fine. I flushed the fine imported European toilet and ran the water quickly. I stepped out into the upstairs corridor and glanced both ways. I seemed to be alone, and something had been bothering me since I'd been in Harry's room. I stepped into Lorelei's palatial bedroom to verify. Sure enough. Unlike Harry, Lorelei did not have a single photo of her late daughter, Anabel. Now what was that about? Was Lorelei unable to bear seeing an image of her daughter? Had she packed away the photos?

I shivered in the warm June air, straightened my back, and headed downstairs.

Lorelei was still stretched out languidly on the pearl gray leather chaise staring at the view. She didn't turn around as I arrived and cleared my throat. Harry must have stepped back into the kitchen. Not for more drinks, I hoped.

"Such a beautiful house," I said. "I am looking forward to the tour of the closets."

Harry hustled out of the kitchen holding a fresh champagne cocktail for Lorelei. I figured I'd be kissing the closets good-bye again that afternoon.

"I'm sorry, Charlotte. I don't think that Lorelei will be up to anything today."

I barely managed not to say, "because she's had a snootful."

He said, "It goes without saying that we will pay you for your time this afternoon, including travel."

I said, "I hope that Lorelei will feel well enough to try tomorrow."

Harry said wistfully, "We take it day by day."

"I'm sure. Do you mind if I take a look at these closets?" I almost said "alleged closets." I added, "It will make it easier for me to get an idea of what we want to accomplish."

If indeed we wanted to accomplish anything.

Lorelei turned her head and adjusted her facial expression, an infinitesimal frown, but enough to convey that did not suit her in the least.

"Of course, it can always wait." Although, I myself could hardly wait to get away from this strange house with its tragic undercurrents and the beautiful damaged woman at the cold heart of it.

Harry walked me to the door. In the amazing domed entrance, he opened a mirrored door and pointed to the contents of the front entrance closet. It was an unremarkable collection of jackets and coats, capes, shawls and wraps, with boots and walking shoes neatly arrayed. Lorelei's side was jammed. Harry's was perfect.

"Harry, I need to say this: There's no point in my coming if Lorelei is going to have a couple of cocktails and put the brakes on every time. And there's less point in me coming when she can't get out of bed."

"Charlotte honey, I told you we'd pay you anyway."

"It's not about money, Harry. I'm not helping her in the least. And I'd like to. So how about you let me know when I can catch her awake and not yet anesthetized and we can see if I can do something useful. Otherwise, it's not going to work out."

It was hard for me to meet Harry's eyes. And for the first time since I'd visited them, I noticed how much he'd aged in the past year or so. He moved more slowly, favoring his left leg. His handsome face was losing the crisp edges, and even his usual good spirits seemed forced. I supposed in the troubling atmosphere of their home, this was the last thing I'd notice. Lorelei seemed almost to be made of glass like the house, in danger of shattering at a wrong word or look. She needed to heal, not that she would ever get over Anabel's death.

"All right," he said. "I'll try. How about eleven o'clock tomorrow? If she won't take you, I will. After that, we'll have to play it by ear."

"I'll be here. We'll hope for the best. By the way, I was wondering, did you and Lorelei stay in touch with Anabel's friend from Hope for Youth at Risk?"

"You mean Gwen? Now, I feel real guilty about that. They were congenial colleagues rather than friends. We should have stayed in touch with Gwen. She was so good to Anabel. Anabel always respected her. I'll see if Lorelei is up to having her over for brunch next week. And if not"-he glanced toward the other end of the house-"then I can take her to lunch. I'm sure they have some project we can help out with in some small way."

"No, I meant Dimitri."

Harry's expression landed somewhere between surprise and shock, a look that's hard to fake. "Dimitri? You mean that haunted-looking boy in the leather jacket? I don't think he was a special friend."

"No? I must be mistaken. I thought there might have been something between them. I had heard he had a bad case on Anabel."

"Well, if he did, she didn't tell us."

"Would you have minded?"

"I wanted my little girl to be happy. If she cared about him, I would have bent over backward. And Lorelei would have been tickled pink."

"She would have?"

"Sure. She's a romantic. She wanted her little girl to be beautiful and popular, too. She wanted the big white wedding for Anabel. The whole three-ring circus. Anabel didn't care much about boyfriends or clothes or makeup or fairy-tale weddings. She could never hope to meet her mother's expectations, so she declined to try."

I wasn't ready to let this topic go. "I understand that Dimitri was on the streets for a while and he's managed to build a life for himself. That's admirable, don't you think?"

Harry said, "I do. Everyone deserves a second chance, and sometimes even a third."

He gave me a fatherly hug, insofar as I understand such things, and I escaped the gorgeous glass prison and made tracks for the Miata.

I wondered if, in truth, the Beauchamps would have been happy to learn that Anabel had a relationship with Dimitri.

10.

Label all boxes and storage containers in your closet to save time searching for items later on. Memory can play tricks on the best of us.

I called Pepper before I turned the key in the ignition.

"Why did you talk to him?" she shrieked. "What the hell are you doing behind my back?"

Sometimes Pepper can push me too far. "Pull yourself together. You came to me, remember? You cried on my shoulder, and then your husband pulled me over this morning and scared the wits out of me."

"What?"

"Do you know why?"

"Make it good."

"It is good. Because he followed you to my house last night. He was worried. He wanted to know what you said to me."

"And what did you tell him?"

"Girl talk."

"Did he buy it?"

"Eventually. He's worried and upset about something."

"Did he give any idea what?"

"None."

"What time was this?"

"Before ten. I was on my way to see my first client."

"And that's the last time you saw him?"

"No. On my way to the second client, I happened to be driving by Hank's and I spotted him in the window."

I didn't mention that I had checked out all Nick's usual haunts.

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I suppose because I didn't have anything new to say. He seemed agitated and worried. He was barely coherent."

"All right. That was what, an hour and a half ago?"

"Less. And it didn't look like he was going anywhere fast. Maybe you should drive by Hank's and get some fries. Bring antacids. I guess it's one of the familiar old places that he would head for when he's upset and worried. I suppose there are more-"

Pepper cut in, "You're right. It is one of the special places. We used to go there when we were dating over my father's objections." To my surprise, she chuckled. "And Charlotte?"

I held my breath. Pepper so often takes my head off at the shoulders.

"Thanks. I know you're my friend."

I dug into my supply of courage and managed to say, "Any time you need me. If he's scared about something real and serious, maybe we should try to figure-"

But she'd already clicked off. I suspected that she was also thinking about drugs, gambling, murderously jealous husbands, and other dangers due to Nick's never-ending bad judgment. I was about to start the drive home when I realized that I still had to collect Lilith at Wendy's. I guess I was more rattled than I was letting on. The wonderfully normal family atmosphere at the Dykstras' drew me and my Miata like a tractor beam.

Wendy's hair was damp and her T-shirt rumpled. She looked hot and sweaty and I hoped happy. I knew the sorting stage can lead to the most bizarre emotions. Happiness isn't always the main byproduct.

She smiled tiredly. "Boy, do we need you."

"Good thing you're here," Lilith called down the stairs. "We're about to go to war over a bridesmaid dress if you can believe that."

"Cookies?" Wendy said. She was obviously seeking allies in the war, like the man standing behind her. He was shorter than his boys, but still quite tall, with a buzz cut that made him look tough and a shy grin that made him look like a teddy bear. He had to be Wendy's husband, Brad. His shy grin appeared again. "Let me out of here while it's still safe."

Lilith arrived downstairs two at a time and said breathlessly, "You are going to freak when you see what we've done."

"Great. Done is good."

"We are smoking hot! With the exception of the bridesmaid dress from yellow hell."

"Matron of honor," Wendy said. "And that thing cost two hundred bucks. It stays."

"It can stay, but I'm leaving." Wendy's husband headed quickly for the door. "Where's Seth?"

"Run away, see if I care," his wife said. "And Seth hasn't come out of his room all afternoon. I think we scare him."

I said, "Bridesmaid dresses are always good for a lot of high emotion on both sides of the keep-it/get-rid-of-it fence."

"Matron of honor," Wendy said again. "A whole 'nother thang."

"I can't wait to see the source of the discord." My money was on that dress being gone before the day was out. I tried to appear neutral, though.

We gulped a couple of cookies and glasses of milk. Wendy and Lilith both felt they needed their strength. When we headed back upstairs, Lilith said, "Close your eyes when you get there."

What the hey? This was so much easier than the Beauchamps'. I shut my eyes and didn't open them until Lilith and Wendy squealed.

I couldn't believe those eyes when I did look. The bed that had been piled high with clothing when I left was nearly empty.

"We're coming down the homestretch," Lilith added. "A few contentious items and the shoes, of course."