"Oh, Jeremy." I sighed. My forcing him to go to Sunday school had apparently had some impact. "The time for thinking that is long gone."

M.

ichael"-again, according to the Web site-surprised Claudia with a set of golf clubs for her birthday. She was taking weekly lessons and was practicing at least thirty minutes every single day even if she was only working with her putter on her living-room rug.

Thirty minutes of nudging a ball along a piece of carpet? I would want to hang myself.

A.

t the end of February the Alden School theater staged one of Shakespeare's history plays. Zack had worked hard on the sets and lights, so I went. Rose had encouraged me to read a summary of the play beforehand and take a copy so that I could keep track of who was coming onstage. "They all enter at the same time, and it's pretty easy to get your Warwicks and your West-morelands confused." I followed her advice, but fell asleep anyway. At the traditional cast party the following night, several of the seniors brought some marijuana-laced brownies. The kids involved were disciplined, and their prospective colleges were informed. Fortunately for Zack, the school was punishing only the coconspirators directly involved in the manufacture and transport, not the many kids who had known about the plan beforehand.

"Is this a *there but for the grace of G.o.d go I' kind of moment?" I asked my not-entirely-innocent child.

"Not at all," he said cheerfully. "It's a *there but for the grace of Mom.' No one was going to bake from scratch, and everyone knew that there was no way there would be any brownie mix in this house."

I had always known that there was something morally wrong with using cake mixes.

U.

.Va. did indeed turn Zack down, so a week before his eighteenth birthday, he sent in his forms to Stone-Chase, telling me that he was going to go to campus for some carnival-type thing the last weekend in April. Mike was remarkably gracious about this outcome, claiming that he'd never thought that there was anything wrong with Stone-Chase; he'd simply wanted Zack to "keep his options open." The peace between the two of them was probably only superficial, but that was better than open warfare.

I invited Mike over for dinner on Zack's birthday. "And I do hope," I said to Mike, "that Claudia will be able to join us."

That was a lie. I didn't want Claudia to join us, and I already knew that she couldn't. I'd checked her Web site and found out that she was going to be out of town that evening.

I don't lie. That had kept my mother going through my teen years; if she asked me a direct question, I would answer honestly. So if I hadn't lied to my mother when I was being stupid and reckless, why was I starting now?

"You want Claudia too?" Mike knew how honest I was; it never occurred to him to doubt me. He paused for a moment. "That's very good-hearted of you, Darcy. I appreciate it more than you realize."

I felt like a heel. I wasn't good-hearted. I was a blog-reading, lying snoop.

Claudia did send Zack a gift, a beautifully wrapped box containing a leather portfolio, more suitable to a graduating law student. But I couldn't blame her too much. Teenaged guys were hard to shop for.

"My gift isn't as well wrapped," Mike said and pa.s.sed Zack a thick manila envelope.

"Gosh, Dad, some people might say that it isn't wrapped at all," Zack said, but his tone was light. He didn't care about wrapping paper.

"And they would have a point," Mike answered, "and here's another copy for you, Darcy." He slid another envelope across the table to me.

I had no idea what was in it, but waited to let Zack open it first. He took a thick doc.u.ment out, squinted at the first page, and looked puzzled. "What is it, Dad? I don't get it."

"Just read it."

I took out my copy. Trust Agreement for Zachary Douglas Van Aiken . . . Darcy Bowersett Van Aiken, trustee . . .

Mike had set up a trust fund for Zack. "You didn't do this for Jeremy," I said.

"Would someone tell me what's going on?" Zack asked.

"Well, Zack," Mike said, "as long as you're at Stone-Chase and are getting your expenses discounted for academic merit, I will put that amount of money for you in this trust."

Zack stared at him, disbelieving. He probably thought that it was more likely that Mike would sell him off as an indentured servant than set up a trust fund for him.

"You've earned that money, not me. Without this, you reap no benefit from what you accomplished. So the money's yours, and it's not for graduate school. We'll still pay for that. But there are ma.s.sive strings attached. You can't buy a van and b.u.m around California. It's for a down payment on a house or something like that."

"Wow." Zack still wasn't sure what to say. He was so used to Mike being angry at him that he didn't know how to react. He looked down at the papers again, almost embarra.s.sed to be moved. "I was talking to a guy whose brother is in dental school, and he says that setting up a dental practice is really expensive."

"Then you would have this," Mike said. "You can use it for anything that your mother approves of."

"Why is Mom the trustee? Why not you?"

I had wondered that myself.

"Because there are the ma.s.sive strings." And Mike smiled, that wonderful, clear, sweet smile of his. "If you decide you want to fight about it every day from now until you are thirty, you can fight with her."

Money mattered to Mike; it was part of his vocabulary, his way of communicating. This trust sent a signal-he trusted me, and he wasn't trying to control Zack.

And maybe he was even proud of Zack.

E.

ven though I had taken the night shift on Christmas Eve, I was working Easter weekend. Working two holidays meant that I had first pick of the schedule for the rest of the spring and summer, which was good as I wanted to take off a full week for the wedding and a long weekend for Jeremy's college graduation.

Zack hadn't seen his grandmother since the engagement party in October, so he went up to Philadelphia with Mike and Claudia for Easter. He was not looking forward to the trip, but I've got to give Claudia credit. She'd worked hard to find activities that interested him. She and Zack-on their own, without Mike or his mother-spent Sat.u.r.day afternoon in some strange little art galleries. On Easter afternoon, a new theater was having an open-house fund-raiser, and she'd gotten tickets to that.

Whenever I'd gone to Philadelphia, I'd always tried to distract the boys by taking them outside. We'd go on hikes, play ball, or rent boats. Those were Mike-Darcy-Jeremy activities. Zack had gone along because I'd made him.

But Claudia's plan had been designed to please only Zack, not the whole family. And it worked.

T.

he following week she reported to her loyal Web site readers that she and "Michael" had gone golfing together for the first time, playing nine holes on a short course. They had had a lovely time being outdoors on a beautiful day, and she hadn't made a fool of herself even though, since they hadn't kept score, she couldn't say exactly how she had done.

If she thought Mike Van Aiken hadn't kept score, then she didn't know him. He might not have counted her strokes, he might not have been writing anything down, but in his head he was keeping track of his own game.

R.

ose called. "Annie went to visit Stone-Chase yesterday, and she loved it."

That was a bit of a surprise. I couldn't imagine Annie being happy in such a nonurban setting.

"In fact," Rose continued, "we got a text message from her late last night, asking if she could stay another day and come home Sunday morning."

"That's nice," I said, and I was about to tell her that Zack had gone up this morning for the college's annual Spring Fling, but her call-waiting went off and she had to go.

I wondered if Rose and Guy knew about this Spring Fling. Probably not. I picked the phone back up and called Zack on his cell.

"Mom." He would have seen my number on caller ID. "What do you want?" He wouldn't like the idea that I was checking up on him.

"I just wanted to let you know that Annie Zander-Brown is on campus," I said quickly.

"I know. I saw her."

Annie was hard to miss. "She's okay, isn't she?"

"Why wouldn't she be? Look, can I go now?"

"Sure. I'll see you tonight. Call me before you leave, okay?"

"Yeah, whatever."

It was a beautiful day, and I went out to work in the yard, slipping my cell phone into my pocket. As often happens when I'm doing something physical, I lost track of time. It was almost two o'clock when my phone rang.

I pulled it out of my pocket and flipped it open. "Zack? What is it?"

"Mom . . . Mom . . . it's Annie . . . she's drinking, she's drinking a lot. There isn't supposed to be alcohol here, but there is. So should I do anything?"

"Did you try talking to her?"

"No. She's with all these guys, they're Greeks, the fraternity guys . . . I can't go. . . . I don't know, she's not my responsibility, is she? But she's making an a.s.s of herself. I mean, what do I do if she pa.s.ses out?"

"Call a security guard. Or take her to Student Health. She's not a student, but I'm sure they would look at her."

"But she'll get in trouble. I don't want her to get in trouble. I don't want to be a big dork."

I paused. I didn't have a good feeling about this. "Zack, do you want me to come up? I don't mind being the big dork. I can be there in an hour."

"Yeah . . . if you want to, yeah, if you want to."

It took me a little more than an hour to get to Westridge, the little town where Stone-Chase was. As I got close to the campus, I called Zack, and he directed me to the closest parking lot, a few of the best s.p.a.ces becoming available as families with young children left.

The Stone-Chase campus is always idyllic, with green lawns enclosed by white-trimmed buildings made of rosy brick. Today it was full of people, gathered around fair-type booths. I could "pie a Greek" or "dunk an athlete" if I were so minded. There were also little-kiddie rides, a moon bounce, even a car-crash simulator.

There wasn't any obvious liquor, no beer cans or kegs, but plenty of students were carrying water bottles that didn't look as if they were filled with water. Zack took me to one of the smaller quadrangles. It was crowded, but I instantly spotted Annie. She was trying to dance on the rim of a trash can. She was wearing a Stone-Chase T-shirt as a dress; it was sashed with a man's striped tie.

She was being partnered by a guy who was sitting on the shoulders of another boy. Other kids were trying to help her balance. On the gra.s.s around them were a number of thermoses. I doubted that they had been used for coffee.

I made my way through the crowd. "Annie, come on down."

She looked down. "Darcy?"

She let go of her partner and started to lose her balance. I grabbed at her, pulling her toward me so that she didn't fall into the trash can. I caught her under her armpits, steadied her. She was very light.

"Darcy?" She was having trouble focusing.

And then she threw up on me. The other students lurched back, but I held on to her, and she sagged against me, retching, the contents of her stomach cascading down the left side of my body, spilling over on my bare arm-bits of hot dog, shreds of lettuce, pickle relish, sour and sticky.

I lowered her to the ground. She curled up into a ball and moaned. The students kept a safe distance. I knelt beside her. Her breathing was regular, she was pale, but not bluish, and her skin was not clammy. I pinched her and she instantly jerked; her reflexes were still good. She didn't have alcohol poisoning.

"Are you her mom?" one of the students asked almost timidly.

"No, but I know her family."

"Which dorm is she in? We'll help you get her there."

I looked at them. The vomit was drying on my arm. "She doesn't have a dorm. She's not a student here. She's a high-school junior, visiting your college."

That sobered them up quickly. "She told us that she was a transfer. That she had come at the beginning of the semester."

"Oh, come on. You think that she's been here since then, and this is the first time you noticed her?"

They glanced at one another, admitting the truth of that.

None of them knew which girls she was staying with, and Zack didn't either. A couple of the students helped me get her to a dorm room, and she and I had a lovely afternoon. She threw up another couple of times, and then she just wanted to sleep. Pretty soon the girls she was staying with were located, and they crept in, apologetic and frightened. They went to pack up her things, and once she stopped vomiting, I got her cleaned up for the car ride. She rode home with me, sleeping most of the way. Zack followed us in his car.

When we were back at the house, I told her that she needed to call her parents.

"I will," she said. "But not yet. They're taking Finney to an early movie. I'll call them when they get home."

The plan was for Zack to take her to the train station Sunday morning. She had originally taken the train to Baltimore, but she said that she had a credit card to pay for the extra fare involved in leaving from Washington. I reminded the two of them to set alarms-I had to be at the hospital before eight on Sunday morning-and then left them to sort out the arrangements.

Zack was in his bas.e.m.e.nt bedroom playing video games when I got home from work Sunday evening. "You got Annie to the train?" I asked.

He pushed back from his desk. "Actually I drove her up to Baltimore. If she had changed her ticket, her parents would have found out about what happened. So, Mom, please don't tell them. I promised her that you wouldn't tell them."

"She told me that she was going to call them when they got home from the movie."

"And she did call them. She just didn't tell them where she was."

"Oh, Zack, come on, I have to tell them."

"No, no, you don't. Yes, she had too much to drink, but she's fine now. Come on, Mom, please, don't make me sorry that I called you. I promised her."

I supposed that it was no accident that Cami and Jeremy had felt that they needed to go to a California college. They needed to get away from their families. They were each so tied up with being the "good child" that they couldn't let go of that role without moving across the country.

But Zack was going to be only an hour away. He and I were going to continue to be available to each other. I wanted him to be able to call me. I wanted him to be able to make that transition from childhood to adulthood without having to cross the continent. He needed to believe that I trusted him, that I would let him make his own choices as surely as if he were in California.

But still . . . not tell a girl's mother?

"She doesn't want to worry them," Zack pleaded. "She says her mom is totally stressed out about this wedding, and she hates to cause her more trouble."

I could sympathize with that. I didn't want to cause Rose any more anguish either.

"Okay, I won't tell them," I promised.