"Nothing bad I hope."

He laughed. "No. They're very fond of you."

"I feel the same way about them."

"Maria confessed you were the first nanny they didn't try to get rid of in hopes they'd be able to come live with me."

"Those little rascals," she said, chuckling. "I have to admit they have their moments. But I try to keep in mind that they've been through some difficult times."

"That's very thoughtful of you. And honestly, I think you're doing something right." He considered for a moment, seeming to weigh her words. "You know, Emily, I hate to bother you about this. Actually, I'd almost decided not to bring it up, but..." He took a breath and straightened his shoulders. "You see... sometimes my nephew doesn't use his scruples like he should."

Emily raised her eyebrows.

"You're not surprised, I see."

"No... I can't say I am."

"Well, I'll give him credit for one thing, and that's for hiring you." Uncle Bud stopped to think on what he might say, and then leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "I'd like to ask you a favor, if I could?"

"Uhm... sure."

"I'd like you to... well, if anything happens to me, I'd like you make sure the children are safe and taken care of."

"Of course. Of course I will. But... can you tell me why? I mean, I'm... just the nanny."

Bud straightened again and folded his hands on his lap. His shoulders tensed, and then fell. "You see, Emily, I've been very concerned about them. And maybe it's part instinct that's pushing me to tell you this, but I have a good feeling about you. Now don't get me wrong. I love Donald, and I hate to say this about my own nephew, really I do, but I'm not so sure he has his priorities straight. He's gotten himself into trouble in the past, you know, but then, somehow he gets himself out of it. He's charming when he needs to be, and cold as a cucumber when it suits him. I think it's his need for control over his life. Sort of like, well... if someone's in the middle of a lake without a paddle, if the boat starts to spring leaks, that person will use whatever's available to patch up the holes. It's a mechanism he developed early on, I think."

Uncle Bud stopped and looked at her, lifting a brow as if to question whether he should continue or not.

"Go on. Really, Bud. I want to hear."

Relief on his face, he sat back, brushing a hand through his thinning gray hair. "You see, his father left when he was eleven, and then his mother, that was my sister Eleanor, died a year and a half later. There were no brothers or sisters, so all he had was Sarah, my late wife and me. We brought him up from Texas."

The old man caught a good breath, seeming pained by the memories. "We tried our best. Though I'll admit we were busy, probably too busy. It's always been that way, a chosen lifestyle, and part of the reason we didn't have children of our own. And yet we took full responsibility for Donald when he came to live with us." He nodded toward the bookcase. "We even searched for help from the experts. Thanks to my wife for this collection. She was an avid reader and scholar a a teacher, in fact." He sat for a moment and gazed up at the books.

"I read through a number of those myself," she said. "You know, for the children?"

He shifted back to her. "Oh, now that's nice to hear."

"I'm still reading, but so far I think it's done some good. It's really too bad about Donald, though, about his parents and all."

Uncle Bud shook his head, the tension in his jaw line pinching the corners of his mouth. "It was a heartbreak from the start, and I think there lies the challenge. Donald wouldn't talk about it, not a word. We even solicited help from several doctors. But his mind was set. I believe his father had a lot to do with his outlook on life. But most likely it was the clan he hung out with, always older than him, that did the rest of the damage. He would hitch a ride to San Francisco and we wouldn't see him for a week at a time. Anyway, like I said, he's been in some trouble in the past. And since his wife died... well, Frankly, I've been worried sick. I've offered to take the children in several times, but he won't hear of it. I'm in Florida now, you know, got a number of businesses that keep me busy, but I'd find a way if he'd let me."

Emily was stunned that Donald hadn't taken him up on his offer. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll always be here for them." She wondered what Bud would think if he knew her background. She felt like a fraud.

"I'm certainly happy for that, relieved too, mighty relieved."

"I'll do my best."

"Well, young lady, I wish we had more time to talk," he said, standing, "but I need to catch an early flight, so I think I'll turn in for the night."

Emily stood, looking up at the tall elderly man, wishing she could confide in him, ask him to take them all away.

He took her hand with both of his. "I try to come out at least twice a year. So I guess I'll see you on my next trip."

After Uncle Bud left, she took her conversation with him to heart, although she felt inadequate and guilty too, because if he knew about her shameful past, he wouldn't have left so contented.

For the next couple of weeks, she made a point of ignoring the bottle of brandy in her nightstand. She didn't comprehend the temptation, only the need.

She did her best to give the children the attention they needed. Their squabbles had been happening less frequently since Uncle Bud's visit. But then one day Nathan decided to throw two water-filled balloons off the balcony just as Maria passed below.

Maria stomped up the stairs soaking wet, declaring revenge on her brother. While she was in changing, Nathan went into hiding. When his sister came storming back out and couldn't find him, she went into his room and gathered up his chess game, all of his football cards, a puzzle he'd been working on, and threw everything over the balcony.

Later, when Otto came up the hallway and saw Emily helping the children clean up the mess, she felt embarrassed, almost like she had thrown everything over the balcony herself. She tried to explain to him, but it sounded weak, and just plain didn't come out right.

All that afternoon and into the evening she thought about the brandy waiting upstairs for her. Finally, the children were in bed and she headed to her room, thinking that the bottle of happiness had waited long enough.

She started with a quick shot, then another, and finally took the bottle to the table and made herself comfortable. Just when she was really feeling good, the bottle turned up empty. Now how'd that happen so fast? She tipped the bottle for every last drop then placed it in the garbage.

Feeling disappointed because she wanted to get much happier, she remembered the first night she arrived and the cabinet where Donald kept his liquor.

She was out the door and down to the formal dining room without a thought.

There were seven bottles of brandy. She grabbed the one that was half-empty, a glass, some mix, and then went to the table and boldly took a seat at the end where her employer usually sat.

By the time she finished the first glass, she was feeling near as good as she had ever felt. She went over to the record player, put on some music and began to dance. This went on for some time. Then right in the middle of a turn, she almost lost her balance. She felt a little dizzy.

She went back to the table and poured another glass, took a drink, and waited for that thing to come back, that new self that wasn't new any longer but probably just a messed up version. It seemed that the warm and carefree feeling she had discovered along with the drink was gone for good. In fact, she was having a hard time keeping upright.

Once she admitted she'd had too much, she slowly and very carefully put everything away, and then headed back up to her room.

The steps seemed steeper and longer. She was beginning to feel as if the drink might come back up. When she reached the top, Maria was peeking out of her room.

"Where've you been?" Maria said, hurrying over. She glowered up at Emily and sniffed. "You've been drinking, haven't you? Are you even old enough?"

Emily didn't like her tone and that accusing look on her little face.

"In fact, I was." She stooped and looked into Maria's eyes. "And what's it to you if I have a lillel drink. You and Nathan runnin' round fightin' like a bunch of Com-anshee. What do you espek me to do... take it? Weell, nomore."

She pulled herself up when she saw the horror on Maria's face.

The little girl ran off to her bedroom, and Emily stared after her, hating herself for what she'd just done. She realized that right now, she wasn't any better than the men back home. She longed to follow Maria, but her stomach began to churn and she rushed into her room and to the bathroom just in time to throw up some of that miserable drink. After she washed her face with cold water, brushed her teeth, and took in some long breaths at the window, she went to Maria's room and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Maria was in bed with her dolls piled around her.

Emily stepped in and leaned up against the wall. "I just wanna tell you that I'm sorry, and... and, I'm not gonna drink no more." She felt herself wobble and grabbed the doorknob.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Emily?"

"Mm?"

"How come people drink when it makes them sick?"

"Maybe 'cause it makes 'em feel good. Makes 'em forget how mis-rable they are."

"And how do you feel now?"

"Mis..."

Maria smiled.

"Ookay, your point is made. See ya... smarty pants."

CHAPTER THIRTY.

For some reason Donald decided to stop traveling for a while and instead spent days up in his quarters receiving guests. It seemed as if something was brewing the way they arrived two and three at a time and went up through his private entrance, so official and important.

The weeks turned into a month without one single out-of-town trip. Still, Emily noticed he never once attempted to spend time with his children. If he said anything to them, it was usually a scolding on the way out the door off somewhere for the night in his grand car with the chauffeur at the wheel, more than likely to the Palace or wherever else he spent his time.

In spite of everything, she wondered if she was missing something, if those... negative feelings toward him were at least in part a mistake. With all his admirers that seemed to crave his company, and with Pearl, Otto, Bruce and some of the other help who had tons of respect for him, it made her wonder if she was somehow wrong. But then, what about Uncle Bud's concerns regarding his nephew, and the instant anxiety she felt upon meeting him? If only he would give her a chance to really get to know him, maybe she would understand. He was obviously a busy man, but he had put her in charge of the children. He could at least acknowledge her once in a while, and give her the opportunity to discuss her concerns about them.

Then one night when she went down to the kitchen for a snack, she got part of her wish. He gave her some of his time. Although, instead of helping her, it just confused her more.

She had just picked up an orange and was about to head back upstairs when she heard voices in the side entryway. She tiptoed up the corridor and listened at the door.

It was the voice of a young man. "Do you want to be obligated to him for life? Can't you see that this money'll get you out of here?"

"Erwin, please. Whatever you're planning, don't do it. It's not worth it."

Emily gasped when she realized the girl's voice was that of Gabriel. She moved closer to the door as the distraught maid continued. "I'm already obligated to him, remember?" She sounded like she was in tears. "I thought you were going to do the right thing."

"I am. It's just that things are about to explode around here. Can't you see that this is my big chance?"

"No, I can't. Please, Erwin, stop before it's too late."

"I will as soon as I... Oh, never mind. I don't know why you're being so..." The young man's voice drifted and Emily imagined he was looking out the window.

She leaned closer to the door, straining an ear when she felt someone behind her. She spun around.

"Oh, Mr. Schillings! I a I was just heading upstairs."

The outside door slammed and Gabriel and Erwin were gone. "What's going on?" he said sharply.

"Nothing. I a I just heard some voices and Ia"

"Well, it sounded like something to me. Remember what I told you about snooping?" He moved closer.

She sucked in her breath, defiantly holding her position.

"You realize this makes you as good as an accomplice to whatever they're up to."

"An accomplice? To what? Mr. Schillings, you're accusing me of something I know nothing about."

"Well, you know enough."

"But I don't. I don't know what you're talking about. And if I did, who would I tell? I don't know anyone. You know that."

He lit a cigarette, keeping an eye on her. "Well, I guess I'll have to accept that for now. But I'd watch myself, if I were you." He gave her a look of warning, took another thoughtful puff, and then walked out the door.

She stared after him in shock. For the first time, she was afraid of him.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE.

Samuel Dimsmoore meant a chance in a lifetime for Emily, one that she might never find anywhere else. He was part of her mother's past and she clung to the hope he would be part of her future. She was desperate to meet him, although it looked as if she may have lost her ride to San Francisco. Bruce promised to take her, but he and the boss left three days earlier and hadn't been seen since.

From the moment she rolled out of bed that morning, there wasn't an hour that passed when she didn't look from a window, or step out on the porch and check the drive for any sign of them.

Finally, out of desperation, she went to see Pearl. She found her standing on a stool, searching through a cupboard. "By any chance are you going into town this morning?" Emily asked.

Even with the added height, Pearl wasn't quite tall enough to reach Emily at eye level. She gave a "how dare you bother me" look and set a couple of jars on the counter, poking again for more. "No, I'm not. What're you asking for, anyway? You've got children to watch." She placed another jar on the counter, stepped from the stool and looked up. "You've got something up your sleeve, don't you?"

"No, it's nothing like that. It's just that... well..."

"Well what?"

"I a I really need to use the telephone if I could."

"There's a call coming in a few hours," Pearl said, bending to push the stool across the room, "until then, I'm staying put." She straightened and gave the stool a kick against the wall. "And don't go asking for the key because I've got strict orders not to leave sight of it."

The scowl on her face didn't give Emily much hope of changing her mind, and so she dashed from the room in search of Otto.