But the artist in our midst is not in a playful mood, and Sheba turns her newly minted Sister-of-the-Holy-Cross face on my mother and strikes out with no thought of mercy or restraint. "Mother Superior," Sheba says, "I too have dedicated my life to prayer and good work. I could play the role of a nun far better than you did on your best day in the convent. Because God endowed me with a gift, I remain true to that gift, and I can play the part of an accountant or an astronaut or a trapped housewife or a lesbian. But you're right; I can also play a stripper or a whore or a home wrecker or a lunatic."

"In some of those roles, you're a natural, Sheba," Mother says. "No acting necessary."

"Mother, would you kindly button your yap?" I cry. "Molly, why did you do this?"

"An error of judgment."

"Molly's good at those," Chad says, mock-toasting his wife.

"But only one of them really counts," Molly shoots back before Sheba regains control of the stage.

"Did it turn on Leo's sweet father to see you in a nun's habit, Dr. King?" Sheba asks. "Did it excite you that you kept poor Leo's daddy horny and heartbroken all those years you spent in the convent? When did you know that he was turned on by the shaking of rosaries on the nun's body hidden by ten pounds of black cloth? Some men like G-strings. What lit Jasper's fire? Was it enclosure? The untouchable girl in the convent? Did you ever think that you did to him the same thing I was doing to every man on the street in that walk down Madison Avenue?"

"You've gone far enough, Sheba," Betty says.

"I happen to be Sheba's lawyer," Chad says, ice tinkling in his silver cup. "She has broken no laws I'm aware of."

"The laws of polite society?" Fraser suggests.

"Sheba's never followed those," Niles says.

Betty says, "Sheba, all of us in this room check in on your mother from time to time, Leo more than anyone, so you shouldn't go after his mama. It's not right."

"Could we drop it?" Niles asks. "Or should I hog-tie the both of them? Leave Leo's mama out of this, Sheba. She's off-limits. Always has been."

"Not off-limits for me, Niles," Sheba says, "because Dr. King hated me from the first time she laid eyes on me. Isn't that true, Doctor?"

"No, it isn't," Mother says. I hear something deadly and familiar in her throat that I am sure no one else recognizes. I prepare for the worst, and the worst comes: "It took two or three months for the hatred to settle in," Mother continues. "I fought against it. But it came, Sheba. And you're right. It never left me. Everything was always about you; you were the center of the universe. I am certain you could find a spotlight in the darkest corner of hell."

Holding fast to her nun's habit, Sheba tightens the grip around the cloth. In a nunlike voice that makes the air seem murderous, she says, "I know your act, Mother Superior. I've known it from the beginning. I've been onto you."

The monsignor, who seems transfixed and fascinated, springs to sudden life. "I know the moment when an evening has arrived at a point of no return. I think we should let the young people enjoy the rest of the evening together, Lindsay."

"Who's Lindsay?" Niles asks.

"That's Dr. King's first name," someone answers.

"I always thought it was Doctor," Niles says.

"Just a minute, Max." Mother lifts a finger to fix the monsignor. "Sheba, do you remember what I told you the day before you graduated from high school?"

"How could I forget?" Sheba answers. "I was an eighteen-year-old kid who came up the hard way. My only crime was to befriend your lonely son, who was nicknamed 'the Toad.' Right, Leo?"

"Sounds right to me."

"So my brother and I took the Toad into our lives and hearts, and he took us into his. It was the same year the mountain boy came down from the hills holding his damaged sister at arm's length from the world. Remember her, Mother Superior? Anytime I do tragedy, I think of that mountain girl. If I have to do courage, I become that mountain boy. The actor is a natural-born thief, and I steal from everybody. For sweetness, I do Betty. For strength, I have Ike in reserve. See Fraser there? It's her integrity I steal for my characters. For beauty, I have Molly. For success and self-assurance, I conjure up Chad. For kindness, I've got the Toad. I've got your terrific son, the one blushing over there, the kid you could never quite bring yourself to love."

"Tell them what I told you that night," Mother orders. "Your speech was artful, but you changed the subject."

"You told me that I was the most talented girl ever to go through Peninsula High School." Sheba's voice nearly breaks from an emotion that has nothing to do with her talent.

"Go on," Mother says. "That was the first thing I told you. But I didn't stop there, did I, dear?"

"Could someone stop this?" Fraser asks, covering her ears.

Niles says, "Betty, you shoot Sheba. Ike, you take out Dr. King. It's the only way."

"You told me I could discover a cure for cancer or be the biggest whore who ever lived," Sheba says, dropping her linen veil to the floor behind her.

"I was only half right," Mother says. "Cancer is still a real threat to society."

"Jesus Christ, Mother," I say. "Monsignor, don't even bother taking her to the car. Pitch her off the balcony into the street."

Through tears, Sheba says, "I was a child."

"You were never a child," Mother shoots back.

"Well, be an adult now and forget it, Sheba," Molly says. "And you, Dr. King, need to settle down. Sheba's been through a lot, and no one knows that better than Leo. You and Ike, refresh everyone's drinks. Sheba, come into the kitchen and help me get dinner on the table."

Chad scoffs. "Who're you trying to kid, Molly? You and Sheba wouldn't know what to do with a kitchen if it bit you in the ass."

"Your language, dear brother," Fraser says. "The monsignor's here."

"And I think that's the perfect exit line," Monsignor Max says, rising. "I'll pretend to be highly offended by Chad's profanity and storm out of here with Lindsay in tow."

"I think that's an inspired idea, Mother," I say. "What you said to Sheba-you ought to be ashamed of yourself."

"She started it," Mother says. But I can see her temper cooling down as she surveys the damage she has wrought by studying the shocked faces surrounding her.

"I can only hope so," Sheba says.

Mother flames again. "Don't you think for a minute I don't know that you stole my son's virginity, you white-trash slut!"

"Jesus God almighty," I say, blushing to my very bones in abject horror at the deformity the evening has shaped itself into. I turn to the monsignor. "Please get my mother out of here."

Ike stares at Sheba in disbelief. "You nailed the Toad?"

"She stole the most precious thing Leo had," Mother says. "His innocence."

"No. No, Lindsay. No, Mother Superior. No, Dr. King," Sheba shoots back. "The one precious thing he had was the thing you loved best: the son you lost. Remember him, Lindsay? I don't. Never met the kid. Bet that he was a sweetheart like Leo. Stephen, Steve? Wasn't that his name? Seems he killed himself years before I got here. You can't blame me for Steve's suicide, but I bet you'd love to. I believe you always wished it had been Leo who slit his wrists, Leo who'd died. In your weird, screwed-up world, it's always the handsome boys you lose. The ugly ones are the keepers. You've always treated Leo like he was the second-place trophy you got for losing your golden boy."

"That's evil, Sheba," Fraser cries in horror. "Just pure evil."

Ike grabs Sheba from behind, lifts her in his strong, brown arms, and carries her through the kitchen and down the back staircase. Molly walks to open the front door, and Betty helps the monsignor get my mother down the stairs and into the monsignor's Lincoln Continental. The evening is finished, but it is not over.

I collapse into a leather couch, close my eyes, and let myself drift into the luxurious easement of the library with its tiers of well-selected books. The smell of leather consoles me, and it feels like I have rested my head inside a well-oiled baseball glove. As far as I know, no one has mentioned my brother's name in my mother's presence for years. Even now, in the toxic wake of this evening's passage, when I try to conjure up an image of my brother's face, I can summon only a ghostly, featureless portrait, half-sketched in sepia. All I remember is that Stephen was golden and beautiful, and that our losing him drove a stake into the heart of my family. Somehow we managed to survive that day, but none of us ever experienced the deliverance of recovery. I realize you can walk away from anything but a wounded soul.

CHAPTER 9.

A Night of Fun.

I hear a match strike near me, then smell the smoke of expensive cigar leaf. I open my eyes and find myself under the intense scrutiny of Chad Rutledge. He blows a plume of sweet-smelling smoke in my direction. "Now, that is what I call entertainment with a capital hear a match strike near me, then smell the smoke of expensive cigar leaf. I open my eyes and find myself under the intense scrutiny of Chad Rutledge. He blows a plume of sweet-smelling smoke in my direction. "Now, that is what I call entertainment with a capital E." E."

"Glad you enjoyed it, Chad."

"Think of what Molly and I would've missed if we hadn't been kicked out of Porter-Gaud the summer before our senior year." He grins. "We didn't know anyone like you or Niles or Starla or Ike or Betty. It was a brave new world for us."

"We were your first experience with the underbelly of Charleston."

"You've always been so class-conscious," Chad says.

"Only since I met you. When we met at the yacht club, it was the first time someone had looked at me like I was a lower form of toe cheese."

"Not so. To me, you were the Camembert of toe cheese."

A large shadow appears at the kitchen doorway, and I look over to see Niles Whitehead. "What kind of toe cheese am I, Chad?" Niles asks.

"You're family, Niles. My much-admired brother-in-law. The husband of my only sister. The father of my handsome nephews."

"But surely you recognize that Leo comes from a much-higher-class family than I do. To refresh your memory, Leo found my sister and I handcuffed to chairs when he first met us."

"My admiration for the two of you is boundless," Chad says. "Both of you were ambitious young men. You've made your mark in the field of education, Niles. You married into one of the oldest families in Charleston, which was not the easiest thing to do for a boy from your background. Leo has become a famous journalist. His column is one of the first things everybody reads when they open the paper in the morning. No small achievement."

"Gosh, I feel like a shrimp boat right after the bishop blesses the fleet," I say.

"Wow," says Niles. "To think of having human worth in Chad's aristocratic eyes."

Chad laughs, then stares at his cigar with contentment. "Ah, Sheba, didn't she give us a night! If I hadn't met you, I would've missed all the melodrama of these lives you consider normal. I'd miss the discord, all the howls and barks you bring to every event. My people are high-class and civilized, which is another way of saying boring, I think. All the grunts and whines have been bred out of us. Tonight was high opera."

"Chad, I've always felt bad that I didn't kick the shit out of you when you were a kid," Niles says.

"I've got to get back to the office in a few minutes," Chad says, unperturbed. "Big case next week."

"Does Molly know?" Niles asks.

"Molly likes being in this house. She likes the life my law practice provides. She likes being married into my family's fortune, just like you do, Niles," Chad says.

"I told you this a long time ago, Chad," I say. "Don't screw with the mountain boy. It ain't safe."

"Tell Molly good night for me," Chad says. "I may work straight through the night."

"Molly's not going to like it," I say.

"Tough titty." Chad winks and salutes us as he skips out the front door.

Niles and I sit for several minutes in silence as we smell the steaks sizzling on the charcoal fire. Rising to walk to the bar, Niles says, "Can I make you another drink?"

"I was trying to think about how much I'd have to drink to forget everything that happened tonight, and still enjoy the rest of the evening."

"There's not enough liquor in the world for that," Niles says. "But Sheba and Chad have left for the night-that means the shitbirds have flown out of the cuckoo's nest."

"Sheba's in the worst shape I've ever seen her," I say.

"Bet your mama thinks so. That was brutal."

"Sheba's lost her way."

"Didn't she used to be sweet?" Niles asks.

"The sweetest girl in the world," Molly says, materializing in the kitchen doorway. "Where's Chad? Oh, let me guess! He went back to work on a big case. A big, big goddamn case. Don't tell me. I know the drill. He does it out of love for me and the kids. I couldn't live without this mansion and an armored car full of money. Could you go down and help your wife with the steaks, Niles? I need to beg Leo's forgiveness for bringing Sheba and his mama together."

"Fire and ice," Niles says. "Where are Ike and Betty?"

"Putting Miss Sheba to bed. She took the homecoming scene hard. It wasn't what she wanted."

"We'll be back with the steaks," Niles says, then I hear him taking the back stairs two at a time.

Molly walks over to the bar. "Sometimes a woman needs flowers, Leo. Sometimes she needs a massage, or to hold hands, or to cuddle. Sometimes she needs to call an old friend she hasn't talked to for years, or read a trashy book with a lot of dirt thrown in. Sometimes a woman needs to get laid. Or run a mile, or play three sets of tennis. But then there are nights like this one, nights when a woman needs to get drunk."

Molly answers by pouring herself a jigger of vodka and throws an ice cube in the glass. "Do you want me to fix you anything?" I ask.

"A cup of arsenic with a dash of Angostura bitters and, if it's not too much of a bother, a cigar box full of sleeping pills. That was as bad a scene as any of us has seen for a while."

"Don't say that, Molly," I warn. "God is listening. He likes challenges."

"God had nothing to do with what Sheba said."

"He had everything to do with it," I say.

"Did you really get it on with Sheba in high school?" Molly cannot quite suppress a smile at the thought of it.

"You saw me in high school. Did you want to get it on with me?"

"You got handsome late," she admits.

"I never got handsome."

"I've thought about putting the make on you a time or two over the years, Leo."

"That's not your libido talking," I tell her. "That's alcohol."

"Sometimes it takes alcohol to let your libido in on what you really want."