Gold Coast

I put her in the car and we drove back to the church without exchanging another word.

The morning after the funeral, Edward and I finished planting the boxtrees. As we dug in the hot sun, he sort of looked at me as if I might keel over myself and die on the spot. He said, "Take a break, Dad."

"I'm in top shape. You need the break."

We sat under the chestnut tree and we drank spring water. Children don't think much about death, which is as it should be. But when they are confronted with it, it is not always processed properly or understood in its context. Some children shrug it off, others become maudlin. We spoke about death and dying for a while, coming up with no great revelations, but at least talking it out. Edward is fortunate in that he has all four grandparents – well, fortunate might not be the right word in the case of those four – but this is more common today as people live longer. And in fact, George Allard's funeral was the first one Edward had attended. Carolyn, at nineteen, has not gone to a funeral. And, I think, we've all, to some extent, come to believe that death is u

"That's harder to comprehend or deal with. I have no answers for that." And so we kicked death around awhile. American parents are obsessed with the First Sex Talk; when it should occur, what should be said. Parents, I think, should give as much time and thought to preparing their children for their first experience with the death of a loved one.

We finished the plantings, and Edward said to me, "Would you mind if I went back to Florida tomorrow?"

"Were you having a good time?"

"Yes."

"Then get back there. How are the girls?"

"Well… okay."

"You were taught about safe and responsible sex in health class?"

"Yes."

"Anything else you want to know about safe sex?"

"No. I've had it up to here with that subject."

I smiled. "Anything you want to know about good sex?"

He gri

"Hey, watch yourself, wise guy." I think I know where this kid gets his sense of humour.

We went back to the house, cleaned up, then went riding, Edward on Zanzibar, me on Yankee. As we crossed Bellarosa's land, I asked Edward, "Did you ever say anything to Mr Bellarosa about my having to sell the summer house for tax money?"

He looked at me as we rode. "No. Why would I tell him that?"

"He seemed to know about that."

"Not from me."

After a minute, he made an unconscious mental co

We rode until dusk, then we met Susan at a seafood restaurant on the Sound and had di

The next morning, I drove Edward to the airport. We don't see people off at the gate anymore, but I shook his hand before he passed through the metal detector and watched him disappear into the crowd.

William and Charlotte Stanhope were staying at one of the cottages at The Creek, and not with us, thank you, God. William took the opportunity of George's funeral to do some business while he was in New York. At Susan's suggestion, Squire Stanhope made an appointment with the Bishop of Alhambra. They met at Alhambra first, without me present, then came back to Stanhope Hall, walked around, kicked the bricks, and struck a deal. I didn't actually see them strike the deal, but I could picture them, standing in the sacred grove, pitchforks in hand, cloven hooves bared, touching horns and wiggling their tails.

Anyway, we had di

How would you know? You were fishing off Martha's Vineyard. "Yes, sir."

"And John, you'll keep this strictly confidential."

"Yes, sir."

William went on, "I think the idiot believes he can subdivide the acreage and make a killing. I want to nail this down before he learns otherwise. You speak to Cooper and Stiles about that without making it obvious what you don't want them to say to their client. They won't say anything anyway, because they want the fee."

"Yes, sir." Frank Bellarosa was many things, but an idiot wasn't one of them. "He probably thinks he can bribe or threaten government officials to have the land rezoned. He's got a lot to learn about how we conduct public affairs here." I said, "I think he wants the land to bury bodies." William gave me a look of a

He said, "Bellarosa's deed will include the gatehouse, too, of course. He wasn't happy about the Allards' lifetime tenancy. But I told him that if he made the widow a reasonable offer, she'd leave. If he can't get her out, no one can." William nearly smiled, and I nearly put my fist in his mouth. He added, "Meantime, the son of a bitch wants to hold a half million in escrow until the gatehouse is vacated and unencumbered. So put that in the contract, but let's see if we can get a promise from Ethel to move, and pass that on to Bellarosa." "Yes, sir."

He looked at me and said, "I discovered why you didn't want to dine at The Creek tonight, John. You're the subject of some heated debate over there. That's very awkward for me."

And it will get a lot more awkward for you when your friends find out you sold Stanhope Hall to Frank Bellarosa. I said, "Yes, sir. I'm sorry about that." He looked at me closely, then said, "I'd like to give you some advice. Don't get involved with that man."

"You just sold him Stanhope Hall," I pointed out.

He stopped eating and his yellow eyes narrowed. "That was business." "So is my involvement with him, sir. Your daughter handles our social involvements."

So, there was what you call dead silence for a while, during which time I thought Susan might say something on my behalf. But Susan pays me the compliment of not defending me or speaking for me. I do the same for her. Charlotte Stanhope finally broke the silence and said, "Poor Ethel. She looked frightful." She turned to me. "Do you think she can manage alone?" Charlotte has a trilly sort of voice that you think is going to trail off into a series of chirps. She's well bred, of course, and seems on the surface to be a nice lady, but in her own quiet way, she's as vicious as her husband. "John? Do you think poor Ethel can manage alone?"