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DRAKE WAS STUBBORN AND SULKED. HE REFUSED TO EAT any breakfast and wouldn't let me dress him. Mrs. Cotton had to do it. It was the last duty she performed for Luke and Stacie Casteel. Even though he was reluctant to go, we took Drake with us to the law office of J. Arthur Steine, which was located in downtown Atlanta. The sights and activity soon attracted little Drake's interest, and before long he permitted me to hold him on my lap while he gazed out the window. I brushed back his silky ebony hair with my fingers and studied his face. Stacie had kept his hair long, something I couldn't blame her for doing. It was so thick and rich-looking. I kissed him softly on the cheek and held him snugly to me, but he was too involved with the things he saw to notice or care.

J. Arthur Steine's office was in a posh modern building. I was surprised that Luke had chosen this firm, because it looked like one associated with big corporations and wealthy people. His circus wasn't an insignificant venture, but it was far from being a P.T. Barnum. He had spent most of his time going from one small town to the next, and with the kind of overhead a circus would have, I was sure he had barely been scraping out a living.

Little Drake was fascinated with the glass elevator, which took us up to the twelfth floor, where Mr. Steine's

office was located. The lobby of the law firm was very plush, with two secretaries behind big desks answering phones and typing. There were three law clerks rushing about, giving the secretaries papers to type or gathering up documents. The first secretary on the right was also the receptionist. She asked us to sit on the leather couch while she announced our arrival to Mr. Steine. I had just found a magazine for Drake when J. Arthur Steine came out himself to greet us.

He was a tall, distinguished-looking man with graying temples. His black-framed glasses magnified his hazel eyes. As soon as I saw him, I couldn't help but feel there was something familiar about him. Of course, with his three-piece gray silk suit, the gold chain of his pocket watch dangling out of the vest pocket, he looked like one of a number of Tony's business associates.

"My condolences," he said, reaching out to shake my hand and then Logan's. He slipped his glasses down the bridge of his nose and peered over the rims to look down at Drake, who stared up at him with an almost angry curiosity. He was definitely not a timid little boy, I thought. "This must be Drake."

"Yes. Say hello, Drake," I coached. Drake looked at me and then at J. Arthur Steine with an arrogance I thought quite beyond his years.

"I wanna go home," he stated.

"Of course you do," Mr. Steine said and then turned to the secretary. "Don't we have a delicious red lollipop for this young man, Colleen?"

"I think we might," she said, smiling at Drake. He eyed her cautiously, the promise of a lollipop softening his resistance.

"Well, why don't you find him one so he can sit out here and enjoy that while I speak to Mr. and Mrs. Stonewall," Mr. Steine said.

His secretary reached into a bottom drawer to produce a lollipop. Drake took it eagerly and started to turn away.

"You must say thank you when people, give you things, Drake," I said softly. He looked at me, considered what I said, and then turned around slowly.

"Thank you," he said and rushed back to the couch to work the wrapper of his lollipop. He didn't seem to mind being left alone.

"We'll be right out, Drake. Just stay here," I said. He looked up at me without responding and went back to his lollipop.

"Right this way," Mr. Steine said and led us through a carpeted corridor, past a beautiful conference room, a large law library, two other law offices, to his own, which was at the end of the corridor. Its windows looked over the city, which that day, because of the soft, nearly cloudless blue sky, provided a magnificent clear view. "Please, have a seat," he said, indicating the gray, soft leather chairs in front of his desk. "You two probably don't remember me," he said, "but I was at your wedding reception at Farthinggale Manor. What a party that was."

"I thought I had seen you someplace before," I mused. "But I'm afraid I don't quite understand - you were Luke Casteel's attorney?"

"Well, actually, I represented Mr. Tatterton." "Mr. Tatterton?" I looked to Logan, but he only shrugged.

"Yes. You didn't know that?" Mr. Steine asked.

"No. You'll have to explain."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I just assumed . . ." He sat forward. "Well, some time back I negotiated the purchase of a circus owned by a. . . a Mr.

Windenbarron for Mr. Tatterton." He looked at the papers on his desk. "Yes, Windenbarron."

"Tony bought the circus from Windenbarron? But . . I thought Luke owned the circus." Again I looked at Logan and again he shook his head to indicate he knew nothing.

"Oh, yes, he did," Mr. Steine assured me.

"I don't understand?'

"Well, after Mr. Tatterton bought the circus, he then had me work up an arrangement with Luke Casteel, turning the circus over to him, for a rather small sum." He smiled. "One dollar, to be exact."

"What?"

"You'd have to call it a gift. Anyway, with his and Mrs. Casteel's death, the ownership reverts back to Mr. Tatterton. Last night when we spoke, he asked me to put the circus up for sale and place the proceeds into a trust fund for Drake. He also asked me to look into Mr. Casteel's estate, expedite the sale of their home, and place any and all proceeds and legacies into the same trust. I hope that meets with your approval, Mrs. Stonewall," he said.

I was dumbfounded.

"Actually," Mr. Steine went on, "the matter ordinarily wouldn't be of suffcient size for our firm, but we handle many of Mr. Tatterton's affairs in the South and when he . . . of course, we'll take care of everything."