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No one spoke, but it was easy to see drama unfolding in all our faces.

"Let's leave Evan get some rest." Rose said. "He's coming to the house for lunch tomorrow. Madame Senetsky approved of it."

"Good." Cinnamon said. "But let's not talk about any of this in front of anyone else just yet."

"Especially Howard and Steven," Ice pointed out.

"You've taken care of all your travel

arrangements. Evan? You can get yourself to the school okay?" Rose confirmed.

He nodded.

"The van will be here about ten. Don't worry about it," he said, obviously proud at how he had managed to handle everything for himself.

Independence for someone like him was far more important than it was for any of us. I thought.

"Is there anything else you need before we go?"

"No, I'm fine here. As you see," he said, gesturing toward the bathroom, where we could see railings. "it's all designed for the disabled.-

"You're far less disabled than most of the boys I know." Cinnamon told him, which brought a nice smile back to his tired face.

"Thanks," he said.

"There's one other thing you should know, Evan," she continued. "We're practically sisters now. That makes you brother to all of us."

His smile widened.

Each of us kissed him good night.

The beams of happiness in his eyes warmed our hearts. After we left his room. Rose couldn't stop her thank you's.

"Forget it." Cinnamon said. "He's the one who deserves the thanks.

"What is going on in that mansion?" she pondered. "Who was that upstairs? Was it her daughter, and if it was, why did she tell you her daughter was dead?"

"And when will we know?" Ice fo

llowed,

We hailed a cab and returned, all of us lost in her own thoughts until we pulled up at the gate and got out.

The house loomed above us, the windows on the third floor dimly lit.

All of it resembling a stage waiting for its next performance.

And with us, strangely enough, participating as an audience trapped in the theater.

Before I went to sleep. I had a call from Chandler to tell me he had arrived and how much he looked forward to seeing me.

"It's been too long," he said. "When you care as much for someone as I care for you. Honey, a week apart is more like a month; a month, more like a year."

"I know. Chandler. I feel the same way," I said. "I'll be there about eleven," he said.

Knowing he was close by helped me relax and finally get a good night's sleep.

At breakfast. Laura Fairchild told us to report to the parlor as soon as we were finished. where once again Madame Senetsky held court. When I looked at her now. I couldn't help thinking about the revelations Evan had brought to us. How did she keep the turns and twists of her real life from interfering with her performances, her career? A daughter in a mental clinic, a husband who committed suicide? Would I be able to have such control and power over my own emotions?