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"I understand," I said even though my heart dropped with the news Gavin would be going.

"He said I could come back soon to visit," Gavin said.

"Oh Gavin, you were going to work here this summer. We were going to have so much fun together," I reminded him. His eyes told me I didn't have to.

"Mother wants you two to return to the sofa," Richard said, shoving himself between us. "She says there are still a number of important people to greet."

"Hey," Gavin said, turning sharply on him, "make like the wind and blow."

"Huh?"

"Make like a tree and leave, get it?"

Richard's mouth twisted in confusion for a moment. Then it all registered.

"I'm just doing what Mother said to do," he whined defensively.

"Well, now do what I say to do." Gavin's furious face turned him around quickly and sent him running.

I laughed; it felt so good to do so.

"Do me a favor, Jefferson," Gavin said, "tie his socks together every morning, will you?"

"Yeah," Jefferson said, his eyes brightening. "Don't you dare, Jefferson. Gavin, he doesn't need new ideas."

"If he bothers you, tell him I'll be back," Gavin told Jefferson.

"Daddy wants to go, honey," Edwina said softly, stepping up beside us. "He's not doing too well," she added apologetically to me. "Philip's having the limo take us."

"I'll walk you out," I said.

"Me too," Jefferson echoed. He wasn't going to leave my side for a second.

When we stepped out front, we saw Aunt Fern and her boyfriend over by one of the tables laughing and joking with some of the waiters and bellhops. She didn't appear to be bereaved; she could have just as well been a stranger who had wandered onto the grounds. Edwina went over to her to tell her they were leaving, but she wasn't very interested.

"Sure, good-bye," she said and waved quickly at Gavin and Granddaddy Longchamp.

"She doesn't act like any child of mine," he muttered, "and certainly no child of Sally Jean's. I guess she must take after some of the bad eggs on my side of the family. We sure had more than our fair share of 'em," he added. I was intrigued and wondered if Gavin knew any of his own dark history.

"Well now, you take care of yourself, Christie," Granddaddy Longchamp said, turning his big, sad eyes on me. "And look after your brother the way your Momma and Papa would have wanted you to. And you call us if there's anything we can do for you children, understand?"

"Yes, Granddaddy. Thank you," I said. He took one last look at the house and then bent over to get into the limousine. Edwina followed.

"I'll call and write as much as I can," Gavin said. "I hate leaving you like this," he added, his eyes soft with sympathy. I nodded, my eyes down. He ran his hand through Jefferson's hair and then, quickly, almost so quickly that I couldn't feel it and no one could have seen it, he leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. By the time I opened my eyes, he was lunging into the limousine behind his parents.

Jefferson and I stood there holding hands, watching it disappear down the driveway. Suddenly, I was chilled. Twilight had come like a quickly dropped shade and deepened all the shadows around us.

"There you are, children," Aunt Bet cried from the front door. "You two just have to come back inside and man your stations," she declared.

"We're both tired, Aunt Bet," I said, still holding on to Jefferson's hand and walking past her. "We're going upstairs now."

"Oh—but, dear, what about all the new people who have just arrived?" she cried despondently. She grimaced as though our absence would be the real tragedy of the day.

"I'm sure they'll understand," I said quietly. "As should you."

"But . . ."

We walked, heads down, and made our way quickly up the stairway as if we really didn't belong, orphans in our own home.