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"No," I said shaking my head. I was lucky to have a home in a home, I thought. "Doesn't it smell?"

"No," he said laughing. "We have a farm, but we don't have any annuals."

"What kind of a farm is that?"

He shrugged.

"It's what my parents wanted. I guess you could call it a movie-set home," he added. "Anyway, should I pick you up?"

"I'll have to ask Mrs. Hudson. I think her daughter is coming to visit and I might have to be there."

"Why do you have to be there? Can't you do what you want?"

"No. I'm under her supervision," I said.

"Okay," he said. "Let me know if you're free." He got up. "Oh," he added, "just keep it between us for now. I don't want any of those dimwits spreading stories."

"What kind of stories?" I shot back. What was he ashamed of?

"Who knows? You give them an idea and they'll run wild with it." He saw the disapproval on my face. "Look, you want Maureen talking about you behind your back?"

"No," I admitted.

"Neither do I," he said. He smiled. "I hope your supervisor gives you permission."

Why do the best looking boys have to be so infuriating? I wondered, but I did want to meet with him. At dinner that night I asked Grandmother Hudson if my mother had called to say she was coming on the weekend.

"She made some vague reference to it earlier this week, but today she informed me she had to attend a black-tie affair with Grant. He sees himself as a rising star on the political scene," she muttered.

"Then she's not coming?" I was both

disappointed and relieved. Meeting my half-brother and half-sister would surely prove to be a traumatic experience. Would they look at me and see

resemblances, sense them?

"She's threatening to show up during

midweek," my grandmother mumbled. "Unless, of course, I die before that. Then she'll come sooner."

"That's a horrible thing to say. I'm sure she's worried about you."

She stared at me for a moment and then shook her head softly, her lips gently curling.

"For a girl who was brought up in what is sometimes referred to as Hell's Kitchen, you appear rather naive and trusting. I don't lie to myself, Rain. My children were spoiled and are self-centered. If anything is too inconvenient, they don't do it, even if it means not visiting a sick mother. Especially if it means not visiting a sick mother," she added.

"I don't lie to myself," I said, "but I don't want to stop believing in people?'

"That's because you're still young enough to suffer disappointments," she remarked. "I don't have the luxury of time to waste."

She patted her lips, looked up at the ceiling and then dipped her spoon into her soup. I stared at her, feeling sorrier for her at the moment than I did for myself and Mama. She caught the look in my eyes and slammed her spoon down.

"Don't you dare look at me that way. Who do you think you are, pitying me? I don't need anyone's pity, thank you."

"I'm sorry," I said looking away quickly. "I didn't mean anything."

"Now you've gone and ruined my appetite," she said. "Not that this tastes like anything?'

"I'm sorry," I moaned, tears stinging my eyes.