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"Darling, I'm so happy you made the right

decision." Bunny cried as she came down the stairs and saw me in the great room. "Have you had lunch yet?"

"Yes." It was nearly four o'clock, and she was just thinking of lunch?

"Oh, poo. I'm sorry I wasn't down in time for you. I hate eating alone, don't you?"

I was about to tell her I hadn't eaten alone but thought maybe it was better I didn't. I just thought Thatcher would feel more comfortable if his mother didn't know our comings and goings.

"These days, I'm a golf widow. You know how they call some women football widows during the football season? Well, when Asher gets into his golf game. I had better find things to occupy myself and friends to join me. or I'll be staring at the walls waiting for him to remember he has a wife. At least I'm grateful he's not Michael Strentchild. Do you know Michael Strentchild?"

"No," I said.

"Of course you do. He's the grandson of Strentchild cutlery, the biggest cutlery company in North America. He was divorced recently, a bad divorce, and do you know what he went and did?"

"What?"

"He had his wife's face put on all his golf balls just so he could smack at her. Asher claims he's driving the ball yards farther than ever," She laughed. "Put that story down in your book, if you like."

"I'm not writing a book. Bunny."

"Well, you know what I mean." she said, waving her hand in the air between us as if she could wave away words and thoughts at will, "Did Jennings take good care of you while I was struggling to get out of bed? Are you set up in your room? Do you have everything you need?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you."

"Thatcher called and laid down the law... absolutely no guests for dinner tonight. I told him that was wasting your time, that you were here specifically to meet significant people, but he was adamant."

She winked and smiled. "I think he'd like you all to himself I can't say I blame him. Matter of fact. Asher and I have a dinner party tonight at the Carlsons'. I'll have them here one night. Broderick Carlson's father was the CEO of Packard-Willis, probably the biggest trucking firm in North America. I used to say America. but Dolly told me I'm leaving out Canada, and it wasn't accurate to leave out Canada."

I nodded, trying to look impressed and grateful.

"Look at your face." she suddenly cried. "Have you been lying on the beach? You're absolutely red.-

"Oh, am I?"

-Don't you know how dangerous the sun's rays are, especially for a woman? I must get you right to my vanity table and have you put on some special cream designed to counter the ultraviolet damage. Come along," she insisted, taking my hand and marching us both back to the stairway.

"But I'm holding you back from eating your lunch." I said.

"Oh. food. What a nuisance," she declared, and continued to ascend, lecturing about skin and beauty all the way to her room and after. All the while. I kept thinking Linden might not be so wrong in his view of things and people around him. Maybe this is a hollow place.

"Now, just look at my face.' Bunny said, sitting herself down in front of the vanity mirror. "If you didn't know I was Thatcher's mother, would you be able to predict my age with any real accuracy? Well?" she said. insisting I respond.

"No," I said. ''I mean. I would never guess you are as old as you are."

"Exactly. And it's not because I had a cosmetic procedure two years ago. That was just a little thing I did for my eyes. It's my skin, my complexion, that keeps me looking young. See here." she said, opening a jar of skin cream. "This is a special formula from France. It's made up of herbs, a secret recipe. I don't mind paying five hundred dollars a jar for it. It works."

"Five hundred dollars?"

"And this," she said. "is a lotion that comes with it. You rub it in every night before you go to sleep."

"How much was that?"

"Five hundred, or six. I don't remember. Age is complexion, but it i

s also attitude. You've got to think young to be young." she said.