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"Asher will double their fees, or else Thatcher will find a way: he always does. And if that doesn't work, we'll get that black singer who's the rage these days, the one who plays piano. I'll fly him in from New York."

"Oh, this is sounding wonderful," Brenda cried. "And just in time. too. We had nothing exciting to do this weekend, did we, Thelma?'

"We have nothing exciting to do any weekend, as far as I'm concerned," she said.

Then she paused, looked at Bunny for a moment and then at me and then back to Bunny.

"What?" Bunny asked, a smile on her lips.

"There's something else going on here. Bunny."

"What?"

"I don't know." she said. "You're a plotter."

Bunny laughed nervously.

"You're part of some conspiracy," she accused, looking at me. "If I am. I'm not aware of it." I said.

"Maybe," she said with those skeptical eves hovering on me, making me feel naked for a moment. "And then again, maybe not."

Bunny looked up at me as if Thelma Carriage had pulled a curtain apart. Then she shook off the thought and went back to discussing her gala event.

.

Maybe it was the pressure I felt myself under at the tea, or maybe it was just the spontaneous sea escapade I had taken with Thatcher earlier, but I was so tired I excused myself to take what I thought would be a short nap. When I awoke, however, night had already fallen, and I was shocked to discover it was a little after nine. The moon was casting a luminous ribbon over the ocean as far as the horizon. It was so full and bright, it swallowed the light of the stars around it.

I wondered where Thatcher was and imagined he had been wondering about me. I went into the bathroom and washed my face in cold water. I felt confused, almost drugged.

The house was very quiet, and at first I thought Thatcher had simply given up and gone out, but when I went down. I saw him sitting on the rear loggia, sipping a cocktail and looking out at the same moonlight that had impressed me the moment I awoke. He wore a short-sleeve white silk mock turtleneck and a pair of black slacks.

For a moment. I stood back and studied the way he gazed pensively at the sea. I used to enjoy watching Daddy when he didn't know I was watching. I knew it wasn't fair and that I would not like people observing me this way, but to me it was the best way to capture honesty: faces without protective expressions, bodies relaxed and unguarded, no pretension, no role playing. Daddy was just a man. Thatcher was just a man, but oh, I thought, what a handsome and intelligent-looking one.

"Hi," I said, coming up beside him,

"Hey." He rose quickly. "How are you? I was worried about you. I looked in on you, saw you were dead to the world, and let you be. Bunny told me you met the Carriage sisters,"

"Yes," I said, raising my eyebrows,

"Thelma can be quite trying, and Brenda is so childlike she's full maintenance, as demanding as a five-year-old." He grimaced. "I heard about Bunny's plans for one of her parties. I'm sorry," he said. '1 don't think that's the sort of thing you were after."

"That's okay," I said.

He pulled a chair out for me. "Hung?"

"Just a little." I said.

"I thought we might have a bite out here, some simple Mexican food, I had the staff mix up some margaritas for us." He stirred a pitcher and poured me a glass.

The servents here must have their ears to the wall, I thought, for the maid began to bring out our food almost the moment he filled my glass.

"What sort of Mexican food?"

He uncovered each serving dish. "I ordered up some fajitas, enchiladas, a few burritos."

"This is what you call a bite!" I exclaimed.

Thatcher laughed. "Nothing is small here, especially egos," he said. "Oh, before I forget. There was a phone call for you."