under the tree. But perhaps there was something she could give.

"Why don't you ask how he is, Bev?" Emma said gently. "It would be

easier for both of us."

Bev shifted her gaze to meet Emma's eyes. Those beautiful dark blue

eyes so like her father's. "How is he?"

"I wish I knew. His music's going better than ever. The last concert

tour ... well, you probably know about all of that."

"Yes."

"He's scoring a film and talking about doing a conceptual alb.u.m. Then

the videos. You could almost believe music videos were made with Dad in

mind. Everything comes across, just as it does in concert."

She paused, then blundered on. "He's drinking too much."

"I've heard that, too," Bev said quietly. "P.M."s worried about him.

But they-for the last few years their relationship's been strained."

"I want to talk him into a clinic." Emma gave a quick, restless shrug.

"But he won't listen. He can see it in Stevie-but then it's so hard to

miss there. It's difficult to reason with him about it because it

hasn't affected his work, his creativity, or even his health to this

point. But-"

"You're worried."

"Yes. Yes, I am."

Bev's smile was softer, easier, a ghost of the one Emma remembered. "Is

that why you came?"

"Partly, I suppose. There seem to be a lot of parts to why I came."

"Emma, I swear to you, if I thought I could help, if I thought there was

anything I could do, anything at all, I would."

edWhy?"

She picked up her cup to give herself time to choose her words. "Brian

and I shared a great deal. No matter how long it's been, no matter how

much hurt, you don't forget all those feelings."

"Do you hate him?"

"No. No, of course I don't."

"And me?"

"Oh, Emma."

With a quick shake of her head, Emma rose. "I didn't mean to ask you

that. I didn't mean to bring all of this back. It's just that all at

once I've felt ... unfinished somehow. I don't know what I thought

I would accomplish today." She stared down at the fire that crackled

sedately in the hearth. "I went to see Jane."

Bev's cup clattered against her saucer before she managed to still her

hands. "Oh."

With a laugh, Emma dragged at her hair. "Yes.. "Oh." I felt that I had

to, that seeing her would help clear up my feelings. And foolishly,

that I might influence her to put a stop to the film they're making from

her book." She turned back. "You can't know what it's like to look at

her, to see her for what she is and know she's my mother."

"I don't know what to say to you, Emma, but the truth." She studied Emma

a moment. Perhaps there was something she could do, some small thing to

redeem the mistake she had made all those years ago. She set down her

cup, folded her hands. When she spoke, her voice was very calm and very