"Last week," Holly answered. "Wait, two weeks ago, but the first time didn't count. I've only known who she was for about a week."

"Yes, she said you didn't exchange last names."

Holly had known who she was when they had last met, Reyna realized. She had known. Some of the things she had said now made sense. Her confusion and that flash of disdain when Reyna had at first refused to get undressed a" my God, she thinks I'm like Irene. She thinks I like the kicks, but I don't consider myself gay.

And yet, she had stayed, and had made love to her, knowing who Reyna was and what she did for a living.

Her mother's inquisition had not stopped. "I do apologize for the fact that the detective delved into your background a bit. Apparently, that was a standing order when Reyna was involved a" no matter how casually or how seriously a" with anyone. He said you lost your mother when you were young."

"I did." Holly went on answering her mother's questions, questions Reyna had longed to ask but couldn't, not when there were no tomorrows.

She was desperate to get Holly out of the building. The hospital's nurse was listening avidly, but she left abruptly when her beeper sounded. Reyna quickly shut the door.

"Mom, you need your rest."

"I just woke up, dear. What exactly does a conceptual mathematician do?"

"We play games a lot." Holly had a patient smile. "I say we, but I'm not actually one, not yet. I'm going back for my master's though."

"That's a good idea. There's no substitute for education."

Holly glanced up at Reyna, who was trying to figure out how to drag Holly out of the room. Out of the room and into the nearest bed. Stop it, she willed herself. This won't work.

"Well, very few things." Holly ran one hand through her hair. Reyna couldn't help but remember that hand and how it had felt on her. "I didn't finish my studies because I thought I was in love, but that didn't actually turn out so well."

Holly's eyes were dark with a misery that Reyna recognized. Behind the dark was a kind of silvery light, as if some dim glory was nurtured and would someday be set free. Was that pity? No, she didn't want that from Holly. She didn't want it any more than Holly had seemed to want it, when she explained the circumstances of her conception. Neither of them wanted anything founded on pity.

"We all make mistakes when we're young."

"Mom, Holly has to go."

"No, she doesn't." Her mother spoke with surprising asperity. Reyna hadn't seen her so animated in a long while. "Have you ever seen a detective here in the hospital? I think we're safe, for the moment. The detective seemed to think so, since he is assigned to you this weekend and no one in his office yet knows he has resigned."

Fuck Marc Ivar. Fuck him and his pension and his meddling. "I don't know what he told you, but you don't need to worry about it," she said tersely.

"That's my job. You should have told me."

"I think I should go," Holly said.

"Oh, fine, now you want to go," Reyna snapped. "Great."

"Don't leave yet, Holly. Please sit down." Her mother reached for the water, but let her arm fall back to the bed with a grimace of pain. Holly quickly picked it up and offered the straw. "Thank you. I have more questions and sometimes it's hard to talk."

"You should save your strength," Holly suggested.

"You're probably right, I'm going to need it. Stop flitting about, Reyna. You're giving me a headache."

"Mom, you don't have to be involved in this. It's between me and him." She could feel Holly's gaze on her. She couldn't cope with pity and would not meet her gaze.

"But it's all about me."

She should never have told Marc Ivar the truth. Damn him, he had had no right. He didn't know anything about her mother's condition or what the stress of this encounter would do to her. "You don't need to worry."

"I thought after we talked last week that I would see you happy again. But you only look worse. I've never seen you so depressed. I knew there was a reason and I knew I'd never find out from you. You keep secrets, just like your father. I didn't know he was married for the first three months we were together."

"I'm not like him." The very idea was repellent.

"When it comes to the stupid certainty that nothing can be done in this world unless you do it yourself, you are exactly like him." Her mother stopped abruptly and turned her gaze toward the water. Holly brought it to her without speaking. "Thank you," her mother said again.

There was a knock at the door. Reyna hurried to tell whoever it was to go away.

"If that's the stenographer, have him or her come in."

Stenographer? Mother of God, what was going on? It was a stenographer. He was neatly dressed, and tucked under one arm he had a transcription machine like those used in courtrooms. She let him in because he was expected, but she didn't know for what.

Holly gave up the chair as he settled in.

"I'm afraid I racked up quite a phone bill this morning." Her mother introduced everyone to the stenographer, whose name was Scott, then said to him, "When we're done each day how long will it be before I get copies back?"

"Less than twenty-four hours if you like."

"If I asked you to deliver another copy to someone else, could you do that?"

"Certainly. It's often done."

"That's wonderful. Let's begin then."

Holly was standing in the corner near the window and she looked as dazed as Reyna felt. Reyna was furious with her for staying when she had pleaded with her to go. Her mother didn't have energy like this to spare. She was all stirred up because of Marc Ivar and now meeting Holly. She didn't know what was going to happen when her father discovered what had transpired. And he would find out, and when he did, everything would shatter, starting with her.

"Why couldn't you have just left?"

"Because she asked me not to. And I didn't want to." Holly wouldn't look at her.

"Mom, my father is not going to like this."

"And he holds the purse strings, I know that now." She glanced at Reyna, and Reyna knew the pain had to be bad if she wouldn't even turn her head. "Scott, please go ahead now." She paused while he lifted his hands to the keys. "My name is Gretchen Langston, and when I was twenty-three I met Grip Putnam for the first time. I was a small-town girl, and I'd never heard of him, or his father, or his grandfather. I didn't know he was married. But I knew that I loved him from the moment he stopped to help me change a flat tire."

"Mom, what are you doing?"

There was a knock at the door. Reyna threw her mother a helpless glance.

"That'll be your father. Let him in."

She was so stunned she couldn't move at first.

She reminded herself that he would never make any threats in front of witnesses. Her mother had no idea what she was getting into. She had never seen Grip as he really was. Reyna let him in, but turned her head away when he looked to her for some sort of explanation. She felt utterly helpless, with nothing left to defend either her mother or Holly. Holly a" she had no idea what was about to happen to her, just as Margeaux hadn't known.

He glanced about curiously as he walked toward the bed. Reyna knew he would forget nothing he saw, including Holly's ashen face. "Gretchen, you are looking lovely for someone in the hospital."

"Thank you, Grip."

"What did you want to see me about? Is there something you need?" He looked pointedly at the stenographer.

Reyna watched her mother raise her hand in a graceful gesture that must have cost her an enormous toll in sheer agony. None of it showed in her face. She looked as if she had an inexhaustible supply of energy. From very far away, she heard her mother say, "Grip, this is Holly Markham. She is studying to be a conceptual mathematician. She's Reyna's lover. And this is Scott. He's a stenographer a" well, you can see that. I'm writing my memoirs."

Holly wanted to tell Reyna she now understood, but the room was filled with a furious crackle of silent conflict. She had not expected Grip Putnam to be so dynamic in person, and she could see that Reyna's incredible eyes came from him. He was flustered. Gretchen appeared to have caught him completely off his guard.

"I know that all my life I've let you take care of me. When you didn't, Reyna did. But things have changed for me." Gretchen gestured broadly at her body, and Reyna made a sound that might have been a whimper. "Both of you have to realize that I have changed. I want what concerns me to be discussed with me."

"Of course, Gretchen. We were wrong not to discuss how your bills would be paid with you."

Gretchen gave him an exasperated but fond look. "You're not going to tell me what I want to hear and then make some sort of deal with Reyna when you leave. Either you commit to paying the bills a" and truly, Grip, I wish I didn't have to ask, but you're the only wealthy person I know a" or I shall sell my memoirs and pay them that way. You probably didn't know that I had turned down offers to sell them in the past. I've read hints that you're considering running for office. I'm sure I'll get a good advance."

"That sounds suspiciously like blackmail." Grip didn't seem angry, though. It was as if he accepted that matters are sometimes resolved through coercion. They were communicating in a language Holly had never wanted to understand.

"No, dear. It's your choice. I'm happy either way. And either way Reyna is free to live the life she chooses."

Reyna made a helpless gesture. She took a step toward her mother, and then like a puppet whose strings were suddenly cut. she collapsed. Her head hit the floor with a frightening crack.

"Reyna!" Holly's cry was a match to Gretchen's. Holly was instantly at Reyna's side. She didn't know what to do. A bruise was forming on her forehead.

She was suddenly pushed aside by nurses and then she made way for a gurney. Grip Putnam kept saying, "She's my daughter, only the best."

Reyna came around while they were wheeling her away. "I'm okay," she said weakly. "I don't need to go anywhere."

Holly wanted to follow the gurney but she had no right. Reyna wouldn't want her there. She had been so angry about Holly's even being at the hospital in the first place.

"What have you done to my daughter?" Gretchen, who had managed to pull herself to the edge of the bed, sounded irate and exhausted. The stenographer had retreated to a corner and both Gretchen and Grip ignored him.

"I'm only trying to give her the best in life, including a Putnam name worth having."

They had forgotten she was there as well, and Holly decided that she was far better off with Reyna's anger than a bitter family quarrel. She ran after the gurney and squeezed into the elevator at the last minute.

The doctor was shaking his head over Reyna's answers to his questions. "I thought you were going to make an effort to eat more regularly."

"I tried." Reyna's voice was steadier. "No food and a shock, that's all it was."

"We'll see about that," the doctor said. His eyes narrowed as he realized Holly was listening to every word. "Can I help you?"

Holly shook her head and then felt Reyna's attention shift to her.

Reyna held out her hand for something. Holly looked around, wondering what it was she could get for Reyna in the elevator.

Then she realized what Reyna wanted. She took her hand in her own and felt a rapid shifting of the puzzles she had been trying to solve. The equations resolved themselves. Chaos became predictable, all because she held Reyna's hand.

So it seemed, for a moment. Then chaos ruled again.

When the elevator doors opened, Reyna dropped her hand. "Please go. Don't make me ask again."

"I understand," Holly said, and she did. Reyna was done with her old life and she was a part of that. She watched the hospital staff wheel Reyna through an employees-only door. She had told herself that if she understood Reyna's behavior she would be able to cope with the rejection. Understanding did not help one bit.

She made herself go home. Reyna didn't want her there. Reyna didn't want her.

Australia wanted her, and right away. She read the e-mail again slowly. In a fog she sent back her acceptance. She hoped that being on the other side of the planet would be far enough away to forget.

15.

Like many times before, Reyna and her father stood outside the institute's main conference room and prepared for an entrance. Today was different. Reyna smoothed her plain black suit with shaking hands. Today was so very different.

Paul wouldn't look at her as he signaled that it was time to begin. Reyna faced the doors and lifted her chin.

"Wait," her father said. "One last thing."

She turned to him, wondering what more there could be after four days of endless strategy meetings and draft after draft of press releases, talking points and position papers.

"I really did want what was best for you."

She looked at him, noting again the similarity of their eyes. "Only when what was best for me was also best for you."

"I thought they were the same thing."

He embraced her for the first time in a very long time. She couldn't bring herself to return the show of affection. "There aren't any cameras."

"I'm well aware of that." He let her go.

"I can't forgive you yet," she said baldly.

"So be it." His eyes narrowed and she realized that when she walked through those doors she would on her own for the first time in many years. "Good luck," he added.

"And to you." It was as close to forgiveness as she could get, at least today.

"Miss Putnam! Miss Putnam!" The blinding pops from camera flashes punctuated the hubbub. Reyna blinked in the white glare of television lights.

She let the noise subside and steadied her nerves, then pointed to the woman in the front in the yellow suit.

"Miss Putnam, how do you feel about your father's chances in the New Hampshire primary?"

"At this stage, his intention to run is mere speculation, but if he should decide to do so, I would wish him the best of luck. For now, however, I'd like to address questions about my past and future. By the way, my name is now Reyna Langston in honor of my mother. Reyna Putnam no longer exists."

The reporters went on asking questions, and Reyna went on answering them as she had agreed she would.

She never dreamed she'd see her father beaten, but even if she had thought it possible, she would never have conceived that it would be by her mother. Her mother hadn't been able to cope with burnt toast, sometimes, but her illness had completely changed her. It had taken a monumental effort of will to orchestrate her coup d' Putnam.