“At that age none of that would have made a difference.”

“Oh, no, you can’t accuse me of… No! I didn’t- wouldn’t ever have done anything so cruel to Sherry!”

“She kept asking for Sharon, didn’t she?”

“For a while. Then she stopped. Put it out of her mind.”

“Did she stop having nightmares too?”

Her expression told me all my years of schooling hadn’t been wasted. “No, those… If you know everything, why are you putting me through this?”

“Here’s something else I know: After Sharon was gone, Sherry was terrified- separation anxiety’s the primal fear at three. And her fear kept climbing. She started to lash out, get more violent. Began taking it out on you.”

Another good guess. “Yes!” she said, eager to be the victim. “She threw the most horrid tantrums I’d ever seen. More than tantrums- fits, animal fits. Wouldn’t let me hold her, kicked me, bit me, spit at me, destroyed things- one day she walked into my bedroom and deliberately broke my favorite Tang vase. Right in front of me. When I scolded her, she snatched up a manicure scissors and went for my arm. I needed stitches!”

“What did you do about this new problem?”

“I started to think more seriously about her origins, her… biology. I asked Billy. He told me her lineage wasn’t… choice. But I refused to be discouraged by that, made improving her my main project. I thought a change of scenery might help. I closed up this house, took her back with me to Palm Beach. My place there is… tranquil. Rare palms, lovely big bay windows- one of Addison Mizner’s best. I thought the ambience- the rhythm of the waves- would calm her.”

“A couple of thousand miles between her and Willow Glen,” I said.

“No! That had nothing to do with it. Sharon was out of her life.”

“Was she?”

She stared at me. Began to cry, but without tears, as if she were a dry well, had nothing to draw upon.

“I did my best,” she finally said in a strangled voice. “Sent her to the best nursery school- the very best. I’d attended it myself. She had dance lessons, equestrian training, charm school, boat rides, junior cotillion. To no avail. She wasn’t good around other children; people started to talk. I decided she needed more of my individual attention, devoted myself to her. We went to Europe.”

A few thousand more miles. “To your place in Rome.”

“My atelier,” she said. “Henry gave it to me when I was studying art. On the way there, we took the grand tour- London, Paris, Monte Carlo, Gstaad, Vienna. I bought her a darling set of miniature luggage to match mine, had a whole new wardrobe made up for her- even a little fur coat with matching hat. She loved dressing up. She could be so sweet and charming when she wanted. Beautiful and poised, just like royalty. I wanted her exposed to the finer things in life.”

“To compensate for her origins.”

“Yes! I refused to see her as incorrigible. I loved her!”

“How did the trip go?”

She didn’t answer.

“Throughout all of this, did you ever consider reuniting her with Sharon?”

“It… came to mind. But I didn’t know how. I didn’t think it was best… Don’t look at me like that! I was doing what I thought was best!”

“Did you ever think of Sharon- of how she was doing?”

“Billy gave me reports. She was fine, doing just fine. They were sweet people.”

“They are. And they did a damned good job of raising her, considering what they had to work with. But did you really expect them to make it?”

“Yes, I did! Of course I did. What do you take me for! She was thriving! It was the best thing for her.”

Mayonnaise from a jar. Wax-paper windows. I said, “Until last week.”

“I… I don’t know about that.”

“No, I’m sure you wouldn’t. Let’s get back to Sherry. Given her social problems, how did she do in school?”

“She went through ten schools in three years. After that we used tutors.”

“When did you first take her to Kruse?”

She looked down at her empty glass. I rationed another inch. She polished it off. I said, “How old was she when he started treating her?”

“Ten.”

“Why didn’t you seek help before then?”

“I thought I could work things out myself.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“She… hurt another child, at a birthday party.”

“Hurt how?”

“Why must you know this? Oh, all right, what’s the difference? I’m already stripped raw! They were playing pin the tail on the donkey. She missed the donkey and got angry- she despised losing. Tore off her blindfold and stuck the pin into a little boy’s rear- the birthday boy. The child was a brat; the parents were nouveau riche social climbers, utterly without sense. They made a mountain out of a molehill, threatened to call the police unless I took her to someone.”

“Why’d you choose Kruse?”

“I knew him socially. My people had known his people for generations. He had a lovely home not far from mine with a beautiful office suite on the ground floor. Complete with a private entrance. I thought he’d be discreet.”

She laughed. A drunken, strident laugh. “I don’t seem to be much for… prescience, do I?”

“Tell me about the treatment.”

“Four sessions a week. One hundred twenty-five dollars a session. Payment for ten sessions in advance.”

“What diagnosis did he give you?”

“He never gave me one.”

“What about treatment goals? Methods?”

“No, nothing like that. All he said was that she had serious problems- character problems- and needed intensive therapy. When I tried to ask questions he made it very clear that everything that went on between them was confidential. I was forbidden to be involved at all. I didn’t like that, but he was the doctor. I assumed he knew what he was doing. I stayed completely out of it, had Ramey drive her to her appointments.”

“Did Kruse help her?”

“In the beginning. She’d come home from seeing him and be calm- almost too calm.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sleepy. Drowsy. I know now that he was hypnotizing her. But whatever benefits that brought didn’t last. Within an hour or two she was the same old Sherry.”

“Meaning what?”

“Defiance, foul language. That terrible temper- still breaking things. Except when she wanted something- then she could be the most charming little doll in the world. Sweet as sugar, a real actress. She knew how to twist people to her needs. He taught her how to do it even better. All the time I thought he was helping her, he was teaching her how to manipulate.”

“Did you ever tell him about Sharon?”

“He wouldn’t let me tell him anything.”

“If he had, would you have told him?”

“No. That was… in the past.”

“But eventually you did tell him.”

“Not until later.”

“How much later?”

“Years. She was a teenager- fourteen or fifteen. He called me late at night, caught me off-guard. He liked to do that. All of a sudden he’d completely changed his tune. All of a sudden it was imperative I be involved. Come in to be evaluated. Five years of going nowhere and now he wanted me on the couch! I wanted no part of such a thing- by then I’d realized that it was useless, her personality wasn’t going to change. She was the prisoner of her… genes. But he wouldn’t take no for an answer, kept calling me, badgering me. Dropping in to chat when I was entertaining guests. Pulling me aside at parties and telling me that she and I were a… what was the word he used?… a dyad. A destructive dyad. Two people on a psychological seesaw, trying to knock each other off. Her behavior affected mine; mine, hers. In order for her to stop doing all those terrible things, we needed to equalize our communications, find emotional homeostasis or some rubbish like that. I felt he simply wanted to control me, and I wasn’t about to give in. But he was like a… a drill. Kept at it, simply wouldn’t give up. Still, I was able to resist.” Prideful smile. “Then things got much worse and I caved in.”