Nina waited.

“Very sudden and very powerful, this shift. Different people became leaders, and some people became irrelevant. The dynamic changed utterly.”

“Go on.”

“The alliances solidified and secrets developed.”

“You’re too general,” Nina said. “This is interesting, but I know you asked me here to tell me something important about my client’s case. It’s late, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth said, leaning forward, “I’ll make it simple. The men allied. And the women allied. Across the newbie/local lines.”

Nina considered this. “They broke into gender-based groups over the conflict with the subdivision?”

“Precisely.”

“Secrets developed?”

“The men began holding private conversations. I should mention that Ben was the exception throughout. He was kept outside.”

“Why?”

“I think-I think they knew Ben wouldn’t want to get involved.”

“Involved in what?”

“I’m not sure. Now. Remember, at this time Danny was still alive. He had always been an outsider too. Suddenly he was talking a lot and being listened to. He was an integral part of this new alliance.

“I could only catch bits and pieces of their conversations during the parties. They always came back to the Green River development. I’m quite sure that they began holding other conversations outside the parties. Away from the women, whom they didn’t trust.”

“And you say the women began doing the same thing? Meeting secretly?”

“Not exactly. They had always used that extremely fast and efficient telegraph called gossip, but they talked as a group more than they used to. I was curious as to why they tolerated Britta at all. But then I realized that Britta had an important role as the transgressive woman in the group. They all had the same issue-the men were shutting them out, and they all felt resentful. Actually, the men had always shut them out in various ways-George keeping Jolene from their money, Darryl shutting Tory out emotionally-but this was a conspicuous exacerbation.”

“You mean they tolerated Britta because she caused so much trouble?” Nina asked, amazed.

“Oh, yes, Britta helped all the women vent their frustrations. Did you notice how muted Debbie’s response was to Britta’s transgression with her husband, Sam?”

“You mean the lap dance?”

“Yes. It reminds me of the custom in a certain African tribe. It’s called ‘sitting on a man.’ The women go to the hut of a man who has violated some social custom and compel him to submit to the very same obscenity. It’s a sexual attack. Humiliating. Degrading.”

“You’re kidding,” Nina said. “The women despise Britta.”

“Consciously, they do. Unconsciously, they admire her.”

“You know, I think you’re right. It was like a-a rape,” Nina said. Elizabeth nodded.

“Then Danny died. The last tape I made-at the party you went to-contains a few bits of conversation from one of those male groupings. I want to play it for you.” She got up and led Nina into a book-lined study, green-walled and octagonal, like the tower of a princess in a fairy tale. She had already inserted the cassette into the player, and she switched it on and off at each phrase, watching Nina’s reactions.

“This is Britta,” she said.

“What’re you guys talking about, hmm?”

“Sam answers her”:

“Danny. We’re toasting Danny.”

“They all laugh here, you can hear it, and I don’t know who says this”:

“Good riddance.”

“Now another group response”:

“Yeah.”

“And that’s what I thought you should hear,” Elizabeth concluded. They were both standing, and both very excited.

Nina said, “They were glad Danny was dead.”

“They were toasting his death,” Elizabeth said. “Fascinating, no?”

O N WEDNESDAY MORNING, NINA WAS EATING her breakfast when her father came to the door. Paul had just gotten up and was pouring himself his first cup of coffee, and Bob had been up for hours E-mailing on the computer and playing with Hitchcock.

“Grandpa!” Harlan hugged Bob and followed him into the kitchen.

“Figured I had to come to you,” he said to Nina, and sat down. “Long time no see.”

“Well, Dad, what a surprise.”

“When I got the call from Bob last night, I decided to drop by. Okay with you?”

“How about a cup of coffee?”

“Sounds good, Paul.” Harlan, hale, red-faced, and loud-voiced as always, was wearing a Pebble Beach Company golf shirt and creased pants. At sixty-four, he had already been retired for years and he lived for the putting green. “My own daughter moves here and doesn’t come to see me. I have to come to her. Hard to imagine, isn’t it, Paul?”

“I’m sorry, Dad, I’ve been so busy-” Harlan ignored her crummy excuses and turned to Bob.

“So you’ve been chatting up Swedish girls in the Land of the Midnight Sun?”

“Not exactly,” Bob said.

“What brought you back so soon?”

“Stuff.”

“You talk just like your mother at your age, which is to say, not at all. You okay, though?”

“I’m okay.”

“Glad to be home?”

“Yeah. I guess this is home.”

Harlan accepted the coffee and began telling them about his new house in Pacific Grove and how Angie and Isaiah were doing. He made it all sound so normal and homey that Nina began thinking to herself, How come I’ve stayed away?

Still, she never felt comfortable with Harlan’s new family. Her stepmother, Angie, was younger than Nina, and Nina’s half-brother, little Isaiah, was more than thirty years younger than she. Nina didn’t feel that she belonged in this new family constellation.

And, to be unfair, she still thought Harlan had remarried too soon after her mother’s death. But Bob had none of these reservations, and was asking a lot of questions about his Uncle Isaiah, age three.

“We got him this electric-powered toy loader. Tot size, but he can raise and lower the loader and pick up dirt. He’s a hoot. He rides up and down the driveway all day in it.”

“This I gotta see,” said Bob.

“Come on over this morning and you can. I’ll take you boys to Cannery Row for pizza and drop you off later.”

Bob said, “Mom?”

“Your mom can come too. You too, Paul.”

“Sorry, Dad, but I have a prelim on Monday.”

“As always. How about it, bud?”

“Is that okay, Mom?”

“Sure,” Nina said. “Clean clothes in the laundry room. Hustle now.” When Bob had left, she said, “I really am sorry, Dad.”

“I’d like to spend some time with you, Nina-pinta.”

“I’ll try to do better. We’ll have dinner soon.”

“Where’s Bob sleeping?” Harlan was looking around.

“In the second bedroom. Paul’s study.”

“That’s all you have? Two bedrooms? Angie and I have four. He ought to stay with us. He’ll drive you two crazy in this little place, and Angie likes to make nice dinners. Not that you couldn’t make a nice dinner if you had the time,” he added.

Before Nina could respond, Paul sat down across from Harlan and said, “That’s a mighty nice offer, Harlan.”

“I’d love to have Bob for the summer. I’ll teach him to play golf. While you people figure out what you’re doing.”

“Isn’t that a great idea, Nina?” Paul said.

“It’s very nice,” Nina said. “I’d have to give it some thought. And talk to Bob about it.”

“Sure, sure. I know Angie wouldn’t mind a bit, though. And he hasn’t spent much time around Isaiah. He’s Bob’s uncle, after all.” And my half-brother too, Nina thought. Dad, why does your life have to be so complicated? This thought was followed by a chastening realization: She took after Harlan in that respect.

Bob came back in with his backpack.