Don't Cry Now by Joy Fielding

of a group of people with square heads hung on another.
    â€œYou talked to Marla,” Rod stated, his voice calm, his manner unruffled.
    â€œI don’t understand, Rod.”
    He placed the last carton on the table, absently licked his fingers. “It’s simple, sweetheart. Your brother dropped into the studio a few weeks back, without an appointment, of course. He had some crazy idea for a series. I had to tell him it wouldn’t work.”
    â€œFly,” Bonnie corrected.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œMarla said you told him it wouldn’t fly,” she said testily, tears of anger springing to her eyes. How could he not have told her?
    Rod crossed to where Bonnie stood leaning against thewarm oven door. “Ah come on, honey. It was no big deal. I didn’t tell you because I knew how much it would upset you.”
    â€œAs opposed to the way I’m feeling now?”
    He lowered his head. “It was stupid not to tell you. I’m sorry.”
    â€œSo, you’d already seen him when the police found his name in Joan’s address book,” she stated more than asked, trying to get the facts straight in her mind. “Why didn’t you say something then?”
    â€œWhat was I supposed to say? ‘Oh, by the way, your brother came to see me last week’? It didn’t seem relevant.”
    â€œWhat about later, when I was trying to reach him?”
    â€œI thought about telling you.”
    â€œBut you didn’t. Not even after I spoke to him.”
    â€œI didn’t see what good it would do. The whole thing was starting to feel very complicated. I still say if he’s involved in any way in Joan’s death, we should let the police handle it.”
    â€œThat’s not the point,” Bonnie cried.
    â€œWhat is the point?” Rod asked, his eyes moving into the hall, obviously concerned that his children might overhear them.
    Bonnie instantly lowered her voice. “The point is that you should have told me.”
    â€œAgreed,” he said. “But I didn’t. I don’t know why. Probably I was trying to avoid exactly the kind of scene we’re having now.”
    There was silence.
    â€œThe food’s getting cold,” Rod ventured.
    â€œDid you know he was staying at my father’s?” Bonnie asked, as if he hadn’t spoken.
    â€œNo. I didn’t ask and he didn’t say.”
    â€œDid you talk about Joan?”
    â€œWhy in God’s name would we talk about Joan?”
    â€œWhy would his name be in her address book?”
    â€œI repeat,” Rod said, his square jaw clenched tight,clipping the ends off his words, like garden shears, “let’s let the police deal with this.”
    â€œDid you know that stupid woman has asked him to be a guest on your show?” Bonnie asked, switching gears.
    â€œMarla?” Rod laughed.
    â€œYou think it’s funny?”
    â€œHe won’t do it.”
    â€œOf course he’ll do it. If only to aggravate me.”
    â€œThen don’t let it.” Rod kissed the tip of her nose. “Come on, honey. Don’t let them get to you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Really, I am.”
    Sam casually sauntered into the room, his sister trailing after him. “You think Marla Brenzelle is stupid?” he asked, the laces of his sneakers dragging across the ceramic tiles of the floor.
    Bonnie wondered how much of the conversation they had overheard. “Let’s just say the woman has a poorly defined sense of irony.”
    â€œWhat’s that?” Sam folded his long body inside one of the tall wicker chairs.
    â€œIrony?”
    â€œThat.” Sam pointed toward one of the plastic containers.
    â€œLemon chicken,” Rod told him. “Help yourself.”
    â€œI think she’s cool,” Lauren said, sitting down and spooning a large helping of fried rice onto her plate.
    â€œYou do?” Bonnie made no effort to contain