there helpless and stupefied, we'll confront him with
all the evidenceâin front of witnessesâand we'll call the police."
"But, J.P., it's a dinner party! It's going to be gracious dining, with candles and everything! Couldn't you do it another time?"
J.P.'s voice was determined. "How many chances do you think we'll get, Caroline? His deadline's the first of Mayâyou know that."
He opened his door and peeked out. "How long will Mom be in the kitchen?" he whispered.
"A while. The cake's almost done, and then we have to make the frosting."
"You keep her in there, okay? And show me which is his chair."
Reluctantly Caroline pointed through the crack in the door. "The one at the end. Opposite Mom. You and Stacy will be on the side by the wall, and I'll sit with Mr. Keretsky on the other side."
J.P. eyed the distance between his door and the chair where Frederick Fiske would sit. "Okay," he said. "Got it."
"J.P.â"
He interrupted her. "Make sure Mom stays in the kitchen while I wire the chair."
"Does it have to be during the dinner party?" Caroline almost wailed. "We're having mashed potatoes and chocolate cake andâ"
"I won't do it till the end of dessert," J.P. said. "If you're sure it's chocolate cake."
Caroline trudged back to the kitchen. "Cake should be done, Mom," she announced with phony cheerfulness. "Tell me how to start making frosting. And you stay right here and watch me, okay? I don't want to mess it up."
Glancing behind her, she could see J.P. on all fours, crawling from his room to Frederick Fiske's chair with some wires in his hand.
Gregor Keretsky was the first to arrive. Caroline met him downstairs at the front door and nodded when he asked in a low, concerned voice, "Is this necktie all right?"
"Brown and beige, with some yellow squiggles," she told him. "It will go with the candles."
He was carrying a bouquet of daisies. "For me?" asked Caroline in delight.
"No," he said, smiling. "For your mama. Because she is so kind to invite me for dinner. For you I have something else, something special." He patted the pocket of his jacket.
Mrs. Tate arranged the flowers on the table with pleasure, after she had been introduced to Mr. Keretsky. "Look," she said. "Don't they look beautiful with the yellow candles?"
Gregor Keretsky just smiled. When Joanna Tate had turned away, he winked at Caroline and shrugged. It was their secret: that the flowers, the candles, even his necktie, were all simply gray to him.
It's nice to have a secret with someone, she thought. Then she cringed, thinking of the secret she had with J.P. At the foot of Frederick Fiske's chair, curled unobtrusively around the metal leg, was a knotted ball of wires; from there they went under the rug and reappeared again on the floor leading into her brother's bedroom.
And now she had
another
awful secret, this one with her mother, who had made her promise not to tell. When they'd been frosting the cake together, her mother had whispered, "Guess what, Caroline. I have an absolute, full-fledged,
major
crush on Frederick Fiske."
Caroline had continued to swirl chocolate frosting around the sides of the cake. Her heart sank. She managed a small half-smile.
"You know the fifty-third thing I love about you, Caroline?" asked her mother happily. "You're so inscrutable."
Caroline didn't even know what inscrutable meant. But she was fairly certain it didn't mean someone who was planning to turn her mother's heart throb into a grilled cheese sandwich.
Mrs. Tate was pouring Gregor Keretsky a glass of wine when the front doorbell buzzed again, and Caroline ran downstairs to let Stacy in.
" COMES BY BUS, LEAVES BY CAB ," Stacy announced. "I promised my mom that I'd get a taxi home, because it'll be dark." They bounded up the stairs together. "What's for dinner? And is your brother going to be here?"
J.P. came out of his bedroom when Stacy arrived. To her surprise, Caroline saw that he was wearing his sports jacket and his
all the evidenceâin front of witnessesâand we'll call the police."
"But, J.P., it's a dinner party! It's going to be gracious dining, with candles and everything! Couldn't you do it another time?"
J.P.'s voice was determined. "How many chances do you think we'll get, Caroline? His deadline's the first of Mayâyou know that."
He opened his door and peeked out. "How long will Mom be in the kitchen?" he whispered.
"A while. The cake's almost done, and then we have to make the frosting."
"You keep her in there, okay? And show me which is his chair."
Reluctantly Caroline pointed through the crack in the door. "The one at the end. Opposite Mom. You and Stacy will be on the side by the wall, and I'll sit with Mr. Keretsky on the other side."
J.P. eyed the distance between his door and the chair where Frederick Fiske would sit. "Okay," he said. "Got it."
"J.P.â"
He interrupted her. "Make sure Mom stays in the kitchen while I wire the chair."
"Does it have to be during the dinner party?" Caroline almost wailed. "We're having mashed potatoes and chocolate cake andâ"
"I won't do it till the end of dessert," J.P. said. "If you're sure it's chocolate cake."
Caroline trudged back to the kitchen. "Cake should be done, Mom," she announced with phony cheerfulness. "Tell me how to start making frosting. And you stay right here and watch me, okay? I don't want to mess it up."
Glancing behind her, she could see J.P. on all fours, crawling from his room to Frederick Fiske's chair with some wires in his hand.
Gregor Keretsky was the first to arrive. Caroline met him downstairs at the front door and nodded when he asked in a low, concerned voice, "Is this necktie all right?"
"Brown and beige, with some yellow squiggles," she told him. "It will go with the candles."
He was carrying a bouquet of daisies. "For me?" asked Caroline in delight.
"No," he said, smiling. "For your mama. Because she is so kind to invite me for dinner. For you I have something else, something special." He patted the pocket of his jacket.
Mrs. Tate arranged the flowers on the table with pleasure, after she had been introduced to Mr. Keretsky. "Look," she said. "Don't they look beautiful with the yellow candles?"
Gregor Keretsky just smiled. When Joanna Tate had turned away, he winked at Caroline and shrugged. It was their secret: that the flowers, the candles, even his necktie, were all simply gray to him.
It's nice to have a secret with someone, she thought. Then she cringed, thinking of the secret she had with J.P. At the foot of Frederick Fiske's chair, curled unobtrusively around the metal leg, was a knotted ball of wires; from there they went under the rug and reappeared again on the floor leading into her brother's bedroom.
And now she had
another
awful secret, this one with her mother, who had made her promise not to tell. When they'd been frosting the cake together, her mother had whispered, "Guess what, Caroline. I have an absolute, full-fledged,
major
crush on Frederick Fiske."
Caroline had continued to swirl chocolate frosting around the sides of the cake. Her heart sank. She managed a small half-smile.
"You know the fifty-third thing I love about you, Caroline?" asked her mother happily. "You're so inscrutable."
Caroline didn't even know what inscrutable meant. But she was fairly certain it didn't mean someone who was planning to turn her mother's heart throb into a grilled cheese sandwich.
Mrs. Tate was pouring Gregor Keretsky a glass of wine when the front doorbell buzzed again, and Caroline ran downstairs to let Stacy in.
" COMES BY BUS, LEAVES BY CAB ," Stacy announced. "I promised my mom that I'd get a taxi home, because it'll be dark." They bounded up the stairs together. "What's for dinner? And is your brother going to be here?"
J.P. came out of his bedroom when Stacy arrived. To her surprise, Caroline saw that he was wearing his sports jacket and his
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