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munching a cookie. You want coffee? Press a button. Milk? Another button. Harry poured himself a drink from a decanter on a sideboard.
    “I’m taking this up to our room,” he said.
    Laura jumped up. “You know I won’t stay here with two others,” she said. Then she laughed. No one laughed with her.
    “A whole damn weekend of this,” Beth muttered, watching them leave. “I wish I could find Gary. I have to talk with him.”
    “He could be anywhere,” Milton said with a slight shrug. “Swimming, in the Jacuzzi, working, sleeping, watching the movie with Maddie, killing someone, getting killed. He thinks you’re here to demand a divorce, you know. He asked me if there’s any way he can prevent it.”
    Beth drew in a deep breath. “What did you tell him?”
    “That it’s not my field. But you should have an attorney represent you, Beth. Don’t take him on alone.” He went to the door. “See you tomorrow. Good night.”
    Beth finished her milk, thinking about Milton and the disquieting feeling that he was not at all concerned about her, but that he simply did not want a scene this weekend when he was part of the captive audience. Nothing had changed, she thought wearily; they were all still afraid of Gary and his tantrums. She put the glass in the dishwasher. Gary was still up, she knew. He never went to bed until two or even three in the morning. He never got up until after noon and was barely human until 2 p.m.; if she did not talk to him that night, she would not see him until late in the day tomorrow. She felt tired enough to fall asleep standing up. Five minutes, she told herself. If she didn’t find him in five minutes, she would give up and go on to bed. But if she found him, they would have it out. She smiled grimly; she and Rich, she thought, the only two with nothing to lose.
    She left the kitchen and headed for the television room. Before she reached it, she heard Maddie’s voice raised angrily.
    “I told you to count me out! I meant it! Leave me alone!”
    Beth stopped at the door to look inside. The room was lighted by an oversized screen where Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire were dancing; the sound was off.
    “You saw it! I got him and you know it!” Gary yelled. Bruce shoved him out of the way and stamped to the door; Beth moved aside. He continued, with Gary at his heels. “You son of a bitch! Don’t you walk away from me! I got you!”
    “Gary!” his mother wailed.
    “You got nothing, you asshole!” Bruce’s voice rose to a screech.
    Beth clamped her hands over her ears, turned, and fled to her room. By the time she got inside it with the door closed she was shaking, not with fear, but with a rage she hadn’t known she was capable of.

Chapter 3

    Beth could not sleep until she draped a towel over the computer monitor, and even then she fantasized that she heard footsteps for a long time, first on the balcony, then in the corridor, in the room next to hers. She knew all this was due to an imagination working overtime, but she strained to hear again and again. When she woke up shortly after seven, she was headachey and sore. She emerged from the shower to hear the four notes of the Bellringer Company, and snatched the towel away from the monitor. There was a message: Good morning, Beth. Breakfast will be served in your room in a few moments. The highlighted items have been chosen for you. If you would like to make changes, please select from the menu.
    She was looking over the menu when the drapes opened behind her; she whirled around. It was a sunny morning, with a bank of fog or low clouds out to sea. Closer, the ocean was brilliantly blue and appeared calm. “What’s the forecast for today?” she asked aloud.
    Do you want me to use the audio mode today, Beth?
    “No.” Just testing, she thought, and turned to look at the monitor. It was showing the forecast—sunny with late-afternoon clouds, high sixty-eight, low forty-five, wind out of the northwest at ten miles an hour,