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been courted by men who walked on eggshells around her. I guess she liked my brass.”
    He contemplated the smoke rising from the tip of his cigarette. “You may not believe this, Beck, but I was faithful to her. Never strayed. Not once. I didn’t go to another woman until she had been dead a respectable amount of time, either. I figured I owed her that.”
    After a moment of reflection, he continued. “When she got pregnant, I busted my buttons with pride. I knew the baby would be a boy. Had to be. Chris was mine from the second they pulled him out of her and handed him to me. Back then, delivery rooms were off-limits to fathers. But I bribed the staff with a huge donation and they agreed quick enough to let me come in. I wanted my face to be the first one my son saw when he entered this world.
    “Anyhow, I claimed Chris from the start, and from then on, he was mine. As the trade-off, it was easy to leave Sayre to Laurel. Sayre was her little doll to put in ruffled dresses, and to throw tea parties for, give English riding lessons to. Bullshit like that. But if Laurel had lived, she and Sayre would have wound up fighting tooth and toe-nail. Sayre isn’t exactly the tea party type, is she?”
    Beck doubted that she was.
    “Sayre wouldn’t have cared a flip about anything that was important to Laurel,” Huff continued. “But Danny now, his mother would have doted on him. He is—he was —a gentleman. Like Laurel, he was born about a century too late. He should have been born in a time when everybody dressed in white clothes and knocked around croquet balls and had clean fingernails all the time. Sipped champagne cocktails on the gallery. When leisure was an art form.”
    He looked across at Beck, and the tender expression brought on by his reverie disappeared. “Danny wasn’t cut out for business. Especially our business. It’s too dirty. Not clean enough for the likes of him.”
    “He did his job well, Huff. The workers loved him.”
    “They’re not supposed to love us. They’re supposed to be scared shitless of us. We appear, their knees should start knocking.”
    “Yes, but Danny served as a buffer. He was proof to them that we’re human. At least to some extent.”
    Huff shook his head. “Naw, Danny was too tenderhearted to be a good businessman. Wishy-washy. Always agreeing with the last speaker. He could be swayed too easily.”
    “A trait that you frequently relied on,” Beck reminded him.
    He snuffled an agreement. “Hell, I admit that. He wanted to make everybody happy. I knew that about him, and I used it to my advantage. What Danny never figured out was that you can’t make everybody happy. If you try, you’re whipped before you begin.
    “Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only person he listened to. I hate to speak ill of him, but I’ve always called a spade a spade. I can be honest about the natures of my own children, and Danny was weak.”
    Although he didn’t argue the point, Beck wouldn’t have used weak as the adjective to sum up Danny’s character. Granted, he didn’t go for the jugular like his father and brother—or like Beck himself, for that matter. But gentleness had its advantages, too. It didn’t necessarily make one weak. Indeed, Danny had been steadfast in his view of where one should draw the line between right and wrong.
    Beck wondered if his strict moral code was the reason he’d had to die.
    Huff took one final pull on the cigarette, then ground it out. “I should get back to the party.”
    As they stood, Beck said, “Last night I put a folder on the desk in your bedroom. You probably haven’t had a chance to look at it.”
    “No. What’s in it?”
    “I just wanted to bring it to your attention. We can talk about it later.”
    “Give me a hint.”
    Beck knew that Huff’s mind was never far from his business, even on the day he buried his son. “Ever heard of a man named Charles Nielson?”
    “Don’t think so. Who is he?”
    “A labor