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the
atmosphere again as she said to Liz, "Your plants look sick, Mrs.
Harper."
     
         Liz looked at her without
expression, started to say something, then decided not to. "I'm not quite
ready yet,"she said. "If you'll excuse me." She started toward
the bedroom.
     
         "Care for some
company?" Barbara asked.
     
         "Sure, come on."
Liz managed a smile.
     
         Barbara stood and followed
Liz into the bedroom.
     
         "I'm sorry,"
Ganine said to Liz. Liz ignored her.
     
         "We, uh, had a woman
who took care of the plants," David said to Ganine. "She moved away
though and we haven't found a replacement."
     
         "I could take care of
them for you," Ganine replied.
     
         David smiled awkwardly.
"Well. . ." he said, not sure how to reply.
     
         "I love plants,"
Ganine said.
     
         "Not Charlie," Max
said, "He hunts them."
     
         Charlie made a scornful
sound, ignoring Max's remark. "All this. . . dreck about—"
     
         "Euphemism for shit?" Max said with a thin smile.
     
         "All right. Shit then," Charlie said, looking at
Max with a cold expression. "All this shit about plants and trees and dying species. Jesus Christ, it's still a great big
world out there. You ever drive across the country?" he asked Ganine. "Space, girl. Nothing but
space." He looked aggravated, his cheeks reddening.
     
         Max blew out a breath,
obviously bored. "Heard some of your program this afternoon while I was
driving home," he said to David.
     
         Charlie gave Max a
contemptuous look but went along with Max's changing of the subject,
"Missed it myself," he said. "My ex-wife used to listen to you
all the time though."
     
         "That's what saved
their marriage," Max said.
     
         "Up yours, Maxie,"
Charlie said.
     
         "As a matter of fact I
agree with you, Doc," Max told him.
     
         "On what?" David
asked.
     
         "On the failure of
women's lib," Max answered.
     
         Later that night, Liz told
him about her conversation with Barbara.
     
         "Who is this girl?" was the first thing Barbara
asked.
     
         "I'm goddamned if I
know," Liz answered. "David said that she just showed up at the door
when Charlie arrived and Charlie assumed she was a guest and took her in with
him."
     
         "That's weird,"
Barbara said.
     
         "You want to hear weird?" Liz told her. "David
thinks she might have had something to do with my headache."
     
         "You had a
headache?"
     
         "A whopper," Liz said. "It was in
the works all day but it hit me like a ton of bricks. Just after I'd shut the
door in the girl's face. I didn't tell you that she was at the door talking
with David when I got home about five o'clock."
     
         "I don't—" Barbara
stated.
     
         "The headache really
hit me when I put her out. And, later, when I was talking to Charlie while
David was in the kitchen with the girl — "
     
         She broke off, a look of
indecisive concern on her face.
     
          "What?"  Barbara asked.
     
          "Suddenly,
I thought my head was going to explode," Liz said.
     
         Barbara stared at her. "Explode?"
     
         "Explode," Liz
nodded. "I felt as though I was going to die. Then. . ." She
grimaced, wishing she didn't have to go on.
     
         "What? Then what?"
Barbara asked anxiously.
     
         "It all went away. Boom. Like that. Gone."
     
         "And you think—?"
Barbara couldn't finish.
     
         "I don't know what to think," Liz said, "But
I. . .feel. . . uncertain about the girl. David said we should just let her
stay until we left for the show. I hate the idea but. . .I'm just—" She gestured haplessly.
     
         "Jesus God,"
Barbara said quietly. "This is really bizarre."
     
         "Well, anyway, I have
to let her stay. I'm afraid not to."
     
         "Christ, I don't blame
you."