“Oh, yes, I need to. Surrogate Mom, I guess. Their dad is on his way.”

Seeing Bobbi lying there, all that heavy makeup washed off, her blond hair smoothed away from her face, she looked so young, so innocent. Harmless and sweet. It was a reflex that drew Charley’s hand to Bobbi’s brow, touching her. The girl’s eyes fluttered open and Charley smiled reassuringly. “How do you feel?” she asked in a tender, maternal whisper.

“I’m okay,” the girl croaked. “Is Trude okay?”

“She’ll be right back—she’s just having her knee wrapped.”

She struggled to sit up. “I should go with her...”

“No, no,” Charley said, gently pushing her back down. “You can’t get up for a while. You hit your head. You’re lucky to be alive.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “You don’t understand, Aunt Charley. My sister can’t handle anything without me. She’s not very strong...”

Aunt Charley? That stopped her for a second. She wasn’t this girl’s aunt. And the girl wasn’t even friendly enough to have chosen the term out of affection. Hope again? Delusional? Or just a liar?

One thing at a time. “Bobbi, I called your dad. He’s coming immediately. First flight he can get.”

All the stress seemed to flow out of the girl’s body and she lay down with a flomp. “Oh, God,” she whimpered. “Thank you! Thank God. When will he be here?”

“Well, it’ll take a few hours. Your, ah, mother is in the waiting area.”

“Oh, please, I can’t deal with her right now. Please? Tell her I’m too sick or something. Is Pam coming?”

“Pam?”

“My step... My dad’s wife. Pam.”

“Wife?” Charley asked in a soft breath. “Your dad said the situation was complicated, but I don’t think he adequately prepared me. What’s going on?”

Her eyes bubbled with tears. “Can I have some water, please?” she asked.

“Sure. Let me ask.” Charley went outside the drawn curtain, hailed a nurse and fixed Bobbi up with a little glass of water. She fluffed her pillow. Then she smoothed her cool brow again. The girl slowly got a grip so she could attempt an explanation.

“We don’t know what’s wrong with my mom. She won’t get counseling. My dad divorced her five years ago. He hasn’t lived with her in six. He’s remarried and I have a little brother and we live with Dad and Pam...but my mom still pretends to be married to him.”

“Oh, for the love of God! What about those Christmas letters?”

“Those letters are so embarrassing. Up to two years ago she drove all the way across town to our school to volunteer and she’d carry on, talking like we all live together. They had to finally ask her to stop volunteering because she was disruptive. She’d talk about vacations we were never going to take. They almost had to arrest her to get her to stop going to the country club where she and my dad used to be members. She had to get checked out by the shrink or we weren’t even going to have to go there for weekend visits, and the shrink says she knows what’s real and what isn’t, but it doesn’t seem like it. She acts so crazy.”

“Oh, Bobbi...”

“Do you know what it was like driving out here with her? We just can’t do that anymore. Trude can’t take it—she’s too fragile. She’s anorexic, anyone can see that. I think my mother’s craziness made her that way. It gets worse every time we’re with my mother. On the way out here Trude could hardly eat anything. When our mother was throwing out our jeans and stuff, buying us this fancy summer wardrobe that we hated and getting us done over, I thought Trude was going to just lose it. Mom had all these rules we had to follow so none of her sisters would know about Dad or Pam or little Matt...”

“Sisters?” Charley asked.

“You and Aunt Meg. We didn’t even know about Krista. And now I hear there’s another one!”

“Oh, honey, I had no idea. I mean, I could see she was pretty strange, but this is just sounding worse all the time.”

“I can take it. I don’t let her get to me. But Trude just can’t handle it anymore. I don’t care what Dad and the counselor say, Trude needs to not see our mother.”

Charley was devastated by this story. She leaned down and pulled Bobbi into an embrace and held her. “Oh, you poor baby,” she crooned, rocking her. She didn’t even bother to tell her the truth, that Hope was her cousin. It only took seconds before Bobbi was crying softly. So much for her being able to take it. “Were you running away? Is that what you were doing?”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry! I hope I didn’t hurt anyone. I never even saw—”

“It wasn’t your fault, Bobbi. It was a drunk driver. And don’t say you’re sorry for running away. It sounds like you had to!”

“We were just going to go home. We have a credit card for emergencies. We had to, that’s all.”

“Of course you had to!”

“You mean...you understand?”

“Absolutely. And I’ll talk to your father about this when he gets here. I don’t care how busy he is...he has to keep you safe from this lunacy.”

“Charley?” John said from behind her. “I’m sorry to bother you, but could I see you for a moment? She’ll be right back, Bobbi. Okay?”

Charley and Bobbi both nodded and wiped at their eyes. Then she followed John.

“Sorry to pull you away, but this is important.” John held her elbow and escorted her toward the waiting area. He stopped in the doorway and let Charley see for herself.

Hope was perched on the edge of her chair, tilted toward the man next to her, talking in an animated fashion. But the man was sound asleep. He was snoring, and with each out-breath, his dentures moved. He looked to be about ninety and, by his clothing, might be homeless. This had no impact at all on Hope, however. She talked in earnest; she waved her hands for emphasis. Her voice was soft but high-pitched and people were staring at her. Charley crept closer to hear. Just as Hope didn’t seem to realize the man was sleeping, she was oblivious to the fact that other people were listening.

“We’ve actually had the house on the Cape since Trude was about three years old, but sometimes we don’t see it for a year. I’d like to spend June and July, but Franklin is just too busy. And if he has business in London or Paris while the girls are on summer hiatus, I like going along, take the opportunity to shop, see a few plays. It’s good for the girls, don’t you think? But no, we’d never rent out the house on the Cape! Not any more than we’d rent out our own home while we’re abroad! I couldn’t bear to have strangers in my house! This summer we aren’t going to the Cape at all, of course, because we’re having our summer at the lake house, just like I did when I was a girl. I don’t know when to expect Franklin. He’s been quite tied up. That’s the price—he’s a senior partner—men in power, you know, have a nasty habit of forgetting they have a family sometimes. But don’t even get me started on that! Fortunately, I have many friends who share that lot in life, women married to powerful, wealthy men. I meet most of them at the club. Some I’ve become close to through my charity work in the city...”

Charley was mesmerized by this speech Hope was giving to a passed-out bum. She gaped and couldn’t seem to look away. After a while she felt someone tugging on her elbow and she allowed John to pull her away. Charley, unlike Hope, was speechless.

“I’ve called for a psych consult, Charley. She doesn’t seem to be causing any real problems at the moment. We’ll keep an eye on her to make sure she doesn’t wander off.”

“John, what the hell is all that?”

“Not my bag actually, but she’s definitely out of reality. Could she be bipolar?”

“Hell if I know. John, she sounded just like that at dinner last night! It’s all fabricated, Bobbi tells me. All that business about her vacations with her husband and children? Her houses? Her clubs and charities? According to Bobbi none of it is true. She hasn’t been married to their father for years!”

John raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly. “I’ve heard of people not adjusting to the divorce, but that’s a little extreme.”

“She’s been a little like that all her life. One of her sisters attempted suicide and another was locked up in juvenile detention and Hope wondered if lavender would be too springlike a color for the winter formal.” She shook her head. “I had my own problems. I never had the time to think of her as crazy. We all had our own problems. In fact, at the time, her behavior was the least crazy.”

“Not anymore,” he said.

“I’ve got to stay with Bobbi,” Charley said. “I need to talk to her. Can we get her out of emergency soon?”

“As soon as the orthopod clears her. We’ll see if we can find a semiprivate room for the girls. But, Charley, don’t wear the kid out.”

Slightly distracted, Charley ran a hand through her hair. “She thinks I’m her aunt! I’ve got to try to explain our family to her.”

“Jesus, on top of a head injury?” John said. “If she didn’t see stars before...”

“Oh, that’s right. You’ve met my family.”

* * *

By noon Frank Griffin had arrived and the girls were together in a semiprivate room. And Franklin was a complete surprise. He was a youthful and fit forty-five. Though his hair was thin up top, he wore a six-inch ponytail. He was tanned and healthy looking as if he spent a great deal of time outside. After he assured himself that his daughters were all right, he impetuously embraced Charley and squeezed her until she squeaked. When he let go of her he had grateful tears in his eyes.

Hope had prepared Charley for a distracted, insensitive business executive. A picture of a starched white shirt, double chins, abrupt and dismissive behavior came to mind. A man without time for his family—hadn’t she said so? Not true of this Franklin, who preferred to be called Frank. He was sweet, relaxed, casual and attractive. And he wasn’t a business executive.