I asked him to go home and to stay away for a day or two. I let Regina go up to her room while I thought out what to say to her. I didn’t want to panic her, didn’t want her to see my panic. In the kitchen, I took a slug of brandy, then went up to her.

She was lying on her bed in her bra and panties, doing her homework. It would have been easier for me if she had had clothes on.

“I want to talk to you about something and I don’t want you to be embarrassed by it. I want you to know you can trust me. Whatever we say to each other will remain strictly between us. I won’t discuss it with your father and I don’t want you to discuss it with Virgil.”

She looked surprised, not apprehensive. That encouraged me.

“What I ask may be difficult for you to answer, but remember that it’s just as difficult for me to ask.” I drew breath. “You’ve been avoiding your father for a long time now. Even before you met Virgil. I want you to tell me why.”

“You know why.”

“I want you to be specific.”

“He watches me. All the time. I’m sick of it. Now he’s spying on Virgil.”

“Let’s stick to you. Has he ever said or done anything specific to make you . . . embarrassed or afraid?”

“He’d like to embarrass me but he can’t. A few weeks ago he asked me if I was sleeping with Virgil.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him it was none of his business.”

“And are you sleeping with him?”

“Yes. I love him.”

“Regina, have you thought about the consequences? Like getting pregnant?”

“He uses something.”

“Those things aren’t very reliable.” God, I thought, how these kids just jump right in.

“You could get me some pills, then.”

“I don’t know; we’ll have to talk about that later. Has your father said anything else or done anything to make you uncomfortable? Anything at all?”

“Just that he’s always around, watching.”

“From now on, if he does anything to upset you, will you come and tell me in private?”

“Sure. If you can do anything about it.”

I wasn’t certain she had understood my questions fully. But I couldn’t bring myself to be more specific.

That night, I was more specific with Frank. I waited until he was in bed reading. With no preface at all, I asked him point-blank: “Why have you been spying on Virgil?” He looked up, disbelieving but guilty. “Well?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. You drove past his house and you parked out front. I call that spying. Do you realize you’ve terrified his aunt?”

“I don’t believe he has an aunt. At least, not in that house.” He laid the book down. “Don’t you see there’s something about the boy that doesn’t jell?”

“What, for instance?”