He looked away. “I wouldn’t have cared.”

“Self-sacrifice doesn’t suit you, Barky. What about Mac Stevens? Did you know he was the father?” She couldn’t say “my” father.

“No. I thought József Major was your father. And I loved you, anyway.”

Now the leaves had all fallen, and there was a dusting of snow, vivid against the high blue sky. The days of early autumn seemed so long ago, and yet fresh, unfinished. Every weekend, Ashley came home to work the farm with her brother. The physical labor helped with the demons, the confusion, the memories.

They leaned the tree up against the house and went inside, where the two wood stoves were furiously pumping heat through the old house. They made coffee in the dented percolator and got out fresh oatmeal muffins.

Last week, Barky had left for Hungary—to still the walking ghosts, he’d said. He didn’t know when he’d be back. Yesterday, Evan Parrington had called to arrange to have them join him and J. Land Crockett’s attorneys in New York the following week. Crockett, it seemed, was taking steps to make Ashley and David his legal heirs.

“It already looks as though the bulk of his daughter’s estate will come to you,” he’d explained. “We’re discussing enormous amounts of money, I hope you realize. I want you to understand precisely what we’re doing. You should have some say in this.”

Ashley had been stunned. As far as she was concerned, she had enough money. Too much. And David agreed with her.

“It’s no use, Ash,” he said now, seated across from her at the big pine table. He was eating a muffin slathered with apple butter. He had made it from some of the applesauce he and Sarah Balaton had made. Sarah, shattered by what her father was, had left Badger Rock Island without speaking to anyone. From Lillian Parker, David and Ashley had learned she had quit the vice presidency of Crockett Industries and moved to Seattle. Whatever might have been between her and David was over now. Looking at his sister, David sighed. He seemed so much older. “We can’t sit here and pretend everything’s normal.”

“I know.”

“And Crockett. I can’t even spend all the money I’ve got—what the hell would we do with more millions, Ash?”

She shook her head, saying nothing.

“I’ve been thinking,” David went on.

She smiled. “That’s a switch.”

“Asshole.”

They grinned at each other. The wounds were healing, Ashley thought. David was still the same brother she’d always had. “Go ahead,” she said. “What were you thinking?”

He leaned back. “I figure I ought to fly down to Texas and have a talk with old man Crockett.”

David left the next morning. It was colder than he expected in Houston, and he was annoyed as hell when a limousine arrived to take him out to the ranch. He sat up front and asked the chauffeur if he’d be seeing any tumbleweed. The chauffeur looked at him as if he were some kind of lunatic, and hardly said a word the entire two-hour trip.