“How are you holding up?” Victoria asked.

“I’m as tired and disoriented as everybody else, I suppose.”

Victoria reached through the darkness and grasped McCrea’s hand. “I’m not sure I ever thanked you for sticking with us.”

“Actually, you fired me. Several times.”

“Yet you saw through my bluff.”

“You weren’t bluffing.”

Victoria allowed herself a giggle. “No, I wasn’t. I thought you were an arrogant son of a bitch who was mean to my children.”

“I’m still an arrogant son of a bitch who’s mean to your children.”

“Yes, but now I understand that they’re spoiled and have unreasonable expectations.”

“Then my work here is done.”

Victoria could hear the smile in his tone.

“Speaking of said children . . .”

“Uh-oh,” Victoria replied.

“No, it’s nothing bad,” McCrea assured. “Well, not real bad, anyway. I heard them talking the other day. They’re pissed.”

“Of course, they’re pissed. They’re teenagers.”

“This pissed-ness has focus, though. They feel like you lied to them.”

“About what?”

“About why they’re here. You told them that they were going to join their brother—Adam, is it?”

“Yes.”

“You told them that they were going to join up with Adam at Top Hat Mountain. That place apparently has some sentimental importance to them.”

“It’s special for all of us,” Victoria said. “Especially to my husband. And through him, to the boys.”

“Yet here we all are,” McCrea said.

“I have responsibilities,” Victoria said. “People here count on me.”

“Yes, they do.” McCrea sounded like he wanted to say more, but backed off.

“Say what’s on your mind . . . Joe.”

“Ah, there it is. You do know my name. And, okay, I will. I know that people depend on you here, but I’m not convinced that they have no other choice.”

“Make your point.”

“My point is—and this is what I heard the boys talking about—is that you like being in charge of things. It’s in your DNA. You’re a person who can’t not be in charge.”

“You saw what we walked in on. Those two Foster boys—”

“I know the logic, Vicky. And I’m not saying you did anything but the right thing. In that case. Then you went on to appoint yourself mayor and judge.”

“I didn’t do that,” Victoria insisted. “I just started talking and I found that people were listening. What, would you rather George Simmons or Joey Abbott be in charge?”

McCrea made a growling sound. “I’m not passing judgment here, Vicky. I’m awed by your organizational skills, and I can’t think of a decision you’ve made that I would have made differently.”

“What are you passing, if not judgment, then?”