The swampy swirls of Peggy’s grief and relief and pride and shame pull me up and out of my chair. I wrap my arms around her in what would quite possibly meet the stringent qualifying criteria for the world’s most awkward hug. My body — strangely steady and numb in the wake of it all — can scarcely contain her sobs and quakes. But I hold onto her until the seismic jolts of shifting secrets finally settle. Until Cletus the Fetus boots me in the bladder and I damn near piss myself.

“It is such an honour to witness this and to serve as a catalyst for a deepening relationship —”

“Oh spare me the holy Buddhist tripe, Alec,” Peggy snaps. “You’re a grandfather now, by the way. That child needs milk and diapers and proper hair care for that little red nappy head of his. And our daughter will live her whole life on the brink of cracking up because she’s got ways that the world has yet to understand. So drop the ragamuffin-monk-on-the-mountain shtick. Mark my words, Saint Sarah is up to something with Spenser Mining. I smelled it myself. Sulphur and pork fat. You want to be of use here? Pry your share of the family money out of her bony little hands before she drives it all into the ground.”

“My vows compel me to renounce the pursuit of material possessions,” Gyaltso begins, each word imbued with an air of pious, methodical serenity.

But Peggy’s neck is craned and her nose is wrinkled, as she interrupts with a loud sniff. Sniff. Sniff. “Bullshit and bubble gum,” she says, tapping the side of her right nostril with her thick finger. “You’re up to something, too. A wolf in monk’s clothing, Alec.” She pauses, drawing in another whiff of something that sends angry little flints of blackened red flying around her. “I’m gonna make a few wild guesses here, Alec, just from the smell of you. Tell me I’m wrong, I dare ya.” Peggy leans across the table toward him, eyes fixed, face unflinching. “Sarah already knows you’re alive, don’t she? You came out of the damn woods when you heard this property was up for sale and tried to get her to give it to you, but she said no. You’ve got some little pet project on the go and you need help. That’s why you showed up at Effie’s memorial. To see if you could tap into the love for Effie here, and turn that love into money somehow. You’re as bad as the rest of them.”

“No, that’s not why I — it is not just about money,” he sputters. “It is a very noble enterprise, and could be a fresh start for us all, as a unified family. Unfortunately, the accumulated negative karma between Sarah and me prevented a fruitful conversation.”

“Only fruitful conversation you’d get from that one is rotten apples biffed at your head in between insults. She always hated your guts, Alec. You being dead suited her just fine.” Peggy’s arms lock into a tight cross atop of tit mountain.