“You’re welcome.” He had almost said no, but inquisitiveness had overcome resentment.

“Second, I apologize for what I did back in 1968. I’m sorry I hurt you. It was cruel, and I’ll never cease to be ashamed.”

Dave nodded. He was not going to disagree. To let her fiancé find her in bed with his best friend was about as cruel as a girl could be, and the fact that she had been only twenty at the time was not enough of an excuse.

“Third, Walli is sorry too. He and I still love each other, don’t get me wrong, but we know what we did. Walli will tell you so himself, if you ever give him the chance.”

“Okay.” She was beginning to churn up Dave’s emotions. He felt echoes of long-forgotten passions: anger, resentment, loss. He was impatient to find out where this was leading.

Beep said: “Could you ever forgive us?”

He was unprepared for the question. “I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it,” he said weakly. Before today he might have said that he no longer cared, but somehow Beep’s questions were reawakening dormant grief. “What would forgiving you involve?”

Beep took a breath. “Walli wants to re-form the group.”

“Oh!” Dave had not been expecting that.

“He misses working with you.”

Dave found that gratifying, in a mean-minded sort of way.

Beep added: “The solo albums haven’t done so well.”

“His sold better than mine.”

“But it’s not even the sales that bother him. He doesn’t care about the money, doesn’t spend half of what he earns. What matters to him is that the music was better when the two of you made it together.”

“I can’t disagree with that,” said Dave.

“He’s got some songs he’d like to share with you. You could get Lew and Buzz over from London. We could all live here at Daisy Farm. Then, when the album comes out, maybe you could do a reunion concert, even a tour.”

Against his will Dave felt excited. Nothing had ever been as thrilling as the Plum Nellie years, all the way from Hamburg to Haight-Ashbury. The group had been exploited and cheated and ripped off, and they had loved every minute of it. Now he was respected and fairly paid, a television personality, a family entertainer, a show business entrepreneur. But it was not half so much fun.

“Go back on the road?” he mused. “I don’t know.”

“Think about it,” Beep pleaded. “Don’t say yes or no.”

“Okay,” Dave said. “I’ll think about it.”

But he already knew the answer.

He walked her out to her car. There was a newspaper lying on the passenger seat. Beep picked it up and handed it to him. “Have you seen this?” she said. “It’s a photo of your sister.”

• • •

The picture showed Evie Williams in camouflage fatigues.

The first thing that struck Cam Dewar was how alluring she looked. The baggy clothing only reminded him that underneath was the perfect body the world had seen in the movie The Artist’s Model. The heavy boots and the utilitarian cap just made her more cute.