“You knew about that.”

“He’s a friend. He keeps me up to date.” And, Phillip admitted to himself, he’d been acutely disappointed when she hadn’t called him to let him know she was coming to the city. “How’d it go?”

“Well, I think. He seems confident that the guardianship will go through. I couldn’t persuade my mother to make a statement, though.”

“She’s angry with you.”

Sybill took a quick swallow of wine. “Yes, she’s angry, and no doubt deeply regrets the momentary lapse that allowed her to tell me what happened between her and your father.”

He took her hand. “It’s difficult for you. I’m sorry.”

She looked down at their linked fingers. How easily he touched, she thought absently. As if it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’m a big girl. Since it’s doubtful that this little incident, however newsworthy it is in St. Christopher’s, will ripple across the Atlantic to Paris, she’ll get over it.”

“Will you?”

“Life moves on. Once the legalities are dealt with, there won’t be any motive for Gloria to make trouble for you and your family. For Seth. She will, I imagine, continue to make trouble for herself, but there’s nothing I can do about that. Nothing I want to do about it.”

A cold streak, Phillip wondered, or a defense? “Even after the legalities are dealt with, Seth will still be your nephew. None of us would stop you from seeing him, or being part of his life.”

“I’m not a part of his life,” she said flatly. “And as he makes his life, it would only be distracting and unconstructive for him to have reminders of his old life. It’s a miracle that what Gloria did to him hasn’t scarred him more deeply. Whatever sense of security he has, it’s due to your father, to you and your family. He doesn’t trust me, Phillip, and he has no reason to.”

“Trust has to be earned. You have to want to earn it.”

She rose, walked to the dark window and looked out on the city lights that wavered behind the rain. “When you came to live with Ray and Stella Quinn, when they were helping you change your life, remake yourself, did you maintain contact with your mother, with your friends in Baltimore?”

“My mother was a part-time whore who resented every breath I took, and my friends were dealers, junkies, and thieves. I didn’t want contact with them any more than they wanted it with me.”

“Regardless.” She turned back to face him. “You understand my point.”

“I understand it, but I don’t agree with it.”

“I imagine Seth does.”

He set his glass aside as he rose. “He wants you there on his birthday Friday.”

“You want me there,” she corrected. “And I very much appreciate you for persuading Seth to allow it.”

“Sybill—”

“Speaking of which,” she said quickly. “I found your art store.” She gestured toward the bags he’d set by the door.