As I shake my head in disbelief, Rusty twirls his hand in a circle around his ear. “And what plan is that?”

Quentin barks a short laugh, then continues chewing. “You’re an old prosecutor. What plan does it look like?”

“It looks to me like the Mahatma Gandhi plan. Nonviolent resistance. Turn the other cheek until you’re lying dead in the gutter.”

This earns a belly laugh from the old lawyer. “That shows what you know, big shot. I’ll tell you what my plan is—the Leonardo da Vinci plan. I’m the master, and you’re watching me paint my Mona Lisa. Come back for the afternoon session, if you can, but don’t worry if you can’t. And tell Peggy not to worry.”

“It’s too late for that, Quentin,” Mom says in a serrated voice.

“Hello, Peg,” Quentin says in a softer tone. “Don’t worry about Tom and me. We know what we’re doing.”

“If that’s true, I wish you’d let the rest of us in on it.”

“I wish I could, darling. But you’ll see soon enough. Have faith.”

When Mom’s hand touches her cheek, I realize she’s very close to breaking down.

In the resulting vacuum, Quentin says, “Penn, tell your buddy Rusty to come back for the afternoon session. He can consider it free remedial education.”

Rusty’s face goes red as the old man cackles, and I know then that Quentin’s about to hang up.

“Quentin, wait!” I say, but I’m too late. We’re all staring at a dead phone.

“Out of his effing mind,” Rusty says. “Certifiable.”

I meet Miriam’s deep gray eyes.

“I don’t know,” she says. “It comes down to how much faith you have in your father’s judgment.”

“Temporarily impaired,” Mom says in a soft voice. “Tom’s not thinking straight. I’ve got to talk to him.”

“You won’t get to him before they start up again,” Rusty says, looking at his watch. “Not for more than a couple of minutes, anyway. Can you convince him to fire Quentin in two minutes?”

Mom looks at Annie, then smiles wretchedly and wipes a strand of hair from her eyes. “I doubt it.”

“Who takes Quentin’s place if Dad does fire him?” I ask. “Who walks in there with the score twelve–zip and tries to pull out the game?”

“You do,” the four answer in unison.

“Sounds like a plan,” Mia says from the kitchen doorway.