“She says that she’d like to speak with Carter,” said my mom. “And that she couldn’t do it over the phone because she doesn’t trust technology and she needs to see his face.”

How had my mom become the queen’s mouthpiece?

“Mr. Ogden,” said the queen.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” said my dad, wary but elated.

“The younger Mr. Ogden. There are two grave matters which I must discuss. The first is your complete and utter lack of even the most meager social decency in never thanking me for my hospitality.”

“You didn’t write a note?” my mom asked me.

“Or send a small gift?” said Miriam. “Some scented hand lotion or a fun oven mitt?”

“Nothing?” said Abby, in disbelief.

“Dude,” said Dane.

“I apologize on his behalf,” my mom told the queen. “That isn’t how he was raised. But once they’re out of the house . . .”

“You’re like a rabid animal,” Miriam all but spat at me.

“I understand,” said the queen. “And I never blame the parents. And secondly, I must address the matter of your relationship with my grandson.”

“But first,” said Miriam. “I need to say something.”

“I need to say something” will be carved on Miriam’s tombstone, along with, “And that’s only my opinion, but it’s the truth.”

“We’ve never met before,” Miriam told Queen Catherine, “but I feel like I know you.”

Miriam was standing beside the queen, telling the room, “Look at us, it’s like I have a twin.”

She was about to put her arm around the queen but decided, maybe not yet.

“And you are?” asked the queen.

“Miriam Yansky. You may know me from that TV ad, from years ago. I was coming out of a Broadway theater where I’d just seen this big musical, and they videotaped me saying, ‘I don’t care what anyone says, I enjoyed it.’ That ad ran for years, on all the Long Island cable channels.”

“And your relationship to Mr. Ogden?”

“I’m his great-aunt, who only wants what’s best for him. Sometimes I call myself his greatest aunt, but I’m not sure you have a sense of humor.”

“None. But I also want only the best for my grandson. Which is why I’m here. Mr. Ogden, when you departed, under a cloud of no small horror, I assumed that Edgar would breathe an enormous sigh of relief at his liberation from certain tragedy. I know I did. But Edgar, it seems, has become entirely incapacitated.”

I was still reeling from Queen Catherine being here, holding a handbag that Miriam was about to stroke to determine if it was real leather.

“He’s—incapacitated?” I said.