A long sigh. His mother was always sighing. Tom raged.

“I have done it, darling. It had to be done.”

“No, no it didn’t,” he cried. His heart thudded from the betrayal, from the grief. “You have no idea if Papa is dead.”

“Of course he’s dead. He couldn’t be alive; he would never abandon you on purpose.”

He hated her for putting it like that.

“He could still be alive,” he said. “Maybe he’s been hit on the head and lost his memory. He could have amnesia!”

There was a long silence. He could hear her struggling with what to say, and of course it let him hear how ridiculous the idea sounded.

“We both loved Papa,” she said. “You know, we must give him the gift of mourning him and of celebrating his life. He would want us to do that.You must stop hoping, darling.You should pray for him.”

“Pray!” Thomas groaned. “Please, Maman. And the House? Now what will happen to the people running it?”

“I take control of it. I’m going into town tomorrow to meet the executives.”

He scowled. “Maman, that all comes to me when I’m twenty- one.”

“Yes, darling.”

“So you should wait until then.”

“I can’t wait another three years. We must take care of your father’s affairs; he would have wanted that.”

“No, he wouldn’t!” Thomas exploded. “He appointed all the people who are there now! He chose them! You shouldn’t alter Papa’s decisions! You should leave that for me. I’m head of House Massot, not you—if he is truly dead.”

“He truly is, sweetheart.”

“You’re betraying him,” Thomas said, and was ashamed to find his own voice now thickening with the tears he had been suppressing. “And you’re betraying me.”

“I’m doing all this for you, my dearest.”

“Oh yes, your dearest. But you can’t stand to see me take control of my own inheritance!”

“You are eighteen. For the next three years you need to be getting your degree. A year ago you were still in school, Tom; be reasonable. You’ll have your whole life to run Massot.”

“My father never wanted this for you. He provided for you to stay home, to live very well, Maman.”

“It will be all right, darling.”

“No it won’t,” he said, crying. “Because of you!”

He hung up on her. He wished it was a real phone so he could have slammed the receiver down. Pressing a little red button didn’t seem to have the same effect.