“You’ve had enough bad judgment in your life so far, Hart,” Alastair said. “Time to start making some better choices.”

*   *   *

“Didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” Brous Kueltzo said. He was leaning up against the car, reading a message on his PDA. Hart had walked down to the carriage house.

“I needed to get away from the family for a bit,” Hart said.

“Already, huh?” Brous said.

“Yeah,” Hart said.

“And you still have four days to go,” Brous said. “I’ll pray for you.”

“Brous, can I ask you a question?” Hart said.

“Sure,” Brous said.

“Did you ever resent us?” Hart asked. “Ever resent me?”

“You mean, for being obscenely rich and entitled and a member of one of the most important families on the entire planet through absolutely no effort of your own and for having everything you ever wanted served up to you on a platter without any idea how hard it was for the rest of us?” Brous said.

“Uh, yes,” Hart said, taken slightly aback. “Yes. That.”

“There was a period where I did, yeah,” Brous said. “I mean, what do you expect? Resentment is about sixty percent of being a teenager. And all of you—you, Catherine, Wes, Brandt—were pretty clueless about the rarefied air you lived in. Down here in the flats, living above the garage? Yeah, there was some resentment there.”

“Do you resent us now?” Hart said.

“No,” Brous said. “For one thing, bringing that college girlfriend back to the carriage house brought home the point that all things considered, I was doing just fine. I went to the same schools you did, and your family supported and cared for me, my sister and my mom, and not just in some distant noblesse oblige way, but as friends. Hell, Hart. I write poetry, you know? I have that because of you guys.”

“Okay,” Hart said.

“I mean, you all still have your moments of class cluelessness, trust me on this, and you all poke at each other in vaguely obnoxious ways,” Brous said. “But I think even if you had no money, Brandt would be a status seeker, Catherine would steamroll everyone, Wes would float along, and you’d do your thing, which is to watch and help. You’d all be you. Everything else is circumstance.”

“It’s good to know you think so,” Hart said.

“I do,” Brous said. “Don’t get me wrong. If you want to divest yourself of your share of the family trust fund and give to me, I’ll take it. I’ll let you sleep above the garage when you need to.”

“Thanks,” Hart said, wryly.

“What brought about this moment of questioning, if you don’t mind me asking?” Brous asked.

“Oh, you know,” Hart said. “Dad pressuring me to leave the diplomatic corps and join the family business, which is apparently running this entire planet.”

“Ah, that,” Brous said.

“Yes, that,” Hart said.