“I won’t turn you down on that. It’s so incredibly good. I mean, I know it’s just coffee, but—” She was gushing again. Calm down, girl. Bring up Riverside and get thyself gone. “Listen, if you’re busy I’ll get right to the point. Obviously, I came here for a reason. Riverside—”

“It’s such a beautiful day. We get the nicest breeze when the wind is off the river.”

“Your garden is wonderful. We at Riverside—”

“I have over ten thousand plants. The roses are my real prize.”

Sarah went over and stood beside her. There wasn’t a rose to be seen. “Where are they?” Obviously Riverside would have to wait until the damnable garden was praised.

“Behind the stand of snapdragons.” She became very still. “Good gods, why can’t we see them?” Sarah noticed that she was glaring like the rhesus did when you surprised them. Miriam went out the French doors and across the brick porch. Sarah walked behind her. The whole garden was redolent of flowers. The invisible roses could certainly be smelled. Beyond the garden could be seen the glimmering water of the East River. A sailboat passed, its white canvas flapping in the sun. The full roar of the FDR Drive rose as an undertone. Miriam swept down a winding garden path and past the stand of snapdragons. When Sarah caught up with her she was squatting on the ground, her fingers clutching torn flowers. “My ROSES!” she shrieked. Sarah was amazed. Before her was a horrible sight, a vandalized flowerbed. Even the petals of the destroyed plants had been ground into the earth. The leaves had been stripped off and the stems split. Some of the smaller plants were uprooted. There was a powerful attar, the blood of the flowers.

Miriam stiffened, slowly standing up, facing Sarah. It was somehow a terrifying gesture, one that made her step back. Then Miriam was past her, crouching down again, her hands flitting over a hole in the earth. When she shouted down it Sarah heard a deep echo. Slowly Miriam got to her feet. Her lips were moving and Sarah strained to hear.

She said, “He’s out!” and whirled like a tiger in a cage.

Her head snapped toward the house. With a sharp intake of breath she was off, racing up the garden path, toward the open French doors. “Come on,” she shouted, “hurry!”

Her obvious fear infected Sarah. She began running as in a nightmare toward the door. It seemed more and more distant, the flowers spreading for acres and miles.

Miriam’s eyes were bulging with fear more raw than anything one saw in a human face. Her arms stretched out, the hands clutching and opening like those of an infant seeking help. “Sarah, hurry!”