It was the word “amazing” that somehow stuck in Jon’s craw. Mona was the enemy, but he could see how futile it was to battle her head-on. After that, Jon referred to her as the Amazing Mona, though never in his father’s company and never to her face. The newlyweds’ first Christmas together, the Amazing Mona had inveigled Lionel to play Santa for a Climping Academy fund-raiser, and every year thereafter, he donned his white wig, white beard, and white mustache, and then climbed into a red velvet fat suit, trimmed in white fur. Even his boots were fake. In Jon’s mind, the photograph that exactly captured their relationship was the one in a silver frame Mona displayed on the baby grand piano in the newly decorated living room. In it she was decked out in a low-cut Yves Saint Laurent evening gown, perched seductively on Santa’s lap. While she glowed for the camera, Lionel’s identity was obliterated. She did manage to raise over a hundred thousand dollars for the school, and for this she was widely praised.

Jon unburdened himself bitterly to his brother by phone. “She is such a total bitch. She’s a tyrant. I’m telling you. She’s a fucking na rcissist.”

Grant said, “Oh, come on. You’ll be out of the house in a year or two, so what’s it to you?”

“She thinks she can run my life and Dad lets her get away with it. Talk about being pussy-whipped.”

“So what? That’s his business, not yours.”

“Shit, that’s easy for you to say. I’d like to see you try living under the same roof with her.”

Bored with the topic, Grant said, “Just tough it out. Once you finish high school you can come live with me.”

“I’m not moving away from all my friends!”

“That’s the best I can offer. Stiff upper lip, old chum.”

Jon discovered a new way to occupy his time. He began breaking into various Horton Ravine homes he knew were unoccupied. While he caddied at the club, he picked up all manner of information about members’ travel plans. Guys chatted among themselves about upcoming cruises and European tours, jaunts to San Francisco, Chicago, and New York. It was a form of bragging, though it was couched in queries about exchange rates, good deals on charter flights, and luxury hotels. Lionel and Mona socialized with most of them, so all Jon had to do was look up their addresses in Mona’s Rolodex. He’d wait until the family was gone and find his way in. If there was talk of an alarm system or a house sitter, he knew to avoid the place. People were careless about locking up. Jon found windows unlatched, basement doors unsecured. Failing that, he scouted out the house keys hidden under flowerpots and fake garden rocks.