Greg made his excuses shortly afterward. There was no graceful way to exit the conversation. He went out to the bus, and Deborah went upstairs to the master bedroom and called Patrick, who said he’d drive up for the night, but he’d have to return to L.A. first thing the next morning. “Keep away from them if you can,” he said. “I’ll take care of it when I get home.”

“That might not be necessary. Now that Shelly—oh, excuse me, Destiny—has worked herself into such a state of righteous indignation, they may take off of their own volition.”

But such was not the case. Deborah picked up Rain from her playdate, half expecting the yellow school bus to be gone on her return. Instead it was parked where it had been, which seemed curious in itself. Flouncing off in a huff was a typical Shelly move, meant to alert you to her displeasure. Emotional one-upsmanship.

Shawn knocked on the back door soon after Deborah and Rain got home.

“Is Rain here?” he asked.

“Of course.” Deborah let him into the kitchen. He stood by the door, not quite sure what to do with himself. It was almost as though he held a hat in his hands, turning the rim while he waited for what came next. Deborah said, “Did your dad send you?”

“Greg’s not my dad.”

“Sorry.”

“He and my mom are asleep.”

“I see. Well, why don’t you have a seat? Rain went up to her room. I’ll tell her you’re here. She’ll enjoy the company.”

Shawn perched on the edge of a kitchen chair. His tennis shoes were ill-fitting and he wore no socks. Deborah wanted to weep at the sight of his ankles, which looked as frail as a fawn’s.

She said, “I’m happy to see you, Shawn. I mean that.”

She didn’t wait for a reply. She went upstairs to Rain’s room and told her she had company. “His name is Shawn. His mother calls him Sky Dancer and it would be polite if you did, too.”

She took Rain by the hand and the two went downstairs. Shawn was actually Rain’s half brother, but Deborah thought the concept would be confusing to a four-year-old.

Shawn got up from his chair when Rain entered the room. She stood there looking at him and he looked at her. There was an unmistakable resemblance between them. Both had Shelly’s dark hair and big hazel eyes. Rain’s hair fell into natural ringlets, and she was rosy with good health, where Shawn looked like a prisoner of war.

Shawn said, “You want to read stories?”

“I can’t read.”

“I couldn’t either when I was your age. What about the alphabet song? You know that?”

She nodded.

“You feel like singing it?”