He hadn’t been to his father’s offices for a couple of years, and the firm had moved to a new building on East Sixty-seventh Street since then. He found the name in the building’s directory and took the elevator to the top floor.

He was impressed with the decor in the new place—cool and modern, obviously designed by a top architect. He walked to the reception desk.

“Good morning. May I help you?” the young woman said.

“Yes, I’d like to see Marshall Brennan. My name is Dink Brennan.”

“Is he expecting you?”

“No, I thought I’d surprise him.”

“Surprise him?”

“I’m his son.”

The woman made the call, then hung up. “Someone will be right with you,” she said.

Dink took a seat, but only a moment passed before his father’s secretary appeared in the reception room. He stood up. “Hello, Anne,” he said. “Long time.”

She shook his hand. “You’re looking very well, Dink,” she said.

“I hope Dad will think so, too. Will he see me?”

“Of course. Follow me.”

Dink followed her down the long hall and into the lion’s den.

41

MARSHALL BRENNAN stood up as his son walked into his office, and Dink thought his face registered surprise.

Marshall came around the desk with his hand out. “Hello, Dink,” he said.

“Hello, Dad,” Dink replied, shaking his hand warmly. “It’s good to see you.” He followed his father to the sofa, and they both sat down.

“They told me at the farm that you had … checked yourself out.”

Dink smiled. “I thought I’d save them the paperwork. And by the way, thank you for the handsome briefcase. I’ll try and put it to good use.”

“I hope you will.”

“Dad, I have some things to say to you, and I hope you’ll hear me out before you start asking questions.”

“I do have a way of interrupting, don’t I?”

“Sometimes. First of all, I want to apologize for the way I’ve behaved for the past couple of years. I did some stupid things: I was smoking a lot of grass, gambling, and then I started selling the stuff. That’s over now. I was never addicted to anything, thank God. During my stay at the farm I had time to do a lot of thinking, and I want to get my life back on track.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Marshall said, warily.

“I’m going back to Yale in the fall and finish my degree, and I should be able to graduate with my class next year.”

“You were a good student once,” Marshall said.

“And I will be again. I’m thinking about law school.”

Marshall nodded. “You might make a good lawyer.”

“We’ll see. I have to tell you about some recent events, too. You’ll remember Parker Mosely and my former girlfriend Carson Cullers.”

“Of course.”

“They’re both in rehab now, and it’s where they belong. Something went really wrong with Parker. He went to Carson and told her that I wanted her to meet Herb Fisher, then claim he tried to rape her and ruin his career. I want you to know that I knew nothing about all this until Herb came to see me at the farm. I’m sure he still thinks I was involved, but honestly, I wasn’t. Parker and Carson are lucky they aren’t in jail, and they could have dragged me down with them.”