Olympia mentioned her concerns to Charlie before he went back to school, and he assured his mother everything would be all right. It was only one evening. Nothing much was going to happen. The girls would make their bow. They would parade around the room. Their father would dance with them, and the rest of the evening would be spent eating, drinking, and dancing. What could go wrong?

“You make it sound so simple.” She smiled at her firstborn. He had that way about him. Charlie always put oil on troubled waters, and calmed her down. He had always been a great comfort to her. He never made waves himself, instead he smoothed things over when others did, as occasionally happened in any family. He was the peacemaker in their midst, the ever-responsible oldest child, trying to be all that his father was not.

“It is simple,” he said with a warm smile, but behind the smile, once again she saw sadness, as she had since the previous spring, when his friend died.

“Are you okay?” She looked deep into his eyes and could not decipher what she saw there. She sensed more than saw that something was hidden. She hoped nothing was wrong in his life. He was a deep thinker, and had been even as a young child.

“I'm fine, Mom.”

“Sure? Are you happy at school?”

“Happy enough, and I'm almost finished.” She knew he was worrying a lot about what to do when he graduated in June. He was still planning to go to California, to interview with his friend's father. He had decided not to go after Christmas, and to go over spring break instead. He had also applied to Oxford for a year of graduate studies, before applying to divinity school at Harvard. He had options and choices, and decisions to make, which was stressful for him. He had his whole life ahead of him to work out. It was always important to Charlie to feel he was doing the right thing.

“Don't worry too much about what you're going to do. You'll figure it out. The right thing will just happen. Give it time.”

“I know it will be okay, Mom.” He leaned over and kissed her. “Don't you worry, either. Have you talked to Dad lately?”

She shook her head. “Not since last summer, when he was so mad at Veronica saying she wouldn't come out.”

“Maybe you should just call him to say hi, so it's not too awkward that night.” He knew how much his mother disliked Felicia, and how strained her relationship had become with Chauncey. They had absolutely nothing in common.

It was a mystery to all the children how their parents had ever gotten married. Seven years together was remarkable between people who were that mismatched, although at twenty-two Olympia had been a different person. She had been a product of her own very conservative Episcopalian upbringing, and Chauncey's Social Register world had been familiar to her. Charlie had always suspected that she had married him because her parents died when she was in college, and she was looking for stability and a family, so she had gotten married. But as she evolved over the years, and developed her own ideas and way of thinking, they had grown apart. Now they lived on separate planets. Charlie thought his mother's world more interesting. He liked Harry a lot, he had always been wonderful to him. But he also had deep affection and loyalty to his father, whatever his quirks, prejudices, failures, and limitations. And Felicia was just silly. Charlie thought she was harmless. His mother had never agreed with him. She thought that Chauncey's wife was a living monument to stupidity and malice. Mostly because Felicia was wildly jealous of her, and never failed to make some incredibly dumb comment when they saw each other, which was rare enough. He knew that it was going to be hard for his mom not to have Harry with her, and was sorry that Harry couldn't get over his own principles to be there for her. But apparently, that wasn't going to happen. Charlie had promised himself, as always, that he would do everything he could to help her, in Harry's absence. And his suggestion to call Chauncey, to pave the way for a peaceful evening, was a good one. He knew his father would be flattered by the call. Chauncey liked homage and attention.

“Maybe I will call him,” Olympia said cautiously. She wasn't enthused about it, but recognized it as a diplomatic suggestion. “Are you going up to see him over Christmas break?”

“I thought I'd go up for a couple of days, before we go to Aspen.” Harry, Olympia, and all the children were going to Colorado over Christmas for a week of skiing, as they did every year. They all looked forward to it. Charlie never admitted it to anyone, but it was more fun being with them than with his father. But he went to see him out of loyalty and affection, and always the hope that they would be able to connect somehow, at a deeper level. So far that had never happened. Chauncey wasn't a deep person. “He has some new polo ponies he wants to show me.” Charlie looked sad as he said it. He knew what a disappointment it was to his father that he didn't want to play polo. He liked riding with him, and had ridden to hounds with him in Europe, just to see what it was like, but polo bored him. It was his father's passion.

“Do you want to bring any friends with you to Aspen?” They rented a house there, and Olympia was always open to the kids bringing friends with them. It was more fun for them if they did, but Charlie shook his head, after a flicker of hesitation.

“No, I'll ski with the girls, or Harry.” Olympia stayed on the bunny slopes with Max. The others were much wilder skiers than she was, particularly Charlie.

“If you change your mind, that's fine. There's plenty of room if you want to bring a couple of buddies from Dartmouth. A girl would be okay, too.” She smiled at him. If he brought a girl, she would room with Veronica and Ginny. They had big, wholesome, friendly family vacations, and all were welcome.

“If I find a girl to bring, I'll tell you.” He had no big romance at the moment. Not since the one sophomore year, and several in high school. But for the past two years, there had been no one special, and still wasn't. He was cautious and discerning. Olympia always said that it was going to take a special girl, with many qualities and considerable depth, to win Charlie. He was the most serious of all her children. It was hard to believe at times that he was related to Chauncey, who was the king of all things superficial.

He flew back to Dartmouth that night, and the girls went back to Brown in the morning. They didn't start school till Tuesday. Ginny tried her dress on one last time before she left, and stood beaming at herself in the mirror. She loved it. Olympia had to threaten Veronica's life to try hers on, but she wanted to be sure it fit, and needed no alterations before the big night. When they came home in December, there wouldn't be time to alter it before the rehearsal and ball.

“You both have shoes, right?” Ginny had bought hers in July, perfectly plain white satin pumps, with little pearls on them, just like her dress. They had been lucky to find them. Veronica insisted she had a pair of white satin evening sandals in her closet.

“You're sure?” Olympia asked again. They both had evening bags, long white kid gloves, and the string of pearls with matching earrings she had bought each of them for their eighteenth birthdays. That was all they needed.

“I'm sure,” Veronica said, rolling her eyes. “Do you realize how much more worthwhile it would be if we spent the money on people who are starving in Appalachia?”

“The two are not mutually exclusive. Harry and I give plenty of money to charity, Veronica. He does more pro bono work than anyone I know, and I do my share. You don't need to feel guilty over one dress and a pair of sandals.”

“I'd rather spend the night working in a homeless shelter.”

“That's noble of you. You can atone for your sins when we get back from Aspen.” They had a month's vacation, and she was sure that Veronica would be doing just that for most of her vacation. She had volunteered many times in homeless shelters, with literacy projects, and with abused kids at a center she loved in Harlem. No one had ever accused Veronica of lacking social conscience. Ginny was another story. She would spend her month's vacation seeing friends, going to parties, and shopping.

All Olympia wanted was for her children to love and respect each other, however different they were. And so far her encouragement in that direction had been successful. In spite of their disagreement about the debut ball, the girls were as devoted to each other and to Charlie and Max as the boys were to them.

Olympia went back to her office the next morning when the girls left. Harry had gone to work early. The school bus had picked Max up, and she had a thousand messages on her desk when she got there. She waded through them and returned all her calls, before a court appearance that afternoon. During her lunch break, she called Chauncey. She had thought Charlie's suggestion was a good one, just to break the ice, and try and get things on an easy footing, which was never simple for her with Chauncey. He had an unfailing ability to irritate her.

Felicia answered the phone in Newport, and she and Olympia chatted for a few minutes, about nothing in particular, mostly Felicia and Chauncey's children. She was complaining about their school in Newport, and how stupid it was that they had to wear uniforms, instead of the cute little outfits she bought them in Boston and New York. She was nice enough to say though that she was looking forward to the girls' debut at The Arches, and Olympia thanked her and asked for Chauncey. Felicia said he had just come in for lunch, from the stables. It still amazed Olympia that her ex-husband had been content not to work for the past fifteen years, and live off his family fortune. She couldn't imagine a life like that, even if she could afford it. She loved her law practice, and respected Harry for all he had accomplished. In his entire lifetime, Chauncey had achieved nothing. All he did was play polo, and buy horses. In their early days together, he had worked in his fam-ily's bank, but he had given that up quickly. It took too much effort, and was too much trouble. Now he made no pretense about the indolent life he led, and always jokingly said that work was for the masses. He was a snob to his core.