I hope not.

As predicted, Alan and Carmen didn't win, but neither of them seemed to mind.

And Blaire was true to form when she asked Allegra after the ceremony if she had called her father about the wedding.

No, Mom, I haven't, she said, with pursed lips. Allegra had worn a clinging silver dress that molded her body and she looked spectacular, and the last thing she wanted to hear about was her father, and whether or not she had called him.

I have to know for the invitations, Blaire harped again, and Allegra rolled her eyes at her mother.

Okay, okay, I'll call him. And then she thought better of it. Why don't you call him and ask if he wants to be on the invitations? I don't want him on them anyway. Simon is my father. I don't need this guy, and all his miserable bullshit. Why don't we just not call him, and you two announce it? I don't even use the name anymore, so what's the difference? People knew her only as Allegra Steinberg, although Simon had never been able to officially adopt her. Blaire had never wanted to broach the matter with Allegra's real father, Charles Stanton. Allegra Stanton had always had a nice ring to it, but not to Allegra. And I'm not walking down the aisle with him, just so you know. I'm walking down it with Daddy. But before Blaire could comment, they got separated by the crowd, as well-wishers and the press pushed around them.

Later, when the crowd thinned, Allegra saw Dame Elizabeth Coleson come over to congratulate her father. They were chatting easily in the midst of a cluster of people, and Blaire had moved off slightly to talk to friends. But Allegra saw her glance over her shoulder at Simon and she looked tense. Allegra was beginning to wonder if Jeff was right and her mother didn't feel well.

They all went out to various parties afterward. Allegra and Jeff went to one that Sherry Lansing gave, upstairs at the Bistro right after the awards, and then to another at Spago after that, but none of them was as good as the one that Irving Lazar used to give in the old days. But they had fun anyway, and two days later Carmen and Alan left for Switzerland, with a mountain of suitcases and hanging bags and garment bags and boxes. It looked like a traveling circus leaving town, but in the midst of it all, Carmen looked ecstatic. She was going with him.

Just don't forget to come back in time, Allegra reminded her after accompanying them to the airport. Alan was looking totally aggravated at the amount of stuff Carmen had brought, and the press had appeared, tipped off as usual, and was adding even more irritation to an already chaotic departure.

The VIP agents from the airline and Allegra finally got them on the plane, and she got Alan to sign a few last papers she'd brought in her briefcase, and she went back to town in peace in the limousine, and even had free time to call Jeff. It was heaven.

How was it? Jeff asked when she called him.

Unbelievable, as usual.

Were they wearing the polyester suits and the wigs? They should have.

You're right, they should have, she laughed. Alan was carrying some kind of a bear that Carmen takes everywhere, and she was wearing a sable parka, and a stretch suit that would have knocked anyone's eyes out. I still wish we were getting married in Vegas the way they did.

So do I. Speaking of which, he said cautiously, I spoke to my mother today. She really wants us to come East to see her. I'd like to do it before I start the movie. That was in two weeks and she couldn't imagine it. She was handling all the last-minute details for Bram Morrison's tour. And just double-checking the security arrangements and their contracts and liabilities was overwhelming. She had also met Jeff's Harvard friend by then, Tony Jacobson, who was coproducing his film with him. And she knew Tony and Jeff both had a ton of work to do before starting to shoot. She couldn't imagine how either of them could go East, even to meet his mother.

I don't see how, Jeff ‘ but I'll try. I promise.

I told her we'd come out the last weekend in April. He was holding his breath, praying she'd agree to do it. His mother was already upset that Jeff had proposed to Allegra before she had met her. Can you do it?

I'll do it, I'll do it. It was two days before the first concert of Bram's tour, a local one fortunately, but it was still going to be a major effort.

We'll just go over the weekend, overnight if you'd prefer. He was willing to do anything to accommodate her, but it meant a lot to him, and she couldn't deny him that. He'd done nothing but help her and be understanding since the day they met. She owed him this much. If you want, we could stop and see your father in Boston on the way back, Jeff suggested, trying to be equitable, but there was an immediate silence.

Charles Stanton is not my father. He was still dying to know why not, and she still hadn't told him. But her comment gave him the opportunity to ask her that night, while they were both cooking dinner. They had it down to a science now. He did the meat, and she did all the trimmings. She was good at vegetables and salads and all the tasty, decorative little goodies, and he loved doing steaks, and chops, and chicken. But when he asked her again, as usual, there was a long silence.

Maybe I should stop asking you? he suggested. She'd been avoiding the questions for two weeks, ever since he'd first heard about him. But I'd kind of like to know why it was so traumatic. Maybe we do need to get this over with. What does your therapist think? Have you asked her? he asked fairly, and Allegra nodded.

She said to tell you. There was another long silence as she put his rice and broccoli on his plate, and Jeff added a slice of broiled fish to it. It made a very appealing dinner. She had also made garlic bread, and a small salad.

Voila! he said with a flourish as they sat down, and Allegra smiled a wintry smile at him. She was thinking of Charles Stanton. And it was as though Jeff had read her mind. Why do you hate him so much, Allie? he asked quietly. What did he do to you, or your mom? Jeff guessed it must have been pretty awful. But she shrugged as she started to pick at her dinner.

He really didn't do anything ‘ then. ‘ It's more what he didn't do after. ‘ I had a brother named Patrick ‘ Paddy. She smiled, looking up at Jeff. He was my hero. He was five years older than I was. He did everything for me ‘ I was his little princess. Most brothers beat their sisters up’ . Paddy never did. He fixed my dolls when they broke, he put my mittens on, he tied my shoelaces, till ‘ Her eyes filled with tears; they always did when she talked about Paddy. She still had a picture of him. She kept it in a locked drawer in her office. She couldn't bear putting it on the desk. It still hurt too much almost twenty-five years later. He died when I was five, she said in a strangled voice. He had a rare form of leukemia, which they couldn't cure in those days. And they're not always lucky with it now either. He knew he was going to die. He used to tell me that he was going to go up to heaven and wait for me. Her eyes filled with tears again and Jeff stopped eating and reached out a hand to touch her.

I'm sorry. He felt a lump in his throat as he said it.

She nodded, but went on now that she had started. Maybe Dr. Green was right. It was better to tell him and have it done with. I used to beg him not to leave me. But he said he had to. He was so sick at the end. I still remember it. You're not supposed to remember things about when you were five, not much anyway. I remember everything about Paddy. I remember the day he died. She choked on the words but went on anyway, and Jeff handed her a paper napkin. She smiled at him through her tears, and wished he could have met her brother. She wished he were still alive. She had wished that often.

I think my dad went kind of crazy when he died. He had tried treating him at the end, apparently. I didn't know that, but Mom told me later. But he couldn't do anything. No one could. But that was my father's specialty and it drove him crazy that he couldn't help him. He never thought much of me, maybe because I was so young, or a girl, or ‘ I don't know ‘ I don't remember much about him, just Paddy. My father was never really there, he was always working. And then my brother died and he fell apart, and he took it out on my mother. He shouted at her all the time, he blamed her for everything. And somehow, like all kids, I thought it was my fault. I thought I had done something terrible to make Paddy die and my father hate us. All I remembered was his screaming.

It went on like that for about a year. I think he was drinking a lot. My parents fought all the time, their whole marriage fell apart. I used to hide in the closet and cry at night, so I wouldn't hear them fighting.

It sounds awful, Jeff said sympathetically.

It was. Eventually, he started hitting her. I was always afraid he would hit me, and I always felt guilty for not stopping it, but there was nothing I could do. And I kept thinking that if Paddy hadn't died, none of that would have happened, but maybe it would have. He started blaming my mom for everything, he even said it was her fault Paddy had died, and she said she was going to leave him. He told her that if she did, he'd turn his back on us and we'd starve in the street without him. My mom had no family, and I guess she didn't have any money saved up. A long time later, she told me she had a plan, and she started sending short stories to magazines. She saved a few thousand dollars. And one night after he beat her up, she took me and we left. I remember we stayed in a hotel where it was really cold, and I remember being very hungry, and she bought me donuts. She was probably scared to death to spend much money.