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wasn’t
grieving. Of course, there was a simple explanation for that. He
and Marc didn’t get along. Avram could simply be happy to be rid of
Marc. It would be natural for him to try to hide that in this
circumstance.
    Is that what I’m picking up? But the
handshake was an over-the-top attempt to appear genuine. I’d like
to know if he visited Key West recently.
    She moved along the reception line to Marc’s
father, who was seated next to Avram. The man was a shell of
himself, no longer recognizable as the dominant person who had once
been her employer.
    “Hello, Milton,” she said, shaking his hand.
“You may not remember me; I’m Julie O’Hara. I used to work at the
dealership. Marc was a dear friend. I’m very sorry for your
loss.”
    “Hello, Julie,” he said. “Of course I
remember you. I went to your wedding.” A deep melancholy overtook
him. “Marc never got married; he never had children.”
    Her heart went out to him in his grief, and
she attempted to cheer him with a positive thought.
    “There are a lot of young people here. Are
they nieces and nephews?”
    “They’re all Castles, not Solomons. Unless
Avram gets married, there won’t be any more Solomons.”
    “Castles?”
    “Miriam’s family,” he said.
    “Oh. Yes, of course.”
    Julie didn’t recall Marc ever mentioning his
mother’s maiden name. Suddenly, Castle Cay came to mind and she
realized that it must have belonged to Miriam. She had always
thought the name came from the towering ridge.
    Who owns it now? Did she leave it to
Marc?
    Giving the old man’s hand a gentle squeeze,
she said. “Take care, Milton.”
    Julie turned and crossed the room to join
Pete and Joan. “Hi. Have either of you seen David Harris?”
    “I just met him, Julie. He’s over there,”
said Pete, nodding to an area not far from them.
    It was easy to spot David with his
collar-length light blond hair. He had the same slim build as Mark.
As usual, he was dressed perfectly for the occasion. He was
standing in a group with Susan Dwyer, Marc’s agent and co-owner of
the Sandpiper Gallery in Key West. Julie asked the Soldanos to
excuse her and went over to see him.
    David saw her approaching. He turned and came
toward her with his arms outstretched. His eyes were red, his face
streaked with tears.
    “Oh, Julie, what am I going to do? How can I
live without him?”
    She hugged him tightly, tears coming to her
own eyes. “I’m so sorry, David. I don’t know what to say; I hate
that he’s gone, too.”
    “I know it was hard for him to bear
sometimes,” said David, “but he said he’d learned to live with
it.”
    Julie knew he was speaking of Marc’s illness,
AIDS, the specter of which threatened all the gay community,
including David, himself. Nevertheless, as much empathy as she had
for him, Julie remembered her promise to Marc.
    “I tried to call you several times,
David.”
    “I’m sorry, Julie. I couldn’t handle all the
press and the crank calls; I just stopped answering the phone. I
didn’t even check the messages after awhile.”
    “You were together the night before?”
    “Yes, we had dinner with friends, Susan and
Rolly. They left around ten-thirty.”
    “How was Marc that night?”
    “He was fine, just tired. After they went
home, we said goodnight and he went to his room. You know we have
our own rooms now.”
    Julie noticed that David had momentarily
slipped into the present tense, as grieving people often do.
    “I never got up during the night,” he said.
“I usually do, but we finished off a whole decanter of wine and I
slept right through ‘til eight the next morning. That’s when I went
in. That’s when I saw him.” He closed his eyes. “Oh God, I can’t
bear this!”
    He normally gets up during the night, but not
that night?
    Julie hugged him and silently asked herself
if he was being more dramatic than usual . She held him at
arms length and looked in his eyes. “David. Do you know what the
Florida papers are