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you, and hoped to catch you afterward, but you had already left. I think Senator Castle is quite smashing, and who knows, we may all be hearing from him from a higher platform in a year or so. And Priscilla’s—well, I’ve known her since she was sixteen. I almost wrote sexteen. Enough said.
    â€œI mean, enough said on that . Henri, I’ve known you nearly two years now, so I’m going to give you some advice. Big-sister advice, since I’m a dozen years older than you. It boils down to: Get around a bit. This campus is, well, maybe not teeming with attractive disengaged males, but there are some nice people here. They may not be in the same league as your Mr. Durban (sorry, I’ve never known his first name), but…. Well. How many years since he died? I guess as many years as Justin is old, if I work it out right. Justin is divine, but you can’t very well cohabit with him and anybody else at the same time.
    â€œI warned you early on about my reputation. J. is a juniornow, one year behind my Allan. You can’t send him away yet, not for a while, but at college time, he should certainly go away. Leaving you with a little privacy. Don’t be sore at me for poking into other people’s business. How can anybody help other people without getting into their business? You can always tell me to shove off, but I don’t think you will. And I don’t think you should.”
    Henrietta walked into the kitchen, Amy’s letter folded in her pocket. Justin was eating his cereal absentmindedly, his eyes on the television screen. Henri looked up. The caption on the Sony read, “Senator Reuben Castle speaking at Democratic rally.” The camera zoomed back and showed Priscilla Castle, gazing devotedly at her husband. Seated next to her was their son, who looked to be about eleven. He was wholly detached from the scene. His jacket and shirt seemed to grow larger as the seconds ticked on, but it was an illusion, as the boy wearing them mentally distanced himself, shrinking from the proceedings. But when the crowd broke out in applause and the boy’s eyes moved toward his father, Mrs. Castle could be seen discreetly nudging him.
    The television commentator took over. “Senator Castle, with his family looking on, complained about the policies of President Ronald Reagan at a meeting sponsored by the Democratic Caucus of the University of Colorado. He was well received, and there is talk that Democrats might find his name on the national ticket, if not next year, then perhaps in 1992.”
    The television image gave way to a commercial.
    â€œMaman? Il est bien fort, ce monsieur, non?”
    â€œYes. He’s very attractive, and very impressive. Justin, have you thought of going away over spring break?”
    â€œYou mean to Paris?”
    â€œNo. I was thinking of a skiing vacation. Your friend Charley is always talking about skiing vacations. And Mrs. Parrish says that Alta, in Utah, where Allan goes, is very nice, and not expensive.”
    Justin pushed his cereal bowl away. “Are you going to take a vacation?”
    â€œI hadn’t planned to.”
    â€œDo colleges have vacations? I mean, for college employees? I mean, do you get paid if you take a vacation?”
    â€œThere are rules and accommodations. The library doesn’t close down, in the way—well, in the way the dining halls more or less close down. The library stays open.”
    â€œSo you can’t take a vacation.”
    â€œI can. Tais-toi. I’m talking about you having a vacation. Without your mother.”
    â€œGee. That could be fun!”
    She feigned annoyance, batting him on the head with a paper napkin, and reminding herself, for the twentieth time since Tuesday, that Justin was only two years younger than Reuben Castle had been when that dreamy young freshman entered her life.

CHAPTER 13
    Washington, D.C., March 1987
    Priscilla Avery Castle put down the phone. She