Cassie took a deep breath. “Tell me. As much as you can, all right?”

“Promise you won’t try to find out who these people are?” Sharon was wide awake now, and sounded nervous.

“Okay.”

“You won’t even try to find out. And if you do—if he tells you, for example—you won’t brace them with it.”

“You’ve got my word.”

“Swell. I trust you. How was the show tonight?”

“It was all right. House about half full. Everybody a little teary. You know. We close tomorrow. Final performance and see you around. Break a leg, you were great. All that stuff. Are you stalling, Sharon?”

“Maybe I am. Maybe I need time to think. Or maybe not. You got a new gig lined up?”

“Huh uh. I may vegetate awhile. My agent’s been talking to Hollywood, but there’s nothing definite yet. Now tell me.”

“Before I do, has it hit you that he might have picked you because of how things are right now? Because you’ll be loose and he knows it?”

“No. . . . Well, by gosh! I hadn’t thought of that. Thanks. You’re sharp, Sharon.”

“And a good friend?”

“Yes. A very good friend.”

“Swell. I’m going to be a good friend some more. One was this very rich woman. She wasn’t married anymore, but she had a little kid. A leftover kid that hardly anybody knew about.”

“And?”

“She loved him—she still does as far as I know. The kid is her whole life. He was a little piece of a man she loved and lost.”

“A boy.” Cassie nodded to herself.

“Did I say that? Yeah, I guess I did. Okay, it’s a boy, only he was—wasn’t right. Birth defect like. You know?”

“Deformed or mental?”

“It doesn’t matter. He wasn’t right, and it broke her heart. Nobody could cure him. She went to Chase, and her son’s just fine. Smart, good-looking. Maybe a little too brave, but normal for sure.”