Brazen Virtue

loner. You probably don’t even remember him, though he’s often attended receptions and other functions with us.”
    Tess had a recollection of a thin young boy who faded into corners. “I’m afraid I don’t remember him well.”

    “People don’t.” Claire’s smile flared and faded. With her hands in her lap she began to pleat the tablecloth. “He’s very unobtrusive. Bright. Jerald’s a terribly bright young man. He’s in the top ten percent of his graduating class. He’s been on the dean’s list consistently through prep school. Several excellent private colleges have accepted him, though he’ll follow tradition and attend Princeton.” She began to talk quickly, too quickly, as though she were now on the down side of a roller coaster ride and frightened that she’d run out of breath. “I’m afraid he spends more time with his computer than with people. I can’t understand the things myself, but Jerald’s just a whiz with machines. I can honestly say I’ve never had a moment’s trouble from him. He’s never been rebellious or impolite. When friends would tell me how frustrated they were with their teenagers, I would just marvel that Jerald was always such a quiet, agreeable boy. Perhaps not overly affectionate, but good-natured.”
    “The ideal son?” Tess murmured. She knew how deceptive “perfection” could be, how many jagged flaws it could conceal.
    “Yes, yes, exactly. He simply worships Charlton. Almost too much, you understand. At times I would be a bit uneasy about it, but it’s so gratifying for a boy to look up to his father. In any case, we’ve never had to be concerned with the problems so many parents seem to face today. Drugs, promiscuity, defiance. Then lately—”
    “Take your time, Claire.”
    “Thank you.” After reaching for her glass, Claire sipped to moisten her dry throat. “In the last few months, Jerald’s been spending more and more time on his own. He’s locked himself in his room every night. I know how hard he studies and I’ve even tried to persuade him to slow down a bit. He looks so worn-out some mornings. His moods seem to swing. I know I’ve been tied up with the election and campaign, so I excused those swings. I’ve been a bit moody myself.”
    “Have you talked with him?”
    “I’ve tried. Perhaps not hard enough. I didn’t realize how difficult it could be to deal with. He came home from the library one night recently, and he was—Tess, he was a mess. His clothes were disheveled, his face was scratched up. It was obvious he’d been in a fight of some kind, but he would only say he’d fallen off his bike. I let it drop. I regret that now. I even let his father believe it, though I know Jerald had taken the car that night. I told myself he was entitled to his privacy and that, being a well-brought-up boy, he wouldn’t get in over his head. But there’s been something, something in his eyes lately.”
    “Claire, do you suspect Jerald is experimenting with drugs?”

    “I don’t know.” For a moment she allowed herself the luxury of covering her face with her hands. “I don’t know, but I do know we have to do something before it gets worse. Just yesterday Jerald was in a dreadful fight at school. He’s been suspended. Tess, they’re claiming he tried to kill the other boy … with his bare hands.” She looked down at her own. Her wedding ring glinted up at her. “He’s never been in trouble before.”
    Tess felt chilled to the bone. She swallowed hard, then asked in a carefully managed, neutral tone, “What does Jerald say about the fight?”
    “Nothing, not to me. I know he spoke with Charlton, but neither of them will discuss it. Charlton’s worried.” Her gaze darted to Tess’s, then shifted back to the tablecloth. “Charlton is trying to pretend he’s not, but I can see it. I know how damaging this could be if it leaks to the press and I’m terrified about what it might do to his campaign. He keeps insisting that all Jerald needs is a few days to rest his mind and calm down. I wish I could believe it.”
    “Would you like me to talk to Jerald?”
    “Yes.” Claire reached over to take her hand. “Very much. I don’t know what else to do. I’ve been a better wife, a better partner than a mother. Jerald seems to have slipped out of my hands. I’m really worried about him. He seems distant, and smug somehow, as though he knows something no one else does. I’m hoping that if he talks to someone outside