Gaits of Heaven

out of them. All of us clung to one another. It was as if we’d all had an identical surgical operation that had removed the same vital organ from our bodies. The release of crying was, of course, unavailable to the dogs, but they found solace in simple physical contact, as I did, too.
    That Wednesday afternoon, Caprice had obviously been crying. Her fair skin was blotched, and her eyes were puffy. Still, resentment about the family meeting was triumphing over grief. After saying that she hated the idea, she went on to complain that instead of pooling resources to help Wyeth, everyone should pool resources to figure out who murdered her mother. “This is just one more way to let Wyeth make himself the center of attention.”
    “Caprice,” I said, “from what Rita tells me, the idea isn’t to focus on any one person. The point is to make the whole family system and the whole network the center of attention.“
    “The family system didn’t murder Eumie,” Caprice said, “and it isn’t fair that I have to go to this awful meeting because of ”—she took a deep breath and spat out the name— “Wyeth. „
    “ I haven’t had lunch yet,” I said. “Have you? There’s leftover chicken. You want a sandwich?”
    She accepted the offer. As I was making sandwiches— lettuce and tomato, no mayo, and no tactless green beans on the side—I thought over her angry assertion that the family system hadn’t murdered Eumie. In one sense, she was right: Caprice, Wyeth, Ted, Monty, Johanna, and, indeed, Dolfo had not held some secret conclave in which they’d schemed to administer an overdose of multiple medications to Eumie. In another sense, the entire way the family operated had set the stage for murder. Medicine cabinets were packed with prescription drugs, everyone had access to everyone else’s medication, interior and exterior doors were left unlocked, secrets weren’t kept secret, and so forth. Even the family dog, Dolfo, hadn’t been taught the distinction between indoors and outdoors and the corresponding rule about what was kept inside his body in one place and released only in the other.
    “Missy sounds nervous about it, too,” Caprice said.
    “Really?”
    “I think it’s this visiting conductor. Dr. Farmer. She’s in the position of some second violinist who joined the orchestra last week, and she’s afraid she’s going to play a sour note and have him single her out for ruining the music.”
    “Is that what she said?”
    “No! Not at all. That’s just the feeling I get. But I am glad she’ll be there.”
    “I’ll be there, too, Caprice, and I’ve known Frank Farmer for ages. He has dogs. I’m not afraid of him. He’s a perfectly nice man. And Rita will be there.”
    Caprice’s lips were trembling.
    I asked, “Is there something else?”
    She almost slapped her sandwich onto her plate. “It’s not supposed to be just about Wyeth. Of course! Let’s not make Wyeth take any responsibility for anything he’s done! God forbid! So, since it’s not going to be about Wyeth, it’s going to be about the rest of us. Including—” As she broke off, she reached down and stretched out the voluminous shirt she was wearing. Dropping it, she raised her right hand to her face, squeezed a substantial mass of flesh between her fingers and thumb, and pressed so hard that I couldn’t bear to watch.
    I grabbed her arm and gently removed it. “Caprice, I have never been to a meeting like this one. But I know Frank, and I know Rita, and neither one is going to let the focus shift to your weight. I don’t know anything about Frank’s professional life, but he has a fabulous reputation, and you can bet that it isn’t founded on letting people get away with that kind of ploy. And Rita? Rita is brainless about computers, and she’s brainless about dog training, but that’s because all her intelligence is devoted to understanding and helping people. If Wyeth or anyone else tried to transform this meeting into some hostile confrontation about your weight, Rita would see it coming, and she’d stop it.”
    At that inopportune moment, Caprice’s cell phone rang. She dug it out of her purse and answered. “Daddy?” She listened. “I don’t want to go,” she said. “I wish—” This time, she listened for at least thirty seconds. “Okay. If you’re going to be there, then I will. But I don’t want to.” After another pause, she said, “Yes, I understand. No one is going to chain me up and