She was still wearing her one-strap red gown, but the gold sandals had been kicked off somewhere, making it easier to stalk around, which she liked to do while arguing. She had plenty of latitude, social as well as physical, in which to move around and yell; the servants, dismissed the night before somewhere around midparty, were not yet back from their own celebrations or their rest to commence the cleanup job. The apartment was a terrific mess, but Holly and her father had the freedom of being alone in it. So far Jeff’s attitude had remained one of patient soothing, though Holly was really flaring at him. “There’s something very funny about it, Jeff. You had hardly hung up the phone before those men with the stretcher were coming in the door.” Her father was sitting wearily on the sofa in the library. Sometimes he looked toward the window, as if he wished he could be out there somewhere. “Holly, if I just tell you that he’s getting the best care possible, isn’t that enough?
