All the South Ballroom’s lamps were on, a much bluer shine than that at our backs. Marilyn walked up and laid her hands on a hotbed canopy. Cuttings had grown to within a few inches of the plexiglass. Every hotbed was filling with leaf. "They’re beautiful," she said. "Cuttings?"

Gaea nodded. "The Mothers are over there."

They’d grown out of their scalped look. From every node just below where a cutting had been taken, two new shoots grew. Soon the Mothers would be shaggy again. We followed Gaea.

"Lew’s been breeding for years," she said. "These’re three of his best strains." She pointed out the Shawnee, Mishta, and Sugarmutt, as if introducing them to Marilyn.

"What an enterprise." Marilyn looked at Whizzer, then at me. "It must be a lot of work."

"Keeps the boys trim," said Gaea. "And out of trouble."

"Could you explain the process?"

Gaea looked at Whizzer. "You do it," he said.

"Well...we take about twenty-five hundred cuttings from the Mothers, and root them in hotbeds." We all walked over and gathered around the closest hotbed. Gaea drummed four fingers on the canopy. "Lew’s strains have been bred for potency, yield, and quick rooting. With the high humidity and soil temperature in here, cuttings root in less than two weeks. Then they’re transplanted into larger pots." She pointed at the mountain of pots I’d filled with soil. "They’ll go into those in a few days. And they’ll stay in here another two weeks, till they’re about this tall." She held her hand up about knee high. "Then we move them into the North Ballroom...." Marilyn followed Gaea toward the door.

"Light cycle," said Whizzer.

Gaea stopped and looked at Marilyn. "The lamps in here run eighteen hours and are off for six. As long as the plants sense only six hours of darkness each night they’ll stay in vegetative growth. Now, in the North Ballroom...."

We followed Gaea toward Marilyn’s home station. "These lights run twelve hours and are off twelve hours. After sensing seven or eight twelve-hour nights, the plants switch to flowering."

"Why are there more orange lights in here?"

"Orange light stimulates floral hormones," said Gaea. "They call it the ‘harvest sun’ phenomenon." Marilyn finished her port. I poured her another half glass, half filled Whizzer’s glass, poured Gaea some more, then emptied the decanter into my glass. "So, the plants bloom like mad for about four weeks, and..." She poked Whizzer in the stomach. "...when the Professor says they’re perfectly ripe, we harvest. By that time another group is ready to come in here. It’s a ten-week cycle."

"A splendid enterprise," said Marilyn. "I’d never imagined these old ballrooms being put to such good use. Feeds the local economy.... I remember when hemp was legal and gambling was not. Now the government pushes gambling and people are in prison for enjoying what they should have every right to enjoy. She shook her head. "It’s appalling."

I loved the way she said appalling.

"When did you last enjoy?" said Whizzer.

"Oh...years ago. The best times were right in this room." She took a sip. "The parties we used to have. Lucifer invented...a game if you like, though it was much more." She stepped onto the daisy with the eye and signing hands. "This was my home station. Everyone would...." She sighed, looking tired all of a sudden. She took another sip. "It’s quite complicated. Perhaps I could better explain it another time."

"Would you like to sample a little of our crop?"

Marilyn smiled at Whizzer. "Not tonight. I’ve had such fun already, and it’s well past my bedtime. But thank you. I’d love to try it sometime."

So that was the signal. Whizzer went to turn off the North Ballroom lights. I followed Marilyn and Gaea. They walked arm in arm. "Lucifer would be so proud...."

I didn’t notice until we were back at the dining table. Marilyn had changed color. I thought of Gaea saying that after the storm Marilyn had looked ashen. She was kind of ashen again. Gaea was on suppressed red alert. Whizzer walked in and immediately knew something was wrong. Marilyn sat down, spilling the rest of her port on the crisp, white tablecloth. Gaea was at her side in seconds.

"I’m so sorry," said Marilyn, holding on to the arms of her chair.

"Should you lie down?" Gaea had changed color too.

Marilyn took a deep breath. She sighed, and smiled at Gaea. "Dear...you know I really should be going home to bed." As quickly as it had come on, Marilyn’s spell seemed to be passing.

"I’ll drive you home," said Whizzer. "I’ve always wanted to drive that Olds, and I feel like a walk anyway."

The spell was passing. Her color was coming back. Fear wasn’t showing in her eyes. "Stop fretting you two." Marilyn looked at me. "Jim, I’m so glad to have met you." She held out her hand. I kissed her knuckle. She stood up, and hugged Gaea. "You’re such a dear, I love you so much...." Whizzer kissed the same knuckle, then fetched Marilyn’s purse, and her hat and gloves, which she did not put on. Whizzer pulled open that heavy door. Marilyn and Gaea walked arm in arm onto the porch. Marilyn said, "I’ve had such a wonderful time." Gaea seemed so short next to her.

Steely-blue sky hanging over us, I followed Whizzer who followed Marilyn and Gaea down the flagstones. Patch and his sidekick still had the Patchmobile’s hood up. They were good and drunk, kicking around a Hacky Sack in the twilight with two girlies looking frisky in Genital Joe jackets. Whizzer rushed ahead and opened the gate for us. I opened the door of the Olds.

"I’m fine," said Marilyn. She took hold of Gaea’s hands. "Come see me tomorrow."

I couldn’t really tell in that light if she looked fine. I thought she did not. Gaea was worried stiff but hiding it well. Marilyn opened her purse and took out the keys. "Gentlemen...good night." She got in and I closed the door. The Olds started right up. The lights came on. Marilyn ground it into first. She waved at the three of us peering through her window, then slowly pulled away from the curb. We watched the Olds roll down the street. Marilyn shifted it into second.... She didn’t use her turn signal before the intersection...or even slow down at the stop sign. Blaring horns and screeching tires—two cars swerved out of her way. She cruised through the intersection, drifting to the wrong side of the road. She bounced up over the curb and crossed the sidewalk. The chain-link fence hardly slowed her crash into an old horse chestnut tree in full bloom.

Gaea and I were already running after her. Whizzer was already sprinting the flagstones, having shouted, "I’ll call 911!"

Gawkers rushed out on their front porches. I could hardly keep up with Gaea. She dashed across the arterial right in front of a big 4x4 pickup with an obnoxious air horn. I waited for the pickup and a car. She’d already pulled open the door of the Olds when I got there. Marilyn was slumped across the seat. I lunged past Gaea and wrapped my arms around Marilyn, getting the feeling she was already dead. I pulled her from the car and laid her on her back in the grass. Her eyes were closed. The steering wheel had gashed the bridge of her nose but she was not yet bleeding. I felt her carotid.... No pulse. Eyes wild, Gaea crouched down, tipping back Marilyn’s head, making sure her airway was clear. I put one hand over the other on the base of Marilyn’s sternum, and started pumping her heart. Gaea breathed into her.... I heard a siren—the closest fire station was only a few blocks away. Gawkers crowded around, mumbling. I heard Whizzer yelling at everyone to get back. I kept circulating Marilyn’s blood and Gaea kept breathing into her. Still no pulse....

The paramedic truck’s tires squealed against the curb, siren earsplitting. Two young paramedics were on Marilyn in seconds—a lanky white guy and a short muscular Hispanic. I said I was trained in CPR and had worked on her without getting a pulse. They tore open that morning glory dress, and snipped the bra, fully exposing Marilyn’s rib cage. The Hispanic breathed into her while the white guy smeared jelly onto defibrillator paddles....

"Clear!"

Marilyn’s body convulsed as the charge flashed through her.... No pulse.

"Clear!"

She convulsed again.... No pulse. Gaea’s wide-open eyes glittered horror, watching the white guy take out a syringe of adrenalin. He plunged the six-inch needle into Marilyn’s heart. People behind me gasped...and I think it was Patch who mumbled "Fuckin’ A."

"Clear!"

Marilyn’s body almost jumped off the ground. The white guy put his fingers on her neck....

"Okay."

So they brought her back. The white guy got a lidocaine IV going to fight fibrillation. I hadn’t realized there was a third paramedic—he came from somewhere and the three of them got her on a stretcher and into the truck. Gaea took off running for the Castle. Ear-splitting siren wailing, the paramedic truck took off for Holy Family Hospital.

Patch and his sidekick were chuckling about something. The girlies with them still looked horrified, pulling the lapels of their Genital Joe jackets tight across their chests as if afraid someone might try giving them a shot in the heart. The rest of the crowd milled around Marilyn’s car, somber. Whizzer was trying to catch up to Gaea. I heard him yell at her. She just kept running....

I heard the Vanagon pulling away as I trotted up the flagstones. The Castle’s front door was open a crack. I opened it wide and a breeze followed me inside, flickering the candle flames. In the room and on my hands I could smell Marilyn’s perfume.