“I’m scared, Benjie. What if the dogs—”

“They won’t bother us. They sleep in the kitchen at the rear of the house.”

“My feet hurt.”

“Take your shoes off.”

“We should have brought the Porsche up.”

“Too noisy.”

So the Porsche remained on the street below.

Ben carried her shoes for her while she walked barefoot on the grass alongside the driveway. The grass was cold and wet and almost immediately she began to shiver.

Ben was very considerate. “Here, take my coat.”

“Then you’ll be cold.”

“No. I’m burning up.”

She knew from the way he put his coat around her shoulders that he was going to make love to her in the child’s playhouse that he called the palace.

She turned her head so her cheek brushed the back of his hand. “The bed will be too small, won’t it?”

“If we can make it in the Porsche we can make it anywhere.”

She giggled and hung on to his arm and everything seemed fun as it always did when Ben was in a good mood.

It didn’t last. Even before they reached the palace she sensed that his excitement was different this time, hardly connected with her at all.

There was a full moon and she could see the palace door quite clearly, carved with brightly painted figures, a little girl sitting on a throne with her hand on the head of a black dog, a king and queen dancing, a court jester, a tree with golden apples.

“Someone went to a lot of trouble for an ordinary playhouse.”

“Not someone. Me. And it’s not an ordinary playhouse. It’s the palace of a princess.”

“Did you do all that carving?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I told you.”

Ben opened the door and switched on an overhead light and a lamp. “Come in.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You said you did.”

“I was sort of drunk.”

“This is a hell of a time to sober up.”

“I wasn’t as drunk as you to begin with.”

“Jesus Christ, are we going to stand here arguing about which one of us was drunker?” He pulled her into the room and kicked the door shut.

Everything in the palace was built to scale, not for a child as young as Annamay, but for a rather small adult. Quinn could stand up straight but her head grazed the ceiling and she stooped instinctively the way she used to when she first started to grow faster than her peers.

“Why did you make the ceiling so low?”

“To remind adults that this is not their place, it belongs to the princess and her duke.”

“You’re kind of crazy, aren’t you?”

“Not kind of. Very.”

“I don’t believe it. I read in a magazine once that people who are really crazy don’t know it.”

“I’m an exception.”

“Stop talking like that. You’re making me nervous.”

“All grown-ups are supposed to feel nervous in the palace. It’s not their place.”

“Then why are we here?”

“I belong,” he said. “I belong.”

The tone of his voice, the musty smell in the room, the threatening touch of the ceiling against her head increased her anxiety. Trying not to show it she sat down on the small bird-and-flower print davenport. Ben stood looking down at her frowning, her sandals still in his hand.

“God, you have big feet.”

“What of it?”

“They’re as big as mine.”

“No, they’re not.”

“Want to bet?”

He sat down beside her on the davenport, slipped off the leather moccasins he was wearing and put on the high-heeled sandals. His hands shook as he buckled the straps and stood up.

“See? They fit exactly. You lose.”

“I didn’t bet. Now give me back my shoes.”

He pretended not to hear her. He was walking around the room, not awkwardly the way men in drag did on television or in the movies, but quite gracefully and naturally as if he’d been doing it all his life.

She watched him, first in disbelief, then in anger. “What are you, some kind of freako? Give me back my shoes. I want to go home.”

“Why? The fun’s only beginning.”

“I don’t think this is fun, watching some guy prance around in women’s shoes.”

“It’s a game.”

“I don’t care. I hate it.”

“Come on, baby, dance with me.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Okay, I’ll dance with the kiddies.” He picked up the two dolls from the bunk bed, Marietta with her half-bald head and Luella Lu with her glued-in eye. Holding them close against his chest he began circling the room. “They’re Annamay’s children so of course they love dancing as she did. The princess and I often danced. Round and round, just like this. Round and round—”

When he passed the davenport she reached out with one foot and caught him on the shin. He stumbled and fell to the floor, the dolls flying out of his arms like caged birds unexpectedly released. He winced as he picked himself up, holding his left elbow with his right hand.

“You tripped me, you bitch.”

“Open the door and let me out of here or I’ll scream.”

“Chances are you’re a good screamer. Right?”

“The best.”

“Give us a sample.”

“If I scream your fancy friends will come running and want to know why you busted into their kid’s playhouse.”

“It’s not a playhouse. It’s real, it’s a real palace.”

“This kinky stuff makes me sick. Let me out before I throw up all over the royal rug.”

He looked at her soberly, bitterly. “You’re not fit to be in this place anyway.”

“Good. Then I’ll leave.”

“Beat it, you tramp.”

He stepped away from the door and she darted outside without waiting for her shoes. She started down the driveway, running barefooted in the wet grass.

By the time she reached the Porsche parked on the street she was out of breath but quite calm. Ben had left the car unlocked so she opened the door and dropped into the single passenger seat and waited.

She didn’t have long to wait. About five minutes later Ben appeared and got into the car without saying anything or even looking at her. He was wearing his own leather moccasins.

She said, “Where are my shoes?”

“I put them someplace. I don’t remember.”

“But I want—”

“Forget it. I’ll pay you for them. How much?”

“They cost me a fortune.”

“You probably bought them at a garage sale. I’ll give you ten bucks.”

“Fifty.”

“Twenty-five.”

“What a cheapskate you are. You live in a dump, you never take me anyplace, you drive this broken-down hunk of tin that sounds like a truck.”

“Broken-down hunk of tin?” He sounded outraged. “Jeez, you’re ignorant. This is a classic three fifty-six Speedster.”

“Big deal.”

“If you don’t like it, get out and walk. Feel like walking?”

“No.” She leaned her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. “I’m tired, Benjie. Take me home.”

“Where’s home?”

“The apartment.”

“Why would you want to go back to a cheap little dump like that?”

“Because it’s our place, Benjie, yours and mine. And I don’t mind it being a dump, really. I mean, I never had things so great at home either.”

He released the hand brake and let the car roll halfway down the hill before starting the engine. It was hard to talk above the noise and neither of them tried. But when they pulled into the parking lot behind the apartment building Ben said quietly, “I’m sorry. I got drunk and did a lot of crazy things and I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t the real you, Benjie.”

“What if it was?”

“I wouldn’t care. I mean, I’d care, sure, but I’d still want to marry you.”