SUNNY SAT in the vast ornamental living room of a disproportionate McMansion in Concord with Elsa and John Markham.
"You've talked to our daughter?" Elsa said.
"I have."
"How is she?"
"She seems fine," Sunny said.
"She's still in that place," Elsa said.
Elsa Markham was slim and tall with silver-blond hair and a dark tan. Her husband was also slim and tall. But his hair was dark and worn longish. He, too, had a deep tan.
"Yes," Sunny said. "She's at the Renewal place."
"Does she have friends?"
"She has a boyfriend," Sunny said. "He seemed nice."
He hadn't seemed anything to Sunny, but she thought it might reassure them.
"Oh, God," Elsa said. "Unsupervised, of course."
"Well, actually," Sunny said, "there's quite a lot of supervision; at least there are quite a few rules. No drugs, no alcohol, no smoking; interestingly enough, no meat."
"Sex?" Elsa said.
"No casual sex," Sunny said. "Only as part of a relationship."
"Well, isn't that sweet," Elsa said.
"They seem to be close," Sunny said.
"Sex is for marriage," Elsa said. "Not for relationships."
"Really?" Sunny said.
"You don't believe that?" Elsa said.
"No," Sunny said. "I guess I don't."
"Well, we do, and we won't have a daughter who believes otherwise."
"But maybe you do," Sunny said.
"She's been corrupted by this cult."
"It's not really a cult, Mrs. Markham. They don't advocate much that most people wouldn't approve of."
"We are not most people," Elsa said.
Sunny looked at Mr. Markham, who so far had sat in grim silence as his wife talked.
"So, is Cheryl your biological daughter, too, Mr. Markham?"
"Of course," he said. "What kind of a question is that?"
"I don't mean to pry," Sunny said. "Although prying is sort of my profession. But why is her name different than yours?"
"Our name was originally DeMarco," Elsa said. "We changed it as John began to make his way in business."
"Why?"
"DeMarco seemed so North End, you know?"
She wrinkled her nose.
"Johnny DeMarco," she said, and shook her head.
"And Cheryl kept her original name?" Sunny said.
"She took it back when she went off with those people," Elsa said. "Legally, she is Cheryl Markham."
Sunny nodded.
"So, I suggested that perhaps you might visit her," Sunny said. "Talk about this."
"What a dandy idea," Elsa said, and lapsed into a mimicky voice. " 'Would you and John care to join us on the Vineyard this weekend?' 'No, we're going to visit our daughter at her free-love hippie commune.' 'Oh, really? How nice. Our daughters are at Wellesley.' "
"Okay," Sunny said. "Not an idea that resonates."
"No," Elsa said. "It's not. Have you any others?"
Her husband had folded his arms and dropped his chin and looked even grimmer. He's learned every pose, Sunny thought.
"No," Sunny said. "Do you?"
"John?" Elsa said.
"I got an idea," John said. "You send me a bill for your time, and then go about your business."
"I don't wish to have an argument, but I would point out that you didn't hire me."
"Mistakes are inevitable," John said. "But smart people don't nurture them. Send me a bill and then leave us alone."
"And your daughter?" Sunny said.
"We will tend to our daughter."
He stood. Elsa stood. Sunny nodded and stood. No one offered to shake hands.
As she drove her car down the long driveway, she spoke to herself out loud.
"Wow!" she said.