"Big wedding?"
"Yes," Susan said. "Have I never talked about this with you?"
"No."
"Didn't you ever want to know?"
"I want to know what you want to tell me."
"Well, I saw no point to talking to you about other men in my life."
"Up to you," I said. "I don't need to know. And I don't need to pretend there weren't any."
She didn't speak for a time. She slowly turned her wine glass by the stem and looked at me as if thinking about things.
"I always assumed it would bother you," she said.
"I'm entirely fascinated with you," I said. "And what you are is a result of what you were, including the other men."
She was quiet again, looking at me, turning her glass. Then she smiled.
"It was a very big wedding at Memorial Chapel at Harvard. Reception at the Ritz."
"Brad's family had money," I said.
"Not after the reception," Susan said. "Actually, Brad's father ran a salvage business in Chelsea. But by the time I came along he'd moved the family to Wellesley. Brad went to Harvard. His sister went to Bryn Mawr."
The waitress brought me another beer. Susan took a sip of her wine. Racing to catch up.
"Then what?" I said.
"Then not much," Susan said. "His father bought us a little house in South Natick."
"Just across the line from Wellesley."
"Yes. Brad's mother was ten minutes away on Route 16."
"Perfect."
"And Brad got a job with an advertising agency in town."
"You?"
'I stayed home and wore cute aprons and redid my makeup every afternoon before he came home for supper-"
"Supper?" Susan smiled.
"I know," she said. "It was pathetic. I couldn't cook. I didn't want to learn. I hate to cook."
"Is that so," I said.
"The house was a four-room Cape with an unfinished attic. I could stand in the hall and see all four rooms."
"You can do that now," I said. "In your apartment."
"Yes, but I live there alone."
"Except for Pearl," I said.
"Pearl is not a person," Susan said.
"Try telling her that."
"I hated the house. I hated being alone in it all day, and then when he came home I got claustrophobic being with him all night, sharing the same bedroom, the same bath."
"Space is nice," I said.
"The feeling is still with me. It's why we don't live together."
"The way we live seems about right to me," I said.
"I know, but when I married Brad, if people moved to twin beds you figured divorce was imminent."
"You didn't work."
"No. It would have embarrassed Brad to have his wife working. It would have implied he couldn't support her."
"Children?"
"Oh, God, yes. He wanted me to have children."
"And you didn't want to."
"Not then."
"Because?"
"I never knew. I just knew I couldn't."
"You know now?"
"It's something I've had a hard time thinking about," she said. "I must have sensed that this wasn't the right marriage to bring children into."
"Not so long ago you wanted us to have a kid."
"This isn't about me," Susan said.
"You think I'd try to rescue Brad from the feminists if you didn't ask me?"
"I know," Susan said. "But it's a part of my life I don't like to talk about."
"Like the part where you and I were separated?"
She was silent looking into her nearly full wine glass.
"If you had a patient," I said, "who couldn't talk about certain parts of her life, what would you tell her?"
Susan continued to look into her wine glass. Her shoulders looked stiff and angular. She didn't speak.
"I withdraw the question," I said.
She didn't look up from her wine glass. "Thank you," she said. Her voice was tight.
"Got an address for Brad?" I said.
Silently she found a business card in her purse and took it out and handed it to me. The card read Brad Sterling, Promotions. Nice card. Good stock. Raised lettering. Not the kind of card you passed out if you were on the verge of dissolution. Unless you didn't want people to know you were on the verge of dissolution. Susan sat quietly while I looked
at the card. Her shoulders hadn't eased much. She didn't look at me.
"You sure you want me to look into this?" I said.
"Absolutely," she said.
I nodded. This thing showed every sign of not working out well for me.
"I'll get right on it in the morning." I said.
chapter two
TWO INSURANCE BUILDINGS tower over the Back Bay. The Hancock building is pretty good-looking if the windows don't fall out. The Prudential is ugly. Brad was in the Prudential. On the thirty-third floor. His receptionist looked like a J. Crew model, blonde Dutch boy haircut and slightly hollow cheeks.
"Do you have an appointment?" she asked.
She thought it unlikely but was being professional about it. The waiting room was empty.
"No," I said. "I don't."
She looked doubtful. Doubtful was a cute look for her.
"Well," she said, "I'm not sure"
I gave her my card. The one that had my name and address but no reference to me being a sleuth.
"Tell him his ex-wife sent me."
Now she looked slightly embarrassed. Also a cute look. I suspected that she had practiced all of them in a mirror and discarded any that weren't cute.
"I, ah, there have been several" she said.