in front of the television. I think he’ll be out for a while.”
Marsh introduced Tracy. The woman turned out to be his office manager. She said goodbye, kissed Marsh on the cheek, called the dogs and left.
“I watch her mutts when she goes on vacation. She watches my kid. Actually, she’d do it without the trade. Her kids are all grown.”
Tracy’s stomach rumbled, and he laughed. “Come on. I’ll see what you can gnaw on while I cook.”
She liked the inside of his house. She wasn’t sure what she had expected. Big Mouth Billy Bass singing from the wall. Lava lamps. Framed photographs of Marsh and friends being hauled off to jail. Instead, the house was open and airy, with lots of exposed wood and rooms that flowed into each other. Sofas upholstered in dark leather, chairs upholstered in red plaid, simple rugs over old pine floors. Embellishments were sparse. Some photos of Marsh and Bay together. Some interesting sculptures, and carvings of woodland creatures and birds. Lots of books on lots of bookshelves.
The kitchen was definitely not the original. In fact, she thought it had probably been recently remodeled. Stainless-steel appliances, concrete counters, Shaker-style cherry cabinets. Pans hung from a heavy steel rack over the stove, well used and well scrubbed.
“Did you do any of this yourself?” She thought about her floor.
“A lot of it. It’s a good way to blow off steam.”
He opened the refrigerator, and took out a plastic bag of sliced vegetables and a tub of dip. “This will hold you until the real stuff appears.” He handed them to her and nodded toward a cabinet. “Plates and bowls that way.”
She scooped some of the dip, Southwestern ranch and low-fat, into a small bowl, put it on a plate and surrounded it with the vegetables. Then she went to stand near the stove so he could share.
“Are you one of those women who’s going to tell me what to do in my own kitchen?” Marsh was still in the refrigerator removing ingredients.
“Me? I don’t cook. What would I know?”
He closed the door. “How do you eat?”
She clicked her teeth together. “Like this.”
“Are you one of those raw foodies?”
“No, I love to eat. I’m just too lazy to learn how to make it happen. We had a cook in California, and we ate out when she wasn’t there. Mostly now I just eat a handful of this and a couple of spoonfuls of that.”
“You had your own cook?”
“How far the mighty have fallen, huh?”
He was rinsing fish fillets in the sink now, and setting them to dry on paper towels. “Tell me if I’m wrong, but when I said I didn’t hold my divorce against Sylvia, I didn’t hear any shrieks from you. You don’t hold your husband responsible for yours?”
“CJ? He was completely responsible, except for that big, big part where I married him in the first place. And it’s kind of hard to get around that.”
“So why did you marry him?”
“He was bright and charming, handsome, and filthy rich. He needed a trophy wife, and I thought I needed somebody to take care of me.”
“Did you?”
“Maybe I did, but I don’t now.”
“So he’s in jail, and you’re here starting a new life. And you don’t think about springing him?”
“I never said that. I said—”
“That luckily you didn’t have to waste time worrying.”
“You’re making me sound shallow again. You do it so well.”
He turned and shook his head. “You’re really off the mark this time. I’m just trying to figure out how somebody gets on with their life after something like that. I’ve been divorced four years, and I still wake up at night and think Sylvia’s—”
“Asleep beside you?”
“No, back at the office. Working on a brief.”
“Oh. Got it.”
“So?” He took down a cast-iron frying pan and set it on the stove. He poured oil in to heat and began to bread the fish. Turning it, sprinkling seasoning, turning it again.
“CJ set the tone. I—” She looked away, trying to figure out how to say this. Then she shrugged. “From the moment he realized he was going down, he was on a solo ride. I don’t think he was capable of worrying about the effect on me or anybody else who was involved. It was all about him. Once the shock wore off and I started to pull myself together, I knew the only way I was going to survive was to do the same thing and just worry about myself. I realized CJ wouldn’t even