Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 151, Nos. 1 & 2. Whole Nos. 916 & 917, January/February 2018

Dysperception by Larry Light

Larry Light is a financial editor and writer for CBS MoneyWatch, the network’s business site. He is the author of a series of novels featuring financial reporter Karen Glick, and he tells EQMM that the power of greed — something he observes often in his journalistic work — is frequently a theme in his fiction. His debut story for EQMM is no exception.

The loving parents smiled, the playing children laughed, and the buttery sun poured down on I the park. It was a warm, buoyant spring afternoon. Yet the two people sitting on a bench near the street didn’t smile or laugh.

They sat in a place that seemed thirty degrees colder than the rest of the park: a handsome man in his late forties and a pretty young woman in the twilight of adolescence. They were as grim as death.

“So you and Mom are splitting up? That would be why?”

There were many ways for Gerald to answer that question, most of them stupid euphemisms or outright lies. His daughter would see through any verbal footwork. If Ashley were younger, he knew, the news of the breakup would devastate her — rending the benign cocoon that enfolds children with safety and stability, letting the bad outside world enter. Ashley was in college now, a proto-adult who lived in her own self-sufficient bubble of fun, friends, boys, and books, and the older generation was at best an irrelevant curiosity. Hearing about her parents’ marital trouble was a mere annoyance.

He answered using a piece of the truth, one that resonated with Ashley’s adolescent rebellion. “You know your mother can be difficult to get along with.”

“No kidding. She can be awful.” In high school, Ashley had engaged in a prolonged war with Jenna. Ashley complained about her mother’s unceasing criticism. Jenna condemned Ashley’s self-centered nature — as though Jenna were not guilty of the same sin. Gerald, not wishing to provide Jenna with ammunition to unload on him, had stayed out of the fracas.

Hostilities had subsided once Ashley left for college. Of late, during all-too-brief visits, Jenna treated her daughter with polite chilliness. After Ashley returned to campus, Jenna even seemed wistful, if only for a moment as brief as a teardrop.

Gerald said, “With her, if it isn’t this, it’s that. If it isn’t that, it’s the other thing.”

“You’ve put up with her for more than twenty years. Why leave now?”

They sat in uncomfortable silence as he mulled how to proceed. The hard park bench, punishing to sit on for long periods, was made of the sturdiest wood. Its slats were well varnished and splinter-free. The town maintained the parks and roads well.

When she was a kid, Gerald and Jenna used to take Ashley to this park, where she’d never stop smiling. Before Ashley’s birth, he and Jenna used to steal into the park by night and have illicit frolics behind a thick oak, hidden from the street. Fond memories still lingered there for him, like perfume rising off the nearby daffodils. He was sure the park’s soft magic still lingered for Ashley too. That was one reason he had chosen the park for their talk about the crumbling edifice of his marriage.

“I don’t want to leave. The breakup is your mother’s idea.” He added, “The latest example of her dysperception.”

Ashley’s head jerked, rocked by cognitive whiplash. “What? It’s her idea? Wait, I figured, when you told me this, that you’d found someone new.” Then she said, punching each syllable to highlight her views on that prospect: “A younger woman.”

“I still love your mother very much. But her dysperception has always been a problem for us. It has become worse.”

“Do you mean misperception?”

“No. Dysperception. The term’s a variation on misperception.”

The sun through the tree branches made shadow patterns on Ashley’s fair skin.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ashley never called him Dad anymore. They had been close until teenage attitudes took hold. These days she avoided calling him anything.

Tim and Mindy Heston sat on a bench across the lawn from them. They had brought pillows to sit on. The grass had the sharp fragrance of a recent mowing. They waved at Gerald and Ashley. Gerald waved back. Ashley, intent on her father, ignored them.

Gerald said, “Dysperception. The prefix, dys, means bad or abnormal. As in dystopia, a world gone to hell.” He knew about hell on earth. Years ago, he had been a hot-line phone counselor for the sad, lonely, and suicidal. One of his many random jobs. “Your mother has acted a certain way for years, starting from when we got engaged, when she had me hooked. I always felt that there should be a term for her behavior. One doesn’t exist, which is why I made up the word. Misperception is just a mistake. Dysperception is something much worse.”

Tim and Mindy’s Irish nanny was playing catch with their six-year-old. Or was trying to. Little Sally, her braided hair swinging, her face bright as the day, was not very good at snagging and throwing the ball. She was a hyperkinetic kid, and jumped from foot to foot. When she failed to catch the rubber ball, she went racing after it. Cassie, the nanny, displayed great patience with the child’s athletic ineptness.

Both of them were laughing. Gerald knew the nanny’s laughter was forced. To Cassie, dark-haired with flinty pupils, being a nanny was a serious business. Seven years older than Gerald’s daughter, she had big ambitions in America. In tiny shorts and a sports bra, she moved about the lawn with deliberation.

Gerald could feel time start to slow, as it did when important events were happening. Out on the street, cars glided by at leisure. Today was Sunday. Nobody was in a hurry, in the park or on the roads. For Gerald, Sunday became slower still.

Ashley said to him, “Do you mean when Mom...?”

“Yes, that’s right. When she does that.”

Ashley shook her head as the revelation washed over her. Blond as the sun, she looked a lot like her mother, almost as pretty.

“You know how I lost that job at the French restaurant?” Ashley said. Thanks to family money, Ashley didn’t have to work at school. But she thought being a chef some day would be cool and had signed on as kitchen labor to get an appreciation for the craft. “My jackass boss told me to mince some onions. Apparently, he wanted me to dice the onions to a subatomic size. But he figured that I should be able to read his mind and know exactly how he wanted the onions. I minced them like I always do, a little larger. Even though he never bothered to tell me what he wanted, he got mad since I didn’t somehow know.”

“Your mother to a tee. Last week, she sent me to buy new towels for one of the guest bathrooms, the black-and-white one. I came back with these nice, fluffy black towels. She got angry, in her icy way. Turns out she wanted white towels. She hadn’t said so.” Ashley nodded. “A couple of weekends ago, we had your Uncle Jack over for dinner. You know Jack loves his booze. I poured him a double-bourbon and Jenna got upset with me. I was supposed to be aware Jack was on the wagon. But she hadn’t told me.”

Ashley nodded once more. “Dysperception. People assume you know what’s in their heads. Then they get mad when you don’t know. I like it.”

“I’m glad.” Gerald enjoyed the unaccustomed sensation of his daughter’s approval. He glanced at his watch.

Little Sally shrieked as she missed the ball, yet again. His attention turned to the lawn. The nanny consulted her own watch. Then her eyes met his.

Ashley, who caught the look, said, “Isn’t that Cassie? The one who used to work next door as the Carter kids’ nanny? Irish girl, right? She’s dressed sort of slutty for a nanny.”

“When the Carters moved away,” Gerald said, “I recommended Cassie to Tim and Mindy. She’s a good nanny.”

“Cassie, huh? Not quite Mary Poppins. I heard she was banging Mr. Carter. Almost broke up his marriage. They moved away when Mrs. Carter couldn’t stand to be in the same house where her husband cheated on her with the hired help.”

“I didn’t know about that.” He checked his watch again.

“Well, Mr. Carter was a good-looking guy. I can’t say the same for Mr. Heston. I bet Cassie” — she pronounced the nanny’s name with bite — “won’t give him a tumble.”

“Tim and Mindy are devoted to us. Your mother tolerates them. They pick her up from the airport and fetch her stuff from the city.” Gerald liked that Mindy Heston had a crush on him, although he’d never take advantage of that. Dumpy and pig-faced, Mindy wasn’t his type, to say the least.

Tim Heston seemed oblivious to his wife’s yearnings and treated Gerald like a god. They were on a softball team together, and Gerald was a star at first base and at bat. Runty Tim was as uncoordinated as his daughter and played little. Ugly when he was a boy, he had not grown into his looks: Old acne scars marred his cheeks, like a permanent judgment. Tim was the sort who idolized handsome jocks. From high school on, Gerald had always had a coterie of such followers. In college, he and the other football players called them “jockstrap sniffers.” Unlike Jenna, however, he never pressed either Heston into service. Other than to find employment for a bereft Cassie.

“Is Cassie on the prowl for another older, married boyfriend with money?” Ashley was as direct as her mother.

Busy studying Cassie and little Sally, Gerald said, “Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said. Is she...?”

What came next happened fast. But to Gerald, it was in slow motion. Cassie threw the ball over Sally’s head. The child’s short legs churned over the grass as she scampered for it. The ball didn’t come to rest on the lawn. It bounced into the street.

Gerald bolted from the bench. He sprinted after Sally, who pranced off the curb in pursuit of her ball, which had almost reached the commercial strip across the street. His frantic eyes clicked between the traffic and the girl. A big tinted-window SUV was barreling straight at her along the asphalt. Sally, oblivious to the threat, focused on the retreating ball.

As he charged into the street, Gerald hooked his hands under her armpits and hoisted her into the air. She screamed in shock and surprise. He backpedaled for the curb. The SUV zoomed past, missing them by inches. Gerald almost lost his balance. Lungs on fire, he lowered the squirming, crying child onto the grass. He heard Mindy’s scream.

“You’re okay,” he gasped.

The SUV didn’t stop. In fact, it picked up speed and vanished around the corner.

Sally dropped to her knees and cried.

Cassie ran up and folded the wailing girl in her arms. She shot him another glance. Gerald’s senses buzzed.

Sally’s parents were right behind the nanny. They melded into a desperate group hug. Mindy cried as hard as Sally. Tim’s grateful sobs made him sound as if he were choking. He kept repeating: “Thank God, thank God, thank God.”

Bounding toward them, Ashley shouted, “Is everyone all right?” Others in the park realized that something dramatic had occurred. They were standing and watching.

“Everyone is fine,” Gerald said. He bent over, hands on thighs, as the adrenaline coursed through him. “Sally’s scared, but she’s fine.”

He basked in his nineteen-year-old offspring’s expression. Gerald hadn’t seen awe on anyone’s face for a long time.

“You were amazing, Dad,” Ashley said. Dad.

Tim disengaged from his wife and daughter and stumbled over to Gerald. Panting, Gerald straightened up from his crouch. He was a full head taller. Tim was weeping, “What you did... How can I ever...?”

Mindy, mascara smeared with tears, looked up at Gerald. “You saved her life.”

The only calm one in the bunch, Cassie gave Gerald a small smile. Then it ghosted away.

“Did anyone get that maniac’s license plate?” Ashley said.

Now both Tim and Mindy were hugging Gerald.

“We’ll do anything for you,” Mindy said, her body pressed tight against his.

“Anything,” her husband said.

The evening fell like a blessing, and Gerald roamed the handsome halls of the house, alone but for a glass of old scotch and the reflection he appreciated in the mirrors. The house had a lot of mirrors. Jenna liked to look at herself as well.

Beneath each mirror and atop each table was an arrangement of flowers, in honor of spring. Jenna insisted on flowers in the warm weather, and lots of them. The house was a riot of color, with pink azaleas, yellow freesias, and white gardenias. It reminded Gerald of a funeral parlor, although he never dared make that observation out loud.

He hadn’t seen his wife since he got back from the park. They didn’t cross paths a lot anymore, but he made a point of knowing her whereabouts.

Jenna was out, enjoying a girls’ night with her posse from high school. She no doubt would regale them with her plans to dissolve her marriage, and they would approve. Jenna was used to approval. The members of the cheerleading squad had stayed in regular touch. Jenna had been squad captain and in a way she still was. Each of her gal pals had married well — to a plastic surgeon, a hedge-fund manager, a corporate lawyer, and a high-tech chief executive.

Gerald had no such sterling career, or any career, for that matter. He was the one who had married well. “My profession is kept man,” he joked to his sports buddies.

He’d long since given up on the world of employment — which, come to think of it, was a cesspool of dysperception. Wherever he worked, the bosses could not be charmed. They seldom told him what they wanted. They only told him what they didn’t want, and that was whatever he had done. Ashley’s story about chopping onions in the restaurant had a familiar ring.

He paused before the Janice Minor mirror, an oval surrounded by wrought-iron porcupine quills. Beneath the mirror was a vase of dahlias. He admired his smile. And he congratulated himself on inventing the word, dysperception. Who said he wasn’t clever?

Not that he had to be. Gerald was superb at golf and tennis, charmed everyone at the club, dressed well, and made women’s heads turn. He never disappointed a host or hostess. People, the older ladies in particular, said he and Jenna made “a lovely couple.” The only time Jenna seemed to appreciate him was when they went out together.

Annoyed at yet another fancied lapse, she had told him the previous week: “Don’t ever forget that you’re a hero on my money.”

Gerald passed an oil portrait of a superannuated gent wearing a distinguished three-piece suit and a sour demeanor. He lifted the scotch glass in a mock toast. “Not looking good tonight, Big Daddy. Not by a long shot.”

Her father, the patriarch who ran the family business, had insisted that Gerald sign a prenuptial agreement. One of the few souls in her circle whom Gerald could not delight, his father-in-law gave him the gimlet eye, as if he were a rat who had invaded Jenna’s elegant house. After a few highballs, the pompous jerk would stare at Gerald and say: “Handsome is as handsome does.” Whatever that meant. After he died, Gerald rejoiced — in secret, to be sure. The will showered more wealth upon Jenna.

Gerald strolled into the foyer, its walls and floor as creamy white as heaven. The grandfather clock, which dominated the foyer and greeted their frequent guests, chimed the hour. Seven o’clock. The perfect time to call.

Gerald placed his glass on the floor with care. Jenna would disembowel him if he left a wet ring on furniture. He thought of her disapproving face as he tapped the stored number on his phone.

“Let’s see who’s clever now,” he said.

The next day, at a busy bistro on Empire Boulevard, Mindy Heston greeted Gerald with a lingering kiss. Tim Heston pumped his hand hard, in an overabundance of gratitude. The Hestons ran their own small accounting firm, thus they could take a leisurely lunch, unlike many wage slaves in their modest income bracket. While waiting for seating, the couple prattled nonstop about little Sally’s recovery from the trauma.

“Cassie is very good with her,” Mindy said. “She distracts Sally by telling her to think of all the goodness in her life. Her puppy. Her dolls. Her friends. Her loving mommy and daddy. She’s a terrific nanny. Thank you for sending her to us.”

At the table, Gerald broke the news about his marriage. “This is Jenna’s decision. Not mine. She wants to split up.”

The Hestons sat in momentary stupor, as though receiving a terminal diagnosis. “We knew something was wrong,” Mindy said at last. “When I picked her up at the station and drove her home Wednesday, she almost took my head off because I didn’t stop by the florist first. She insisted she’d told me she wanted to pick up some flowers. She hadn’t. I figured she was distracted by... personal problems.”

“Typical with the flowers,” Gerald said. He told them about dysperception. “She is like that.”

“She snapped at me when I mentioned you,” Mindy said. “She didn’t want to hear your name, she told me. That’s when I knew there was real trouble.”

Tim said, “Even though we knew what was happening, we didn’t feel we could bring it up. This stuff is, well, sensitive. You’re our best friends, and...” He trailed off.

Gerald let that last remark about best friends go, as he always did.

The waitress came to the table. Gerald smiled at her, and she simpered. With the lunch ordering done, he turned back to the Hestons. “I need your help.”

“What?” Tim said.

“You need us?” Mindy said.

He gave them both his most earnest and imploring look. “I love Jenna. I couldn’t live without her. I need your help getting her back.”

“How?” Mindy whined. “Jenna won’t listen to me. Or to anybody.”

Tim examined his lap. His tone was low, timid, and apologetic. “Mindy’s right. We can’t get involved. How could we?”

“Guys,” Gerald said, as sincere as a priest, “I love her.”

“But, Gerald,” they replied at once.

He made his request in a low leonine purr. “Remember what you said in the park yesterday. You’d do anything for me. Remember?”

That night, Gerald strode down the hill. The antique street lamps gave a warm and elegant glow. He passed storied mansions that timber and textile barons had built in the 1800s, made of fine-hewn stone. He passed chic modern architecture with interesting angles and an abundance of glass. Gerald and Jenna’s neighborhood was known as the Hill. When the river overflowed, the waters never climbed the Hill.

As the terrain flattened out, the houses got smaller and became almost identical. Flooding was a periodic worry here. These environs were called the Hollows: a real-estate developer’s name from the 1950s. Buzzing overhead like hostile insects, the garish sodium street lighting cast the neighborhood’s parked cars and spindly trees into sharp relief.

Gerald suspected that Tim and Mindy were the best off in the Hollows, as they carried no mortgage: She had inherited the split-level ranch from her parents, free and clear. Since the Hestons both worked, they needed a nanny, and their dual incomes meant they could afford one.

A block from Tim and Mindy’s place, Gerald veered off the road. He sneaked up the short driveway of a foreclosed property, beyond the streetlights’ lurid glare and away from prying eyes. Cassie was waiting for him.

Their kiss was passionate. Not wanting to be late for the Hestons, Gerald pulled back. “Are you sure that the SUV...”

“The SUV is untraceable. Don’t ask how.” She had the nicest accent.

“Your brother is ready to go?”

“He left for Ireland last night. No choice. Immigration is on his arse.”

Gerald’s breath caught. “But we need him to drive again.”

Her hand caressed his cheek. “Don’t be worrying. I’ll drive tonight. I’m as good as Brian. Better. They should hire me as a stunt driver in the films.”

“Okay,” he said, without conviction.

She slipped a finger inside his shirt and played with his chest hair. “Worry about how, once the coast is clear, I’ll exhaust you.”

He tried his best smile on her. Cassie slipped into the shadows, which swallowed her up. He squinted, but couldn’t see her any longer. Gerald headed out into the sodium lights’ unforgiving radiance, bound for the Hestons.

Nimble as a thief, he slipped through their back door. Tim, his brow furrowed, waited in the pantry.

“Are you sure about this, Gerald?”

Their puppy barked but didn’t approach.

“It’s the only way. Mindy is here? Sally and the nanny are gone?”

Tim’s acne scars seemed more prominent tonight. “Yes. We gave Cassie the night off. Her brother is leaving for Ireland tomorrow, and that’s kept her occupied.”

“I thought he’d already left.”

Tim gave Gerald an odd look, as if to say: How would you know what’s going on with our nanny? “Jenna will be here in a few minutes.”

“Jenna’s always on time. God help you if you ever are late.”

Tim led him through the kitchen to the den, which lay cloaked in darkness. No flowers graced these premises. Gerald knew the layout, although he’d spent very little time here. Their prosaic furniture was clunky and predictable. He sat on the stain-proofed arm of the overstuffed couch, where they watched TV.

With a sigh, Tim cracked open the door to the living room. “Are you sure you want to hear?”

Gerald knew what he meant. Overhearing a conversation about yourself could be full of nasty surprises. But Gerald told himself that the more he could find out, the better off he’d fare. “I’ll be fine. Honest.”

Mindy came through the living room door and took the opportunity to kiss Gerald on the lips. “Is there anything I can get you?”

“I’m fine. Make sure to stick to what we discussed.”

The dog had followed them into the den. Tim led it away, saying he’d lock up the animal so it didn’t interfere. Jenna disliked pets.

At the stroke of eight, the front doorbell gave an overloud bing-bong. The Hestons scuttled into the living room. Tim left the door to the darkened den ajar. Gerald settled onto the couch’s arm and tried to calm his nerves.

The first he heard from the living room was Jenna’s dagger of a question: “What on earth do you need to talk about that couldn’t be handled on the phone or in an e-mail?”

Mindy, rattled, said she’d get “refreshments.” Tim, with even less aplomb, invited Jenna to sit. “The Barcalounger is, you know, the most comfortable.”

“I won’t be staying long. This afternoon, I bundled my daughter back to college, which is a big production. She was on spring break, but I sure wasn’t. I’m exhausted.” She sounded like Katharine Hepburn in a bad mood.

“What, um, would you like to drink?” Mindy asked.

“Nothing. Lord, this chair is a monstrous contraption. I don’t want to eat either. Now, what’s on your mind?”

Gerald heard the Hestons settling into their faux leather sofa. Tim came right out with the topic of the hour: “We hear you want to divorce Gerald.”

“What?” Jenna said. “My marriage is none of your business. Where did you hear that?”

“I’m sorry. Gerald told us, Jenna. Please don’t be angry.”

Mindy followed, in a high, emotion-stoked pitch: “He really loves you, Jenna. He is devastated. You two are our best friends.”

“Best friends? How dare you think my personal life is any of your concern? I’m leaving.”

Gerald heard Tim jump to his feet, the change in his pocket jingling. “Don’t go, Jenna. Please. Gerald is a good man.”

“He saved our daughter’s life,” Mindy said, keening. “He risked his own life. You should have seen it. He’s a hero.”

After a pause, Gerald could hear Jenna, from the direction of the front door. The anger had left her voice. “Yes, Ashley told me. And the local paper called me at home. With the story in the paper, women will swarm over Gerald more than ever.”

Gerald felt a fine sheen of sweat on his face. He struggled to keep his breathing under control.

“Whatever the problem is,” Tim said, “please give him another chance. He loves you. He says he can’t live without you.”

Jenna gave a rueful laugh. “Is that what he says? Thanks to the prenup he signed, a divorce leaves him without a dime. No more high life for Gerald. He’ll have to get a job. Fancy that.”

“He loves you, Jenna,” Mindy said. She could pour on the pathos. “You should have heard him.”

“Oh, I’ve heard plenty. He can sling the B.S. like a champ. He’s having another affair. I can tell. I can pick up the scent of another woman on him. Gerald never pays attention to the little things. He’s not very smart. I consider him a mistake I should have rectified long ago, but held off because of our daughter.”

A chill came over Gerald. His ego was leaking like a smashed cantaloupe.

Tim said, “Gerald has affairs?”

Jenna’s laugh this time was more like a bark. “Come on, Tim. He’s fooled around with half the women at the club, them in their skimpy little white tennis outfits.” She hesitated for a second, perhaps realizing that the Hestons didn’t belong to the club. “Well, let’s simply say I am sick and tired of having a rooster for a husband.”

“He told us you two have difficulty communicating,” Mindy said. “Maybe if you tried counseling. When two people in a marriage can’t...”

“Spare me,” Jenna said. “It seems he’s invented a new word to describe our problem, Ashley says. And here I thought all he could do was swing a golf iron or a tennis racket. Dysperception? He claims he doesn’t know what I want.”

“Yes,” Mindy ventured. “Sometimes, you...”

“Baloney. The problem is that Gerald doesn’t listen. Please.”

Managing to summon up a pinch of courage, Mindy said, “I notice it too. You didn’t tell me you wanted to go to the florist on Wednesday.”

Jenna’s exasperation was epic. “Obviously I wanted to go to the florist. You know I always fill the house with flowers in spring.” She was ready to leave.

Tim turned strident, also an unknown quality for him. “Jenna, the man who leapt off a park bench and saved our daughter is a man worth keeping.”

“The two have nothing to do with each other, Tim. Once I’ve gotten rid of him, maybe Gerald can find work as a fireman, saving lives. He’s handsome enough. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Gerald couldn’t stand it anymore. He raced out of the den, slammed through the back door, and pelted around the front of the house.

He got there in time to come face to face with his wife.

“What are you doing here?” Jenna demanded, at her most imperious.

Gerald stared at her, as though seeing her for the first time. He blinked against the ache inside. Jenna was beautiful, with her aristocratic cheekbones, her eyes as blue as a spring sky, and her blond hair that captured the light. Her skin was as supple and unlined as Ashley’s. When Jenna ignited a smile, the air changed. She wasn’t smiling now.

“We need to talk,” he said.

Her countenance was as hard as an Easter Island monolith’s. “I’m done talking. I told you I want you out of the house. If you wish to talk, talk to my lawyer. Or whatever new babe you’ve bedazzled.”

“Jenna, I love you.”

“So you say. And you ambush me in the presence of... others who are not entitled to know about our situation.” She gestured at Tim and Mindy as if they were unwelcome strangers.

“Jenna, we’ve been together twenty years. Can’t we try again? Can’t we talk? Please.”

A car slid up to the curb and stopped. It was Ashley’s Mercedes. Their daughter got out and went around to fetch someone from the passenger seat. She walked up the lawn, hand in hand with little Sally.

At the sight of Gerald, the child ran to him. She wrapped her small arms around his legs. “Thank you,” she said, and then began to cry.

Ashley said to her mother, “Dad’s a good man. Anyone who could do what he did has more good inside than maybe you realize.”

Jenna winced. But something in her face melted. “Honey, I wish things were better.”

“Mom, please.” Ashley took Jenna’s hands. “For me. He deserves it. Please talk to him. Go for a walk. You have nothing to lose. Honest.”

Gerald steeled himself. Everybody had done his or her part, as he’d requested. The only sounds were Sally’s sobs and the buzzing of the sodium lamps.

Jenna shrugged. “Okay, Gerald,” she said with resignation. “Let’s walk. And talk. Since that seems to be the will of the crowd.”

Sally ran for her parents. Ashley grinned. Mindy called out: “Gerald, you are the best man I know.”

Her husband took no offense at his wife’s assessment. “You’re a lucky lady, Jenna,” he shouted.

Tim started to clap. The rest of them joined in the applause, little Sally included. All of them would swear that Gerald was deeply in love with Jenna. And a hero, at that.

Jenna and Gerald headed down the street. She kept her hands clasped behind her back, which prevented him from enfolding one in his, and trained her pretty face forward. He kept his eyes on her.

“I’m a lucky lady, huh?”

“I’m the lucky one, Jenna. Have been for twenty years.”

They walked in silence for several blocks. A few cars rumbled past, headlights bathing them in a tungsten glare, then eased into the night and disappeared forever.

“You’re lucky to live as well as you do.”

“We’re back to the money.” Gerald kept his voice pleasant. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll move out to a small apartment. I’ll never go to the club. I’ll live like a damn monk. I won’t set foot in the house. But I want to see you. When I say I love you, I mean it.”

“You’re kidding?” she said, without cynicism. “You’d even give up the women?”

They walked for a few more paces in the spring evening quiet. The street lamps were less intense as they left the Hollows. They were outside the park.

“Of course I would, Jenna.”

They stopped and peered into the park’s soft green darkness. At this hour, it was empty of life. Borne on a breeze, the scent of daffodils reached them. No one else was out strolling. The storefronts across the street were closed.

Gerald turned to her. She met his gaze. He grasped her shoulders. She did not flinch from his touch. She unclasped her hands behind her back.

“Jenna, this is the spot where I saved Sally.”

“Is it?” she said, almost dreamily.

Time slowed for him. “Something happened to me Sunday. I realized what’s important. How precious life is. How much you mean to me. How stupid I’ve been.”

She drew in a breath and held it, as though tasting the oxygen. Then she favored him with her enchanting smile. “We used to adore this park, didn’t we? I can almost spot the oak tree, where we used to go. No one could see us. Remember?”

“I remember.” His voice husky with regret.

Her next remark was unexpected. “Dysperception, huh? What that means, at its core, is that you never can know what someone else is thinking.”

The approaching growl of the SUV was sudden. The massive machine gave no other warning. The headlights were off. It closed fast. But to Gerald, the oncoming vehicle and he moved almost frame by frame.

His grip tightened on Jenna’s shoulders. With every bit of first baseman’s strength, he flung her out into the street. She yelled his name.

He took too long to notice that the SUV had swerved off course and bumped over the curb. Its long-fanged grillwork was heading straight for him. It was too late to dodge away. As chrome and steel met flesh and bone, his first reaction was shock. Then a solar flare of pain blasted through him and he was somersaulting over the park lawn. The jar of landing sent another wave of pain through his body. He was broken. Finished.

Gerald was losing consciousness. His vision faded. Still, he could hear two women talking, the first one with urgency.

“The rest of my money then?” Until now, he had enjoyed that Irish accent.

Jenna’s reply was imperious. “You’ll get it tomorrow. Now get going.”

Gerald tried to speak and couldn’t. His mouth was filled with blood.

Close to his ear, he heard Jenna say, “You should’ve known what I wanted. But you didn’t, did you?”