Rough Weather

4

Lunch was lobster and mango salad with fresh rolls and a bottle of white Grave. Susan and I put the wine away for later. After lunch we toured the grounds, which were everything that grounds ought to be. It was a warm and pleasant day for October. We found a bench near the front of the house and sat on it and watched the guests begin to gather.

“Exactly what is this event,” Susan said. “You’ve never said.”

“You never asked.”

“I was just so thrilled you invited me,” Susan said. “I was nearly speechless.”

“Understandable,” I said. “The central event is the marriage of Heidi Bradshaw’s daughter, Adelaide, to a guy named Maurice Lessard, whose family owns a pharmaceutical company.”

“ Adelaide?” Susan said.

“Ever-loving Adelaide,” I said.

“How old?” Susan said.

“Twenty-two, I think.”

“Puts Heidi in her forties, then,” Susan said.

“I’d guess,” I said.

Heidi Bradshaw came across the lawn at full stride.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she said, “not to have been here to greet you when you arrived.”

“Busy time,” I said, and introduced Susan.

“I’m thrilled, Miss Silverman,” Heidi said. “I’ve heard the big boy here speak very well of you.”

“My pleasure,” Susan said.

Susan was perfectly pleasant, but I could hear the chill.

“Actually,” I said. “It’s Dr. Silverman.”

“Really?” Heidi said to Susan. “A medical doctor.”

“I’m a psychotherapist,” Susan said. “But please, call me Susan.”

“Therapist? How fascinating. Is it fun?”

“Not always,” Susan said.

“Well, I bet it’s useful for managing the stud, here,” Heidi said, and shared an intimate smile with me.

“Sadly, I’m not trained in adolescent psychology,” Susan said.

“Oh, you’re so funny,” Heidi said. “Omigod, there’s Leopold.”

She turned from us and rushed into the arms of a darkly tanned gentleman with white hair, who might have been a famous conductor, as he was stepping from the carriage.

“Did we find her annoying?” I said to Susan.

“We did.”

“Was it the ‘Miss Silverman’ that did it?” I said.

“You seemed quick to correct her,” Susan said.

“I felt your pain,” I said.

“It was a put-down.”

“To call you ‘Miss’?”

“Trust me,” Susan said. “And she was so intimately proprietary with you.”

“Intimately?” I said.

Susan said, “Yes… stud boy.”

“I don’t know how it looks for us in the long term, though,” I said. “She dropped me for that orchestra leader in a millisecond.”

“I don’t like her,” Susan said.

I was looking at her. She was looking at the people climbing out of the second carriage. Her face stiffened.

“Oh my good God,” she said.

I looked. Stepping out of the carriage, dressed as usual, and carrying a small suitcase, was the Gray Man. He glanced over at us. I looked back. He gave no sign.

“Friend of the bride?” I said to Susan. “Or friend of the groom?”