I filled in the next paragraph for him, if only to let him know he wasn't the only one to research. "You live in Newton in a mansion and you're filthy rich. You have two children. You're a widower." I secretly gloated that I'd shocked him. I continued. "No, I'm not some gold digger who's stalking you. I just have a niece who's nosy and a blabber mouth." My gloating was short lived.
"You have no children. You were married for fourteen years. Your husband was a lifetime soldier and both of you lived all over the world before he was killed in an auto accident five years ago."
"God!" I exclaimed. "I feel violated. I came by my information without asking for it; you went out and dug up yours. You must have worked overtime!"
He could see how irritated I was, and it embarrassed him enough to apologize. "I do this for a living. I was curious, not snoopy. I'm sorry."
"When does curious differ from snoopy? What do you mean; you do it for a living? You pry into people's lives?"
"It's important for me to learn as much as I can about people before I commit to join them in business."
"You're not going in business with me! I just met you and I don't like what you did! I feel as if I'm on some FBI short list! Where do you find all this stuff?"
"It's all out there, public records, credit history, school records, telephone, earnings; practically everything. I didn't even look at your file; I just asked a couple of questions."
"My file; my dossier. Thanks a bunch."
"Let's start over. I had a great time yesterday and I wanted to learn a bit about the person who was responsible. It's as simple as that."
"Why didn't you ask me? I don't have any secrets."
He held up his hand. "Truce. No more history; only the present and the future."
Before I could respond, a gust of wind toppled our umbrella and by the time I'd extricated myself my temper had cooled down. When Paul finished collecting our things, we both agreed our picnic was over. Back in the car, I assumed we'd return to Boston but instead we drove further north, up the coast. We were both silent for the first few miles, afraid to disturb our temporary peace. A few tentative comments on the scenery gradually moved us back to comfortable dialogue as we approached the seaside town of Rockport.
I'd heard of Rockport and beautiful Cape Ann but never visited. I knew its history as a favorite with seascape artists such as Winslow Homer and many others. We spent a pleasant afternoon perusing the few open gift shops and galleries. The only bump in our stroll occurred when I commented on a beautiful piece of jewelry and Paul made a move to purchase it for me until he saw my reaction and slipped his wallet back into his pocket.