"But you said Karen worshiped her mother; spent hours with her."
"Carol did treat Karen special. Karen was the only one she wanted to see, especially near the end."
"Did her illness change her?"
"It certainly chased me away; or she did as a result of it. She didn't want me around so I accommodated her by traveling even more."
"You must have loved her when you married?" I asked.
He laughed. "It was so long ago I don't remember. My mother and Carol's mother were lifelong best friends. Both were positive their children would marry, from when we were no more than Karen's age. Sometimes I think we did it to get them off our backs."
"She was a gorgeous woman. That feature must have presented some appeal to a robust young man."
"You know how long that lasts; maybe the honeymoon. Besides, Carol didn't like sex very much. It was demeaning, crude and messy." I emptied my glass and held back any comment. "I stayed away at any opportunity, sometimes for month long trips. That was fine with Carol, she had Karen."
I tipped up my now-empty glass. "You better not pull that business on me, buster."
"Do you want a third drink? Remember, don't get too tipsy. I want you wide awake when I ravage you after we're finished here."
Why wait 'a little while'?" I rose from the booth. While his comments were enlightening, I noted he spoke only of Carol and her feelings toward him, not how he felt about my predecessor.
We spent Thursday and Friday like two tourists discovering the city, or perhaps like two honeymooners, as a fair amount of time was spent in bed. We managed to see the sites, a Broadway play, have five star meals and call our children nightly. We seemed barely missed back in Summerside. Maureen begged to keep them for all time; kidnap them back to Rhode Island, or better yet, take over our house and block our return.
The kids knew our absence gave them a bargaining position. Timmy whined that he didn't get to take cool trips like I described, forcing his father to promise an overnight visit to Boston and two Red Sox games. Karen, not to be undone, elicited a trip to Connecticut to visit with Suzie and see the sights of my youth. We promised to comply with both of their wishes gladly when we returned.
Paul's business affair was held Saturday night, a black tie banquet. Tacky Sarah Blanding North, like Cinderella, had nothing even remotely adequate to wear to the ball. Thatcher Wright played fairy godmother, not only to the boss's wife, but all the women from Paul's firm in attendance. I stuck close to Judith Baldwin, Paul's secretary, the only woman I knew on a first name basis. Thatcher gathered us together and herded us by limo to what I could only describe as a salon, where various outfits were presented by stick-thin models. Any outfit we chose was magically made available in our exact sizes. God knows what the presentation and dresses cost! It didn't stop there. We were draped in appropriate accessories, jewels included. I was petrified to go to the ladies room for fear of getting mugged. Attire and accessories all disappeared like the pumpkin at the stroke of . . . not the proverbial midnight . . . more like three A.M., if my blurry mind remembers. After all, this was late night New York and not Miss Cindy's-of-the- hearth's plebeian castle town.