THIS WAS ONLY (Jack tapped the bowl of his pipe against a crystal ashtray, emptying its contents in a charred lump that the dog, Myrtle, sauntered over to sniff and promptly disregard) fair, given (Barely able to control herself, Harriet dropped her magazine in a glossy flurry and stared across the sitting room to her husband, now patting flat his fresh bowl of tobacco with the hyperextended tip of his pinkie) the discovery of (When Jack met his wife's gaze, he saw a familiar contempt that got his feet sweating inside their tasseled penny loafers) lace undergarments (The magazine, Capitol Fashion, landing squarely on its spine, split open at the seam to expose one large photograph of a man in a herringbone overcoat, his collar raised to a stiff winter wind, and an article on the facing page whose only legible text was the emboldened headline: THIS AIN'T MISSISSIPPI, SENATOR) under the seat cushion (The overcoat lay still and straight on its cedar hanger in the hall closet while Harriet remained speechless and Jack began to stammer) of the defendant's office chair, and (Myrtle took this pungent silence as her opportunity to beg a quick pet of her mistress, prodding with her snout, whereupon Harriet shoved her—actually grabbed her thin poodle neck and shoved her away) the lawyers (As she stormed through the amber light of the parlor and across the framed panorama of fresh white snow and hard jagged trees flanking the driveway, Jack found the presence of mind to shout, "But it's old news!") were quick to point out (He slid to his knees and fell to a push-up position with the photograph directly beneath him) that circumstantial proof (All of the dirty details were there in black and white: his predilections and peccadilloes; the embarrassments of her youth and girth; their cloying pet names and silly code words, among which meanwhile stood out as the most prevalent and curious) is still a form of proof, (Some narky journalist had dug into his schedule, dug it up and out that meanwhile was Jack's shorthand with staff for personal business, and personal business, for the better part of Jack's year, had meant little more than fervent slaps and tickles that brought him awake and alive in an impossibly addictive way) though not sufficient, (On his knees, Jack heard Harriet from the kitchen, heard the alternating plaints and hisses in her voice as his wife vilified him yet again to her sister in Jackson) in and of itself, (Heard the phone slam in its cradle, heard snuffles and tears, heard composure gained and followed by the earnest, deliberate speech of a scorned woman in discussion with her lawyer) to justify the erratic behavior (Even with shaky hands, Jack knew how to decant a proper Kentucky Colonel Cocktail—three parts bourbon to one part benedictine with a twist of lemon peel—and he found Myrtle to be of surprising comfort as she stood at his side, graciously accepting each tender stroke of her curly neck) of the plaintiff, whose aggression, (The first thing that Jack thought of when he thought of Ms Meanwhile was the dimpled flesh where her thighs became her butt, kneading this soft and luxurious terrain, watching it ripple as he smacked against it) vindictiveness, (He had some trouble recalling their conversations, or even the drawl of her simple country accent, the beat of her sentences) and pettiness (Myrtle turned abruptly to dart her eyes down the front hallway, where Jack could plainly see Harriet open the coat closet, grab two armfuls of expensive material, including his favorite overcoat, and storm out the front door) ultimately cost her (A minute later, she appeared in the driveway, in the snow, in the windowpane before him, with a can of gasoline and a box of matches) at least (She always had been an industrious, headstrong woman, that Harriet, her shadow cast wild against the snow by the flames of her makeshift bonfire, her face warm and flushed and too graceful to be any sort of demon) five million dollars (Meanwhile, as the coats burned and Jack finished off his drink, he remembered every one of those adulterous conversations as if they were a symphony, a hard-fought and illogical blending of noises that he knew would tear away at his heart until there was nothing left but the tiny tap of a fingernail against an empty glass) in the final settlement.


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