Page 12 of Nineteen Seventy-Six

He sighed in impatience. “An affair, Maureen. An affair with someone of your choosing. I don’t care to know about it, and if I find out, I’ll be exceptionally displeased at your lack of discretion. And that is all I ask of you. Discretion. Meet with this… this whoever he’ll be, somewhere our own people don’t go. Out of town, even. I don’t care. I don’t want the details.” He began to tear neatly into his steak again.

“You want me to have an affair?” she repeated, in shock.

“I don’t want you to do anything,” Edouard replied, when he was done chewing. “But what I do want is for this to not come up again between us, and it seems as if it will unless you find an outlet for your own needs. I’m giving you one, on the condition we don’t speak of this again, and no one in our social circles ever finds out.”

“An affair,” she said again, musing. This was not at all what she had in mind, but it was… it was…

It was better.

Edouard was not a handsome man. He was over twice her age, with nothing, other than his money and success, going for him. She’d come looking for a consolation prize, and he’d given her the whole trophy.

Any man she wanted.

And why limit herself to one?

Maureen could have many men. Handsome men. Passionate men.

The endlessness of these delicious possibilities replaced what remained of her appetite.

Edouard took her silence as assent apparently, as he disappeared again behind his newspaper.

Noah sat down across from him, his face painted with a level of patience he must have mustered up on the entire drive over. Charles knew his brother-in-law didn’t like him. His own memory was hazy where his high school days were concerned, but he vaguely recalled giving Noah Jameson a hard time about something. That didn’t make Noah unique. That he’d married Charles’ sister, however, did.

“I’m here,” Noah said, pleasantly enough. “You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Charles said, folding and refolding his arms. He felt antsy, the way he used to when he’d go a couple days without blow. “Thanks. I do want to talk.”

“If it’s about Colleen—”

“It’s not,” Charles said quickly. “Not exactly.”

“What does that mean? Not exactly?”

“It’s not about Colleen, but it’s about what she might know.”

“Sorry, I’m really not following, Charles.”

“When are you going back to Scotland?”

“What?”

“I didn’t mean to confuse you with a simple question.”

“I’m confused, all right,” Noah muttered. “I don’t know why we’re here, and why I couldn’t bring Colleen.”

“Because Colleen is lying to me,” Charles said. “I’m hoping you have better sense.”

Noah peeled back. “Look, I’m not an easy target anymore. You don’t scare me.”

Noah was going to leave if Charles didn’t rein this in. “I’m sorry, brother. Nicolas still isn’t sleeping much, and so neither am I.” He rubbed his face. “I think Colleen knows where Catherine went, and if she knows, you probably do, too.”

“Catherine?”

He was going to make him say it. Make him play the game. “Sullivan?”

“What’s it to you where your friend’s wife is?” Noah said. The hint of cheekiness in his voice revealed that he knew exactly what it was to Charles.

Charles wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, though. “What it is to me is that my best friend is in pain because his wife and son have fallen off the face of the earth.”

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