Chapter 14: The Ordinary Days
The second year moved with the steady texture of ordinary days.
I returned fully to the foundation work Frank and I had started. I attended the board meetings without the residual distraction of legal letters or public speculation. Judith and I resumed our long-standing habit of Thursday dinners, sometimes at her house, sometimes at mine. We spoke of books, of the garden, of the small political absurdities of the city. We rarely spoke of Natalie. When her name surfaced at all, it arrived without heat—simply as a closed chapter that no longer required analysis.
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Jackson began to rebuild a life that did not revolve around the fortune he had once expected to receive on the morning after his wedding. He took a position with a smaller firm, moved into a house that suited his actual income, and eventually began seeing a woman who worked in education and had no interest in my accounts. I met her once, briefly, and found nothing in her manner that required vigilance. The absence of calculation was itself a form of relief.
On the anniversary of the wedding I spent the day at home. I did not mark the date with any private ritual of anger or triumph. I worked in the garden, answered a few foundation emails, and cooked a simple meal. In the evening I sat on the terrace with a glass of wine and allowed the memory of the bald reflection, the note, and the ballroom toast to pass through me without settling. They had already done their work. They did not need to remain in residence.
