I didn’t think of my efforts with the tree as a complete failure. I hadn’t gotten what I wanted, which was my mouth and hands on her chest, and her promise to continue seeing me.

But I woke up feeling as if I’d gotten something. I didn’t know what that was. I couldn’t define it or count it. Couldn’t draw a conclusion from it. But it was good, and it was enough. She’d given me the idea.

The idea couldn’t be quantified or counted. I didn’t have an exact string of words to describe what it was. But it involved a result, and I could build a formula from that.

Catherine would continue to be who she was. She would continue to give of herself to others. And she would be with me. All that equaled our happiness and the end of my wandering around in the wrong world.

Again, I didn’t know what that meant as far as the future. She needed personal connection. She would never be one of New York’s charity mavens, only partly because I wouldn’t be a billionaire hedge fund manager for much longer. But after last night, I felt as if I knew her better, knew what she needed to live her life, and I was eager to provide it.

I got a text from Brian over breakfast.

---

— What are you doing? —

— In Barrington USA? —

---

The phone rang. It was Brian. I’d obviously said something to piss him off. Maybe he didn’t like toast.

I answered the phone and stepped outside into the rose garden that I used to tend. “What’s your problem?”

“Barrington?” he snapped. “With the glass factory?”

“Yes?”

“And you don’t know about the new talk over in Silicon Valley? About the Barrington factory? This is bullshit. You told me you were out, but you’re just getting out to start something else. You going to just take the money and not cut me in.”

“Brian, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, asshole. You think I don’t know you by now?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dude, you take everything and close the door behind you. That’s how you operate. I never thought you’d do it with me. But you are.”

“I was born and raised here. It’s perfectly natural for me to show up to see the people I grew up with.”

“That just makes me think you’re the one who spearheaded the deal. Not cool. Not okay. And possibly a breach of contract.”

I took a deep breath, then another. The fall sky was flat blue, the morning sun was shining, and I was not going to let him think I was fogging him over. “I came here to bury Lance, and I’m staying for a while. I am not here to secretly team up with some venture capitalists opening the fucking factory. Given the choice, I would burn the factory to the ground. I understand why you don’t trust me. I understand why you think I’m going to take all of the money you’re paying for the fund and leave. But if there’s a loyal bone in my body, and there are a few, at least one of them has your name on it.”

“I want in.”

“There’s nothing to be in on.”

“There will be, my friend. If you’re not stabbing me in the back, and maybe you’re not, I still want in.”

“Noted. But don’t hold your breath.”

“Noted.”

We hung up, and I sat back down to breakfast. The eggs had gotten dark and translucent at the corners. The toast was chewy and cold.

Nobody trusted me. Lance had, but he’d never wanted anything from me but food and a little affection. He still gave more than he took.

I’d never betrayed Brian, but betraying him had never been in my best interests. If it had been, if some opportunity to fuck him over for my own benefit had shown itself, what would I have done?

It’s business.

I would’ve said that. And I would’ve meant it. It would have been its own answer to just about any question.

Leaving my breakfast, I went back outside and called my ex-wife.

“Hello? Christopher?” People chattered in the background.

“Do you have a minute?”

“Five of them. I’m about to go into a board meeting for Montano.”

The children’s charity had meetings this time of year in Italy. I’d forgotten.

“This won’t take long. Not if you answer honestly.”

“I’m intrigued,” she said in a voice laced with suspicion.

“Why did you marry me?”

“Oh, dio mio, Christopher. Now you ask this?”

“I married you because I thought you were as good as it got. There. I said the hurtful thing. Now you can just say what you have to.”

I heard the flick of a lighter and a deep inhale. She must be in Milan. She never smoked at home. “I married you because you had potential.”

“What kind of potential? Money?” I needed her to just admit it, but I knew she wouldn’t. If I’d been so sure of the answer, I wouldn’t have needed to call her.

“God, no. You had plenty of that, which was nice. You could have become a good man. But, you know, que sera.”

“I didn’t become a good man?”

“I don’t have all my life to wait.” Another long exhale.

“I thought you married me for the money.”

“Of course you did. I have to go. We can talk later, okay?”

“Sure.” I hung up.

If you wanted people to trust you, you had to make them money. You could be a nice guy, real prince, but if it didn’t make any money, who cared? That wasn’t the kind of trust I was in business for.

Some things weren’t business.

My business was going to change. I just didn’t know what it was changing into.