We waited for Abbie to throw the keys back at him; or at the very least to say she didn’t want to be placed in his debt like that.

But she didn’t. She picked up the keys. She said, “Wow. Thanks.”

33

   Bouillabaisse is not the simplest dish to make, although the results can be spectacular. Your previous effort used Elizabeth David’s recipe, but the most authentic one, the one favored by restaurateurs in Marseille, is from Jean-Baptiste Reboul’s 1897 La Cuisinière Provençale, which stipulates half a dozen different rock fish, including grouper and striped bass. Since some of them are unavailable in North America, you decide to amalgamate that recipe with one from Chez Panisse.

Step one: Make a fumet, or broth, of chopped vegetables, fish bones, fennel seeds, and thyme.

Step two: Add two cups of white wine, twelve mussels, the peel of an orange, two tablespoons of a French liqueur called Pernod, and an ounce of Spanish saffron. Simmer for two hours, then strain and set aside. The saffron alone cost over a hundred dollars.

Step three: Make the rouille, the spicy paste you will serve on bread to accompany the bouillabaisse. Take half a cup of your fish stock and soak some breadcrumbs in it. Add more saffron and cayenne pepper. Chop a whole bulb of garlic very fine. (When tempted to use a garlic press, re-read Elizabeth David’s comment on the matter: “I regard garlic presses as both ridiculous and pathetic, their effect being precisely the reverse of what people who buy them believe…I have often wondered how it is that people who have once used one of these diabolical instruments don’t notice this and forthwith throw the thing into the dustbin.” Decide to keep chopping.)

   Add six egg yolks and whisk slowly together, adding a mixture of half olive and half grapeseed oil, drop by drop, in the manner of mayonnaise. Char two red peppers and two tomatoes over an open flame, then remove the skins and deseed. Pulverize in a mortar, and combine.

By the time you’ve finished chopping the garlic, it’s late afternoon and Sian’s brought Danny home. He seems fascinated by the charring of the peppers directly on the gas burner.

“How was your day, Danny?” you ask him. He doesn’t answer. Suddenly his hand darts out and he drags his fingers through the naked flame. Grabbing his wrist, you pull him straight over to the tap and run cold water on them, but it’s too late. Two of his fingers are blistered.

There’s no point in scolding him—he simply didn’t understand; not because he hasn’t encountered flames before, but because he has trouble extrapolating from those previous experiences that flames are always going to be hot.

“You have to be careful with him around fire,” Sian says unnecessarily.

“So I gather,” you say tartly. They’re the first words you’ve exchanged since that night at the beach house.

Danny doesn’t seem to feel pain as much as neurotypical children, but he is bothered by the blisters.

“When?” he says, flapping his hand in agitation. “When?”

“They’ll be better in a few days.” You know he won’t let you put petroleum jelly on, let alone a bandage, so you don’t even try.

“When?” he insists.

   You give in to his need for an exact schedule. “The blisters will be gone by Friday morning at ten o’clock.” You have no idea if this is true, but saying it may calm him.

It does, somewhat. Humming nervously, he goes off to check that his Thomas trains are still precisely lined up, just as he left them this morning.

You get out the pestle and mortar and start pulverizing, glad you’ve got something to focus on other than Sian.

To your surprise, she suddenly says, “Hey…I’m sorry.”

You look over at her.

“I saw that interview you did,” she adds. “I hadn’t realized…It can’t be easy, being you.”

“How often did you and Tim sleep together?” You hate yourself for asking, but you have to know.

She hesitates. “He’s made me sign a nondisclosure agreement as part of my severance package. I can’t discuss any of it.”

“He’s just worried you’ll speak to a reporter,” you say, though you can’t help wondering if it’s actually you Tim doesn’t want Sian talking to. “That doesn’t apply to me, obviously.”

“I guess not. But I still can’t take the risk. It’s a lot of money.”

“Tell me this, then. Just this one thing, and I promise I won’t repeat it to Tim. The other night, who initiated it? Did you go to his room, or did he come to yours?”

“I can’t—” she begins, but then she sees your face. “I guess he came to mine.”

You don’t say anything.

“And it was him who got careless with the bedroom door.” She stops, then says in a rush, “Have you considered…maybe he wanted you to find us?”

“Why would he do that?” you say, mystified.

She shrugs. “Jesus, I don’t know. Guilt, maybe. Subconscious confession. He’s pretty strange in bed anyway, right? All that tantric stuff.”

   “Right,” you say, although you have no idea what she’s talking about. “I think you should go and check on Danny now.”

“Okay.” At the door she stops and turns back. “Like I said, I’m sorry about what happened. I won’t be sorry to leave, though. I mean, I’m getting a good payoff and everything, but it’s not about that. The whole setup here, with Danny and you…I just can’t figure out what he wants. From you. From any of us. And that freaks me out, y’know?”

“No,” you say firmly. “I really don’t.”

34

   Two hours before John Renton and the other guests arrive, you make the marinade for the fish. Olive oil, white wine, fennel, peeled garlic cloves, Pernod, and yet more saffron. You cube the fish into chunks and remove the bones with tweezers.

Step six: Cut baguettes into slices, each three-eighths of an inch thick. Drizzle with olive oil and bake at four hundred degrees until crisp, then rub with a sliced clove of garlic and spread with the rouille.

Step seven: Make the bouillabaisse.

Chop a dozen leeks and a dozen onions very fine, and sweat in an open pan along with a bay leaf and another pinch of saffron. Dice and deseed ten tomatoes, and whisk in a bowl along with yet more finely chopped garlic, more orange peel, and a glass of white wine. Add to the softened onions and pour in the fumet. Then add the chunks of seafood and poach for three to five minutes, until just done. Remove and keep warm.