John Lescroart - Guilt

'Only probably? You didn't check?'

Glitsky had to smile. 'Yeah, Flo, in my free time I ran a D &B on them. Firms don't usually run on one client.'

Flo shrugged. 'Okay, so who then, if it's not money?'

'I know. I just hate to see a money motive go nowhere.'

She put the last dish into the dishwasher, closed it up, and came to stand in front of her husband, between his legs. She put her arms around him. They kissed.

'I remember that,' Glitsky said.

Flo nodded toward their bedroom. 'Race you.'

For a half-hour, he'd forgotten all about real life.

Then she was breathing regularly and he was back in it. The clock said 9:45. It was a school night – he had to get the boys down to bed. He had to move, but if he didn't, maybe it would all just stop right here, where he was, where they all were.

She shifted slightly. 'Abe?' Not sleeping after all. 'Find somebody else. Promise me that.'

There was a tremor, a tic, above his eye. The muscle of his jaw tightened. The scar through his lips went white with a surge of anger so sharp it grabbed his next breath.

'I don't want to talk about it.' He stood. 'It's time I got those kids to bed.'

Christina knew it had happened at the dinner on Saturday at Sam's… its aftermath.

On the drive back to her apartment, Joe going on and on. How could Christina think she knew Mark Dooher so well? What was with the two of them? Where did she get off, saying he was nothing like a bastard? And while they were at it, what was the real story behind her knowing about these retreats with Dooher and Farrell?

And she'd closed her eyes, too tired to fight him anymore, to explain, to care. The certainty had come in a flash – that Joe wasn't right for her, and all the rationalizing and wishing in the world wasn't going to change that.

He would never be right. She didn't love him.

There had been early admiration, then a desire born of curiosity, followed by a leap of faith. But the fact was that she didn't feel much about him one way or the other. Except when he started talking about /acts. And even then she didn't hate him – she just found him irritating and boring.

Pleading a headache, she'd gone into her apartment alone, said she'd call him when she felt better.

Which wasn't Sunday. Then on Monday he'd flown to LA and stayed overnight. She'd been out both nights, studying. She'd come home and listened to his petulant messages and it all got clearer.

Now, Wednesday morning, she stood at his office door. He was, as always, hip-deep in work. Ear stuck to his telephone, he was signing something and reading something else, passing paper to his secretary, who hovered beside him with a notepad and an expression of exasperated fear.

Yep, Christina thought, Joe is going to make it.

Fate sealed the decision. At that moment Joe reasonably spoke into the telephone: 'I don't think you've got all your ducks lined up, Bill, and that's the plain fact of it.'

She came forward into the room. Seeing her, Joe held up one finger, pointed at the phone and smiled as though she were a client he'd been expecting. He mouthed, 'Be right there.'

She sadly shook her head and put the envelope containing the ring and her letter on his desk. Patting it once, she turned and walked out.

'I feel like a coward, just running out like that. I should have faced him.'

'And said what?'

'I don't know. Told him.'

'Would he have listened?'

'Maybe to the fact that I was leaving him. Maybe that.' She looked out at the whitecaps pocking the blue bay, sailboats half-keeled in the breeze, San Francisco in the distance, the Golden Gate beyond the Sausalito curve to her right. At Sam's expression, she laughed. 'No, you're right. Not even to that. And that look isn't fair.'

'What look? And I didn't say anything.'

'You know what look. And you didn't have to.'

They were at Scoma's, having taken the ferry to Sausalito. Sam had two experienced volunteers working at the Center and decided she could afford a few hours off. For her part, Christina, after leaving her envelope, had been tempted to go to Dooher's office and tell him about it, but thought it would smack of leading him on, which she flatly wasn't going to do.

To what end? He'd made it clear he was married, not interested in her in that way. And what a relief, really, though she did think he was terrific.

She sometimes thought every other man on the planet was incapable of seeing who she was inside. But not Mark. He simply liked her, who she was. It was a joy.

She was aware, however, that her decision to break off with Joe had come about because she'd been unable to avoid contrasting the younger man to Dooher, with his heady mix of physical good looks, substance, experience, power, and humor. She decided that her growing friendship with him would be the litmus test for the kind of relationship she would eventually… not settle for, as she had with Joe. But settle on. Someone of Dooher's quality, if he could be found at all. It might take a while.

But that was the other thing, the other wonderful result of this friendship with Mark Dooher – if some other man didn't come along to validate who she was, it didn't have to be the end of the world.

She was trying to explain this to Sam. 'I don't know why it took me so long to realize. Sometimes I think about the only man who's ever liked me for me, besides my dad, is Mark.'

Sam, mopping up the perfect Dore sauce with the perfect piece of fresh sourdough bread, was matter-of-fact. 'It's the curse of fabulous beauty.' She raised her eyes. 'I'm serious.'

Christina knew better than to flutter her lids with false modesty. 'Well. But now at least I'm getting a glimpse that maybe I'm worth something by myself.'

'As opposed to?'

'I don't know. The lesser half of some guy I happen to be with?'

'The trophy?'

Christina nodded. 'On some level it's flattering. Or something. So I let it happen -I become the person they want me to be.'

'It's tempting, that's why. It is flattering. It's also what everybody's always taught you. You want to please. You're hard-wired for it. So it gets internalized.' Sam mopped more sauce. 'I cannot make a sauce this good at home. How do they do this?' She took the bite, chewed a moment, sighed. 'It's one of the hard truths.'

'The sauce?'

Sam laughed, shook her head. 'What sauce?' Another laugh. 'I'm all over the place, aren't I? No, the hard truth about who we are. I went through the same thing about ten years ago.'

'I think you've lost me. What same thing?'

'This decision that I wasn't what some man thought I was.'

'And you did it, just like that?'

'No.' Smiling again, she held up a finger. 'But I tried. I acted that way for all the world to see. Got my heart broke four or five times. Got bitter and cynical about men. But I did get better about me. I think. Eventually.'

Christina nodded. 'Well, I'm not going back. Not the same way. Not to another Joe.'

'Good. Hold on to that feeling. You're going to need it when it's been six months. You get a little lonesome. Trust me on this.'

'I think I can handle lonesome. I've done lonesome before. The difference was that lonely was always clearly the time between one guy and the next guy. Now, I think I'll cultivate some friendships.'

'Friendships are good,' Sam said. 'As long as you don't get confused.'

'You mean Mark Dooher?' Christina shook her head. 'No. He's not like that.'

Sam raised an eyebrow. 'He's not a sexual creature?'

'No.' She laughed. 'He exudes… confidence that way, I suppose. But he's married. He's happy. He's got it in balance. He's never come on to me in any way. In fact, more the opposite. Hands off. Be a person first. It's great, actually.'