“Wolf asked me to sit down. He presented me with a pile of statements from Delinn Enterprises, which had been printed on a dot-matrix printer. I had never laid eyes on the actual statements before. I said to Wolf, ‘Jesus, we should donate these to the Smithsonian.’ ”

We’re going to pull this money out tomorrow, Wolf said.

What?

Get out of Freddy’s thing. Gene loves it, but he can’t explain to me how it’s done, and in all the years I’ve known Freddy, he’s never been able to explain it to me in any way that makes sense.

It’s black magic, Connie had said lightly. This was Freddy’s answer whenever someone asked him about the formula for such fantastic returns, even in years when there was a down market.

It’s black all right, Wolf said. I’m sure he’s breaking the law.

Freddy?

Yes, Freddy. I like the guy; I’ve always liked him. God knows, he’s generous to a fault. And I love Meredith and the boys, but something isn’t right with that business. Whatever he’s doing, the SEC is going to catch him, but we’re not waiting around for that to happen. We’re getting out of this tomorrow.

Tomorrow? Really? Don’t you want to talk to Gene about it before…

Connie. Wolf had put his hand over her hand and tried to look at her, but his gaze had been off, as it occasionally was then. He couldn’t always focus. Connie’s eyes had filled with hot tears that had nothing to do with ragweed. She was losing him. The liquidation of the Delinn Enterprises account was one step taken in preparation for Wolf’s death. We’re getting out of that fund tomorrow.

Okay, Connie said, though she was skeptical. The returns were so good and they had been so lucky to be allowed to invest when so many others had been turned away. But she had backed Wolf on more radical decisions that this; she would back him now. Do you think Freddy will be mad?

Mad? Wolf said. He had seemed amused by this idea. We only have three million in our account. That’s a drop of water in the ocean of Delinn Enterprises. Freddy won’t even notice.


“But as it turned out,” Connie said to Toby, “Freddy did notice. He left messages at Wolf’s office-and then once he found out that Wolf was on-site all the time, he ambushed Wolf’s cell phone.” But Connie had only discovered this days later when, reaching a point of extreme frustration, Freddy called the house.

Pulling out your money? Freddy ranted. What the hell?

Freddy had sounded livid, which perplexed Connie. It was only $3 million. Why did he care? She said, We have so little money with you. Compared to other clients of yours, I mean. You won’t miss us.

Won’t miss you? Freddy said. Do you know how proud I am to be able to tell people that Washington architect Wolf Flute is a client of mine? I have hundreds of clients in Hollywood-I have Clooney’s money and Belushi family money-but I get more pleasure out of mentioning Wolf Flute’s name than anybody else’s.

Really? Connie said. She hadn’t known how to react to this. Freddy wanted Wolf to stay invested so Freddy could drop his name and lure other architects, or other prominent Washingtonians, to invest? Could this possibly be true? And if it were true, would Wolf be flattered or annoyed?

“So I hung up with Freddy, promising that Wolf would call to explain. Wolf then told me that he didn’t want to explain. It was a free country, he said, and he was pulling our money out of Delinn Enterprises. I had no choice but to throw the Meredith friendship card. And Wolf told me that if I was worried about what Meredith thought, I would have to call her myself.”

“So what did you do?” Toby asked.

“I called her,” Connie said.


Meredith had answered on the first ring, as though she had been standing around her apartment waiting for the call.

Meredith?

Constance.

You heard?

I heard something, Meredith said. But I didn’t believe it.

Connie had sighed. She had hoped that Meredith would make this easier. She had hoped that Meredith would take the news in stride and do her part to smooth things over with Freddy. Wolf really felt we had to pull our money.

That’s what Freddy told me. But why?

Well, Connie said. Did she tell Meredith the truth here? Certainly not. I don’t know why, exactly.

You’re lying to me, Constance, Meredith said.

I’m not lying, Connie said. Wolf has his reasons, but I’m not sure what they are.

Wolf is sick, Meredith said.

Connie raised her hackles. Yes, she said. I know.

He has brain cancer, Meredith said.

Well, that doesn’t mean he’s stupid, Connie said.

He’s making a stupid mistake, Freddy says.

Of course, Freddy would say that, Connie said. It’s Freddy’s fund. Freddy wants us to stay in. He made that perfectly clear.

So then, what’s the problem? Are the returns not good enough?

They’re good enough, Connie said. Wolf feels like they’re too good.

What does that mean? Meredith asked.

Our accountant can’t explain how Freddy’s doing it, Connie said. Nobody can.

Well, of course not, Meredith said. Otherwise, they’d be doing it themselves. Freddy is a genius, Connie. Here, Connie could mouth along to Meredith’s words, they were so predictable. He was an econ whiz at Princeton. He understands the market like nobody else. Do you know how many people who ask to invest with Freddy he turns down?

Wolf thinks it smells funny, Connie admitted.

Smells funny? Meredith said. Are you accusing my husband of something?

I don’t know, Connie said. She had used an apologetic voice when she said this. She used a please-don’t-let-our-husbands’-business-tear-us-apart voice. Wolf’s just concerned.

Because he thinks Freddy is breaking the law, Meredith said.

I said, I don’t know.

You do know that Freddy works in a highly regulated industry?

Connie opened her mouth to speak, but Meredith said, God, I HATE it when people call Freddy a crook. He’s excellent at what he does, he’s better at it than anyone else, and that makes him a crook?

All I’m saying is that Wolf wants our money out. Connie’s voice was tougher with that statement. She had never put herself up against Freddy in Meredith’s eyes, and now, she could see, she was going to lose. If Meredith was going to champion Freddy, then fine-Connie would defend Wolf. She thought of sitting on Wolf’s shoulders during the chicken fights at the Madequecham Jam. Hadn’t she been ruthless? Hadn’t they won every single time? We want our money out. We want a check in the morning!

A check in the morning? Meredith said. So that’s your decision? You’re done with Freddy?

Done with Delinn Enterprises, yes, Connie said. She said this to make a distinction between the business and the friendship. The awkward fact was that Connie and Wolf had a vacation planned to Cap d’Antibes with Meredith and Freddy two weeks hence. What would they do about that?

Meredith was the one to ask. What about France?

The trip to France would most likely be Wolf and Connie’s last trip together, and Connie had been desperately looking forward to it. But how could they go to France now?

We’re not coming to France, Connie said.

Here, Meredith paused. You’re not coming to France?

I don’t see how we can… now, Connie said. What she meant was: How can we all sit around and eat pâté and drink wine when you’ve both made such a brouhaha about us pulling out our money? How can we accept hospitality from a man whom we’ve essentially labeled a crook?

Meredith’s voice was very quiet. Perhaps if they had both still been yelling, they would have resolved things differently. But Meredith took a resigned breath and said, Okay, Connie, if that’s the way you want to play it, fine. But you’re making a big mistake.

And Connie, incredulous that the Meredith she had known for over forty years, a woman she considered as close as a sister, would let their friendship asphyxiate because of money, said, Actually, I don’t think I am.

I’ll tell Freddy you want a check tomorrow, Meredith said.

Thank you, Connie said.

And they both hung up.


“And that was that?” Toby said.

“That was that,” Connie said. “Weeks went by, then months, and I didn’t hear from her. I kept thinking she would call to apologize.”

“But you didn’t call her to apologize,” Toby said.

“What did I have to apologize for?” Connie said.

When Wolf died, Meredith sent flowers and wrote a $10,000 check to the American Cancer Society in Wolf’s honor. Connie wrote to say thank you. She thought that maybe she and Meredith could mend the fence, but she didn’t hear back from Meredith. Connie knew this was because of Freddy.

And then Wolf was proved right: Freddy was arrested. The Ponzi scheme was revealed.

“I’m lucky we got out when we did,” Connie said. “If Wolf hadn’t pulled our money, I would have been forced to sell the Nantucket house. And maybe the Bethesda house, too. I would have had nothing left.”

She would have been just like Meredith.


The next day was Sunday, and as soon as Connie woke up, she called Ashlyn.

She was shuttled right into voice mail.

“Hi, honey, it’s me,” Connie said. “I’m still on Nantucket, and guess what? Uncle Toby is visiting!” Connie paused, as if waiting for Ashlyn to respond. For all Connie knew, Toby talked to Ashlyn on a regular basis. As desperately as Connie wanted news of her daughter, she couldn’t bring herself to ask. “Anyway, call me back when you get this. I love you, Ashlyn. It’s Mom.”


Connie packed as carefully for their trip to Great Point as she might have for a trip to Paris. She wore a bathing suit and a sheer white cover-up that she hadn’t worn since the summer Wolf was sick. Even with his failing eyesight, he’d said, You look like an angel in that white dress, my love. That comment alone had made Connie unwilling to wear the cover-up for anyone else. But now she saw how silly that was. The cover-up had been expensive, and it looked good on her. She would wear it. She packed her book, sunscreen, towels, and a sweater. In her overnight bag, she packed her toothbrush, face lotion, and her brush, a nightgown.

She packed food in the cooler, and a thermos of iced tea, but no wine. It would be fine. Of course, she could pack a bottle of wine and simply choose not to drink it-but who was she kidding? If the wine was there, she would be too tempted.

She heard a horn beeping outside. Dan!


“Dan, this is my brother, Toby. Toby, this is Dan Flynn.”

“Dan the man!” Toby said, shaking Dan’s hand.

Dan grinned. “Nice to meet you. You and Connie look alike.”

“We do?” Connie said. She could see right away that everything was going to be fine. Toby was used to charming everyone he came in contact with, and Dan would be no exception. Dan and Toby were alike; they were men of the outdoors. Neither of them cared about money or prestige or about leaving behind a legacy. They cared about being free to do as they liked. They were a perfect match.

Dan kissed Meredith on the cheek. He said, “I like the way you did your hair.”

Meredith was wearing a red baseball hat with sorority letters on it. It had been Ashlyn’s, long abandoned to the dusty shelf of the front closet. Connie had initially been shocked to see Meredith wearing it, then she thought, Oh, what the hell. No more taboos. And Meredith seemed marginally more cheerful this morning.

“Thanks,” Meredith said.

“I meant, no wig,” Dan said.

“Wait a minute,” Toby said. “Do you actually wear a wig?”

“I’ve been traveling incognito,” Meredith said. “But not today.”

Dan touched Meredith’s shoulder. “You won’t need a disguise today.”

“Great Point!” Toby said, rubbing his hands together.

“Let’s go!” Dan said.


They drove through the town of Sconset, stopping at the market for sandwiches and bags of chips, pretzels, and marshmallows. Connie had made a fruit salad, potato salad, and coleslaw, and Dan said he had the rest of their provisions covered.