“Ha-ha. Technically, Max belongs to Vince. We decided to get a dog when we moved in together. I had to talk Vince into him. He wanted a more ‘masculine’ breed than a Yorkie. But ultimately Vince paid, and it’s his name on the adoption paperwork. In New York State, pets are treated like personal property in a divorce—they go to the spouse who ‘owns’ them. But I’m the one who did everything. Every walk, every stoop-and-scoop, every vet appointment. He’s my dog.”

“Let me guess. Vince suddenly wants him.”

“Yep. Never paid any attention to him, but whenever we were in with the mediator, he’d be all, ‘Oh how I miss him.’ We were actually supposed to have joint custody while we were in mediation—before Vince’s sabbatical started, back when he was still in town—but I refused to hand him over.”

“And Vince didn’t make an issue of that?”

“Oddly, no. I don’t think he actually cares about the dog. Well, I know he doesn’t. But it’s like Max was his wedge to hold up the divorce. And now we’re supposed to be continuing with mediation while he’s in Spain—we’re supposed to be doing it virtually. But he’s always missing the appointments or canceling them at the last minute. It doesn’t make any sense. He left me. Shouldn’t he want the divorce?”

“One would think. What must Oakland think?”

She smiled. “I feel bad for Berkeley. None of this is her fault.”

“Even if that’s the case, I commend you on taking such a charitable view.”

“Professors are not supposed to romance students. It’s a massive abuse of power.”

“I wondered about that.”

“There was a whole investigation. They both insist they didn’t get together until after she dropped out, which may even be true. She doesn’t come from money, and I gather she was having trouble financially. But even if they didn’t technically break any rules, it’s still gross. She’s a kid. Vince can be very compelling when he wants to, making you feel like you’re the center of his world. I should get the divorce done, for Berkeley’s sake, if not for Vince’s. If it was anything else—money, say—I would roll over.”

“Dani. You cannot give that man your dog.”

“Right?” His vehement agreement was gratifying, but she realized that here they were talking about her again. Max had a way of doing that. “What about you? Is lunch really that bad? What’s the problem? Too much family togetherness?”

“Christmas seems to put my parents, my father especially, into a mode where he’s taking stock. Of the family holdings, the state of the dukedom, the matrimonial future of his children. I never fare well in these accountings.”

“Because Marie jilted you? How old are you, anyway?”

“Yes, among other things. And I’m twenty-eight.”