“Yvonne—you tell Clarice that she has no business calling you after office hours.”

Samantha picked at her piece of bread and had a sip of wine while Barry continued talking. “Yvonne, unless it’s about one of my children, you tell Clarice she can only call during office hours. And be sure both of my kids have my new cell phone number, and tell them they can call anytime.” He put the phone in his pocket. “Let’s go. I’m not hungry anymore.”

He got up from the table. “Silvano!” He waved his hand, giving his standard just-put-it-on-my-bill good-bye.

“Of course, Mr. Santorini,” Silvano nodded.

Julian rushed to open the door for Samantha and Barry. As they got into the car at least five photographers were waiting outside.

“Samantha, over here! Barry, over here! Samantha, how’s the doctor?”

“Fuckin’ assholes.” Barry slammed the car door shut.

“Julian, let’s take Ms. Acton home please.”

“Miss Bagley.” She smiled at him.

“Who the fuck is that?”

“That’s my single name. I mean, the name I was born with. I’m going back to it.”

“I like it.” Barry kissed her neck.

“I’m glad. I like it, too.” She leaned into him as the car drove up Sixth Avenue.

“Hey, Julian, can we have a little music?” Barry asked.

“Of course, Mr. Santorini,” the driver replied. “Anything in particular?”

“Nothing that makes me feel old.”

“Barry, that’s not very helpful.” Samantha laughed.

“Oh, he’ll know. Am I right, Julian?”

“Absolutely, Mr. Santorini.” Julian put in a CD of Frank Sinatra singing “Witchcraft.”

Barry took Samantha’s hand and sang along as the car drove uptown. “It’s such an ancient pitch / But one I wouldn’t switch.”

Samantha looked at him and he grabbed her face. “’Cause there’s no nicer witch than you…” He turned her chin toward him. “This is sort of fun, isn’t it?”

She sat up. “I hope it’s better than sort of fun.”

“I mean, usually those photographers are traipsing after twenty-two-year-old good-looking assholes. I’m a middle-aged guy with bad skin from South Philly. You know how much I’ve paid ridiculous PR people to put me in the papers, and all I have to do is kiss you hello and suddenly I’m Tom Cruise.”

Samantha swatted him with her purse. “Stop it, Barry.”

Barry took her purse away. “I am so nuts about you.”

The car pulled up to The Sherry-Netherland, where Samantha had rented a temporary one-bedroom apartment.

As Julian opened the door for Samantha, Barry turned to him. “Julian, I’m just going to go around the corner to The Lowell to get a few things.”

“Barry, this is crazy,” Samantha whispered. Barry had taken a room at The Lowell after the school confrontation with Clarice. “You should just leave your things with me.”

“Not until the lawyers start talking. I’m not giving Clarice that kind of ammunition.”