But when Darren opened the door to his hotel room, his wife, Lisa, was sitting on the king-size bed, a few legal files spread out on the bloodred velvet duvet. She wasn’t wearing lingerie exactly, but her hair was down and the slip she had on was black and lacy and decorated with tiny bone-white bows, making her look like a present left for him on the bed. He was confused for a moment. First, if he was being honest, he’d forgotten Lisa had said anything about driving up to Jefferson. And second, why was his wife dressed for debauchery but also wearing reading glasses and flipping through a manila file folder with a Bic pen clamped between her teeth? He had the fleeting thought that the security at this hotel was troubling enough that he should consider a change of venue, as now two people had walked into his room without a key.

She looked up and saw him and smiled sheepishly, then quickly scooped up the papers and set them and the pen on the bedside table. “I didn’t know when you’d be back.”