This crisp, bright October evening marks the three-week anniversary of the last time he broke his marriage vows with Florence. Just as she predicted, he feels less need for her now. Though his loins still tingle when he sees her, he has, these last three weeks, been able to control his desire. He has not so much as touched her, though his hands admittedly ache to, and she, seeming to sense the change in him, has kept her distance, too. He is just thinking of this, congratulating himself on his restraint, on conducting an affair that remained a secret and ended with his secretary still in his employ and not a thing the worse for it, when there is a brief knock at the door and her head peeks in.

“Can I see you for a minute?”

“Certainly,” he says, keeping his tone professional. He shrugs into his coat. “I’m just on my way, though. Harry has a game tonight.”

She shuts the door behind her. He looks at the curve of her neck, the way her hair curls up from it into a swirling chignon, and hopes she does not plan to try to seduce him, for just with that glance he knows he would not be able to resist.

He watches as she walks quickly across the room and draws the drapes shut with two quick motions. He steps back. “I—I shouldn’t. I’m trying not—”

Her eyes are sharp when she turns to him. “I just need to talk to you. Sit down.”

He obeys, watching her as she casts her eyes down, folding her hands in front of her waist. She is truly lovely, he thinks, her dress a tailored midnight blue, her ankles slim for a woman her age.

“I told you I had something personal to attend to this morning?” she says.

“Yes?”

“I went to the doctor in Wausau. I’ve been suspecting it for some time now. I’m going to have a baby.”

He clenches his fists open and closed. “What?”

“That’s right.”

His eyes flash nervously toward the door.

“Everyone’s gone home,” she says.

He gets to his feet. “I thought you had that all taken care of. I mean—aren’t you a little old?”

She laughs, looks away, her face flushed.

“Christ,” he says. “This can’t be happening. Are you sure it’s mine?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we’ll just have to get it taken care of. Did the doctor in Wausau give you any place you could go?”

Her eyes flash in anger. “John Mickelson! I will not!”

He crashes his hand through his hair. “Well, you can’t have it. It’s as simple as that.”

“I will have it!”

“Was this your plan all along?”