It hadn’t been his idea to give his son the name. Julie had wanted him named after her grandfather, and his own mother had approved. “I think it’s nice to carry the name of an ancestor who signed the Constitution,” she had declared. Old money, and all that.

Julie was old money. And she had some money, too. She was blonde and blue-eyed and bland, and her family were Social Register, like the Masters. Mrs. Astor’s famous Four Hundred might be a thing of the past, but the registers, those broader guides to the good old families of America, were very much around. Indeed, it was perfectly possible, Charlie supposed, to lead a fulfilling social life without stirring outside their pages. His mother had been delighted when, at the end of the war, he’d married Julie.

And not too pleased last year, when they’d divorced.

He’d supposed it was his fault. Julie had grown tired of his ever-shifting employment. Not that he didn’t earn any money. In the thirties, though money had been tight, he’d always got by with a variety of freelance activities. And even during the Depression you could make money in the entertainment industry. He’d collaborated on plays and movies; by the time he married, he’d even had a small share of a Broadway musical. And after Julie bought the apartment, he’d always been able to pay the maintenance and that sort of thing. When their son was born, he’d hoped it would draw them closer.

Little Gorham. Most of the people one knew had nicknames. If you were John, you became Jack. Henry was Harry, Augustus was Gus, Howard was Howie, Winthrop was Win, Prescott was Pres. That’s what people called you, people you knew, that is. But young Gorham, for some reason, had just stayed Gorham.

Then Julie had told him she wanted a divorce so she could marry a doctor, from Staten Island, for God’s sake. Not that he had anything against Staten Island. The island borough of Richmond, as it officially was, had not been connected to any other borough by a bridge yet, so it still retained the rural, almost eighteenth-century character that Manhattan Island had entirely lost. The views across the water were pleasant, but it was inconvenient to go all the way out there to collect his son for the weekend.

Julie and Gorham were waiting for him at the terminal. Julie was wearing a new coat and a small felt hat. She looked good. He hadn’t fought any of her demands for money when they divorced. It wasn’t worth the hassle. She’d sold the apartment and, as the doctor she married had a handsome house already, she had plenty to spend on herself.