Badger chimed in. “Why’d you break up in the first place?”

Chris was about to speak, but I got there first. Trying to be polite, I said, “Youth … inexperience. Vistas we’ve seemed to conquer over the years.”

“No, I really want to know,” Badger insisted. “What kind of woman marries a man who runs whorehouses?”

I was shocked by his rudeness. Chris said nothing. Of course, the question was directed to me. I said, “He didn’t run brothels at eighteen.”

“But at some point you had to know that the man you were marrying was …”

“Unconventional?” I filled in.

“I think the word he’s looking for is criminal,” Chris said.

Badger said, “All I’m saying is that you must have known what he was.”

“Obviously. But first loves have a way of making you do impulsive things.”

“That’s so romantic,” Brie said.

Glad you think so, I thought.

Badger steamrolled on. “Then you knew about Joseph Donatti.”

I looked at Chris. He actually seemed to be enjoying this. “Eventually, yes, I did find out about his uncle.”

“What do you mean ‘eventually’? Donatti is not a common name.”

“He was Chris Whitman in high school.”

“Oh.” A momentary pause. “Then how’d you find out about his past?”

“Mr. Donatti, né Whitman, told me.”

“So, you knew. And you married him anyway.”

“There are many compelling reasons to get married.” I gave him a sweet smile. “Our son is now twenty-four. I think you can do the math.”

Kirstin said, “You’re Gabe’s mother?”

I looked at her. “You’ve met him?”

“Yes. He was at last year’s Labor Day party.”

I turned to Chris. “Interesting.” I smiled at Badger. “Surely you gentlemen have more pressing matters to talk about.”

But the man wouldn’t let it go. “I’m interested in your opinion of him.”

“Pardon?”

“What do you think of your fiancé now? I mean he’s rich and good-looking and all that. But now you know who he is. You’re marrying a man who owns whorehouses.”

I said, “I’m marrying an astute businessman who is very wise.”

“Ah, the devoted woman.” He grinned in self-satisfaction. “I love it.”

I said, “Mr. Donatti has lots of devoted women.”

“They’re called whores.”

I could see Chris’s eyes darken, not for me—I could take care of myself—but for the women with them. I squeezed his leg. “You mean these two beautiful ladies?” When he didn’t answer, I said, “If you don’t approve of whom you’re with, Mr. Badger, perhaps Mr. Donatti can help you set up a harem of your own.”

“I’d love the idea.” He winked at me. “But only if you came with it.”