I live in the highest-taxed county in the country—Westchester. I own a five-thousand-square-foot house, a cottage on the property, a fifty-foot pool, the works—with property taxes approaching $40,000 a year. Well, I don’t actually own it. The banks do. Had to take a second mortgage on it a couple of years ago to pay down some other debt. Robbed Peter to pay Paul—the other Paul—and still am. Constantly bouncing dollars from one bank account to another—including the one Jean doesn’t know anything about.

And now, I’m buried in all of it. My credit cards are pretty much maxed.

I see Diane Elvin, who Jean and I play tennis with every Sunday morning. I get my best game face back on.

“Good to see you, Di. You and Joe ready for tomorrow?”

“We’ll see.” She winks. “Tim, it’s just so terrible, the murder at your agency. I am so sorry.”

“Appreciate it, my friend. Thanks. Best to Joe.”

For all Jean knows, we’re fine. She has no reason to think we’re not. That’s how secretive I’ve been. I’m not proud of it.

And we’re not fine. If I don’t get this new job, we are done with Westchester. The house, the neighbors, these soccer games, the kids’ friends, Jean’s girlfriends. They would all be devastated. So would I.

I can almost see the freakin’ moving trucks in the driveway. The situation, along with the murder, is weighing on me like a ton of bricks.

But I’m getting ahead of myself….

My phone rings. It’s Barbara Lundquist, the recruiter. On a Saturday?

“Hey, Barb, what’s up?”

“Hi, Tim. I know it’s Saturday. I figure you’re with your kids or something, but I thought you’d like to know.”

“Know…what?”

“I just talked to Linda Kaplan.”

And I can feel some of the weight lifting off my back.

Soon enough the game’s over, and Brady and I head home to Twin Eagles. Jean’s in the kitchen, fixing lunch. Ellie’s helping.

“Guess what, baby? Just heard from the recruiter. That interview I had yesterday went great. She’s got me number one on her list! Wants to see me again, soon.”

“That’s fantastic, honey. I hope it’s something you really want?”

Want? Hell, I need this job. We need this job. Bad. If she only knew just how bad.

“Absolutely, love. It’s a great opportunity!”

Meanwhile, I send those movers on their way, out of my head, trucks empty. For now.

Chapter 11

It’s a beautiful fall night. Sun’s dropping down out over the Hudson, full moon’s following it up behind us. I roll the BBQ grill down by the pool and fire it up. Fillets for Jean and me and burgers for the kids. Poolside with the family is my favorite way to dine.

The kids are inside, doing whatever kids do, so I pop open a bottle for Jean and me. We love champagne, especially Dom Perignon, and have special flutes for nights like this one.

I fill our glasses, pouring just right to minimize the bubbles, and offer a toast: “Here’s to life, our lives, blessed with good fortune and good health. And here’s to us and our partnership, warmed by our love and devotion.…”