Phil frowned as the picture melted away, resurfacing as a new image, this one of Bee and Matt in an apple orchard. Phil recognized the shot from the “save the date” card on his mother’s refrigerator. Phil rolled his eyes and looked at the table with the seating assignments. He figured he would wait until the crowd dispersed to find his place card. It didn’t matter to him where he’d been placed; no matter where he sat he’d be among strangers. In the meantime he figured he’d better get to a TV to find out what was going on and whether his bookie was calling with good or terrible news.

He followed a long hallway toward the back of the building, where he was pleased to find the club’s lounge. Much to his delight, the television was on above the bar. Three older men who seemed unaffiliated with the wedding sat on leather lounge chairs not far from the TV. They looked to be golfers, country club members who probably spent most of their Saturday afternoons drinking tumblers of bourbon after finishing up on the green, to avoid going home to their wives.

They were seated around a small wooden table, all facing forward, their eyes fixated on the Maryland-Rutgers football game.

Phil stared at the men in the chairs, trying to gauge how opposed they’d be to changing the channel for just a few minutes. On any other day, he’d gladly choose Maryland and Rutgers over socializing at a stranger’s wedding, but today he had a ridiculous amount of money on the Oregon-California football game, which was happening at the same time, across the country. The aggressive bet was out of character for Phil, who thought of himself as a conservative, recreational gambler. Phil balled his hands into fists, wondering what he wasn’t seeing on CBS as Maryland and Rutgers continued, as expected, to do nothing of note on ESPN.

Phil liked Oregon, enough that he felt good taking a risk, but, to be honest with himself, it was too soon in the season to feel confident that the Ducks could win by more than six points on the road. He’d risked five hundred and fifty dollars to win five hundred on that play, but that wasn’t what scared him. It was his second bet, a last-minute decision to try to win fifteen hundred dollars on the over, which frightened him. It was a decision that forced him to root for both teams to score. If Oregon and California didn’t combine to go over seventy-one and a half points, and Oregon didn’t win by more than six, he’d be out a total of twenty-two hundred bucks. He would have to dip into his savings account for his mortgage money.

He’d made the out-of-character bet three nights ago, after seeing Elizabeth leave her apartment in date makeup. She didn’t make eye contact with him; she simply ducked uncomfortably as she walked briskly down the hall to grab the elevator door before it closed.