New York - The Novel

made partner, he’d assumed that he made more money than she did. Now that she was a partner, he wasn’t quite sure. Not that it really mattered, of course. But with the stock options and the bonuses he always earned, he reckoned that, yes, he probably still made more—though partners in the big law firms did awfully well. But when he finally cleaned up in the markets, he had thought with secret satisfaction, that was when he’d let her know.
    And everything would have been all right, until the disaster last month.
    For in October, the market had crashed. Not a crash like the Great Crash, but a vicious correction. The brokerage houses were in deep pain, and people were being laid off in large numbers. It didn’t affect someone like himself in a commercial bank, and certainly not the lawyers, who always had work adjudicating every disaster. But his private holdings had suffered horribly. Two days ago he’d gone through what was left of his portfolio after he’d dealt with all the calls, and found that he was precisely back to where he’d started several years ago. So much for his performance. It was just as well they weren’t looking to trade up to a larger apartment this year.
    He hadn’t told Maggie. No need to disturb her with such news when she was about to give birth. Not much point in telling her about it afterward, either. That was what every good trader did, he told himself. Cut your losses. Keep quiet, and move swiftly forward.
    It was three days ago that the offer had suddenly been made. A telephone call from a banker he knew slightly. A discreet meeting, followed by further meetings with partners of the investment house in question. Then a tentative offer. Something for him to think about.
    He’d been asked if he’d like to cross over into investment banking. It was a compliment, of course. The partners at the investment bank thought he had both the skills and the client relationships to be very useful to them, and having discussed the matter in some detail, he could see the force of their argument. The fit looked good, and he quite liked the people he’d be working with.
    And as always in an investment bank, there would be excitement, the opportunity for creative initiatives of his own, the chance to make a lot of money. And considerably longer hours.
    It could be that this was a big chance for him. Just the sort of thing, he supposed, that the Masters in the past would have gone for. The downside was that he’d lose a bunch of stock options, and probably see less of his little family than he’d been planning.
    Was it the right thing to do? Did he have the confidence? Was he ready, after taking a beating in the market, to give up his security?
    He didn’t know. He wanted to discuss it with Maggie. But it wasn’t exactly the subject to raise with your wife when she was in the middle of giving birth.

    They were moving. The truck driver had finished delivering, the Russian had sworn at him, the truck driver had sworn back and, with the Russian mumbling furiously to himself, they had raced up Madison. The lights were synchronized on Madison, thank God, instead of stopping you every eight or ten blocks, the way they did on Park. In minutes, they were at Mount Sinai, and he was racing in through the entrance to look for Maggie.
    She had already been taken up to the fifth floor. When he got there, the first person he saw was Dr. Caruso.
    “All is well,” Caruso told him reassuringly. “I had her taken straight up—she’s actually dilating pretty fast.”
    “She shouldn’t have gone into the office, should she?”
    The doctor shrugged. “You know your wife. Though unless there’s a problem, active women often have babies with greater ease.” He grinned. “I might have preferred a less hurried schedule than this.”
    “At least you didn’t have to deliver the baby in the Branch & Cabell conference room. Be grateful for that.”
    “True. So, Maggie says you’re coming into the delivery room.”
    “I have to.”
    “It’s not obligatory.”
    “No, actually, I have to.” Gorham smiled. “I’ll explain later.”
    “We’ll need to get you suited up then,” said Caruso. “The nurse will give you the scrubs, and if you’re wearing a watch, take it off. In the meantime, her room’s just over there, second door.”
    As he looked at Maggie, a great wave of affection passed over him.
    “Hi. I brought the bag. Are you okay?”
    “I’m fine,” Maggie said brightly. “No