The Sourdough Wars

who does well to get in a little tennis now and then. The sight of Chris can make me envious and guilty and admiring all at once. At the moment, since she looked as if she might pull through, it made me happy.
    “I’ll get us some wine. You put on a record.”
    She picked some noncommittal jazz, neither happy nor sad. When we were facing each other, her eyes overflowed. “I’m going to miss him.”
    “I know you are. I wish—”
    I was going to say I wished I knew something comforting to say, but the phone rang.
    “Rebecca, it’s your mother. I’ve just heard the news. On TV, I had to hear it.”
    “We’re okay, Mom. Chris is here and everything’s fine. I’m sorry I forgot to call you.”
    “It’s nothing, darling. Your father had to go and lie down, that’s all.”
    “Oh, come on, Mom. It takes more than that to upset Dad.”
    “Rebecca, answer me something, will you? Why must you always get involved with people who kill each other?”
    “Mom, please. Peter was Chris’s boyfriend. Your very own younger daughter’s paramour, Alan Kruzick, introduced them. Blame it on Kruzick for a change.”
    “It’s not Alan’s fault, darling. You’re the one who found the body.”
    “Believe me, Mom, I wouldn’t have if I could have helped it.”
    “Just tell me, Rebecca. Why must you go on doing this sort of thing? You’re nearly thirty years old.”
    “Mom, I’ll tell you what. I'm going to stop it right now. I’m never finding another dead body, and that’s final. I’m changing my ways and I owe it all to you.”
    “That’s right, make fun of your mother.”
    “Mom, I didn’t mean it that way. Honest. Can I talk to Dad a minute?”
    “No, dear. He’s gone out for ice cream. He overeats when he’s worried.”
    “Oh, poor Daddy. Tell him I’m sorry, okay? I have company so I’d better go now.”
    “Give Chris our love. Poor baby, losing a boyfriend like that.”
    “Bye, Mom.”
    I let out a yell of frustration, but Mom’s good for Chris. She was laughing her head off.
    “My mom said to give you her love. Apparently, I’ve been a bad girl for finding Peter’s body, but you’re a poor baby.”
    “Your mom’s a riot.”
    Mom didn’t amuse me at the moment. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” I snapped, and started melting butter to dip the crab into. Chris got out the crab and arranged it on plates.
    “I wish I could have another chance,” Chris said.
    “With Peter?”
    She nodded.
    “It’s only natural to feel that way.”
    We sat down, and Chris picked at her crab while I made quick work of mine.
    “I know he liked me a lot,” she said, “but…”
    She couldn’t finish her sentence. I didn’t know if it would help or not, but I blurted out what I felt: “Listen, Chris. Here’s what I think about Peter. A man his age who’d never been married probably wasn’t about to change his ways.”
    “What makes you think I want to get married?”
    “Sometimes you say you do. Then again, sometimes you say you don’t. So sometimes I think one thing and sometimes the other.”
    “I wasn’t thinking about marrying Peter. Yet, I mean. I just wish we’d had a little more time to—I don’t know—understand each other.”
    “Something’s bothering you, isn’t it?”
    She started crying again. “He’s dead!”
    “I’m sorry. I meant something was already bothering you—when he was alive.”
    She looked very unhappy. “He was a little… distant.”
    “You mean cold? Sexually cold?”
    She nodded, sobbing. “It wasn’t only that—he was so hard to get to know; if we’d had more time, I might have—”
    “Oh, Chris, it wasn’t your fault. All the time in the world probably wouldn’t have made a difference.”
    “You don’t think so?”
    “No. Some guys are just like that.”
    “You really think it wasn’t me?”
    “Of course not.”
    “You’re so lucky to have Rob!”
    I
was
lucky to have Rob and I knew it. He had a million good qualities I could have enumerated, but Chris was feeling sorry for herself, so I belittled my own good fortune, zeroing in on the one thing about Rob that bothered me. “He’s not perfect, you know. Being a newspaper reporter is an odd job. Every now and then he gets his priorities mixed up and his stories get to be more important than real life.”
    “Really? But we’re all very involved with our work.”
    “This is different. Reporters aren’t like you and me. On the other hand, he’s always around when I need