V Is for Vengeance

debt. What we didn’t have was life insurance, so when he dropped dead, I was left without a dime. I was thirty-four years old and I’d never held a job. I was in a panic, desperate for someone to take care of me. I met Channing six months later and by the time Tripp had been gone a year, I was married to him. My son was eleven. Channing’s twin girls were thirteen.”
    Dante squinted at her. “What did you say?”
    “About what?”
    “Did you say ‘Tripp’?”
    “Yes.”
    “You were married to Tripp Lanahan?”
    “I’ve mentioned him before.”
    “You never said his name. I had no idea.”
    “Well, now you know,” she said. She glanced at him. The color had drained from his face and he was staring at her. “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing.”
    “You’re white as a sheet.”
    He shook his head briefly, as though to ward off a ringing in his ears. “We did business once. He approved the loan when I was buying my house. No other banker in town would touch me because of what I did for a living.”
    She smiled. “He was a good judge of human nature and he wasn’t afraid to bend the rules.”
    Dante hung his head. He’d said the same thing about Tripp in referring to him. He ran a hand down his face, pulling his features out of alignment.
    She put her arm around him and gave him a squeeze. “I have to go. I told Channing I had a meeting with my broker in Santa Monica. It sounded like a lie when I said it, but it turns out to be the case. Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
    “I’m fine.” He put his hand over hers without quite meeting her eyes.
    She tilted her head and leaned against him. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
    “I’ll call and let you know. You drive safely.”
    “I will.”

    The meeting with her broker was brief. He was in his early seventies, lean and humorless. He’d managed her portfolio for twenty years, so long he thought of it as his own. When she told him she was cashing in her stocks, he seemed confused. “Which ones?”
    “All of them.”
    “May I ask why?”
    “I don’t like what the market’s doing. I want out.”
    He was silent for a moment, and she could see him struggle to frame his response. “I can appreciate your concern, but this isn’t the time to bail out. I’d have to advise against anything so precipitant. It’s not smart.”
    “Fine. You’ve advised me. You can transfer the money to my Wells Fargo account in Santa Teresa. Minus your commission, of course.”
    “Perhaps you’re having problems,” he said, too proper to ask outright.
    “Perhaps, but not of the sort you imagine.”
    “Because you know you can talk to me if there’s anything amiss. I’m in your camp.”
    “I appreciate your loyalty.”
    “Is this coming from Channing?”
    “Please, Mark. Just do what I’ve asked. Put in the sell orders and let me know when everything’s cleared.”
    In the car, driving north along Pacific Coast Highway from Santa Monica, she lowered the window and let her hair blow around her face. She hadn’t realized her intention until she spoke of it aloud. She liked the idea of having all that cash on hand . . . should the need arise. She wasn’t thinking about what might happen in the coming weeks. She wasn’t thinking of packing or of meeting Dante at the airport or of getting on a plane. All those actions lay beyond the realm of propriety, personal dignity, and common sense. But what if, at the last minute, she should change her mind? What if what seemed so impossible right now became imperative to her sense of herself? She needed to be prepared should the need arise. That’s how she thought of it. Should the need arise . That notion was the motivation for her stopping by the bank to empty her safe-deposit box before she’d left for Santa Monica that morning. It was the reason she’d kept her passport with her this past week, relieved the expiration date was still six years hence. Should the need arise had her counting the cash she had on hand, tucking her good jewelry in her handbag. If she didn’t go anywhere—which she probably wouldn’t—then what had she really lost? The cash would go back in the bank and she’d use the money she’d netted from the sale of her stocks to buy into the market again.
    Turning right off PCH, she began the long, twisted ascent to the house. Set against a wide, pale blue sky, she could see four enormous birds circling, wings outstretched, silver flight feathers visible as they rode the