He smiled and said, “Ah, you are ever the lawyer, Mr. Sutter, and a man who knows his numbers.”

“Is that agreeable – or should I get my own security service here, which may be inconvenient and confusing?”

He understood my concerns, as well as my power play, and he nodded and agreed, “All right.” He suggested, “Perhaps you can give me some legal advice about the contract.”

“You can be sure that our contract with the security company will be up to my standards.”

It was his turn to make a power play, and he said to me, “Those hedges which encircle your ten acres are a possible problem in regard to my security, and yours as well. So perhaps you will consider removing those.”

“I would, but Mrs. Sutter likes to sunbathe in the nude, and I assume you wouldn’t want to see that.”

Mr. Nasim may have thought I was being provocative, or that I was baiting him, and he replied tersely, “I should think that security would take precedence, so perhaps you can ask Mrs. Sutter if she would perhaps consider removing the hedges and constructing a small enclosure for her… nature hours.”

Good one, Amir. And actually quite reasonable. I replied, “I’ll discuss that with her.”

“Thank you.” He thought a moment, then said to me, “If you and Mrs. Sutter find this situation not to your liking, perhaps you will reconsider my offer to purchase your property.”

Actually, I might. But it wasn’t my property. I realized, too, that Susan’s house and property – surrounded by foreign-held territory, whose paranoid or justifiably frightened owner was hiring armed guards with dogs – was no longer prime real estate. Even the local realtors, who could sell a toxic waste dump to a couple with children, would find this one a challenge. And this beautiful English cottage is situated in the middle of a grand estate owned by a wonderful Iranian couple who are under a death threat, so you may see some dogs and armed men around the well-manicured grounds, but the dogs are friendly, and the men will not shoot during the daylight hours. Offered at three million.

“Mr. Sutter?”

“Well… that is Mrs. Sutter’s decision, and I believe you already have her decision. But, I will…” I thought if I could get William and Charlotte shot, or eaten by the dogs, then Susan might be able to buy back the whole estate with her inheritance. But the maintenance costs… I crunched some numbers as Mr. Nasim waited patiently for me to finish my thought. I said to him, “I will raise the question again, but only because you asked.”

“That is all I want you to do. And you might mention to Mrs. Sutter that I am happy to be able to provide some measure of safety for her during this time of… uncertainty in her life, but that unfortunately this security comes with some inconvenience.” He gave me another example of the inconvenience by saying, “I’m afraid, for instance, that I need to limit your use of my grounds – on the advice of my security advisor.”

More bullshit, but he was making a good case for us selling to him at a reduced price.

He continued, “As an example of my concerns, I saw Mrs. Sutter running yesterday, and I am not sure that would be a good thing with the dogs and the patrols.”

I asked, “Are you sure that was she? What was she wearing?”

“Well… she was dressed modestly, but that is not the issue.”

“Right. I get it.” I knew she wasn’t running naked.

He concluded his pitch, “And while it is my sincere hope that Mrs. Sutter’s situation is resolved quickly and happily, my situation is, unhappily, of long duration. So I don’t believe that these acres will return to peace and tranquility at any time in the near future.”

“Loud and clear, Mr. Nasim.”

“Yes? Good. Well, then, please pass on my condolences to Mrs. Allard’s family, and perhaps I will have the pleasure of meeting your family in the next few days.”

I thought about asking him if he had an extra bedroom for William and Charlotte – actually, he had about twenty – but I wasn’t sure if the Stanhopes and the Nasims would get along. I mean, they might – William could give Amir the history of the house, and explain the significance of the blackamoors, and Charlotte could show Soheila how to shake a mean martini.

Anyway, I said to Mr. Nasim, “Perhaps we can all get together for tea.”

“Let me know.”

“I will. And in the meantime, please keep me fully apprised of your security arrangements, and have the contract drawn up in both our names.”

We parted without a handshake, and I got back in the car and continued on to the guest cottage.

I didn’t see my luggage on the lawn, and that was a good sign, but I didn’t know what awaited me inside.

I mean, there were two ways to look at what I had done ten years ago to break up Frank and Susan’s happy affair: one, I did it to get Susan back because I loved her; and two, I did it out of spite and anger because I hated both of them. Maybe it was the usual combination of both those things, and I’m sure Susan understood that, but she loved me, so she was inclined to think I did it more for love than for hate. And she was right.

And bottom line on her shooting Frank – I’m sure all three of us wished it hadn’t happened, especially Frank, and especially now that, as Mr. Mancuso was kind enough to point out, twice, the chickens were coming home to roost.

I carried my purchases into my home office, and Susan was there, multitasking on the phone and the computer, while scribbling notes on a pad.

She gave me a distracted smile, then continued her phone call and her e-mail.

I unwrapped my carbine and put it on the coffee table, then I began feeding rounds into the magazine.

Susan ended her phone call and asked, “What is that rifle for?”

“For the car.”

She didn’t reply.

I laid the loaded magazine on the coffee table and got right to the point, asking, “Where am I sleeping?”

“In the master bedroom.”

“Good.”

“I’m sleeping in the guest room.”

I saw that she was joking, so I said, “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted some time to think about… what I said, and what I did.”

“I thought about it.”

“And?”

“And… I understand why you did it, and I truly don’t believe that you meant for… what happened to have happened.” She restated the obvious and said, “I had the affair, and I killed him. Not you.”

“All right.”

She continued, “I know that all you were trying to do was to get me to come back.”

“Right.” I reminded her, “All’s fair in love and war.”

She recalled where she’d heard that, and said, “That’s… true.” She continued, “It’s impossible for us, now, to really understand what we were thinking and feeling ten years ago, so neither of us should judge the other for what happened then.”

“I agree.”

She concluded, “You realized, before I did, the problem with Anthony Bellarosa, and you could have cut and run, but instead you tried to help me, even before we were together, and now you’ve made my problem your problem, and put your own life in danger.”

I couldn’t have put it better, and if I’d just met John Sutter and heard that, I’d say he was a hell of a guy. Or an idiot. I said to her, “I love you.”

She stood and we embraced, and I could feel her tears on my neck.

She said, “I love you. And I need you.”

“We’re good together.”

“We are.”

She composed herself, looked me in the eye, and she said, “This is the end of it. I never again want to talk about what happened then. Ever.”

“I agree. There’s nothing more to say.”

“That’s right.” She took a deep breath and said, “So, I see you found the sporting goods store.”

“I did, and the proprietor remembered me, and he also remembered that we have an anniversary coming up at the end of the month, so he suggested I buy you this small rifle, which is called a carbine, so we could go down to the dump and shoot rats together.”