"I'm going to guess it looks about like a seven- or eight-million-dollar house down here on Kiawah Island but with a deep-water dock."

She walked until she felt her anxiety fading away, and then she turned to return to their house. She'd had problems in business before, but never like this. For the very first time, she couldn't see the future because she'd always gone from one job to the next and often handled many jobs simultaneously. Maybe it had been a mistake to take control of their finances when they got married, because now she had huge problems and huge secrets. She had played it cool long enough. It was time to level with Nick. She gave the ocean one last look, and sure enough, a dolphin breached the water. When it came back up for up for air, it chirped at her.

"Send me some clients!" she called out and thought, Well, now I'm officially losing my mind.

When she reached home, Nick was in the front yard with two men and a delivery truck directing them to where to put the grill. It was the biggest grill she had ever seen, except for the ones she designed into the homes of the mega-rich. It was all stainless steel, with side extensions, a backsplash, and storage underneath. There was no way Nick could have handled this behemoth himself. It took two burly men and a dolly on wheels to move it.

"Let's just bring it around to the other side of the house," Nick said.

"Hi, honey," Olivia said. "Wow! That is some grill!"

"Yeah, I got a great deal on it."

"Really? How much did it cost?" Olivia asked.

"Yes, just set her down over there. Yes, in the shade, right on the brick patio under the magnolia." Nick said. "It's going to need to be leveled."

"We've got some shims on the truck," one of the men said. "I'll grab them.

Olivia could see that Nick was very excited, like a boy finally getting that elusive pony. She lifted the hood and peered inside, and having no idea what she was really looking at, she closed it with a thud.

"This good, Mr. Seymour?" the man said, standing back and appraising its steadiness.

"That's perfect! Thank you!" Nick shook hands with both men and gave them twenty dollars each. The men walked away and Nick turned to Olivia. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"I imagine it is, as grills go, I mean. So, how much?"

"Well, it was a floor model, so I got it at a tremendous discount."

"And? Come on, tell me."

"Four thousand, but that includes a two-year warranty on all parts and labor."

"Four thousand dollars for a grill? Are you kidding me? That's insane!"

Nick was stunned and sharply offended by her reaction. Was she questioning his judgment? Since when?

He said, "It was eight thousand! Olivia, grills can cost up to fifty thousand dollars for some of them."

"I'm aware of that. I purchase them from time to time."

"This is a nice one, but it's not exactly the Madonna of all grills!"

"Okay. Nick? I think it's time we had a talk." She was feeling short of breath.

"About what?"

"Money. Let's go inside."

Olivia knew that he had charged it on a credit card, and that when the bill came in, she would not be writing a check for the amount of the bill in full. For the first time in her adult life she would be making a minimum monthly payment and being charged interest. It gave her the shakes to think about it.

They reached the kitchen and he took a bottle of wine from the refrigerator. Nick knew he was about to hear something unpleasant and thought it wise to fortify himself.

"It's after five. May I pour you a gla.s.s?" he asked and poured one for himself.

"No, not quite yet. I think I want to be as clearheaded as possible for this conversation."

"Olivia? What has happened?" He leaned back against the gleaming center island and looked at her. "Tell me."

The story began to pour out of her, one miserable client at a time, and then she broke down and wept with shame and embarra.s.sment because she had not confided in him all along. And because her business, the most important thing that defined her as an individual, was failing.

"Look," he said, "this isn't great news, but it's not like inoperable stage four cancer. What I don't like here is that you didn't tell me sooner. I would've bought a simple Weber grill. Here." He offered her his linen handkerchief.

She took it, blotting her eyes and sniffing loudly. "I couldn't tell you. I just couldn't."

"You can blow your nose in it."

"No, I can't! Then I'd have to wash and iron it! We don't even have a housekeeper!"

She reached for a paper towel and blew her nose into that.

"Olivia? Why didn't you tell me the truth?"

"Because the Nantucket job was so huge, it would've made us whole again. And now it's lost. It's all lost."

"And there's nothing new coming up?"

"No. Nothing."

He ran his hand through his hair. "Okay. How long are we good for?"

"Sixty days, maybe ninety." Olivia was staring at the floor.

"Well, we've got the Sotheby's sale in August. That should generate something. What about the contents of your warehouse in Secaucus?"

"There are a few things there that might be salable."

"What can we do to cut expenses?"

"Nick? For the kind of business I have? My expenses aren't that high. What I need is a job."

"My intuition tells me that you'd be better off with lots of small or medium-sized clients you could rely on than one big one. But let's think this through. And there's something else we need to address, Olivia."

For the first time in their marriage she saw that Nick was very unhappy with her.

"What?"

"You know what you've done here, don't you? You've jeopardized our stability by not telling me what was going on. And I have an absolute right to know how sound our finances are, just as well as you do."

He was now beginning to smolder, but he carefully modulated his voice to remain civil.

"What are you saying, Nick?"

"I'm saying that if I'd had the facts, I never would've allowed you to buy a house like this."

"Allowed me?"

"Yes! And I'm saying that because you hid the truth from me, you've compromised my trust in you. This is not a good thing, Olivia."

"I'm sorry, Nick. I never had this kind of catastrophe happen in over twenty years. Not even close."

"It's not just happening to you, Olivia. It's happening to us."

"I think I'd like that gla.s.s of wine now. Please."

He opened the cabinet, took out a goblet, and poured her half a gla.s.s.

"We'll get through this, Olivia, but from now on? No more secrets. Agreed?"

"Yes. Agreed."

"Tomorrow I want you to lay everything out for me so I can better understand our position."

"I will. First thing."

"I want you to know this. I'm not blaming you for the downturn. You've made it clear how it happened. I'm just wondering how quickly we can recover. We need a plan."

They had dinner that night and the fish was truly marvelous, but a pall had been cast and it seemed to be almost impenetrable.

"Nick, look," she said as they sat down to eat, "I've been uprooted, relieved of my accoutrements, and dropped into unfamiliar territory like a droid delivery from Amazon."

"Well, not to stand on ceremony, but this was always our agreement."

"I know. I don't know where new business is going to come from, but I know it's going to take some time to get back on steady ground. And I also know it would be a lot easier for me to regroup if I was in New York."

"What are you saying? That you want to leave me?"

"Nick! Not for all the money in this world!"

"Well, it sure sounds like you resent the Sotheby's sale."

"That should be another discussion."

"Okay."

"But I'm thinking that if I can get Roni to rustle up a few new clients, and I'll make calls as well, I can fly to New York, make the presentations, order goods, arrange a work schedule, and fly back here to you. Roni can oversee deliveries and installations like she always has."

"How long would you be gone?"

"I'd prefer to look at it as commuting, and I guess I'd be doing it until we're out of the hole."

"Have you thought to ask Jason about sending clients your way?"

"No, but that's not a bad idea either."

After fourteen years of bliss, the honeymoon was officially over. Olivia's secrecy wasn't fatal, but it created an ugly undercurrent of mistrust. Nick was left to wonder: if she had hidden something so critical to their security, what else might she be hiding?

And Olivia went to bed that night, resentful and thinking it was unfair for him to retire and place the burden of being their princ.i.p.al source of income on her. How long did he expect her to work? Would she ever be able to afford to retire? Did he get himself a nurse and a purse when he married her? Had it been a mistake to marry a man so much older? Was he just going to fill the freezer with fish while she schlepped the hard concrete sidewalks of New York? What the h.e.l.l had she done? For once, she fell into a dreamless sleep.

First thing in the morning, she showed him all of their accounts and her business bank statements.

"It's a good thing we have my retirement money, Medicare, and a Social Security check, meager as it is."

"Yes, it is. A good thing, I mean."

Nick left to go downtown to the historical society to read. He wasn't chilly to her, but his demeanor was decidedly different. He sighed a lot over breakfast, and when he left, he said, "I'll check in with you before I cross the causeway."

"Thanks, sweetheart."

She called Roni.

"Listen, we've got to find some business fast or we're cooked," Olivia said.

"I'm aware. Hey, remember I joined the Young Fellows at the Frick? Well, I got invited to a dinner party by this woman I met at a gallery talk. She just bought a co-op in the East Sixties. She wants my opinion. Apparently you decorated her mother's house in Southampton years ago."

Thank you! It's a start, she thought.

"Maybe her mother needs new curtains by now. Who is she?"

"The daughter's married and took her husband's name, so I'll have to ask."

"When's the dinner?"

"This Thursday."

"What kind of taste does she have?"

"French mid-century."

"Oh, for the love of St. Pete! When is this mid-century horror show ever going to be over? Take her down to all those shops around Howard Kaplan."

Howard Kaplan Design was actually a specialist in country French furniture, some mid-century, and other household accessories, but the neighborhood around it was jammed with shops containing mid-twentieth-century everything from cookie jars to chandeliers.

"I'll do it. So what else can we do?"

"I think we start combing the records going back, say, seven years or more and see who might be ready to freshen up their homes. Then we have to come up with a suitable excuse to contact them, one that doesn't scream desperation."

"When do you leave for Spain?"