Page 66 of Caper Crush
“You’re one to talk,” I say. “It’s easy for you to make them happy. You like being a lawyer.”
“Not always.” Annabelle twists a ruby ring that has replaced her engagement ring.
“I’m sorry about David. I’m really surprised.”
“Why? Fifty percent of marriages end in divorce.”
“I didn’t think yours would,” I say.
“Did you like David that much?” she asks. “I got the impression he was not your type.”
“I think he’s a good guy. I just can’t believe he cheated.”
Annabelle’s eyes widen and then shutter. She’s more upset about it than her words suggest.
“My friends saw him.” She stares straight ahead.
“They saw him with another woman?” I ask. “She’s probably just a friend.”
“They saw him kissing her.”
“Maybe she kissed him, like when Rex’s fan kissed him.”
“David’s not a rock star,” she says.
“He’s a hedge fund trader. That qualifies as a rock star in some New York circles. And he doesn’t wear a wedding ring,” I say. “What did he say when you confronted him?”
“He said that she kissed him, and he acted all affronted that I thought he would cheat,” Annabelle says.
“But you don’t believe him?” I ask.
“We’ve been growing apart for a while now. I’ve focused on making partner at my law firm, and he’s focused on being promoted to managing director. It’s over.” Her finality stops any further discussion. “By the way, can you walk Pepper next week? David and I are both traveling. I was going to ask Edmund, but that won’t go over well with David. And I am trying to keep things amicable.”
“Sure,” I say. “Does Edmund still have a key to your place?”
“No. David said no to that,” she says. “Also, if you see the guy selling art on Third Avenue under the scaffolding and he has his dog, you need to take Pepper for a walk toward Second Avenue. Pepper doesn’t get along with that guy’s dog.”
“Okay. Do you still have the key to Edmund’s place?” I ask.
“Yes.”
Max joins us, handing me a chocolate chip cookie wrapped in a napkin from the dessert table. We stand.
“Annabelle.” He offers her a cookie. “Here’s one for you, if you want.”
“No, thanks,” she says. “Do I have something on my face? You’re staring at me oddly.”
Subtlety is not Max’s forte.
“No, nothing,” Max says. A waiter asks us if we would like some shrimp. Max and I say no, since we’ve moved on to dessert. Annabelle takes one.
“Can I get you a drink?” Max asks.
“No, Edmund is getting me a seltzer,” she says. “Although I think he got detained politicking.” Edmund is chatting to a bunch of people around our parents’ age. He looks like he is enjoying himself. “Congratulations on your recent trial, Max.”
Edmund joins us, handing Annabelle a seltzer as she places the shrimp tail in the cup on the platter.
“What were you talking about?” she asks.
