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           "Iknewsomethinglikethiswouldhappen,"IrwinGoldmansaid.Thatwashowthetroublestarted."Iknewitwhenshemarriedyou."You’llhaveallthegriefyoucanstandandmore,"Isaid.Andlookatthis.Lookatthis...thismess."

           Louislookedslowlyaroundathisfather-in-law,whohadappearedbeforehimlikesomemalignjack-in-the-boxinaskullcap;andthen,instinctively,helookedaroundatwhereRachelhadbeen,bythebookonthestandtheafternoonshiftwashersbydefaultbutRachelwasgone.

           Theafternoonviewinghadbeenlesscrowded,andafterhalfanhourorso,Louishadgonedowntothefrontrowofseatsandsatthereontheaisle,awareofverylittle(onlyperipherallyawareofthecloyingstinkoftheflowers)exceptthefactthathewasverytiredandsleepy.Itwasonlypartlythebeer,hesupposed.Hismindwasfinallyreadytoshutdown.Probablyagoodthing.Perhaps,aftertwelveorsixteenhoursofsleep,hewouldbeabletocomfortRachelalittle.

           Afterawhilehisheadhadsunkuntilhewaslookingathishands,looselylinkedbetweenhisknees.Thehumofvoicesnearthebackwassoothing.HehadbeenrelievedtoseethatIrwinandDoryweren’therewhenthefourofthemreturnedfromlunch,butheshouldhaveknowntheircontinuedabsencewastoogoodtobetrue.

           "Where’sRachel?"Louisaskednow.

           "Withhermother.Wheresheshouldbe."Goldmanspokewiththestudiedtriumphofamanwhohasclosedabigdeal.

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