Lisa sat down and let her feet dangle off the edge of the dock. “You were right. This place is fantastic.”
“Eric’s older brother found it, and he showed it to us,” Ben said, sitting next to Lisa. “This is where I was when I wrote my college essay to get into Columbia, and it’s where I wrote my essay to get into Yale.”
“We should’ve brought the Grinnell decision with us.”
Ben glanced at his watch. “We’ll be able to see the sunset in about twenty minutes.”
“This city gets dark too early. It’s only four-thirty.”
“Wait until the dead of winter,” Ben said. “It’s pitch-black by four-fifteen. By having the country’s earliest sunset, we also get the highest winter suicide rate.”
“Now that’s something to be proud of.” Silent for the next few minutes, they waited for the sun to descend on Boston’s gray horizon. When she saw Ben staring at her, Lisa raised an eyebrow. “You’re thinking about kissing me, aren’t you?”
“You wish,” Ben said, drawing back.
“Oh, please,” Lisa said. “You have that fawning look in your eyes.”
“Lisa, I realize I’ve brought you to a magical place, but not all fantasies come true here.”
“Don’t pull that crap with me,” Lisa said, pointing at Ben. “You have the same look you had the night we worked on the death penalty case.”
“That severely-tired-so-my-exhaustion-is-mistaken-for-passion look? I think you’re right-that’s exactly the same look I had then.”
“Forget it,” Lisa said, shaking her head. “You’re right. Let’s just enjoy the sunset.”
Leaning back on his elbows, Ben stared at the golden-orange hue that colored the top of the State House. After a few minutes, he asked, “Do you really think we’ll be able to catch him?”
“I’m not sure,” Lisa said, shrugging her shoulders. “I mean, I hope we can. He just always seems so prepared for us. Why?”
“Forget I asked.” Ben sat up straight and brushed the dirt and pebbles from his hands. “Just drop it.”
“C’mon, Ben. Is that your answer every time you get upset? Just tell me what you’re thinking. I know you’re scared shitless by this whole thing.”
Ben was silent.
“And you ought to be.”
“What do you want me to say?” Ben finally asked. “Of course I’m scared. My whole professional career is on the line. And at the one point when I’m finally calming down about it, the lowlife calls my house for no purpose except to unnerve me! Let’s see, what else do you want to hear? That I have nightmares about it? That I can’t get it out of my head? That I think I’m way out of my league? Washington is one thing, but it’s different at home.”
“How is it so different?” Lisa asked.
“My parents are here,” Ben said. “That’s it. Period. I don’t want them involved in this.”
“That’s probably why Rick called,” Lisa pointed out. “He knew it’d make you crazy.”
“No? Really?” Ben said sarcastically. “And here I thought he was trying to establish a real friendship between us. After that nice ride in his limo, we have a ton of memories to look back and laugh about.”
Lisa didn’t respond.
“I’m sorry,” Ben said, taking a deep breath. “Can we please start over?”
“Absolutely,” Lisa said with a small smile. “So tell me; what’d Rick say?”
“He said he just wanted to wish me a happy Thanksgiving. I’m sure it’s his way of saying, ‘Don’t forget what we talked about in the limo.’”
“We really should find him and beat the snot out of him,” Lisa said, dangling her feet off the dock.
“You are so right,” Ben said, leaning back on his hands.
“Y’know, if you ever want to talk about it, I’m an open ear.”
“I appreciate it,” Ben smiled. “Now, can we just enjoy the sunset?”
“Is everyone ready to eat?” Ben’s mother asked at precisely seven the following evening.
“What about Dad?” Ben asked, putting out a pitcher of cold water and two bottles of soda.
“He called a little while ago. Someone slashed his back tires, so he’s stuck at work.”
“Slashed his tires? Is he okay?” Lisa asked.
“Do you want me to pick him up?” Ben asked.
“He’s fine,” Ben’s mother said. “He said the tow truck would be there soon enough.”
As Ben and Lisa took their places around the table, Ben’s mother brought out a huge bowl of Caesar salad. “Pass me your bowls.”
Suddenly, the door opened and Ben’s father stepped inside. “Hi, everyone,” he announced. He kissed everyone before sitting at the head of the table. “Good timing by me.”
“That was quick,” Ben’s mother said.
“You won’t believe what happened,” Ben’s father said, pulling off his tie. “Right after I called the towing company, I went outside to change the first tire. I figured that would save me time when they eventually came. Anyway, as I’m in the middle of putting on my spare, this guy drives up and notices that my other tire is flat. He offers me the spare in his car and even helps me put it on. And then when I offered to pay him, he said he couldn’t take money for it-that it was Thanksgiving and all.”
“What’d this guy look like?” Ben asked, hoping to sound casual.
“Blond hair, kind of preppy. Nothing special.”
Lisa and Ben exchanged a look.
“Did he say anything else?” Ben tried to remain calm.
“Nope,” Ben’s father said, shoveling a mound of Caesar salad onto his plate. “He said he recognized me from my columns. And get this: He knew that you worked at the Supreme Court. He remembered that story Cary wrote about you-when you first got your clerkship.”
As his palms grew slick with perspiration, Ben dropped his fork, which crashed against his plate.
“Are you okay?” Ben’s mother asked.
Ben wiped his hands on his pants, picked up his fork, and quickly pulled himself together. “I’m fine. I just haven’t eaten all day.”
Surprised by the casualness of Ben’s father’s reaction, Lisa asked, “Are your tires slashed often?”
“Every once in a while. Whenever I write a column about corruption in the city government, my tires are slashed, my windows are shattered. That’s the life of a columnist. Too many enemies.”
“So this is probably no big deal,” Lisa said, hoping Ben was listening.
“Not for me,” Ben’s father said proudly.
In no mood to hear Michael’s speech about the life of a columnist, Ben’s mother asked, “Anything else happen at work?”
“Not really,” Ben’s father said. “It was a pretty slow news day. Someone was shot downtown. There’s a new police corruption exposé that’s running tomorrow. And my son got engaged. Other than that, it was quiet.”
“What?” Ben asked, snapping back into reality.
“Didn’t you see today’s paper?” Ben’s father reached into his briefcase and pulled out a section of the newspaper. “It’s on page twenty-seven,” he said, handing it to Ben.
Opening the paper, Ben turned to the metro section. At the top of the first column was a large picture of Lisa. Underneath the picture, it said: “Margaret and Shep Schulman of Los Angeles announced the engagement of their daughter, Lisa Marie, to Benjamin Addison, son of Sheila and Michael Addison of Newton. A March wedding is planned.” Ben yelled, “What the hell is this?”