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lips and gave me a kiss, then stepped away. “I’ll see you later. Thanks for supper. It was super. A super supper.” She gave a wan smile and went out.
    I felt empty as a new tomb. What had happened? A wonderful day had turned into mud in the blink of an eye. I walked around like a robot, picking up dishes, washing them, and stacking them in the rack beside the sink. I straightened up the living room, tried to read, then tried to sleep, then listened to the radio beside my bed far into the night. I put out my hand to touch Zee, but of course she was not there. I was awake a long time.

— 5 —
    â€œit’s just nerves,” said Manny Fonseca, pouring coffee from his thermos into a cup. “When I got married, I almost wet my pants, I was so nervous. It’s normal to be jumpy. Don’t worry about her.”
    To the east, the sky was brightening over the Edgartown Great Pond. Our blind was west of the pond, and there were ducks out there in the middle of it, talking to each other in that way ducks have of quacking when they know they’re beyond shotgun range. The brightening water and sky showed a flight of a dozen or so birds coming in from the south, but too far out to give us a shot.
    It wasn’t miserable enough to be a really good day for duck hunting, but there was a cold wind off the ocean, and some promising storm clouds upwind, so Manny and I were not without hope.
    Manny had been married a long time, and considered himself an expert on the subject of matrimony. Maybe he was.
    â€œI changed my mind a dozen times after Helen and me got engaged, and she did too,” said Manny, sipping his coffee while eyeing the sky in hopes of seeing a shootable duck. “I was having fun being single, you know, and I didn’t want to give it up. But I didn’t want to give Helen up either. You know what I mean?”
    â€œI think so.”
    â€œAnyway, I almost called it off, then she almost called it off, then we tied the knot.”
    â€œWet pants and all.”
    â€œYeah!” He laughed. “Fifteen years, now.” He paused and frowned. “Or is it sixteen? Geez . . .”
    Small flights of ducks flew in from the west and north, and landed out toward the middle of the pond. All out of range, of course. Most of duck hunting consists of sitting in a blind being cold and uncomfortable and not getting to shoot at ducks. They, like Canada geese, will let you come right up to them until the day hunting season starts, then they start hanging around out in the middle of ponds where you can barely see them. All of which once more raised the question: who were the real birdbrains out here, anyway?
    I poured some more coffee to ward off the chill of sunrise. A single duck came over us from the west. Too high. Manny raised his gun, but didn’t shoot.
    â€œAnytime now,” he said, lowering the gun.
    â€œAny news on the Norton land?”
    â€œNope. Saw Nash Cortez, though. A couple of days ago. He said he was thinking of suing Mimi Bettencourt for assault.”
    â€œWith a water pistol?”
    â€œHey, don’t ask me. I’m no lawyer. You know Nash. He likes to give Mimi and her crowd a hard time.” He gave me a thoughtful look. “Tell me, did you ever get the impression that Nash is just putting on a show?”
    In fact, I had. There was something contrived about Nash’s ranting and raving about Mimi and her animal rights friends.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” I asked.
    â€œWell, you know, it’s like he’s showing off, or something. Like a kid who’ll burn rubber driving his car out of a lot, or who’ll risk his neck swinging from a tree, or some fool thing like that. You know what I mean?”
    â€œMaybe.”
    â€œOn the other hand, maybe he really is going to sue Mimi.”
    â€œGood grief, what next?”
    â€œWell, archery season for deer is coming up in a couple of weeks. I think Nash is