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stereo, surrounding the cabin in redundant mellow noise. The car seemed ready to burst into a commercial for itself.
    “ Did you sign the papers?” Haskell guided the steering wheel with manicured hands. His sunglasses were deep brown, reflecting the sun and the silver shards of hair within his sideburns.
    “ Which papers?” Jerry sipped a club soda in a crystal glass. A custom mini-bar lay open between the seats.
    “ If you assign me with power of attorney, I can administer your accounts with better ease.”
    “ So you say.”
    “ One phone call, and I’ll do what you ask.”
    “ Can’t you do that now?”
    “ You may miss important opportunities.”
    “ How’s that?”
    “ You might be on vacation, and I can’t reach you.”
    Jerry pulled the cell phone from his pocket. “I thought that’s what this was for.”
    “ We’ll discuss it again later.” Haskell hit the turn signal.
    They veered off the main road and into the hills outside Princeton. The pavement disappeared into a narrow path with overgrown tire ruts. A minute earlier, they drove past palatial estates, and the next, they forged deep into a wooded hillside that Jerry never knew existed.
    He listened to the sticks and branches snap along the sides of the Mercedes. “You’re going to ruin the clear coat finish on this baby.”
    “ The lease is up next month. I’m thinking about a Jag.”
    “ Jag?”
    “ The sports coup with the convertible roof.”
    “ Chelsea wants one of those.”
    “ I know.”
    Jerry fidgeted in the seat. He slumped inside smaller cars. He needed more legroom. “Where are we?”
    “ You’ll see.” Haskell fixed his permanent smile straight up the path.
    They stopped in a clearing dotted with tree stumps. Meadow grass sprouted around the decaying cuts, and early moths flew about the cattails, glittering in the sun.
    “ Follow me.” Haskell left the car. He wore cowboy boots with his double-breasted suit. A scarf poked from his pocket.
    Jerry unfolded himself from the car, glad he’d worn his work boots. Chelsea hassled him to update his wardrobe, ordering a fortune in shoes, pants, and shirts from catalogs, but after a cursory look, he let the boxes pile in the corner of their bedroom. He preferred his well-worn boots to the odd Italian loafers with girlie tassels. He favored jeans and flannel shirts over the baggy pants and linen shirts. Forget about the colors. What passed for fashionable and suave would have gotten you beat to a pulp in grammar school, not to mention your stones busted on the assembly line at the car plant.
    Haskell led them up a footpath crowded with pine and fir trees with large sticky needles. The attorney stumbled on the big rocks. He wasn’t a hiker.
    “ You want me to carry you?” Jerry joked.
    “ Wait ‘till you see it.”
    “ See what?”
    “ The view.”
    “ What view?”
    “ You’re a lucky man. People envy a man with options.”
    Options was one of Haskell’s favorite words; mobility too. He spoke like a luxury car brochure. God knows, Jerry’d read enough of them in the last month. He wrestled between the choice of a Land Rover and the super Ford pickup with every amenity. So he asked Ted at the garage to overhaul the old Ford’s engine instead. Chelsea still complained about it. “God, we’re never getting rid of that bomb, are we?”
    When they reached the ridge, Haskell pointed to a flat rock that jutted over the ravine. “Go ahead, there’s only room for one.”
    Jerry stepped onto the precipice without worry. In deer hunting season, he balanced himself on a tree limb for half the morning. He sensed the breeze in his hair and the smell of the budding pines. He loved the woods any time of the year.
    “ Do you see it?” Haskell asked. “Look through the trees.”
    Jerry squinted, making out the tops of the buildings below. He recognized an ornate pair of iron gates. The crest held a shield in black and orange. “That’s Princeton University.”
    “ Bingo,