Kitabı oku: «A Fool's Gold Novel», sayfa 4

Her mother liked to come and go as she pleased, always looking for new adventures—especially where men were concerned. Charity had learned early not to expect any one guy to stick around for long. They were always moving through, too.

She’d vowed her life would be different. That she would find someone special, get married and be with that person forever. So far, she hadn’t been very successful in that department but she was determined to keep trying.

Rather than dwell on her sucky love life, she asked, “Did you ever have any bike races in town?”

“No. There was some talk, but nothing was arranged.” He glanced out the window.

“What about a charity event? To raise money for kids?”

“I don’t ride anymore.”

“At all?”

He shook his head.

She thought he would continue to circle the large lake, but instead he made a few turns and before she realized where they were, he’d pulled up in front of City Hall. Their time together had ended abruptly, as if she’d done something wrong.

When he didn’t turn off the engine, she got the hint.

“Thanks for the tour,” she said, feeling awkward. “I appreciate you taking the time.”

“No problem.”

She hesitated, wanting to say something else, then got out of the SUV. He drove off without a word.

She stood on the sidewalk, staring after him. What had just happened? What had she said? She felt oddly guilty and wasn’t sure why.

“Because the hormones weren’t enough of a complication,” she murmured with a sigh.

THE NIGHT WAS COOL, the sky clear. There wasn’t any moonlight to illuminate the road, but that didn’t bother Josh. He knew every bump, every curve. There was no danger from other riders because he rode alone. He had to. It was the only way to work through his issues.

As he headed up the incline, he pedaled harder, faster, wanting to increase his heart rate, wanting to feel the blood pumping through his body, wanting to exhaust himself so maybe, just maybe, he would sleep.

The darkness surrounded him. At this speed the only sound was the wind in his ears and the tires on the pavement. His skin was cold, his shirt wet with sweat. Goggles protected his eyes, the helmet was snug on his head. He sped over the top of the hill and onto the straight five-mile stretch that led back to town.

This was the only part of his ride he didn’t like. There was nothing to distract him, nothing to keep his mind busy, so he had time to think. To remember.

Without wanting to, he was back in Italy, at the Milan–San Remo, or as the Italians referred to it, la Classica di Primavera. The Spring Classic.

A sprinter’s dream race, but deadly for the sprinter who wasn’t prepared for the hills. It was one of the longest single-day races. Two hundred and ninetyeight kilometers, or one hundred and eighty-five miles. That year Josh had been in the best shape of his life. He couldn’t lose.

Maybe that’s what had gone wrong, he thought grimly as he rode faster and faster. The gods had decided such arrogance had to be punished. Only he hadn’t been the one struck down.

A bike race was all about sensation. The sound of the crowd, of the peloton—the pack of racers—and of the bike. The feel of the road. The burn of muscles, the ache of a chest sucking in air. A racer was either ready or not. It came down to talent, skill, determination and luck.

He’d always been lucky. In life, in love—or at least in lust—and in racing. That day he’d been luckiest of all.

That’s what the photographs showed. As fate, or luck, would have it, someone had been taking a series of pictures of the race just as the crash had occurred. There, in single-frame clarity, was the sequence. The first bike to go down, the second.

Josh hadn’t been in the lead. He’d been holding back deliberately, letting the others exhaust themselves.

Frank had been young, early twenties, his first year racing professionally. Josh had done his best to mentor the kid, to help him out. Their coach had told Frank to do whatever Josh did and he wouldn’t get into trouble.

Their coach had been wrong.

The still photographs didn’t capture the sound of the moments, he thought as he rode faster. The first guy to go down had been on Josh’s right. Josh had felt more than heard what had happened. He’d sensed the uneasiness in the pack and had reacted instinctively, going left then right in an effort to break away. He’d only thought about himself. In that second, he’d forgotten about Frank. About the inexperienced kid who would do what he did. Or die trying.

They’d been going around forty-two miles an hour. At that speed, any mistake was a disaster. The pictures showed the bike next to Frank’s slamming into him. Frank had lost control and gone flying into the air. He’d hit the pavement, going forty miles an hour. His spine severed, his heart still pumping blood through ripped arteries, and he’d died in seconds.

Josh didn’t remember what had made him look back, breaking one of the firmest rules of racing. Never look back. He’d seen Frank go flying with an unexpected grace, had—for a single second—seen the fear in his eyes. Then the body of his friend had hit the ground.

There had been silence then. Josh was sure the crowd had screamed, that the other riders had made noise, but all he’d heard was the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. He’d turned back, breaking the second rule of racing. He’d jumped off his bike and run to that kid lying so very still. But it was already too late.

Josh hadn’t raced since. He couldn’t. He’d been unable to train with his team members. Not because of what they’d said, but because being in the peloton made him nearly explode with fear.

Every time he got on his bike, he saw Frank’s body lying there. Every time he started to pedal, he knew he would be next, that the crash was coming any second. He’d been forced to take a leave of absence, then retire. He gave the excuse that he was making way for the younger team members, but he suspected everyone knew the truth. That he didn’t have the balls for it anymore.

Even now, he only rode alone, in the dark. Where no one could see. Where no one would be hurt but him. He faced his demons privately, taking the coward’s way out.

Now, as the lights of town grew closer and brighter, he slowed. Bit by bit, the ghosts of the past faded until he was able to draw in breath again. The workout was complete.

Tomorrow night he would do it all again: ride in the gloom, wait for the final stretch, then relive what had happened. Tomorrow night he would once again hate himself, knowing that if he’d only been in front that day, Frank would still be alive.

He pulled off the main road to a shed behind the sporting goods store he owned. He went inside and drank deeply from the bottle of water he’d brought. Then he removed his helmet and pulled on jeans and a shirt, replacing his cycling shoes with boots.

He was sweaty and flushed as he made his way back to the hotel. If anyone saw him, he or she would assume he was returning from an evening rendezvous, which was fine with him.

As for being with a woman…he hadn’t. Not in nearly a year. After his divorce, he’d slept around some, but there’d been no pleasure in it. Not for him. It was as if he wasn’t allowed to experience anything good. Penance for what had happened to Frank.

He walked back to the hotel. He would order room service, take a shower and hope that tonight he could sleep.

Once in the lobby, he avoided making eye contact as he made his way to the stairs.

“Hey, Josh. Anyone I know?”

Josh glanced toward the speaker and waved, but kept on walking. He didn’t want to have a conversation with anyone right now.

He sensed someone coming down the stairs as he went up. He glanced to his left and saw Charity. For once she wasn’t in one of her old lady dresses and boxy jackets. She’d topped jeans with a pink sweater. He had a brief impression of long legs, a narrow waist and impressive breasts before his gaze moved higher to meet her frosty stare.

He liked Charity—found her attractive, smart and funny. Under other circumstances, if he were someone else, he would want her.

No—that wasn’t right. He did want her. If things were different, he would do something about it, but he couldn’t. She deserved better.

He knew what she was thinking, what everyone thought. Better that than the truth, he told himself as he flashed her a smile and kept on moving.

CHARITY HATED FEELING stupid, especially when she had no one to blame but herself. She’d spent the weekend buried in work because it was the only way to stop thinking about Josh. Every time she wasn’t distracted, she faced a brainful of questions, all designed to make her spiral into girl craziness.

She was fascinated by him in a way that was unexpected, unfamiliar and a teeny bit obsessive. That was fine. It happened. Eventually she would get over it. During their tour of the city the previous Friday, she’d found herself actually enjoying spending time with him. She’d found him funny and charming, which was good. Having a person inside of her crush was helpful.

But something had happened on their drive. He’d changed and she was frustrated by the feeling that she’d done something wrong. She hadn’t. She knew that in her head. But try telling her active hormones that. They’d spent the entire weekend sighing dramatically, longing for just a glimpse of the man in question. Worse, Friday night he’d strolled back into the hotel looking all hot, sweaty and sexy. Which meant he’d been with someone else. Even going online and seeing dozens of pictures of him with other women hadn’t helped at all.

She could understand feeling boy crazy if she was in high school, but she was twenty-eight years old. An age when one could reasonably expect some slight maturity. After all, she had plenty of romantic disasters in her past from nice, normal men. Men she’d thought she could trust. If she’d been so desperately wrong with them, falling for Josh would be nothing short of idiotic.

Shortly before ten o’clock on Monday morning, Charity filled her coffee cup and made her way to the large conference room on the third floor for her first city council meeting.

There were already about a dozen people sitting around the large table, all of them women except for Robert. She greeted the mayor, smiled at Robert, then took a seat.

Marsha winked at her. “We’re a little less formal than most council sessions you will have attended, Charity. Don’t judge us too harshly.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Good. Now who don’t you know?” Marsha went around the table, introducing everyone.

Charity paid attention, doing her best to remember everyone’s name. Pia rushed in a minute before ten.

“I know, I know,” she said with a groan. “I’m late. So find someone else to plan the parties around here.” She sank into the chair next to Charity. “Hi. How was your weekend?” she whispered.

“Good. Quiet. Yours?”

Pia started passing out slim folders with a picture of the American flag on the front. “I worked on the plans for Fourth of July. I was thinking we could mix it up this year. Have the parade and party on the eighth.”

Alice, the police chief, rolled her eyes, but the woman next to her, someone Charity thought might be named Gladys, gasped.

“Pia, you can’t. It’s a national holiday with a tradition going back more than two hundred years.”

“She’s kidding, Gladys,” Marsha said, then sighed. “Pia, don’t try to be funny.”

“I don’t try. It just happens spontaneously. Like a sneeze.”

“Get a tissue and hold it in,” Marsha told her firmly.

“Yes, ma’am.” Pia leaned toward Charity. “She’s so bossy these days. Even Robert’s afraid.”

Charity’s gaze moved to Robert who looked more amused than frightened. He glanced at her and smiled. She smiled back, hoping for a hint of a reaction. A flicker. A whisper. A slight pressure that could be interpreted as a tingle.

There was nothing.

“We have quite a bit of business to get through this morning,” Marsha said. “And a visitor.”

“Visitors,” another woman said. “That always makes me think of that old science fiction miniseries from years ago. The Visitors. Weren’t they snakes or lizards underneath their human skin?”

“As far as I can tell, our visitor is human,” Marsha said.

The mayor was obviously a woman with infinite patience, Charity thought as the meeting continued to spiral from one subject to another.

“Now about the road repaving by the lake,” Marsha said. “I believe someone prepared a report.”

They worked their way through several items on the agenda. Charity gave a brief rundown on the meeting with the university and the fact that the letter of intent had been signed. Pia talked about the Fourth of July celebration that would indeed be held on the appropriate date, then a five-minute break was called.

Robert rose and left. The door had barely closed behind him when Gladys leaned across the table toward Charity.

“You were out with Josh the other day.”

Charity didn’t know if the words were a statement or an accusation. “We, ah…He took me on a tour of the city. The mayor suggested it.”

Marsha smiled serenely. “Just trying to make you feel welcome.”

“You don’t send Josh to see me,” Gladys complained.

“You’re already comfortable in town.”

“How was it?” another woman asked. She was petite, in her mid-forties and pretty. Renee, maybe? Or Michelle. Something vaguely French, Charity thought, wishing she’d actually written down the names as people said them.

“I really enjoyed seeing the area,” Charity said. “The vineyards are so beautiful.”

“Not the tour,” Renee/Michelle said. “Josh. You’re single, right? Wow, how I would love to spend some quality time with him.”

“Sometimes at night I see him walking around town all hot and sweaty,” Gladys said, a slight moan in her voice.

“I know,” someone else added.

Renee/Michelle glanced toward the door, as if checking to see if Robert was within earshot. “Once, he came to the spa.” She turned to Charity. “I run a day spa in town. You should come in for a massage sometime.”

“Um, sure.” She couldn’t believe they were actually talking about Josh this way.

“He wanted me to wax him.” Renee/Michelle turned back to Charity. “They all get waxed. It cuts down on air friction.” She turned her attention back to the group. “He was on the table, wearing these tiny little briefs. Man, oh man, all I can say is that the rumors about his equipment are not exaggerated.”

Renee/Michelle sagged back in her chair and sucked in a breath. “That night my husband got the best sex of his life and he never knew why.” She fanned herself with her hand.

Robert walked back into the room, a can of soda in his hand. He looked around the table, then sighed. “You’re talking about Josh, aren’t you?”

Charity resisted the urge to squirm in her seat.

“Of course,” Pia said. “We can’t help it.”

Charity wanted to snap that he was just one guy and not all that, but she was afraid she would sound like she had something to hide.

“He’s the man,” Robert said with a shake of his head.

“Some big investor back east came here and wanted to open a bike school or training camp,” Gladys said. “Josh wouldn’t do it. He said he wouldn’t exploit his fame that way.”

Most of the women in the room sighed.

Charity privately thought he probably hadn’t done it because being involved would cut into the hours he spent getting laid. If anyone here was special, it was Robert, not Josh. Robert was a regular guy, doing an honest day’s work with minimal appreciation. Sure Josh was famous and a great athlete, but he wasn’t a god. No matter what her hormones might try to tell her.

Marsha slipped on her reading glasses. “If we could get back to the subject at hand,” she said, her quiet voice instantly silencing the other chatter. “Tiffany will be here any minute and I’d prefer we be discussing something of merit when she arrives.”

“Tiffany?” Police Chief Alice asked. “Seriously?”

“Tiffany Hatcher.” Marsha scanned the paper in front of her. “She’s twenty-three and getting her Ph.D. in Human Geography. And before you ask, I went online and looked it up. It’s the study of why people settle where they settle. In other words, she’s studying why we don’t have enough men in Fool’s Gold.”

The women all looked at each other. Robert chuckled. “You have me.”

“And we’re ever so grateful,” Gladys told him. “But you’re only one man.”

“I do what I can.”

Charity tried not to laugh. He caught her eye and grinned.

Marsha sighed. “As much as I wanted to keep our problem quiet, apparently that’s not going to happen. Tiffany is very excited about the opportunity to publish her thesis when it’s finished. So the whole world is going to know.”

“Unless no one reads it,” Alice said.

“I don’t think we’ll be that lucky,” Pia said. “Men or a lack of them is sexy. The media loves sexy topics.”

“How can a lack of men be sexy?” Gladys asked.

Just then there was a timid knock on the open door. Charity turned and saw a tiny, dark-haired young woman standing in the entrance to the conference room. Marsha had said Tiffany was in her twenties, but she could easily have passed for thirteen. She had big eyes, long dark hair and an earnest expression that made Charity think she was going to be a giant pain in the butt with her questions.

“Your assistant said I should come right in,” Tiffany said apologetically.

“Of course, dear,” Marsha said, rising. “We’ve been expecting you. Everyone, this is Tiffany. She’s going to do her dissertation on why men are moving away from Fool’s Gold.”

“Actually, you’re only a chapter,” Tiffany said, her voice as tiny as the rest of her.

“Lucky us,” Charity whispered to Pia.

CHAPTER FIVE

CHARITY STEPPED INTO Angelo’s at exactly seven on Wednesday night. The Italian restaurant was within walking distance of the hotel, much like everything else in town. The outside was whitewashed, with a big patio seating area. Inside, the tables were covered with white tablecloths and the subdued lighting gave the intimate space an elegant air. A dozen different delicious smells competed for her attention, making her mouth water and her stomach growl. Her salad at lunch suddenly seemed like a long time ago.

Before she could attack a passing waiter and grab a couple of slices of rosemary bread off the tray he carried, she spotted Robert sitting at a table near the opposite wall.

“Go right in,” the hostess said with a smile. “Enjoy your dinner.”

“Thanks.”

Robert rose as she approached.

There were several other diners already in the restaurant. Maybe she was imagining things, but Charity had the sense she was being watched by those already seated.

“Are they keeping tabs on me or you?” Robert asked quietly as he held out her chair.

She laughed. “I noticed that, too.” She sat down. “I can’t decide if it’s because I’m the new girl or if it’s because you’re out on a date. What with you being a single man and therefore precious and rare.”

He settled across from her. “You think the lack of men in town is funny.”

“I don’t think it’s a great hardship for you. Poor Robert. Too many women want to be with you.”

His brown eyes brightened with amusement. “Fame can be difficult. There’s a lot of responsibility.”

She wished he hadn’t said the word fame. For some reason, it made her think of Josh, and she’d been determined he wouldn’t intrude on her evening out, even in spirit.

“You can handle it,” she said as she picked up her napkin and put it on her lap.

Their server, an older woman with dark hair pulled up in a bun, brought them menus.

“I thought we’d talk a bit before ordering,” Robert said. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Thank you, yes.” She grinned. “I’m walking tonight, so I can even have two.”

“Wild.”

“I have my moments.”

They both ordered a glass of the house Chianti. A few minutes later the busboy brought over a basket of bread and a saucer of olive oil for dipping.

“The bread is excellent,” Robert said, offering her the basket.

“I was afraid of that,” Charity said. “I’ll wait and try it later.” Closer to when they would get their meal, so she wouldn’t have a chance to inhale every slice. “How was your weekend with your friends?”

“Good. We went to a Giants game. They won. My friend Dan is getting married next month, so the trip was kind of a bachelor celebration.”

“I’m impressed you went with baseball and not a strip club.”

He chuckled. “We’re getting too old for that. Now if we were still in college…”

“Front row seats?”

“In our dreams.”

The server appeared with the wine. When she was gone, Robert picked up his glass. “To a great evening.”

She raised her glass, as well.

“Dan and his girlfriend already have a kid,” Robert continued. “A little girl. She’s eighteen months old. It seems like a lot of people are doing that. Have a baby, then figuring out if they want to stay together. I guess I’m old-fashioned. I thought it was supposed to go the other way.”

“I agree,” she said. “But pregnancy happens. I guess a generation ago, people got married when they found out. Now they aren’t in such a big hurry.”

He leaned toward her. “It’s been a couple of weeks. How are you settling in? Enjoying small-town life?”

“I love it. I’m meeting lots of people. I like that I can walk pretty much everywhere. You’re right. There aren’t any secrets, but then I don’t have anything to hide.”

“Then you’ll be fine. Have you started looking for a house?”

“Not really. I’m still getting to know the different areas.”

“I live on the golf course. Great views. The houses are well-built and a nice size. You should come see my place sometime.”

“Sure.” She wondered how he afforded one of those homes. She’d seen them on her drive around town and had even picked up a flyer for one. But unless the mayor had a secret plan to double her salary in the next week, Charity couldn’t begin to pay for something like that. Prices were great in Fool’s Gold, but even here a home on the golf course was pricey.

“You said you grew up in small towns,” she said. “In California?”

“Oregon. I went to school in Eugene, which is a good-sized town. Got my degree in accounting and went to work for a midsized accounting firm. Then I went into the government side of the business. After about five years, I transferred to the private sector. One of my first jobs was auditing one of Josh Golden’s companies. That brought me here.”

“Josh has companies?”

Robert raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t know?”

“No. It’s not as if we’ve spent much time together.” The tour of the city had barely been an hour. “I know he used to be some famous bike rider guy.”

Robert laughed. “There’s a description to make him proud.”

“You know what I mean. I don’t follow many sports. I’d heard about him, but nothing specific.”

“He owns several companies. The sporting goods store. He’s a partner at the ski resort, the hotel.”

She reached for her wine and nearly knocked it over. “He owns the hotel where I’m staying?”

Robert nodded.

No wonder he chose to live there, she thought, feeling embarrassed for implying he was irresponsible. “I had no idea.”

“He hired the firm I worked for and I came out to do an audit. I liked the town. When I mentioned that to Josh, he said they were looking for a treasurer. I applied and got the job.”

“It’s a long way from Oregon,” she said, still trying to take in the fact that Josh was a business mogul.

“I don’t have a lot of family. I’m an only child and my parents were a lot older when they had me.” He smiled sheepishly. “Mom always said I was a miracle.” The smile faded. “They died a few years ago. I have a cousin, but that’s about it. I figured I’d make my own family.”

“I know the feeling,” she said, surprised they had so much in common. “I was raised by my mom. I never knew my dad. My mom took off when she was pregnant, and never told me where she was from. I always wondered if I had relatives out there, somewhere. If anyone knew about us. When I lost her, I felt really alone. I wanted a place to belong.”

“So you came to Fool’s Gold?”

She nodded. “A recruiter got in touch with me. I was looking to make a change.” Mostly due to a bad breakup, but why mention that?

“I’m glad you moved here,” Robert said, his dark eyes gazing steadily into hers.

He was nice, she thought as she smiled at him. Warm and caring and he shared a lot of her goals. He was the kind of guy she was looking for. At least on the surface. If only there was some kind of physical connection between them. Something that…

The hair on the back of her neck stood up. An unexpected warmth spread through her. For one brief shining moment she thought the chemistry had finally kicked in. The second of relief was followed by a mental groan when she saw Josh walking past their table and being seated on the other side of the room. He was with Mayor Marsha and apparently here for dinner.

“Speak of the devil,” Robert said lightly, nodding at the newcomers. Marsha waved.

“The downside of small-town life?” she asked.

“I told you. No secrets. Now everyone knows we’re out together.”

She was aware of Josh sitting within her line of sight and it took every ounce of control not to stare at him.

“I don’t mind everyone knowing,” she said, forcing herself to look at Robert as if he were the most interesting man in the world. The truth was she wanted to run over to Marsha’s table, push the older woman aside and snuggle up next to Josh. The fact that he had a steady stream of women ready and willing to be on call was the only thing that kept her in her seat.

“Good,” Robert said, looking pleased. “Are you ready to order?”

“Um, sure.” She glanced at her menu, wondering how she was going to be able to eat. Acting something close to normal was going to take all her energy and attention. Honestly, when she got back to the hotel, she was going to have to figure out a way to get over this Josh thing.

She randomly picked a chicken and pasta dish, then closed the menu and reached for her wine. Inadvertently, her gaze slipped a little to the right. Josh was looking at her, his eyes bright with humor. She found herself wanting to laugh.

Reluctantly she turned her attention back to Robert, who was a very nice man. A far better bet than Josh. Apparently she was going to have to keep reminding herself of that over and over again. Eventually it would sink in. It had to.

JOSH LEANED BACK IN his chair. “You did this on purpose.”

Marsha didn’t look up from her menu. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. You’re one of the smartest people I know.”

She set down the menu. “And let me say how much I appreciate you saying people and not women.”

“You’re welcome, but not the point. You knew Robert and Charity were coming here for dinner.”

“Did I?” Marsha managed to look both innocent and smug at the same time. “Are they here? I didn’t notice.”

Josh knew better. “You asked for this table. You wanted me facing her.”

Marsha smoothed her white hair. “I am a very busy woman, Josh. I don’t have time to worry about your latest conquest, however interesting she might be.”

“Don’t play matchmaker.”

“Afraid it might work?”

The real problem was he didn’t want to hurt his friend. Marsha had been good to him and he owed her. “Setting up people never goes well. Don’t you watch reality television?”

“No,” she said. “And neither do you. Why don’t you like Charity?”

He studied the woman in question. Despite the fact that she was on a date, she was still dressed like a conservative schoolteacher. A plain dress, buttoned all the way to the collar. The loose fit and boxy jacket revealed nothing. Did she lack confidence or feel she had something to hide?

He found himself wanting to know which, nearly as much as he wanted to slowly unfasten each and every button and reveal the smooth, warm skin underneath. Just as troubling, he found himself wanting to talk to her. Just talk.

Not gonna happen, he reminded himself. At least sex was safe. But getting involved? No way.

“I like her fine,” he said.

“But?”

“She’s not my type.”

“You don’t have a type. That would require being picky.”

He raised his eyebrows.

Marsha sighed. “I didn’t mean that the way it came out. It’s just you haven’t gotten serious about anyone since Angelique. The divorce was over two years ago. It’s time to move on.”

His lack of dating or interest in dating had nothing to do with Angelique, but he wasn’t going to tell Marsha that.

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You’re lonely. And don’t pretend otherwise. I’m old and you have to respect me.”

“Even when you’re wrong?”

She stared at him, her blue eyes unyielding. “Then tell me I’m wrong. Lie to me, if you can.”

He couldn’t and she knew it. “Charity’s looking for something I can’t give her.”

“Such as?”

He shrugged. “She’s not the one.”

“You can’t know that until you’ve spent some time with her.”

“Can you be bought off?”

“How much are you offering?” She shook her head. “I’ll stop pushing. At least for now. You know I care about you, right?”

“I do.” He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You’ve always supported me.”

“I just want you to be happy. Men don’t do well alone. You need someone in your life. I think Charity needs someone, too. She hasn’t said anything, but if I had to guess, I would say she’s coming off a bad breakup. So she would understand.”

“About the divorce?”

Marsha nodded.

What his friend didn’t get was that the problem wasn’t his divorce. That was just a symptom of everything that had gone wrong.