Done

For the rest of the week we dined in the candlelit dining room overlooking the lake. Grant, Richard’s chef and only household staff, prepared salmon, and other treats with roasted vegetables on the grill, salads with fresh farmers’ market greens and bakery bread. Tonight, we sat on a beach-sized folded towel on the damp porch swing. Richard kept his hands in his lap. It had finally stopped raining, and stars popped out in the sky. The humidity dissolved, and the air smelled of wet vegetation.

“Is everything all right?” I asked.

“Do you remember the night I gave you the diamond collar?”

I did. He’d asked me to wear it at dinner and said there would be consequences if I did not.

I leaned over and kissed him. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you wear it tonight?”

I shrugged. “I thought you may have tired of it.” Tonight I had deliberately removed the collar. I had to see if he would notice. I longed for the consequences.

“I haven’t.”

He looked down at his burnt-orange wingtips. His dark orange shirt