None of us had seen the situation clearly.
The following September, almost a year after Allison’s wedding, Michael mailed me that lobby photograph in a frame. On its back he had written:
For the record, I was telling you about the time you fell off the dock. You were not being seduced. — Michael
I laughed until I had to sit. The picture went on my living-room bookshelf, not to memorialize Daniel’s jealousy, Rachel’s discovery, or the $18,420 in spending eventually exposed, but because of the expression on my face.
