"Not the red, but the white," Ashlee told her husband, not for the first time. "If you really have to, just remember the Jim Carrey film. He needs to know it for a password, right?"
"Stupid clam chowder," Balthazar muttered, jokingly. Planning meals with his wife was another interest of his, and so was reconnecting with lost elements of his New England upbringing, all eleven years of it. Today he was interested in channeling that interest into the only seafood he voluntarily ate, and he was still confused, because his memory told him that Murray Romero had always prepared the red variety, otherwise known as the Manhattan version. He couldn't get an explanation, either, because Murray had been dead for years, the victim of pancreatic cancer, and no other family member was likely to know. "You're probably right."
"I always am," Ashlee smiled demurely. "Besides, I was at the market today and happened to take a peak."
"You devil, you," Balthazar said, embracing his wife for a well-earned kiss. "This reminds me, there's the little matter of your birthday coming 'round."
"Don't remind me," Ashlee said.
"Too late," Balthazar said.
"So it seems," Ashlee said. "But as long as we're on the subject, you want to know what to serve."
"Never the same thing twice," Balthazar said. "That's all I've got. You know, most people are content with a favorite dish."
"But I don't have one, now do I?" Ashlee smirked.
"It makes you all the more becoming," Balthazar said. "And baffling. Is there nothing you despise? Nothing at all?"
"Nothing at all," Ashlee said. "Well, there was that one time in the Galapagos..."
"We don't need to talk about that," Balthazar. "Bad experiences don't count."
"Nearly turned me off mangos permanently," Ashlee said.
"Which would have ruined your breakfast," Balthazar said. "And which in turn tells me that mangos, after all are your favorite food."
"Sorry to disappoint you," Ashlee said. "Family tradition. Nobody messes with it, just like they don't mess with the Solomons themselves."
"I remember your father saying something to the effect when I asked for your hand," Balthazar said. "I'm still not sure he was joking."
"He wasn't, believe me," Ashlee said, laughing again. She was always doing that. "You don't know the real Cutty Solomon yet, even after eight years, trust me. Truth me told, you probably wouldn't."
"As long as he doesn't interfere in my business, I won't worry," Balthazar said.
"You mean as long as you don't interfere in his," Ashlee said.
"Another joke?"
"No comment," Ashlee said, and let go with another smile. Balthazar didn't care how serious she was being about her father. Cutty wasn't the one he loved. "You went and saw the finance advisor again, didn't you?"
"Business," he said. "You know that. I've got a lot on my plate. Don't worry about it. I was thinking we could take a vacation soon. Definitely not to the Galapagos."
"Changing the subject," Ashlee said. "Sure sign of infidelity."
"Have me investigated," Balthazar.
"Did," Ashlee said.
"And?"
"Clean."
"A relief."
"I also found you wear the same socks two days in succession," Ashlee said.
"That's an awfully personal observation," Balthazar said.
"Well, the observer was being awfully personal at the time," Ashlee said. "Anyway, while you've been doing Boy Benjamin's dirty work and attempting to locate Cotton Colinaude, I've been doing some tracking of my own. Some of my father's old associates. They tell me he's getting into something big. I'm worried about him."
"B.B. tells me that your father is nothing to worry about," Balthazar said. "If he isn't, then you shouldn't."
"It doesn't work like that," Ashlee said.
"Even if it does," Balthazar said. "I don't want you sticking your neck out."
"I stick it as far as it'll go," Ashlee said. "I always have."
"I know," Balthazar said.
"You don't have to protect me," Ashlee said.
"I wish that were true," Balthazar said.
"Well, I protect you, too," Ashlee said. "So you're going with the New England clam chowder, definitely?"
"Definitely," Balthazar. said.
"It's the white one," Ashlee said.
"I know," Balthazar said.
"Good, because that's the one I bought," Ashlee said, pulling from behind her back a can of the chowder. "Personally, I hate the stuff."
"I thought you liked everything," Balthazar said.
"I'll eat anything," Ashlee said. "Doesn't mean I like everything, or that I'll eat something again. Don't worry, I never let you prepare something I've already checked off."
"You've made a list," Balthazar said. "Nutty obsessive."
"Aren't we all? And hey," Ashlee said as she cranked the can open manually, "I eat mangos every morning, too."
"How very tropical of you," Balthazar said.
"One question remains," Ashlee said. "Heat it on the stove or in the microwave?"
"The microwave," Balthazar said. "What are you planning to eat?"
"Catch on quickly," Ashlee said. "Greek salad."
"We don't have any in the house," Balthazar noted.
"No, but I'm sure I'll find some at the mall," Ashlee said. "Nia has some more information on my father."
"You won't quit, will you?"
"I could ask you the same thing," Ashlee said.
"I'm planning to," Balthazar said.
"That's something we could talk about," Ashlee said.
"It's time we move on, is all," Balthazar said. "I'm tired of the old routine. You mentioned that you father is getting into something big, well so is Boy Benjamin, and I wouldn't be the least surprised to find out that both developments are related. Knowing Cutty, if I do at all, and knowing my godfather, which I do, all too well, they're both coming to some bad ends. I don't want anything to do with that."
"You already do," Ashlee said. "You're the reason Benjamin has been so successful. Don't you see? Without you, he wouldn't be in this position. And there are forces out there right now that you don't know about, Balthazar, forces you wouldn't understand. Have you even heard of Lotus? Do you know what he's capable of?"
"I wish you didn't know such things," Balthazar said. "They shouldn't be your burden."
"It's a common burden, Balthazar," Ashlee said. "The sooner you realize this, the better off you'll be. You can't protect me from it anymore than you can prevent it from collapsing. The collapse is coming."
"I hate hearing you talk like this," Balthazar said.
"Well, it's the kind of talk that needs to be heard," Ashlee said.
"It shouldn't be your concern," Balthazar said.
"And it shouldn't be your problem either," Ashlee said. "But it is."
"I've got that interview scheduled for this afternoon," Balthazar said. "Did you want to be there?"
"I already told you, I can't make it," Ashlee said.
"I was hoping for a more sympathetic response the second time around," Balthazar said.
"You never could stand public engagements," Ashlee said. "Still planning a speech this year, at the party?"
"I plan one every year," Balthazar said.
"And never give one," Ashlee said.
"At least you understand why," Balthazar said.
"I wish you could get over it," Ashlee said.
"Well, I could, if it were that simple," Balthazar said.
'It's as simple as you make it," Ashlee said.
"And I can't make it simple," Balthazar said. "I wis I could, but I can't. How much long for the soup?"
"The soup? Oh, it's been ready," Ashlee said, holding up the can. "Oh, it needs to cook first, doesn't it?"
"It would help," Balthazar said. He watched as his wife poured the chowder into a bowl and placed it in the microwave.
"How long does the can say?" she asked.
"Two minutes," he replied, not looking. He already knew.
"All right, then," she said, punching in the time and pressing the start button. The hum of the process filled the silence that had crept into the kitchen. The first minute was passable enough, but as the seconds advanced, Balthazar became increasingly aware that the friction he was imagining became more and more real the closer his meal came to being ready. He reached into the utensil drawer for a spoon, and studied his options. This consumed the rest of the time. "It's ready," Ashlee announced.
"Thanks, darling," Balthazar said, opening the microwave door and withdrawing the steaming bowl.
"I'll be off, then," Ashlee said.
Balthazar put the bowl aside. "I'm sorry," he said.
"Don't apologize," Ashlee said. "There's bound to be stress. Congratulations. You're perfectly normal."
With that, she was gone, leaving her husband behind. He didn't like her last words to him, and he couldn't quite say why. Perfectly normal? Sure, he understood the context, but he knew his wife. That's not all that she meant. She was trying to tell him that he was not so different in other ways as well, even though he had always considered himself an outsider. It had colored his whole life, separating him from his peers on the playground and at the office, as such there was in Boy Benjamin's employ. In a lot of ways, his life had supported this theory, even encouraged it, and Balthazar had never made a real attempt to alter it. It was what he was, and he had always been comfortable with it, so far as anyone could be. Ashlee was suggesting otherwise. He knew that she had never been comfortable with it, but he thought she understood.
Perhaps he was wrong. And maybe she was right, but he didn't have the time for that right now. Too much else to worry about. If he attempted any other life-changing course-changes, he'd lose the course entirely, and that would be disastrous. He couldn't afford it. If he wanted to maintain his balance, he would have to ignore his wife's advice. If that cost him, he would handle it later.
The chowder was as good as he'd remembered. So it wasn't the right version. It was still chowder, and that was good enough. Two minutes hadn't been quite enough, but he didn't have time to worry about it. He needed to be at Tin Can very soon, to get the interview over with. He had more important matters in mind.
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