The driver dropped me at the gate with a professional nod and drove the town car back up the cobblestone driveway without a word. My Lexus sat in the guest parking lot exactly where the staff had returned it, keys on the center console, tank full.
I got in.
I sat there for approximately forty-five seconds doing nothing.
Then I drove.
The first ten minutes on the highway were fine. I had the radio off. The windows up. The heater running because September evenings in Long Island get cold faster than you expect, and I was running on a paper bag of teriyaki chicken and the complete collapse of my ability to think in straight lines.
Someone kissed me.
A Valentine sister kissed me.
On the front steps of the estate. In front of a security guard who was absolutely going to tell someone. On the mouth. Deliberately. With intention.
The question was who.
