Chapter 8
Kate Donner sipped her wine and watched her husband, Ted, as he ate his dinner. To the left of his plate, he had folded the Wall Street Journal into a quarter. Even though his eyes moved relentlessly from left to right across the lines of type, Kate continued to hope for some glimmer of satisfaction to cross his features. But there was nothing, not even a slowing in his methodical chewing.
“I got the trout fresh today, at that new market over on Davis.”
Ted continued to read.
“I said the trout came from this new seafood place.”
The clink of his fork on his plate answered her.
“I think it turned out good. Don’t you? I mean, with the almonds?”
Finally, when her husband deigned to look at her, she wanted to shrink into her chair. What did he see? Did he see her as she used to
