There was a not-too-subtle subtext there. I said, "And I suppose you'd like to pick up your check at the same time."

"That would be very convenient."

"All right. Call me in thirty days."

"Fine. And thank you, Mr. Sutter. It has been a delight working with a man of such refinement."

I couldn't say the same, so I said, "It's been educational."

"That only adds to my delight."

"By the way, Mr. Melzer, did you happen to hear anything regarding how the IRS discovered this oversight on my part?"

"I did make some inquiries regarding that very question. I did not receive any direct answers, but we can assume this was not a random examination of your past tax returns."

"Can we then assume that someone was out to make difficulties for me?"

"Mr. Sutter, I told you, you are not popular with the IRS."

"But I have not been popular with the IRS since I began beating them at their game twenty years ago. Why would they examine my return now now?"

"Oh, I think they knew about this oversight of yours for years, Mr. Sutter. They like to see the interest and penalties accumulate."

"I see.'' But I found that hard to believe, even of the Internal Revenue Service. They were tough but generally honest, even going so far as to return money that you didn't know you overpaid them.

"However,'' Mr. Melzer continued, "I would not pursue that if I were you.'' He added, "Or you will be needing me again."

"Mr. Melzer, I will never need you again. And I am not intimidated by any agency of my government. If I believe I've been singled out for persecution, I will certainly pursue the matter."

Mr. Melzer let a moment pass, then said, "Mr. Sutter, if I may be blunt, your type of man is nearly extinct. Accept your loss, swallow your pride, and go live your life, my friend. No good will come of your trying to take on forces more powerful than yourself."

"I enjoy fighting the good fight."

"As you wish.'' He added, "By the way, I would still like to call on you for your professional advice if I may. Your work for me would be strictly confidential, of course."

"Better yet, it will be nonexistent. Good day."

Well, things always seem to work out, don't they? The very next day, on one of my rare appearances in my Wall Street office, there was a phone call for me. It was from a Mr. Weber, a realtor in East Hampton, informing me that he had good news. He had, in fact, a bid of $390,000 for my little summer cottage. "That is not good news at all,'' I informed him.

"Mr. Sutter, the market has fallen to pieces. This is the only serious offer we've had, and this guy's looking around at other houses right now."

"I'll call you back.'' I then phoned every other realtor who had the house listed and listened to an earful of bad news and excuses. I called Susan, since she is joint owner of the house, but as usual, she wasn't in. That woman needs a pager, a car phone, a CB radio for her horse, and a cowbell. I called Weber back. "I'll split the difference between asking and bid. Get him up to four hundred and forty-five."

"I'll try."

Mr. Weber called me back in a half hour, making me wonder if his customer wasn't actually sitting in his office. Weber said, "The prospective buyer will split the difference with you again, making his final offer $417,500. I suggest you take that, Mr. Sutter, because-"

"The housing market is soft, the summer is waning, and the stock market is down sixteen and a quarter today. Thank you, Mr. Weber."

"Well, I just want you to know the facts."

Mr. Weber, by now, could smell his commission, which I figured at six percent to be about twenty-five thousand dollars. I said, "I want four and a quarter for me, so you'll give me the difference from your commission."

There was silence on the phone as Mr. Weber, who had been smelling prime ribs, realized he was being offered T-bone or nothing. He cleared his throat as Mr. Melzer had done and said, "That's do-able."

"Then do it.'' Normally, I would be more aggressive in real estate deals and also with the IRS. But I didn't have much strength from which to bargain. In fact, unbeknownst to Mr. Weber, I had none, and time was running out.

Mr. Weber said, "It's done. Did I tell you that the buyer wants to rent the house starting immediately? No? Well, he does. He wants to use it for all of August. He's offering a hundred a day until closing. I know you could get more now in high season, but it's part of the deal, so I suggest-"

"His name isn't Melzer, is it?"

"No. Name's Carleton. Dr. Carleton. He's a psychiatrist in the city. Park Avenue. They don't see patients in August, you know, and he has a wife and two kids, so he wants-"

"My family wants to use the house in August, Mr. Weber."

"It's a deal breaker, Mr. Sutter. He insists."

"Well, in that case, I had better make new summer plans, hadn't I? Perhaps I'll go down to the town dump and slug rats with a rake."

"Actually, I could find you another rental out here-"

"Never mind. Do it your way and Dr. Carleton's way."

"Yes, sir. Dr. Carleton really likes the house. The furniture, too."

"How much?"

"Another ten. Cash."

"Fine. Did he see the picture of my wife and kids in the den?"

Mr. Weber chuckled. Making deals was fun. I said, "If this bonzo is trying to pull off a cheap summer rental, I'll hang his balls over my mantel."

"Sir?"

"Get a one percent binder, now. Today. And I want to go to contract in a week with twenty percent down."

"A week? But-"

"I'll fax you a contract this afternoon. You get this guy in high gear, Mr. Weber. If there are any problems, get back to me pronto."

"Yes, sir.'' He asked, "Are you looking to buy any other property out east?"

"What do you have east of Montauk Point?"

"Ocean."

"How much?"

"It's free, Mr. Sutter."

"I'll take it.'' I hung up. Madonn Madonn', when the shit happens, it happens. Well, I thought, I broke even today. Not bad for a man who's only in his mid-forties.

I took the train home that evening and met Susan at McGlade's for dinner, as we'd planned that morning. I explained the deal to her and said, "I tried to call you to get your approval.'' Which was more than Frank Bellarosa did when he bought Alhambra without mentioning it to his wife.

Susan didn't seem to care about the sale. But you never know with women. To paraphrase what Churchill said about the Germans, "Women are either at your feet or at your throat."

Anyway, I had my calculator out and I was doing some number-crunching over my third gin and tonic. "So, we pay the IRS, we pay Melzer, we pay the real estate commission, we satisfy the existing mortgage, we damned sure put money aside for the capital gains tax since we're not buying another house, and we add in the ten thousand for the furniture and about three thousand for rent, and deduct the taxes on that as though it were income to play it safe ... then, let's see, we factor in some out-of-pocket expenses...."

Susan was yawning. The rich are bored by money talk.

I scratched some figures on my place mat. "Well, I think we cleared ninety-three bucks.'' I thought a moment, then said, "A potential half-million-dollar asset wiped out.'' I looked at Susan, "What does the government do with all my money?"

"Can we order dinner?"

"I can't afford it. I'll drink.'' I played around with the numbers again, but I still couldn't afford solid food, so I ordered another gin and tonic.

Susan said, "Oh, by the way, are you figuring in the twenty thousand dollars you owe me?"

I looked up at her. "Excuse me, Mrs. Sutter, this is a joint liability."

"Well, I know that, John. But it wasn't my fault."

Understand, please, this woman needs twenty thousand dollars like I need to move another stable across the property. I cleared my throat, the way Messrs. Melzer and Weber had done. "Why are you bringing that up?"

"My attorneys want to know-"

"Your father father."

"Well ... I don't really care about the money. But it's not a good habit to get into. I mean, mingling assets."

"We mingle my my assets. Look, Susan, rest assured I have no claim on your property, even if we do occasionally mingle assets. You have a very tight marriage contract. I'm a lawyer. Trust me." assets. Look, Susan, rest assured I have no claim on your property, even if we do occasionally mingle assets. You have a very tight marriage contract. I'm a lawyer. Trust me."

"I do, John, but ... I don't actually need to have the money, but I do need a sort of promissory note. That's what my ... lawyers said."

"All right.'' I scribbled an IOU for $20,000 on the place mat, signed and dated it, and pushed it across the table. "It's legal. Just ignore the part about lunch, dinner, and cocktails, steaks and chops."

"You needn't be so touchy. You're a lawyer. You understand-"

"I understand that I've given your father free legal services for nearly two decades. I understand that I paid half the cost for the moving of your stable-"

"Your horse is in there, too."

"I don't want the stupid horse. I'm going to have him turned into glue."

"That's an awful thing to say. And by the way, you bought the boat in your name only."

"The check had my name only on it, lady."

"All right, then ... I don't like to bring this up, but you've never had to make a mortgage or rent payment since we've been married."

"And what did you you do to get that house except to get born with a silver spoon up your ass?" do to get that house except to get born with a silver spoon up your ass?"

"Please don't be crude, John. Look, I don't like to talk about money. Let's drop it. Please?"

"No, no, no. Let us not drop it. Let us have our very first and very overdue fight about money."

"Please lower your voice."

I may or may not have lowered my voice, but the jukebox came on, and so everyone who was listening to us had to listen to Frank Sinatra singing "My Way.'' Great song. I think the guy at the end of the bar played it for me. I gave him a thumbs-up.

Susan said, "This is very ugly. I'm not used to this."

I addressed Lady Stanhope. "I'm sorry I lost my temper. You're quite right, of course. Please put that IOU in your bag and I will repay the loan as soon as I can. I'll need a few days."

She seemed embarrassed now. "Forget it. Really.'' She ripped up the IOU. "I don't understand any of this."

"Then, in the future, keep my business and our business to yourself, and do not discuss any of it with your father. I strongly suggest you get a personal attorney who has nothing to do with your father or your trustees. I will deal with that attorney in any future matters.'' Including matrimonial Including matrimonial. "And please keep in mind that, for better or worse, I am your husband."

She was really quite red now, and I could see she was vacillating between my feet and my throat. She finally said, "All right, John.'' She picked up the menu and I couldn't see her face.

I told you about the red hair, and I knew she was still wavering between her good breeding and her bad genes. I suppose, as a purely precautionary move, I should have put the steak knives out of her reach, but that might be overreacting. I was still pretty hot myself, of course, and I had to get one last zinger in. I said, "I didn't appreciate your father calling you the other night to see if you were all right. Does he think I beat you?"

She glanced up from the menu. "Of course not. That was silly of him.'' She added, "He's really quite angry with you."

"Why? Because I stuck him with the dinner bill?"

"John ... what you said was a bit strong. But ... he asked me to tell you that he would accept an apology from you."

I clapped my hands. "What a magnificent man! What a beautiful human being!'' I wiped a tear from my eye.

The song had ended, and we had our audience back.

Susan leaned across the table and said to me, "You've changed. Do you know that?"

"And how about you, Susan?"

She shrugged and went back to the menu, then looked up again. "John, if you apologized, it would make things so much less tense. For all of us. Even if you don't mean it. Do it for me. Please."

There was a time, of course, not so long ago, when I would have. But that time had passed, and it was not likely to come again. I replied, "I will not say something I don't mean. I will not crawl for you, or for anyone. My only regret in that episode is that I should have grabbed his tie and yanked his face into his cheesecake."

"You're really angry, aren't you?"

"No, anger is transient. I hate the bastard."