Erica started bringing Monique's opinions home as if they were findings from a scientific conference. "Monique says a woman's lifestyle is her husband's report card," she told me while sorting through a delivery of shoes. Another afternoon she announced that questioning a woman's spending meant questioning her worth. The line that stayed with me came over breakfast, when she said that smart women made sure they could leave a marriage without downgrading their lifestyle. I looked up from the newspaper and asked whether that was general advice or something I was supposed to take personally.
"Why does everything have to be about you?" she replied. I wanted to point out that we were discussing a marriage in which I was one of the two people, but there are times when arguing about grammar is only a way to postpone understanding. Later that week, I repeated the exchange to Ray while we were replacing a fuel pump on a Boston Whaler. Ray listened, tightened a hose clamp, and said, "Sounds like Monique needs a job and a smaller vocabulary." It was funny enough that I laughed, but the laugh faded before we finished the repair.
Sam was less interested in jokes. He asked whether Erica had begun using business accounts for expenses unrelated to Harborline, and I told him I did not think so. He said I ought to be certain, not because he disliked her, but because he had spent years making sure the company could pay people on Friday. I told him he could review every card and transfer under the normal bookkeeping procedures. He nodded and changed the subject, which was Sam's way of telling me he respected my marriage and did not intend to let it endanger twenty families at the marina.
The next new name was Damon Voss. Damon owned a boutique fitness studio and sold wellness retreats to people who believed an expensive room, carefully lit, made ordinary exercise spiritually profound. I met him once at a coastal networking event. He had the body of a man who planned his meals around photographs and the smile of someone who had practiced being recognized by strangers. He spoke about alignment, investment in the self, and building a premium lifestyle brand. When he learned I owned Harborline, his interest sharpened noticeably, though I was never sure whether he was impressed by the business or calculating what kind of boat he might borrow.
Damon hired Erica to help style his retreats and refine his brand. In the beginning, I was pleased that she had found a client whose business matched the market she wanted to serve. Then the meetings began extending into evenings, the lunches multiplied, and the weekends she had previously spent with me became opportunities she said she could not afford to miss. She started returning home wearing perfume I had never seen on her dresser, with the sharp scent of Damon's cologne sometimes clinging to the shoulder of her coat. I noticed it, and I hated myself for noticing.