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weeks, he gathered, was a little on the lonely side, and talked to anyone she rubbed up against. In doing so, she went on to explain that she had just finished her intern training at Hershey Medical Center near her native Lancaster.
    Dorsey was irritated by her at first. The case he was to be deposed on had some serious holes in it, double-and triple-checking that should have been done but proved impossible. But Gretchen was a notch away from being soft-spoken and in an odd, endearing way could not be put off. When Dorsey explained his business she became intrigued, and as Dorsey was being called off to a corner office Gretchen asked if he would like to meet later for a drink. Yes, I would, Dorsey had answered.
    Dorsey fell hard for her. She was young but not so terribly that he found himself explaining himself and his favorite TV shows from boyhood. She was strong and she was tranquil and, though they argued, her even manner usually won out. Everything I’ve never had, Dorsey would tell himself, everything I’ve never had. He knew the beer and jazz was a kick for her; beyond that he didn’t know why she loved him in return. After six months she kept half her wardrobe at Wharton Street.
    â€œPlease turn that off—please?” Gretchen entered the kitchen, pulling tight her terry-cloth robe. Dorsey hit the stop button, and the tape fell silent. “Over the last twenty-four hours, with the exception of the basketball game fromAtlanta, I’ve been cut off from the world. Let’s catch the cable news.”
    At the end of the counter sat a portable TV with the cable lead running under the windowsill, courtesy of Al’s electrical prowess. Dorsey flicked on the set, then went about dividing the food onto two plates before sitting down across from Gretchen. Gretchen chewed each forkful slowly and patiently watched the TV screen. He wondered if the food was registering in her mouth and admired her powers of concentration.
    â€œHey.” Gretchen indicated the TV with her fork. “Isn’t that the priest you told me about?”
    Dorsey twisted in his seat and watched as a short, slight priest, bald but with a full salt-and-pepper beard, was led away in handcuffs by sheriff’s deputies. As the videotape played, a monotone commentator explained that Father Andrew Jancek and thirty members of Movement Together had been arrested when they attempted to block the main gate of a steel mill in McKeesport. The mill was scheduled for demolition, and Movement Together had vowed to impede the work. Following their arrest, the commentator went on, the priest and his followers had been released when bail had been posted by the organization’s attorney, Jack Stockman.
    â€œWhat is this shit?” Dorsey muttered. Not enough money coming in from the insurance companies, P.I.? Or is this just branching out, tired of kicking my sorry ass? New worlds to conquer, or just dabbling in labor? For money, of course.
    â€œWhat did you say?”
    â€œNothing,” Dorsey said. “Eat your eggs.”
    After making love, they rested in bed and Dorsey gave Gretchen a full report on the meeting with his father. “He says my little piece can grow into a big slice. I said no, he got persuasive, and I said I’d think about it. Which I will do. But for now, what do you think?”
    â€œI’m not crazy about his motives, but money is nice to have around.”
    â€œI wholeheartedly agree about the money,” Dorsey said. “But tell me what you really think.”
    Gretchen propped herself on one elbow, her nipple grazing the hair on Dorsey’s chest. She smiled playfully. “What I think is this. It’s a wonderful world we live in when a jerk like you can make a living like you do, have someone offer to make you rich, and, best of all, get laid by a classy broad like me.”

6

    â€œHell’s wrong with him?” Al Rosek stood behind his oak bar cleaning beer mugs and