He stared at his wife. "Where did you get these?" He croaked. This definitely was not spontaneous. This had been carefully planned, something he knew Lillian was not capable of on her own.

"They were delivered to me this morning. Proof of why you walked out."

"I didn't walk out . . . Who is it, Lillian?"

She looked up, dabbing theatrically at dry eyes. "Who is what?"

"The reason for all this, and don't tell me you don't know what I mean."

He knew before she said a word it would be a lie. After thirteen years her range of facial expressions were on permanent file in his head.

"There isn't anyone . . ."

"Fine. Who helped you with these papers?"

"Hum-- I found a divorce lawyer." Her eyes betrayed her and Mathew finished the hesitation.

"Humphrey! You used Humphrey Borden, Percy's lawyer!"

"He offe-- I-- he was the only lawyer I knew." Her posture was shifting to uncertain defense mode.

Mathew sagged onto a chair. "He offered? Is that what you said? He offered? And this all took place in the one and half days and one night that I was gone? just why would Humphrey Borden offer to help you . . ." His mouth fell open and he leaned back in the chair, his life running behind his eyes like a broken film strip. "Percy?"

Lillian turned red and tied to hide it with her tissue. She hadn't pictured this scene at all. Hers was one of a subjugated Mathew whining for forgiveness as she sadly informed him it was over.

"Percy," he said again, absently. The idea as remote as one of Lillian's vacation islands.

"It's not what you think, Mathew."

His attention snapped back. "Yes. Yes it is, Lillian. It's exactly what I think. I see now why I suddenly became redundant -- professionally and personally."

"No, that's not--"

"How long? How long have you and bloody Percy Rudman been planning this day?"

"We didn't plan--"

"You mean all the time he was shtupping you the topic never came up! Did he croon the words, vacation villa in your ear?"

There was a slight gasp and it looked like all Lillian's blood had congregated in her face.

"Jesus!" He stood up and started out of the room.

"Where are you going?"

"To pack."

"You have to sign the papers . . ."

Mathew's pirouette in the doorway was so shockingly swift he blundered into the large, framed brass rubbing of Lady Elizabeth Cobham, 1374, sending it crashing to the floor and shattering the glass. He picked himself up and glared at the mess then taking slow deep breaths, transferred the look to his wife. Lillian's alarm was evident when his voice was so low and controlled.

"The papers for your unplanned divorce action you mean? These papers are ready for me to sign? Not just-- those pictures but you have papers here too?

"Mathew . . ."

He turned again, safely this time and stormed up the stairs to their bedroom.

******

"It's your private line, Mr. Rudman," Janet called from her desk.

"What now, who is it?"

"It's your private--"

"Oh for god's sake. Fine. Fine." Percy snatched up his receiver. "What? Who is it?" The voice made him roll his eyes and slouch back in his chair. "What did you expect? . . . I know but not so soon- . . . I know what I said at the restaurant . . . so will he sign? . . . Packing! Packing for where? . . . So can't you ask? . . . He knows about Humphrey! . . . Did you tell him . . . good god, what were you thi--? . . . hello? Hello? Oh good Christ!"

Percy ran a hand through his thinning hair and jammed his thumb on an intercom button.

"Humphrey? Get your ass in here stat!"

******

Mathew slowed his actions along with his heart rate and stopped throwing things into his suitcase. He stood, head hanging, eyes closed and took a long deep breath then blew it out and walked to the window. Ricardo was gone and several clumps of leaves floated idly near the filter.

He stared at the water and felt a bitter taste in the back of his throat; the hotel business came back in a blinding flash and he braced himself against the window frame. It was all pre-planned . . . the papers, the firing, the photographs . . . they anticipated his habits, tracked him down, played on his self pity and he walked straight into their set up.

Pressing his forehead against the cool glass, he pieced together the steps in his downfall. Lillian and Percy -- a match made in hell, he thought grimly. He kept hearing his wife's almost desperate concern over their resort property and concluded that it was more to Lillian than their thirteen years of marriage; it was the only possible reason for such an elaborate scheme.

He knew Percy had big investments in the resort but he had no idea his greed extended to seducing his employee's wife to get his hands on more. He could just imagine how the photos taken at the hotel would sever any argument he might mount in fighting the divorce. Percy's private lawyer would see that no judge would deny poor Lillian everything she asked for. Could it really be over something that pretentious? What was the big deal?

Resuming the packing, his mind raced through a series of possible reasons for that resort to be so important. Something else. Something that smelled like a lot more than just their villa.

********

Lillian watched, stricken as Mathew loaded his suitcase into the car along with several personal items he'd grown attached to -- his Bose radio/disc player, a pair of bird watching binoculars, a small coffee machine and some different jackets from the front hall cupboard.

"Where are you going? You can't just walk out!"

"Watch me."

"But what am I supposed to do?"

Mathew ignored her and ran back upstairs for his laptop, galloped back down, grabbing a handful of cds on the way out.

"The papers . . . you didn't sign them!"

"Gee, remind me next time you see me."

"But Mathew, what will I do now?"

"Same as you did before, darling -- get on your heels." He slammed the door, piled the stuff in the car and drove out of the driveway having no idea where he was going.

Lillian began to sob. The plan! What happened to the plan?

********

"Mr. Rudman sir . . . your private line . . ."

"Dammit all, I'm busy in here, Janet. Take a message!"

"She said your private line, Percy." Humphrey sat uncomfortably by the putting carpet on a low hassock, the other chairs had been stacked to make room for the new putting carpet.

"What? Oh . . . goddammit all, again? Hello! . . . what now, Lillian? . . . Well why didn't you . . . they need to be signed . . . I know you know . . . where to? . . . Lillian for . . . I'm not angr-- . . . I understa-- . . . fine, fine I'll send him over and you can work out something with him. . . . Yes . . . yes I will . . . I know, me too . . . yes . . . yes, goodbye, Lillian . . . yes goodbye."

Percy replaced the phone calmly and came around to the putting carpet where he selected a driver from the wall rack, teed up a ball and drove it past Humphrey's ear into the plaster wall.

"Trouble, Percy?" Humphrey ventured, moving toward the office door with a nervous caution.

"Not for me." The look made Humphrey churn inside. "Patton moved out and without signing the papers. We're fortunate the time line is still in our favour but nothing is forever Borden so you will see Lillian, track down Patton and deliver those papers to the judge . . . signed!"

"Does she know where he went?"

"No."

Humphrey's voice matched his bleak features. "Then how--?"

"I don't do how, Borden. I pay you to do how, so get the hell out of here and do it!"

********

Humphrey sat on an un-upholstered Queen Anne chair across from a sobbing Lillian. The drink of scotch he had accepted from a bottle he brought and immediately consumed now became the object of his frustration as he throttled the empty glass in his hands.

"Lillian, calm yourself, this is getting us nowhere."

"Calm! How can I be calm? Mathew has left me."

"Am I in error when I remind you that he did precisely what you wanted?"

"But the papers . . .!"

"Exactly why I'm here and you need to calm down. Now, do you have any idea where Mathew might have gone, does he belong to a club or association?"

"He wanted to but we couldn't afford it." She dabbed her nose and sniffled.

Humphrey's eyebrows elevated in obvious doubt as he cast his eyes around the lavishly furnished room.

"Right . . . what about friends, family?"

"Mathew has no family and his friends are just acquaintances really; local bar or sports event. He liked being here at home."

Again, Humphrey experienced a huge doubt with that statement. "Very well, give me the license number and a description of the car and I'll see if I can track him down. If he comes back or calls get in touch with me right away . . . don't call Percy, he's ah-- left this up to me."

He stood and started for the door, pausing to reiterate his caution about phoning Percy. "Just let me handle this and you pull yourself together." The crunch under his shoe made him pull up and glance at the floor. "There's broken glass here, Lillian . . ."

Her wail sent him scuttling to the exit and he called back the word, "Calm," as the door closed with a bang behind him.