momentary disorientation to get custody of Amy. So while I was battling corporate Goliaths, I let her walk off with the only thing I would have given my life for. The more time went by, the more I wanted to kick myself. Alex Katz (of Walton, Halliday, and Katz—now minus the Walton) read the custody agreement the day after I signed it, sighed, glared over his smudgy half-lenses, and announced that this kind of unconditional surrender should only be signed on the decks of battleships. What did he have, a law partner or a fucking schlemiel?

He was right, for all the wrong reasons. Not long after, I cashed in my piece of the firm and went independent. Win or lose, it's best to sort things out on your own. I was then forty- three, six one, and weighed in at an even one eighty. There were a few lines on the face and several more on the psyche, but the sandy hair was mostly intact, and I could still swim a couple of miles if absolutely essential. Maybe there was still time for a new start. Part of that therapy was going to be our trip.

He was right, for all the wrong reasons. Not long after, I cashed in my piece of the firm and went independent. Win or lose, it's best to sort things out on your own. I was then forty- three, six one, and weighed in at an even one eighty. There were a few lines on the face and several more on the psyche, but the sandy hair was mostly intact, and I could still swim a couple of miles if absolutely essential. Maybe there was still time for a new start. Part of that therapy was going to be our trip.

Perhaps I should also add that I'd had a brief "rebound" fling, for what it was worth. The lady was Donna Austen, a name you'll recognize as belonging to that irrepressibly cheerful "Personalities!" host on what Channel Eight likes to term its Evening News. She'd called about a segment on the subject of the cosmetics company takeover, then very much in the local press, and I'd said fine. She ended up downtown, and soon thereafter we became an item. She was the closest I'd had to a girlfriend, and at that it was mostly an on-again, off-again thing—which terminated in an event reminiscent of the Hindenburg’s last flight. In the aftermath I went back to chatting with Amy every day on the phone, putting together stock buyback packages, and collecting Japanese swords.

Perhaps I should also add that I'd had a brief "rebound" fling, for what it was worth. The lady was Donna Austen, a name you'll recognize as belonging to that irrepressibly cheerful "Personalities!" host on what Channel Eight likes to term its Evening News. She'd called about a 

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