One probable reason was that Myrtle, the natural mother, was infertile.She had met and married Chester when she was twenty-six. He was the loan office... in the bank where she had an account. When she wanted to buy her first car she applied for a loan, although she had no credit and a low-paying job. But when Myrtle made up her mind that she wanted something, she found a way to get it. Nothing insurmountable ever stood in her way. Chester certainly wasn’t insurmountable.Myrtle was a big-boned. And feeling, not just a little, naughty.In the seafood restaurant, Walk was only pink, not red. And he was only semi, not full. For now.We started with fried zucchini, crisp and salty and delicious. I had a martini for old time’s sake, for New York’s sake. Crisp and potent and ... potent. Late-bake sourdough, the dentist’s best friend. More per capita chipped teeth in San Francisco than any other city, I bet.The waiter opened a bottle of white and I sniffed the tiny bit he poured. Nodded. The. More

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