Slam the Big Door by John D. MacDonald

did, and you can feel hurt and left out, just as they did, and about all I can do is apologize and say it was all terribly sudden.
    But not too sudden, believe me. I’m Mrs. Robert Parker Linder, and I’ve been married four whole days. Bob’s ranch is twenty miles from the Springs, and it’s half dude and half working ranch. We met in Reno—both there on the same mission. We’ve gone through all the necessary soul-searching and we’re confident that it isn’t purely rebound. I’m very happy. The country here is glorious. Bob is forty, a big, slow, sweet guy with the world’s best disposition and a grin that can turn me to butter. My gals adore him, and his son, Jaimie, age sixteen, seems to think I am a wondrous thing. You can judge how messy his situation was and how blameless he was by the fact he divorced her, and he got total custody of their only child.
    Buttons, I haven’t heard from you for almost a month so I do not know whether Troy is still there with you. I hope not. You’ve had more than your share of giving and forgiving. I feel sort of queer about writing this news to him. So if he is there would you please tell him, or, if not, drop him a note. He will probably be relieved to know he is off the alimony hook. I don’t want to wish problems on you but I would rather he heard that way than more indirectly.
    As I wrote you before, Troy has court permission to see the girls at his request, but not oftener than six times a year, and for not longer than eight hours at a time. You could give him this address and tell him that when he gets back on his feet and wants to see them, he can write to me and we can make arrangements.
    All my love to both of you, Bunny
     
    The letter arrived at lunch time. After Buttons read it she gave Mike an odd look, and then handed it to Troy to read. He was halfway through his lunch. He read it quickly; got up without a word and left the house. Mike then read it. Troy was not back by the time they went to bed. He had his own key.
    At three in the morning Buttons shook Mike awake and said, “I think he just came in, honey. He may be dreadfully drunk. You better go check.”
    He put on his robe and met Troy in the upstairs hall-way. Troy was not drunk. He whispered to avoid waking the boys.
    “Sorry I took off like that, Mike. It was rude.”
    “Where have you been?”
    “Walking. Thinking. A hell of a long walk.”
    As Mike looked at him he sensed that Troy had changed during that walk. There was more alertness in his expression. The brooding look was hidden. Not entirely gone. But not as obvious.
    “I had to get used to her being married to somebody else,” Troy whispered.
    “Sure. I know. Well… good night.”
    He went back to bed and told Buttons. As he was going back to sleep he realized that Troy would soon be gone.
    Two days later, on a Sunday afternoon, Troy told Mike his plans. “I know I can’t get back into advertising. Maybe I could get some crummy little job with a small-town agency, but I don’t want that. My father was a builder. Not a big one. Small houses, and I don’t think he ever had more than eight men working for him at one time. I worked for him for four straight summers. I’ve got a tiny bit of capital. That’s what I’m going to do. It’s the only thing I can think of.”
    “Here in West Hudson?”
    “No. I’ve decided on Florida. The west coast. I’m going to go down there and hire out to a contractor down there and learn what’s new in the field, and what special local problems they have. When I’m ready, I’ll try it on my own.”
    “All cured?”
    “Thanks to you, Mike. And Buttons. I’ll never forget it. It’s not… a total cure, I guess. But the best I can manage.”
    “What happened, Troy? Is that a fair question?”
    “It’s a fair question. I just wish I could give you an answer. I don’t know what the hell happened. Everything was fine. Overnight everything went sour for me. I hated the work and the city and