elaborate on his message. He suddenly gripped Nora’s hand gently
but firmly in his teeth and, to her startlement, pulled her along the sidewalk
to an art gallery, where a young man and woman were admiring the landscape
paintings in the window. The couple had a baby in a stroller, and it was the
child to whom Einstein was directing Nora’s attention. He wouldn’t let go of her
hand until he had forced her to touch the pink-outfitted infant’s chubby arm.
Embarrassed, Nora said, “He thinks your baby’s exceptionally cute, I guess—
which she certainly is.”
The mother and father were wary of the dog at first but quickly realized he was
harmless.
“How old’s your little girl?” Nora asked.
“Ten months,” the mother said.
“What’s her name?”
“Lana.”
“That’s pretty.”
Finally, Einstein was willing to release Nora’s hand.
A few steps away from the young couple, in front of an antique shop that looked
as if it had been transported brick by brick and timber by timber from
seventeenth-century Denmark, Travis stopped, crouched beside the dog, lifted one
of its ears, and said, “Enough. If you ever want your Alpo again, cut it out.”
Nora looked baffled. “What’s gotten into him?”
Einstein yawned, and Travis knew they were in trouble.
In the next ten minutes, the dog took hold of Nora’s hand twice again and led
her, both times, to babies.
Modern Bride and babies.
The message was painfully clear now, even to Nora: You and Travis belong
together. Get married. Have babies. Raise a family. What’re you waiting for?
She was blushing furiously and seemed unable to look directly at Travis. He was
somewhat embarrassed, too.
At last Einstein seemed satisfied that he had gotten his point across, and he
stopped misbehaving. Until now, if asked, Travis would have said that a dog
could not look smug.
Later, at dinnertime, the day was still pleasantly warm, and Nora changed her
mind about eating inside, in an ordinary restaurant. She chose a place with
sidewalk tables under red umbrellas that were, in turn, sheltered by the boughs
of a giant oak. Travis sensed that she was not now intimidated by the prospect
of a real restaurant experience but wanted to eat in the open air so they could
keep Einstein with them. Repeatedly throughout dinner, she looked at Einstein,
sometimes glancing surreptitiously at him, sometimes studying him openly and
intently.
Travis made no reference to what had happened and pretended to have forgotten
the whole affair. But when he had the dog’s attention, and when Nora was not
looking, he mouthed threats at the mutt: No more apple tarts. Choke chain.
Muzzle. Straight to the dog pound.
Einstein took every threat with great equanimity, either grinning or yawning or
blowing air out his nostrils.
5
Early Sunday evening, Vince Nasco paid a visit to Johnny “The Wire” Santini.
Johnny was called “The Wire” for several reasons, not least of which was that he
was tall and lean and taut, and he looked as if he was constructed of knotted
wires in various gauges. He also had frizzy hair the shade of copper. He had
made his bones at the tender age of fifteen, when to please his uncle, Religio
Fustino, don of one of New York’s Five Families, Johnny had taken it upon
himself to strangle a freelance shit-and-coke dealer who was operating in the
Bronx without the permission of the Family. Johnny used a length of piano wire
for the job. This display of initiative and dedication to the principles of the
Family had filled Don Religio with pride and love, and he had wept for only the
second time in his life, promising his nephew the eternal respect of the Family
and a well-paid position in the business.
Now Johnny The Wire was thirty-five and lived in a million-dollar beach house in
San Clemente. The ten rooms and four baths had been remade by an interior
designer commissioned to create an authentic—and expensive— private Art Deco
retreat from the modern world. Everything was in shades of black, silver, and
deep blue, with accents of turquoise and peach. Johnny had told Vince that he
liked Art Deco because it reminded him of the Roaring Twenties, and he liked the