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does. You probably compete with each other to see which of you feels more guilty after you fuck. ” Pleased with her tirade, she went back to Berenson.
    Actually, Edith and Phillip fucked happily and well. And they did, in point of fact, argue. An increasing amount as senior year was coming to a close, Phillip ’ s Business School graduation too.
    Always about the same thing: Edith wanted Phillip to take over the family business; Phillip wanted to strike out on his own. He ’ d always been a scholarship student and Edith ’ s money had never been much of a plus in his eyes. But more than that, as he told her again and again, if he assumed an ongoing enterprise, how would he ever know if he had what it took, whatever “ it ” was. Edith countered that he was jupt being stubborn, that Sol had always planned for the Mazursky company to be a family company, that Sol had taken over from kis father and she, Edith, was surely not going into the real estate business, so if he wanted her, Phillip had no choice.
    Well I want to marry you, Phillip said. But I ’ m my own man.
    Then maybe we ought to think about it for a month or so, Edith said.
    It was during that month she met Doyle.- ”
    Doyle. Doyle Ackerman. A Yalie. A swimmer. A star. Not all that bright. Or all that kind. And he was the first man that obviously was after her because of her money. But he had the best body Edith had ever seen. And he moved with instinctive grace. And he seemed always to be back-lit, he was that beautiful.
    Edith was almost ashamed of the way he made her feel. So she kept it all quite secret. Phillip never knew about Doyle. Even Sally, who did know, kept her mouth shut. Edith would say she was going to New York on weekends, but instead head for New Haven where Doyle would take her to his roommate ’ s parents ’ summer place on the water near Mystic. It was still out of season. No one was around. Not a lot to do. But bed.
    She made her deal with Phillip before the month was out. He was studying for a major final but she tracked him to his carrel and suggested that they be original and get married in June, six weeks away. And that he work three years for Mazursky ’ s. He could start in the mailroom for all she cared.
    Phillip doubted Mazursky ’ s had a mailroom. It was a real estate concern, not the U.S. Post Office.
    Edith said she thought everybody started in the mailroom.
    Phillip said go on.
    After three years he could quit and no arguments.
    Promise?
    All she wanted was for him to be a millionaire, why was that so terrible.
     
    Phillip smiled, said June was fine and now please shoo so he could study. She left him to his labors, but then a few moments later, she tiptoed back and took a quiet peek. He looked a lot in profile like Lincoln …
     
    Phillip did not become a millionaire immediately; it was well over five years before the deed was done, and busy years they were. Whatever his needs were, Edith filled them. At first he would come home at night, silent and tight, because after all his college study what did he turn out to be but a son-in-law.
    That was all they thought of him in the Mazursky offices. Some Harvard hotshot who had managed to snooker the heiress into marriage because he wasn ’ t smart enough to make it on his own.
    So untrue, Edith soothed. False, all false. And she buoyed him and boosted him, pushed when he needed pushing, shoved when he had to be shoved. Within a year, the bosses at Mazursky knew that someone Special had come in to roost. Because Phillip was that—inexperienced, sure, but brilliant. And tenacious. You told him something once and he had it. He was there before you in the morning, hours after you at night.
    Edith never felt remotely alone, because that first year, happily, Kate came along, asthma and all, quickly followed by Abigail and Caroline—no Robin or Pamby for Edith, thank you very much.
    And if she was attentive to Phillip ’ s needs, she was at least that with the girls. Being who