Back home, I go in search of Michael, locating him eventually in the gym.
Beyond a screened-off area, a dozen or so women, squeezed into over-stretched pink and purple Spandex, huff and sweat through some dance routine.
Michael himself sips from a water bottle, watching Marty at the other end of the room graceful and athletic in leggings and leotard, demonstrating something or other to Charlotte. He chin-lifts me a Hello. “How’s Klempner?”
Hello“Bad-tempered.”
He barks laughter. “f*****g indestructible, isn’t he.”
“Damn close.” I nod across the floor. “When did you install a pole as part of the gym equipment?”
“About an hour ago. I told Marty she’s welcome to stay for as long as she needs to get settled. She got huffy about accepting charity, so I offered her the chance to sing for h
