The door closed behind us. I thought to reach for Benny’s hand, then thought the better of it. Or the worse of it, as my hand without Benny’s hand made my head hurt. Pound it went. Or maybe that was my heart. Either way, something was pounding and hurting.
The lawyer held out his own hand, so mine, at least, had a brief companion. “Maximillian Ditmore,” he said.
“Ted d’Urbervilles,” I replied. My last name suddenly sounded strange to me, at least in that setting. I felt like I was at the White House—if the White House had taken steroids and was now every shade of color and ten times larger and seemed at any moment to crash down upon me. I think I might have been hyperventilating. I know my hand was shaking as it shook his. It’s weird to want something so badly and then get that something
