ERIN had been beguiled by William’s vitality. A raconteur and bon vivant, he could command a room like a general. But gradually, he began to retreat. Adventures were shelved, invitations declined, oratories dried up. There were moments when, like solar flares, his old self emerged, but these served only as reminders of loss. Depression? If only. William was simply happy to decline into a slippered life. Erin, as miserable as a tethered kite, had no choice but to leave. It cut her deeply, but not as deeply as the unsettling thought that William may barely notice she’d gone.