Ginny [antikvár]

CHAPTER ONEIt began when his wife went out of town for the summer.It would have happened anyway, of course, even if Fran had stayed in New York with him through those hot, frenzied days when Jim Creighton's career began to boom. Unless you were insane or dnll witted or an emotional eunuch, you didn't back away when someone as vitally available as Ginny Grant appeared.Sure, he knew, it would have happened anywaythe lies, the deceptions, even the tragic violence. The fact that Fran drove up to Cabott Island with the Fraziers on the Thursday evening before the Fourth of July weekend, to escape the heavy holiday traffic, simply helped to speed its beginning.They had been living in that far too elegant apartment just a building away from Sutton Place for a month when Ira and Madge Frazier invited Fran and Jim to spend as much of the summer as they chose with them at their house on Cabott. "The missus and I specialize in fresh air and open pores up there in God's country, Jim boy," Ira had announced one night when the four had been together. "Good old fash-ioned community sings when we get in the mood, and a couple days fishing that'U make you feel üke that steel drivin' man. Whatzisname."Fran, understandably, had liked the idea; she hated New York in the summer, and certainly his crazy work schedules over the past five months, of darting from the radio mike to the TV cameras, weren't designed to make her the most contented of wives. Jim, on the other hand, had no intention of being included in the plan. Not only would this be his