Eric Lustbader
Dead Cat Bounce
The night of my daughter’s wedding, my husband, William VanDam, broke one of his inviolable rules.
“Persis,” he said to me, “I’ve made a terrible mistake.” He had never before admitted such a thing. To do so in his securities business would have meant immeasurable loss of reputation.
The best way to deal with this revelation, I decided, was to do nothing. Nothing spins so well as on its own momentum, I once heard him tell a junior partner. “Dear, why don’t you take off your tux?” I said. I was sitting in my champagne silk charmeuse slip, at the dressing table in the truly hot hotel suite we had rented for the week. By hot I mean designer hot.
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