The screensaver showed photos of him and his wife, Joni. Marc stared at them a while—scenes of Joni and Adam on their wedding day, ones of her walking along an icy lakeshore, more couple shots in front of a lighthouse, on a sunny beach, and dressed in ski gear in the mountains. A photo of a tombstone with the Montague name on it flashed on the screen for a second before Adam reached over and closed the lid on the computer, forcing Marc’s attention in his direction. The man’s wife had died of cancer nine years ago this November. Marc knew the month, because, every year for the past five years, Adam had made an annual pilgrimage to her gravesite in Minnesota a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving. Damián and Marc knew that date was non-negotiable on his calendar. He usually came home and had some pretty dark days until he got past all the holidays. Marc and Damián had learned to steer clear of him during those dark times—and to not let the subs decorate the club for the holidays.
