Archie thought miserably. He hadn’t stopped thinking of Frances since she so unexpectedly showed up in his room. He’d had many lovers over the past decade, but they had all been either married or widowed, women who gave as freely as they took and expected nothing in return. They wanted a bit of affection and physical pleasure, as did he. Archie had never stayed long enough to develop any feelings for his partners, although he felt a fondness for them all, especially Margaret. The affair with Margaret lasted close to a year, although she made it clear that Archie wasn’t the only one and never would be. He didn’t really care. Margaret was considerably older than him and had enough emotional upheaval to last several lifetimes. He didn’t care to add to her troubles, and they became close friends rather than just lovers. Truth be told, Margaret had been one of the closest friends Archie had ever had, and he missed their talks. Margaret would have been the perfect person to talk to about Frances. She’d tell him what to do, and she would likely be right. Most men remembered Margaret for her beauty and her voracious sexual appetite, but they never realized how smart and intuitive she had been, how in tune with human nature. Archie often wondered if Hugo Everly suspected that Archie had been one of Margaret’s conquests, but he never asked. He had no claim to her, but like most men who’d known Margaret, still nursed feelings for her, only in his case they were more sympathy than lingering lust. Archie had to admit that just like Hugo, he felt a certain responsibility toward Jem because of the bond he shared with his mother, and kept an eye on the boy at all times, teaching him whatever he could about life.
