Before Edward, Paula had only met men who were “big talkers”—the kind of intellectuals who sat at Blenheim’s cafeteria at Seventh Avenue and Fourteenth Street chain smoking and drinking cup after cup of coffee, talking about all the things they would do, but getting nothing done. Edward wasn’t like that. He could build furniture, grow vegetables, tailor a suit. And, as I had come to realize, Edward was still a man for whom nothing was impossible.
