Richard DeTamble—Annette DeTamble

Richard DeTamble and Annette DeTamble’s marriage survives in Richard’s recollection as a union of artistic admiration, tenderness, and profound happiness cut short by Annette’s death. A family ring brings that past into the present: it had been made in Paris in 1823, crossed to America in 1920, and remained in a drawer after Annette died in 1969, until Richard gave it to Clare.

A Marriage Preserved in a Ring

At dinner, Clare wears Annette’s ring while Richard serves roast duck prepared by Kimy. Richard observes that the ring suits Clare, and she thanks him for allowing her to have it. He explains that the ring and its matching wedding band belonged to his great-great-great-grandmother Jeanne before passing through the family to his grandmother, Yvette. Its return to view after decades in a drawer makes the heirloom more than a token of inheritance: it materializes a family history that had been kept out of sight since Annette’s death.

The ring also makes the loss immediate. Clare recognizes that Annette was wearing it when she died; Henry appears to share the thought, while Richard continues eating. The quiet contrast between the ordinary dinner and the object’s history opens a conversation about the marriage, not as abstract family lore but as grief still present among the survivors.

Richard’s Memory of Annette

Asked to tell Clare about Annette, Richard first recalls her voice: rich, pure, and wide-ranging. He describes her as an artist able to hear and analyze the structure of music, and as a performer whose voice could make him feel that life meant more than biology. His recollection presents artistic skill and emotional force together: Annette’s sensitivity was not confined to music but could draw feeling out of other people.

Richard then describes her as kind, happy, and actively engaged with life. He calls her a great artist and emphasizes that her kindness and artistic greatness belonged together. He remembers seeing her cry only twice: when he gave her the ring and when she gave birth to Henry. These rare occasions frame the marriage through intimate moments of tenderness and family life, rather than through a catalogue of shared events.

Happiness and Its Rupture

Richard says that after Annette died he did not think he ever truly felt anything again. As he speaks, he shields his face with his hands; Henry watches him with visible sadness, and Clare looks down at her plate. The memory’s emotional consequences therefore reach beyond Richard: his account exposes the depth of his bereavement to his son and to Clare, who has inherited Annette’s ring.

Clare suggests that extreme happiness, even when brief, may be better than a lifetime of merely being all right. Richard answers that they had been both lucky and unlucky: one moment they possessed everything they could dream of, and the next Annette was in pieces on the expressway. Henry winces. Richard’s description makes the marriage’s defining reversal stark: a life experienced as abundance ends in sudden, violent loss. When Clare asks whether he believes happiness is worth that risk, Richard says he has often wondered. The question remains unresolved, leaving the marriage suspended between the joy he remembers and the grief that followed.