Excerpt from Group by Paul Solotaroff, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

He resumed his inspection of the floor. The silence stretched out: ten seconds; twenty. And then, about the time it became intolerable, a noise came to the rescue. It was the sound, reasonably enough, of someone giggling.

"I'm sorry," Sara gasped. "I just got this picture of Peter as a gold digger, and I couldn't stop myself from . . ."

Again, she started laughing, inspiring peals of it from her neighbors. Even Peter fell in with it, tossing his head back and howling, a high, adenoidal groan. Far from sustaining insult, he seemed jolly about it, even flattered, as if it was heady to be thought of at all by a woman like her.

"Actually, folks," said Lathon, "you shouldn't be so quick to laugh. Why don't you tell them, Peter, what Kara's worth."

Peter laughed again, being the willing good sport, though this time, stifled a grimace as he did so.

"Um, well, it's hard to really say, because some of it's tied up with family money. But if I had to make a guess, I'd probably put it around . . . eight million."

There were whoops and gasps now from the other members. A couple gaped at Peter disbelievingly, as if he'd hiked up his shirt to reveal abs of steel.

"But wait, it gets better," said Lathon. "Tell them the story of how you met Kara."

At the mention of her name in this more tender context, Peter broke out in a smile. He sat up straight, composing his knobby shoulders, and seemed, almost, for a moment, to preen.

"Um, well, that was sort of weird, how that happened," he said, laughing. "Let's see, about five, six months ago, at Dr. Lathon's suggestion, I answered some personal ads in New York magazine. As you can probably imagine, it wasn't the sort of thing I usually do; in fact, I had to take an Ativan just to dial the phone. And I still wouldn't've done it, but it'd been a year since my divorce, and almost two years since I had . . .

"Well, anyway, the first one to call back--in fact, the only one who called me back--was Kara. Her ad had read, 'In search of Pavarotti,' i.e. big, first-tenor types. Well, I'm sort of big, at least compared to most women, and I do like opera enough to listen to QXR, when there isn't a game on TV. Anyway, I showed up with flowers and said, 'Pavarotti couldn't make it tonight--he had to go in for a tummy tuck--and asked me to pinch-hit for him.' Well, under the heading of 'go figure,' she went for it--"

But here it became impossible to hear what he was saying, because the group erupted in laughter. They had just got the joke that this pale accountant could be funny, and responded with almost patronizing glee. So grateful were they for a sign that they weren't going to be bored senseless by him for a year that several actually broke out in applause.

Surprised to find himself the life of the party, Peter looked around him warily. It was clear he'd told this before to less gut-busting effect, and mistrusted the reaction it evoked now. Checking Lathon for a read, he saw that he, too, was laughing. Baffled, Peter shrugged and waited it out.

When the hilarity died down, Sara asked about his girlfriend. Who was this fabulous heiress with the eight million dollars, and why, of all places, was she cruising the personals?

"Yes, by all means, tell," said Lathon, with proprietary pride. "But that, I'm sorry to say, will be the last of the questions. If you want to know more, check back next session."

Peter mulled the question, choosing his words with care. "Well, first of all, Kara's not some fabulous heiress. She's just a nice, normal person who buys her clothes on sale and drives a Camry 'cause it's good on gas. Which is not to say she's stingy; if anything, she's too generous. With the last guy she was with, she offered to bankroll his microbrewery. And she was crazy to do it, because the guy was a real dirtbag; he kept pushing back their wedding at the last second. In fact, the week they were supposed to get married--in some big ceremony at the Royalton--he called her from the Bahamas and said it was over. Now, how anyone could do that completely escapes me, because, besides being a sweetheart, Kara has all this money, and would spend it in a minute to make you happy. She's already hinted that if we do get married, I'll never have to work a day if I don't want to. Which, of course, I'd never take her up on," he said. "I wouldn't want her thinking I'm a gold digger."

Reprinted from GROUP by Paul Solotaroff by permission of Riverhead Books, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc. Copyright © 1999 by Paul Solotaroff. All rights reserved. This excerpt, or any parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.