“You never told Jamie you were doing this, did you?” Gordon told me after the book was published. “Does he even know you’re alive? When you go out to California, you need to call him. And you need closure. You need to tell him that you’re alive, and you need to tell him that this is about the two of you.”

He opened his wallet and looked through it, and placed a business card in front of me, on the white linen tablecloth, in the back of a Brazilian restaurant in New York City. “This is Jamie’s agent. Call his cell, leave a message and tell him you know me. It’ll work out.”

A phone number with a 403 area code was scrawled on the back of his business card. Alberta, I thought, and I remembered how many times I punched those th...

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