hen Cal got home from work, he flipped on the white overhead light, kicked off his shoes, and went into the white galley kitchen behind the white breakfast bar to pour himself a Glenlivet. Even as he poured, Elvis Costello blared out in the next apartment, reverberating “She” through the wall.

“Oh, Christ,” Cal said, and put his glass on his forehead. Shanna’s rocky romance must have crashed. He tossed back the drink and went to pound on her door.

When Shanna opened the door, her pretty face was tear-stained under her tangled mop of soft kinky hair. “Hi, Cal,” she said and sniffed. “Come on in.”

He followed her into the Technicolor version of his apartment, wincing until she’d turned Elvis down to a reasonable volume. “Tell me about it.”

“It was awful,” she said, going to her bright red bookcase and moving aside a madly colored tiki god doll to get the bottle of Glenlivet she kept for him.

“I just had one,” he said, warding her off.

“I thought this was it.” Shanna put the tiki back and changed course to the big old couch she’d covered with a purple Indian bedspread. “I thought it was forever.”

“You always think it’s forever.” Cal sat down beside her and put his arm around her. “Who was it this time? I lost track.”

“Megan,” Shanna said, her face crumpling again.

“Right.” Cal put his feet on the ancient trunk she used for a coffee table. “Megan the bitch. You know, maybe you should try dating for fun instead. Or take a break, that’s what I—”

“Megan was fun,” Shanna said.

“Megan was a humorless pain in the ass,” Cal said. “Why you always fall for women who make you feel guilty is beyond me. That kind makes me run.”

Shanna looked at him with watery contempt. “All kinds make you run.”

“This is not about me,” Cal said as Elvis finished with a last big, “She!” and began again; Shanna had put him on replay. “You have to get a new breakup song.”

“I love this song,” Shanna said.

“I used to like it,” Cal said. “But that was many months ago before you bashed me over the head with it every time your latest disaster left. You’re ruining Elvis Costello.”

“Nobody can ruin Elvis. Elvis is a god,” Shanna said.

“Isn’t Megan the one who hated Elvis?” Cal said.

“No, that was Anne,” Shanna said. “Although Megan wasn’t a fan, either.”

“Well, there it is,” Cal said. “Play Elvis on the first date, and if she doesn’t like him, get rid of her before you get attached.”

“Is that what you do?” Shanna let her head fall back on his arm. “Is that how you go through all those women unscathed?”

“This is not about me,” Cal said. “This is about you. Stop dating people you think you should like and spend time with somebody who’s fun to be with.”

“There are people like that?” Shanna said.

“They all are in the beginning,” Cal said, and then remembered Min. “Well, except for the woman I had dinner with last night. She was pretty much a pain in the butt from the start.”

“Of course you picked up a woman last night.” Shanna rolled her head to look at him. “They could drop you in the middle of a guys’ locker room and you’d come out with a woman. How do you do it?”

Cal grinned at her. “My natural charm.” He could almost see the actuary rolling her eyes as he said it.

Shanna rolled her head away. “And the sad thing is, that’s true. I have no natural charm.”

“Yes, you do,” Cal said. “You just don’t use it.”

Shanna looked back at him. “I do?”

“When you’re not worried about impressing some snobby twit, you’re great,” Cal said. “You’re smart and funny and a good time.”

“I am?”

“I hang out with you, don’t I?”

“Well, yeah, but you’re just being nice.”

“I’m not nice,” Cal said. “I’m selfish as all hell. And since you’ve made it clear you’ll never sleep with me, I must be spending time with you because you’re fun, right? Not counting these wet Elvis nights.”

“Right,” Shanna said, brightening some.

“Well, my standards of fun are very high,” Cal said. “So you must be great. You just date the biggest bitches I’ve ever met in my life.”

“Oh, and the women you date are all sweethearts.” Shanna got up and moved away from him.

“This is not about me,” Cal said. “The reason you keep crashing and burning is that you have no confidence and you keep picking women who like that about you.”

“I know.” Shanna sat down on the red barstool next to her breakfast bar and shoved back the yellow curtain she’d draped in the opening to reach for her Betty Boop cookie jar.

“So you should pick somebody who makes you feel good.”

Shanna opened the cookie jar and took out an Oreo. “I know.”

“How many times have we had this talk?”

“A thousand.” Shanna bit savagely into her cookie.

“And every time, you abuse Elvis. That was a good song and you ran it into the ground. Sooner or later, you’re going to pay for that.”

“I know,” Shanna said around her Oreo.

“Pick something that has some fight to it,” Cal said. “There must be a pissed-off breakup song.”

“I’ve always liked ‘I Will Survive,’ ” Shanna said, cheering up a little.

“Oh, Christ.” Cal stood up. Behind him, Elvis began to sing “She” again. “Set him free, will you?”

Shanna crossed to the bookcase and turned Elvis off. “They’re not mean when I meet them, you know.”

“Remember your first date with Megan?” Cal said. “You introduced us in the hall?” Shanna nodded. “She apologized for your clothes. I would have bitch-slapped her then but she looked like she could take me.”

“She had very high standards.”

“She was a bitter, controlling snob,” Cal said. “You should have cut your losses after the first date.”

“Is that what you did last night?” Shanna said.

“Hell, yes,” Cal said.

“Well, I can’t do that,” Shanna said, going back to her cookie jar. “I’m not like you. I have to give it a fair shot.”

Cal sighed. “All right. Why did she leave?”

Shanna’s face crumpled again. “She said I was too much of a doormat.”

“Well, she wiped her feet on you often enough to know,” Cal said. Shanna burst into tears, and he went to her and put his arms around her. “Get mad at her, Shan. She was not a nice person.”

“But I loved her!” Shanna wailed into his chest, spitting Oreo crumbs on his shirt.

“No, you didn’t,” Cal said, holding her tighter. “You wanted to love her. It’s not the same thing. You only knew her a couple of weeks.”

“It can happen like that.” Shanna looked up into his face. “You can just know.”

“No,” Cal said. “You do not look at somebody, hear Elvis Costello singing ‘She’ on the soundtrack in your head, and fall in love. It takes time.”

“Like you’d know.” Shanna pulled away and picked up her cookie jar. “Have you ever stayed with anybody long enough to love her?”

“Hey,” Cal said, insulted.

“That’s no answer,” Shanna said, retreating to her couch with her cookies. “Is that why you keep walking away so fast? Because at least I try.”

“This is not about me,” Cal said.

“I know, I know,” Shanna said, fishing out another Oreo. “God, I’m a mess. Want a cookie?”

“No,” Cal said. “Get your act together and try again tomorrow. If you swing by the office, I’ll take you to lunch before you go to work.”

“That would be nice,” Shanna said. “You’re a good person, Cal. Sometimes I wish you were a woman—”

“Thank you,” Cal said doubtfully.

“—and then I remember you have that commitment phobia and I’m glad you’re a guy. I have enough problems.”

“This is true.” Cal put his hand on the doorknob. “Can I go home now?”

“Sure,” Shanna said. “Take me someplace expensive tomorrow.”

“I’ll take you to Emilio’s,” Cal said. “He needs the business and you like the pesto.”

While Cal was trying to prop up Shanna, Min stopped by Emilio’s to pick up salad and bread.

“Ah, the lovely Min!” he said when she tracked him down in his kitchen.

“Emilio, my darling,” Min said. “I need salad and bread for three right now and a kickass wedding cake for two hundred three weeks from Sunday.”

“Oh.” Emilio leaned against the counter. “My grandmother makes wedding cakes. They taste like...” He shut his eyes. “... heaven. Light as a feather.” He opened his eyes. “But they’re good, old-fashioned cakes, they don’t have marzipan birds or fondant icing.”

“Could she make a cake and decorate it with fresh flowers?” Min said. “I can get some real pearls. Maybe if the cake is covered with real things instead of sugar imitations, people will be impressed.”

“I don’t know,” Emilio said. “But what matters is how it tastes, and it will taste—”

“Emilio, that’s sweet,” Min said, imagining Nanette’s reaction to that one. “Unfortunately, in this case, what matters is how it looks.”

“How about this,” Emilio said. “I’ll see if she’ll do the cake. If she says yes, she’ll ice it plain, and you can put the flowers and the pearls on it.”

“Me,” Min said doubtfully. “Well, not me, but Bonnie can do it, she has fabulous taste. It’s a deal. Call your grandma.”

Emilio picked up the phone. “So you taking Cal to this wedding?”

“I’m never seeing Cal again,” Min said.

“God, you guys are dumb,” Emilio said as he punched the numbers into the phone. In a moment, his face brightened. “Norma?” he said and began to talk in Italian. The only word Min recognized was “Cal” which was worrying, but when Emilio hung up, he was smiling.

“It’s all set,” he said. “I told her you were Cal’s girlfriend. She loves Cal.”

“All women do.” Min kissed him on the cheek. “You are my hero.”

“That’s the food,” Emilio said, and packed up bread and salad for three for her. Then she went home and walked up thirty-two steps to Bonnie’s apartment on the first floor.

“So,” Liza said when she answered Bonnie’s door. “You want to explain last night?”

“Can I come in first?” Min said, and slid past Liza into Bonnie’s bright, warm apartment.

Bonnie had set her mission table with her Royal Doulton Tennyson china and a cut glass vase of grocery roses. It looked so pretty that Min thought, Okay, my apartment will never look this good, but I could set a better table. I could even cook. I could get my grandmother’s kitchen things out of the basement. It would be nice to do kitchen stuff like her grandmother had. Maybe bake cookies.

That she couldn’t eat.

Min sighed and put the Styrofoam boxes down on Bonnie’s table.

“What’s that?” Bonnie said, poking at the Styrofoam.

“The best salad you’ll ever eat, and even better bread,” Min said, and Bonnie went to get serving bowls.

“Bread?” Liza said to Min. “You’re going to eat bread?”

“No,” Min said. “I ate bread last night and then paid for it today. You’re going to eat bread, and I’m going to live vicariously.”

Liza made a face as she pulled out one of Bonnie’s tall dining room chairs. “Like dessert. Stats, you—”

“What did you bring?” Min said, dreading the answer.

“Raspberry Swirl Dove Bars,” Liza said, as she sat down.

“Rot in hell,” Min said, pulling out her own chair. “Why can’t you ever bring fruit?”

“Because fruit is not dessert,” Liza said. “Now explain to us why you left the bar with Calvin Morrisey last night.”

Min shoved the bread box Liza’s way. “David bet him ten bucks he couldn’t get me into bed in a month.” She watched them freeze in place, Bonnie with a platter of chicken and vegetables in her hands, Liza opening the bread.

“You are kidding me,” Liza said, her face dangerous with anger.

“I let him pick me up because I had a plan to get a date to the wedding, and then I realized I couldn’t put up with that smarmy charm for three weeks, so I ate an excellent dinner and left.”

Bonnie’s face crumpled. “Oh, honey, that’s awful.”

“No,” Min said. “Let’s forget Cal Morrisey and eat. I want to talk about Diana. She’s not happy.”

“Wet and Worse.” Liza gave Min a look that said they’d be talking about Cal again soon. “They’d bring anybody down.”

Min closed her eyes. “Do not call them that. I almost called Susie Wet this afternoon at the fitting. She looked like she was about to sob through the whole thing.”

“Well, that’s understandable,” Bonnie said, sympathy in her voice. She put the platter in the middle of the table and sat down, too.

Liza dumped the bread into a bowl. “Maybe Di shouldn’t have asked Wet to be a bridesmaid. That’s almost cruel.”

“It would be worse not to be asked,” Bonnie said. “Is that why she’s upset, Min?”

“I think it’s Greg,” Min said, starting on her salad, “but she won’t admit it. He’s the one who forgot to order the wedding cake.”

“Whoa,” Liza said. “This is a man who’s resisting his own wedding. And let’s face it, your mother and Diana railroaded him into it.”

“He proposed on his own,” Bonnie said.

“I think he wanted a longer engagement,” Min said. “But he said yes when they set the date. He’s not incapable of speech. He could have said ‘No.’ ”

“To Nanette and Diana?” Liza said as she started on her salad. “Fat chance. Worse will do a kind deed before Greg will grow a spine. Now you talk about Calvin Morrisey and this damn bet. We want to know everything.”

Half an hour later, the salad was gone, the leftover chicken was in the refrigerator, and Bonnie was unwrapping a Dove Bar as Min finished her recap of the evening.

“At least he walked you home,” Bonnie said. “That was nice.” She sounded doubtful.

“Yes. And then he hit me in the head, said, ‘Have a nice life,’ and left me,” Min said. “I didn’t like him, you guys don’t like him, and he didn’t like me. I think that’s a perfect score.”

“I think that whole good-bye thing is a trick,” Liza said around a mouthful of Dove Bar. “I think he’s putting you off guard, and he’ll be back. If you’re not careful, he’ll charm you into bed and break your heart.”

Min frowned at her in exasperation. “How naïve do I look? I know about the bet. Anyway, I have a new plan.”

“Oh, good,” Liza said. “Because you don’t have enough plans.”

Min ignored her. “I was listening to Elvis singing ‘Love Me Tender’ last night, and it occurred to me that if he’d been reincarnated, he’d be about twenty-seven now, and I’m open to younger men. Statistically, the most successful marriages are those in which the woman is eight years older than the man. So I’ve decided to wait for Elvis to find me.”

“You’d only be six years older,” Bonnie said.

“Yes, but it would be Elvis, so I’d try harder,” Min said.

“Why Elvis?” Liza said.

“Because he always tells the truth when he sings. Elvis is the only man in my life I can trust.”

“So let me get this straight,” Lisa said, pointing with her half-eaten Dove Bar. “Bonnie is waiting for a fairy tale character to make her life complete, and you’re holding out for the reincarnation of a guy who ate fried banana sandwiches.”

“Yep,” Min said, and Liza shook her head.

“I might have found my prince,” Bonnie said. “Roger’s good.”

“Roger?” Min asked, trying not to watch Liza consume her Dove Bar.

“We picked up the beast’s friends last night,” Liza said around her ice cream. “Bonnie got the one that walks upright.”

“Roger is a sweetheart,” Bonnie said. “I’m thinking of breaking my date Saturday night and going out with him instead. I’ll wait and see how Friday night with him works out.”

“He asked you out?” Min said, relieved to be off the subject of Cal. “Tell all.”

“He asked her out for every night for the rest of her life,” Liza said. “He’s blind for her.”

“That’s nice.” Min picked a last salad leaf out of her bowl to compensate for her lack of sugar. “So he has potential, Bon?”

“Maybe.” Bonnie came as close to frowning as she ever did. “I think if I keep seeing him for a couple of weeks and it’s working, I’ll take him home to Mama and let her scope him out.”

Min raised her eyebrows. “You think he’ll cross three states to meet your mother after two weeks?”

“He would cross the Andes to get her a toothpick,” Liza said. “It’s pathetic.”

“No, it’s not.” Bonnie frowned over her ice cream stick. “It’s sweet. And he thinks Cal is great, which is confusing.”

“So Bonnie met a good one,” Min said to Liza, ignoring the Cal reference. “Who’d you get?”

“The village idiot,” Liza said. “He also thinks Cal is the man. They’re like the Three Stooges. Only not funny.”

“The Three Stooges aren’t funny,” Bonnie said.

“Too true,” Min said. “Are you seeing the idiot again?”

“Yes.” Liza licked the last of her ice cream off the stick. “I think your beast is coming back, and my idiot babbles nicely when I ask him questions. Plus, there is a bartender who lives next door to the beast with whom I must bond.”

“Well, don’t ask questions for me,” Min said. “Calvin Morrisey is not part of my future.”

“He will be tomorrow night,” Bonnie said. “He’ll be at The Long Shot with Roger and Tony.”

Min shook her head. “Then I’ll stay home.”

“No,” Bonnie said, stricken. “We don’t have to go there. We’ll go somewhere else so you can come, too.”

“And make you miss Roger?” Min reconsidered. “No. Not even I am selfish enough to cross True Love. I’ll go. I want to see this Roger up close anyway.”

“Are you sure Cal made that bet?” Bonnie said.

“I was standing right there,” Min said. “I heard it. With my own ears. He said, ‘Piece of cake.’ ” That rankled more than anything.

“Because Roger thinks the world of him,” Bonnie said. “He told me all about him, about the three of them. It’s kind of sad. They met in summer school when they were in the third grade. Roger said he was a slow thinker, and Tony didn’t care about school, and Cal was dyslexic, so everybody thought they were dumb.”

“Cal’s dyslexic?” Min said, surprised.

“Tony is dumb,” Liza said at the same time.

“No,” Bonnie said, with the heavy patience that meant “back off.” “Tony is not dumb. When he cares, he’s very smart. And Roger isn’t dumb, either, he’s just very methodical, you can’t hurry him. He’s like my uncle Julian.”

“Oh, God,” Liza said to the ceiling. “He’s like family. I will bet you anything that Roger is her If this week.”

“I don’t bet,” Min said. “Bonnie? What’s your If?”

Bonnie stuck her chin out. “If Roger turns out to be as sweet as I think he is, I’m going to marry him.”

“Oh, good grief,” Liza said.

“Leave her alone,” Min said to Liza. “She gets whatever If she wants. What’s yours?”

Liza straightened. “If my job doesn’t get any more interesting, I’m quitting next week.”

“Get the calendar,” Min said to Bonnie.

“I don’t have to,” Bonnie said. “It was August when she quit the last time because she said nobody should work in a heat wave.”

“Ten months,” Min said. “That’s not good. Her attention span is getting shorter.”

“It’s an If,” Liza said to Min. “I’m keeping an eye on my options. I think I might want to waitress again if I can find someplace fun. What’s your If?”

Min thought of Cal Morrisey, and her head began to throb. “If I can find the reincarnation of Elvis, I’ll date again. Until then, I’m taking a break from inter-gender socialization. It’s just too painful.”

“I am the only sane woman in this room,” Liza said.

“Sanity is overrated,” Min said, and went home to get an aspirin.

The next night, Cal was back at The Long Shot, as far away from the landing as possible to give himself a wide escape path. Roger was ten feet away, looking at Bonnie as if she were the center of the universe. Bonnie was looking at Roger as if he were a very nice man she didn’t know very well. Cal shook his head. Watching Roger date was like watching a toddler in traffic.

Tony sat down beside Cal and slid his Scotch over. “I think you should go for it,” he said, nodding toward the bar.

“What?” Cal looked past Bonnie, to see a tall, slender redhead. Tony’s Liza. Then she shifted and he saw Min standing behind her, draped in a loose red sweater. It had some kind of hood hanging down the back, and Roger tugged on it and said something that made her smile. “Great.” Now he’d have to put up with Min slanging at him for another evening.

“It’s not like you to stare and not do anything about it,” Tony said. “You are losing it.”

“I was watching Roger and Bonnie,” Cal said.

“Oh.” Tony looked over at Roger and shrugged. “Yep, he’s a goner. Well, we all gotta die sometime.”

“Yeah, you’re the guy I want watching my back,” Cal said.

“Well, what are you gonna do?” Tony looked past him and straightened. “What the hell? Where do they think they’re going?”

Cal turned back to see the four of them commandeer a poker table on the other side of the bar. “Not here,” he said, cheering up. Evidently Min had had as bad a time as he’d had. Which was her own fault because she was impossible to please. God knew he’d tried. Well, except for clipping her there at the end.

She sat down beside Liza, and he watched her as she leaned back and stretched out her black-clad legs. Her legs were pretty good, strong full calves, sturdy, like Min in general.

“She’ll be over here in five minutes,” Tony said.

“Ten bucks says she won’t,” Cal said, turning back to his Glenlivet.

“You’re on,” Tony said. “She wants me.”

“You?” Cal said, startled. “Oh, you mean Liza.” He looked back at the redhead who was laughing with Min and giving no evidence whatsoever that she knew Tony existed. “Nope, she won’t, either.”

“Oh, you were talking about the chub?” Tony said.

“Don’t call her that,” Cal said. “Her name is Min. She’s a good woman, apart from her rage.” He watched her as she leaned sideways in her chair to say something to Bonnie. “She’s not chubby. She’s just got a really round body. Everywhere.”

“Nice rack,” Tony said, trying to be fair. “So you struck out, huh?”

“No,” Cal said, turning his back on them again. “I asked her to dinner and she went. Then I walked her home and said good-bye. I did not strike out.”

“Finally, a woman you can’t get,” Tony said, satisfaction in his voice. “That’s kind of depressing because it’s like an era is passing—”

“I didn’t try,” Cal said.

“—but it’s good to know you put on your pants one leg at a time like the rest of us.”

“I’ve never understood that,” Cal said. “How else would you put on your pants?”

Tony leaned over. “Ten bucks says you can’t get Min to go out with you tomorrow night.”

“I don’t want to go out with her tomorrow night,” Cal said.

“Take her to the movies,” Tony said. “You won’t have to talk to her.”

“Tony...”

“Ten bucks, hotshot. I don’t think you can do it.”

Cal looked over his shoulder at Min. All the laughing aside, she didn’t look any more relaxed than she’d been Wednesday night. And she was ignoring him. He shook his head at Tony. “She won’t go. No bet.”

“This is hard to believe,” Tony said. “You chickening out.”

“Tony, she hates men right now. She just broke up with somebody.”

“Well, there you go. She’s on the rebound,” Tony said. “That gives you an edge. You could get her into bed.”

“I don’t want her in bed,” Cal said. “She’ll probably ice pick the next guy she sleeps with to get even with the guy who dumped her. Trust me, this is not a woman you close your eyes around.”

“Wuss,” Tony said. “I’ll make it easy. Lunch. Ten bucks says you can’t get her to lunch.”

Cal looked over at Min again. What would get her to lunch? She was sitting back in her chair now, smiling at Roger, as if she were sizing him up. Protective of her friend. She could relax about Roger. If Bonnie got him, she’d be a lucky woman.

Of course, Min didn’t know that.

“You in?” Tony said.

So if he went over and said—

“Cynthie just came in,” Tony said.

“Hell” Cal sat up but didn’t look toward the door. “She hates this bar. Why—”

“She’s stalking you,” Tony said. “She must really want to get married. And she’s headed this way.”

“Right.” Cal stood up. “Come on.”

“Where?” Tony said, not rising.

“Over there so you can harass your redhead while I get a lunch date and duck Cyn. You’re on.”

“You just lost ten bucks, old buddy,” Tony said, practically chortling. “I saw Min’s face when you came in, and she was not happy to see you.” He stood up, too. “I can’t believe you went for that. You hit her in the head, you dork. Why would she go anywhere with you?”

“Ten bucks first,” Cal said, holding out his hand.

“You have to get the date first,” Tony said. “Which ain’t happening.”

“No, this is for the redhead who did not come to get you in five minutes,” Cal said, and Tony sighed and got out his wallet.

Min was ignoring Cal and checking out Roger, when Liza pulled up the chair to her right and sat down.

“So,” Liza said, sliding over a Diet Coke and rum. “What’s new with Di?”

“I called her today,” Min said, picking up her drink. “I asked her if everything was okay with Wet—” She closed her eyes. “—with Susie, and she said, yes, Susie’s dating a very nice man and she’s fine with the wedding. And Worse... and Karen has talked to Susie and has assured Diana that Susie’s fine with it.”

“Is she delusional?” Liza said, as somebody pulled up a chair to Min’s left.

“Who? Wet, Worse, or Diana?” Min said.

“All of them,” Liza said.

“My guess is that Wet’s being brave, Worse is being a bully, and Diana’s in denial,” Min said, turning to see who was on her left. “Oh,” she said, when she saw Cal sitting there with two glasses in front of him. He was as beautiful as he’d been two nights before, and her DNA went wild again.

“Hello, little girl,” he said and flipped the hood on her sweater.

Liza snorted and turned to talk to Bonnie on her other side.

“Oh, that’s good,” Min said. “You’re definitely the first person to make a Red Riding Hood crack to me tonight. I’m never wearing this sweater again.”

“Hostility,” Cal said. “It’s déjà vu all over again. How’s your head?”

“The pain comes and goes,” Min said. “And then there are the voices.”

“Good. Now you have someone to talk to. Who are Wet, Worse, and Diana, and how did they get those terrible names?”

“Nobody you want to know.” Min picked up her drink. “What are you up to?”

“Let me guess,” Cal said, his voice heavy with scorn. “That’s a rum and Diet Coke. The breakfast of dieters.”

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“No, Buffy. Fate sent me over here to teach you to drink with dignity.” He took her rum away from her and slid one of his glasses over to her. “Glenlivet. Drink it slowly.”

Min frowned at him. “This is your idea of charm?”

“No,” Cal said. “I don’t waste charm on you. I’m trying to help you grow. Real women do not screw up good booze with diet soda.”

“Peer pressure,” Min said. “It never stops.”

“Try it,” Cal said. “One sip. You hate it, I’ll give you this slop back.”

Min shrugged. “Okay.” She picked it up and took a drink and then choked as the Scotch seared her throat.

“I said, sip, Dobbs,” Cal said over her gasping. “You’re supposed to savor it, not guzzle it.”

“Thank you,” Min said when she had her breath back. “You can go now.”

“No, I can’t.” He leaned closer, and Min started to feel too warm in her sweater. “I have a deal for you.”

Min picked up the Scotch again and sipped it. It was nice when you sipped it.

Cal leaned closer until he was almost whispering in her ear. “I want to know about Bonnie.”

His breath was warm on her neck, and Min blinked at him. “Bonnie? I think Roger’s got dibs on Bonnie.”

“I know. That’s why I want to know about her. Roger is...” Cal looked across the table. “... not adept with women. I want to know about your friend.”

a perfect report card.

“Not here,” Cal said, still too close. “I think they’ll notice. I’ll meet you for lunch tomorrow. You know where Cherry Hill Park is?”

“I’ve heard of it,” Min said. “I don’t have the bank account to go up there and hang around.”

“There’s a picnic area on the north side,” Cal said. “I’ll meet you at the first table tomorrow at noon.”

“Why do I feel like there should be a code word?” Min said, finally pulling away from him. “I’ll say ‘pretentious’ and you say ‘snob.’ ”

“You want to know about Roger or not?” Cal said.

Min looked back at Bonnie. If you didn’t know her, she looked detached, but Min knew her. Bonnie was glowing. “Yes.”

“Good,” Cal said. “Let me see your shoes.”

“What?” Min said, and Cal looked under the table. She pulled her foot out, and he looked down at her open-toed high-heeled mules, laced across her instep with black leather thongs that contrasted with her pale skin and bright red toenail polish. “Liza calls them ‘Toes in Bondage,’ ” she said helpfully.

“Does she?” Cal sat very still, looking at her toes for a long moment. “Well, that’s made my evening. See you tomorrow at noon.” He pushed back his chair and left, taking his Scotch and her rum and Diet Coke with him.

“Okay, I couldn’t hear the part at the end,” Liza said, leaning over to her. “What was he asking you?”

“I’m going to lunch tomorrow,” Min said, not sure how she felt about that. If he whispered in her ear again, she was going to have to smack him, that was all there was to it.

“Where?”

“Cherry Hill Park.”

“Jeez,” Liza said. “Softball of the Rich and Famous. What time?”

“Noon.”

Liza nodded. Then she raised her voice and called, “Tony.”

Min looked around for him and saw him at the roulette bar, handing Cal a ten-dollar bill. “I don’t believe it,” she said, straightening in outrage. The sonofabitch had bet on lunch and she’d fallen for it.

Tony looked up, and Liza crooked her finger. He walked over and said, “You know, I’m not the kind of guy you can do that to.”

“You and I are having lunch at noon tomorrow in Cherry Hill Park,” Liza said.

“Okay,” Tony said. “But only because I’ve gotta coach a softball game there in the morning anyway.”

“Good,” Liza said. “You can go now.”

Tony shook his head at her and went back to the bar and Cal.

“Well, at least he’s obedient,” Min said.

“Don’t get any ideas about saying yes at lunch,” Liza said.

“It’s lunch,” Min said. “In broad daylight. In a public park.”

“You said you weren’t going to see him, and he still got you to lunch.”

“I had a reason for that,” Min said, casting a bitter glance at the bar. Cal was still there, but now the brunette from Wednesday was there, too, moving closer to him in a blue halter top. That figured. Beast. “I’ll be fine, believe me, I know what he is.” She cast another look at the bar where Cal appeared to be sliding away from the halter top. Playing hard to get, the jerk.

“Yeah, well, I’m watching your back just the same,” Liza said. “And if it hits the grass, Calvin’s going to lose a body part.”

“Boy, you really don’t like him, do you?” Min said.

“I think he bet Tony he could get that lunch date,” Liza said.

“I think so, too,” Min said.

“See if you can do something horrible to him tomorrow,” Liza said.

“Already planning it,” Min said.

After another excruciating Saturday morning forcing fourteen eight-year-olds to play baseball against their better judgments, Cal was not in the mood to put up with Min, but he grabbed his cooler from the car, stopped by the charity hot dog stand for the main course, and went to meet her at the picnic table he’d told her about. She wasn’t there, so he threw an old blanket across the massive teak table—Cherry Hill did not stint on the amenities—put the basket on it, and then sat on top of the table, feeling cheerful about being stood up. It was a beautiful day, the park was thick with shade trees, the kids were gone, and nobody was bitching at him.

Then Min came into the park through the trees, following the curving crushed gravel path. She was wearing her long red sweater again, but this time she had on a red-and-black-checked skirt that floated when the breeze blew. Her hair was still wound in a knot on the top of her head, but her stride was long and loose as she came toward him, and the sun picked up glints of gold in her hair, and she smiled at him as she drew closer, and it suddenly seemed better not to have been stood up. And when he offered her his hand to help her up on the table, she hesitated and then took it, and her fingers were pleasantly, solidly warm as she boosted herself up beside him on the table.

“Hi,” she said and he grinned at her.

“Hi,” he said. “Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me.” Min dropped her bag on the bench below them. “Give me ten bucks.”

Cal blinked. “What?”

Min smiled at him, cheerful as the sun. “I was going to make your lunch a living hell, but it’s such a beautiful day, I’ve decided to enjoy it. You bet Tony ten bucks you could get me to lunch.”

“No, I didn’t,” Cal said.

Min’s smile disappeared.

“Tony bet me ten bucks I could get you to lunch.”

Min rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Give me ten bucks or I’m leaving you cold and you’ll have to give Tony his ten bucks back plus ten more because you’ve lost.”

“I think I won when you said, ‘Yes,’ ” Cal said, suddenly a lot more interested in Min.

“Try explaining that to Tony,” Min said.

“Okay,” Cal said. “How about we split it?”

Min held out her hand and wiggled her fingers. “Ten bucks, Charm Boy.”

Cal sighed and dug out his wallet, trying not to grin at her. She took the ten, picked up her bag, stuffed the bill in it and then pulled out a twenty and handed it to him.

“What’s this?” Cal said.

“That’s the twenty you gave me for cab fare on Wednesday,” Min said. “I forgot to give it back to you.”

“So now I’m up ten bucks,” Cal said.

“No, now you’ve broken even. It was your twenty to begin with. I had no right to it since you didn’t get fresh.”

Cal looked up at the sun. “The day’s young.”

“I don’t see you making your move on a picnic table,” Min said. “In fact, I don’t see you moving on me at all, so tuck that away and tell me everything you know about Roger.”

“I’m glad to see you, too,” he said, and her smile widened.

“Sorry. I forgot your lust for small talk. And how have you been in the fourteen hours since we last spoke, eight of which you were sleeping?”

“Fine. And you?”

“Wonderful. How much of this before we get to Roger and Bonnie?”

“You’re a very practical woman,” Cal said, and then Min pulled her legs up to tuck them under her and he caught sight of her shoes, ridiculous sandals made mostly of ribbons with a single bright red flower over the instep. “Except for your shoes.”

“Don’t make fun of my shoes.” Min wiggled redtipped toes under the flowers. “I love these shoes. Liza gave them to me for Christmas.” She untied the ribbons and pulled them off and put them on the table behind her, patting the flowers before she turned back to him.

“I can see why you love them,” Cal said, distracted by her toes, and then she pulled her skirt over them and he added, “They’re very Elvis.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You are an Elvis fan?”

“Best there is,” Cal said. “You, too?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Min looked perplexed and then said, “Well, I guess it does makes sense. You are the devil in disguise.”

“What?” Cal said, and then it hit him. “Elvis Presley?”

“Well, of course, Elvis Presley,” Min said. “What other... oh. The angels want to wear my red shoes. Elvis Costello.” She shrugged. “He’s good, too.”

Cal shook his head in disbelief. “Yes, he is.”

“Good thing this isn’t a date,” Min said cheerfully. “Or there’d be a really awkward silence while we tried to come back from that one.”

Cal grinned at her. “Have you ever had an awkward silence in your life, Dobbs?”

“Not many,” Min said. “You?”

“Nope.” Cal dumped the bag of wrapped hot dogs out on the blanket. “Okay. Roger and Bonnie. Have a hot dog while we talk.”

“A hot dog?” Min said, in the same tone of voice she’d have used to say “Cocaine?” “Those aren’t good for you.”

“They’re protein,” Cal said, exasperated. “You can have them. Just lose the bun.”

“Fat,” Min said.

“I thought fat was okay on no-carb diets,” Cal said, remembering Cynthie chowing down on buttered shrimp.

“It is, but I’m on a no-fat Atkins,” Min said.

Cal looked at her, incredulous. “Which leaves you what to eat?”

“Not much,” Min said, looking at the hot dogs with patent longing.

“They’re brats,” Cal said.

“Oh, just hell,” Min said.

“It’s Saturday,” Cal said. “Live a little.”

“That’s what you said Wednesday at Emilio’s. I’ve already sinned this week.”

“Saturday is the first day of the new week. Sin again.”

Min bit her lip, and the breeze picked up again, rustling the trees and lifting the edge of her skirt, floating it closer to him.

“I brought you Diet Coke to compensate,” he said, opening the cooler. “Also, this conversation is boring.”

“Right. Sorry.” She took the can he handed her and popped it open. “Really sorry. There’s nothing more boring than talking about food.”

“No,” Cal said. “Talking about food is great. Talking about not having food is boring.” He picked up one of the wax-paper-wrapped sandwiches and handed it to her. “Eat.”

Min looked at the hot dog, sighed, and unwrapped it. “You are a beast.”

“Because I’m feeding you?” Cal said. “How is that bad? We’re Americans. We’re supposed to eat well. It’s the American Way.”

“Hot dogs are the American Way?” Min said, and then stopped. “Oh. I guess they are, aren’t they? Right up there with baseball and apple pie.”

“Baseball you can have,” Cal said and bit into his hot dog.

Min squinted at his team shirt. “Isn’t that shirt sort of baseball-ish?”

“Yes,” Cal said. “For my sins, I teach children to run around bases on Saturday mornings. Someday, your husband will be doing this, too, while you sit in the bleachers and cheer on little whosis. It’s the price you pay for liberty.”

“I’m not having kids,” Min said, and bit into her hot dog.

“You’re not?” Cal said, and then was distracted by the look of bliss on her face while she chewed. The brats were good, but they weren’t that good.

She swallowed and sighed. “This is wonderful. My dad used to sneak us out for brats every time there was a festival anyplace within driving distance. My mother would have killed him if she’d known. Do you know how long it’s been since I tasted one of these? It’s heaven.”

“It looks like heaven,” he said, and then she leaned over to take another bite, keeping the sandwich over the waxed paper to catch the drippings, and he looked down the v-neck of her loose red sweater and saw a lot of lush round flesh in tight red lace. Tony would have a heart attack, he thought and then realized he was a little lightheaded himself. The breeze blew again and wafted her skirt against the hand he had braced on the table, and it tickled, soft and light.

“So,” he said, moving his hand. “All right. Why don’t you want to be part of the American Way?”

She chewed with her eyes closed, and he looked down her sweater again and had impure thoughts. Then she swallowed and said, “I have to give birth to be a good American? No. There are more than four million babies born in this country every year. The American Way is covered. If it worries you, you can have extra to make up for mine.”

“Me?” Cal sat back away from distraction. “I don’t want kids. I’m just surprised that you don’t. You’d make a great mom.”

“Why?” Min stopped with the sandwich halfway to her mouth.

Because she looked soft all over. Because she looked like she’d age into the kind of mother he’d have killed for. “Because you look comfortable.”

“Oh, God, yes,” Min said, glaring at him. “That’s exactly the compliment every woman longs for.”

She leaned forward to bite into her sandwich, and he watched transfixed as her breasts pressed against the lace again.

“It’s a very sexy comfortable if that makes it better,” he said.

“Marginally better,” she said, following his eyes down. “You’re looking down my sweater.”

“You’re leaning over. There’s all that red lace right there.”

“Lace is good, huh?” Min said.

“Oh, yeah.”

“My mother wins again,” Min said and bit into her hot dog.

Cal picked up his hot dog. “How’d your mother get into this?”

“She’s pervasive.” Min swallowed, frowning. “So if you don’t like kids, how’d you end up coaching?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like kids,” Cal said, trying to think of something besides Min’s red lace. “I said I didn’t want kids. There’s a difference.”

“Good point. And yet I ask, why coach?”

“I got shanghaied,” Cal said. “We both did. Harry hates baseball as much as I hate coaching.”

“Who’s Harry?”

“My nephew.”

“Why don’t the two of you go AWOL?”

“Turns out there are other kids on the team besides Harry,” Cal said. “Who knew?”

“Funny. So you’re out here every Saturday morning?” Min shook her head. “That must have been some shanghai.”

“I got hit by the best.” He picked up a pickle and bit into it. “It’s not that bad. Roger and Tony do most of the work. They like it.”

“Roger,” Min said. “Ah yes, Roger. I have some questions about Roger.”

“Not Tony?” Cal said.

“Tony is seeing Liza,” Min said. “If Tony turns out to be a rat, Liza will exterminate him.”

“Tony’s hard to put down,” Cal said, “but I get your drift. So Bonnie’s not like that?”

“Bonnie is no pushover,” Min said. “She’s smart and she’s tough but she has this one blind spot. She believes in the fairy tale, that there’s one man in the world for her. And she thinks your friend Roger is her prince on very little evidence. So tell me about Roger.”

“Roger’s the best guy I know,” Cal said. “And he’s crazy about Bonnie. He’s going to get banged up if she walks away. Tell me about Bonnie.”

Min shifted on the blanket as she reached for her Coke can, and Cal watched her, aware of every move she made, of the smooth curve of her neck as her sweater slipped toward her shoulder, the ease in her round body as she leaned back and smiled at him, the swell of her calf under her checked skirt as it blew toward him again. “Bonnie,” she said, bringing him back to the subject at hand, “spent a year and a half looking at couches. Couches are very important, they’re right up there with beds in the hierarchy of furniture, but even I thought a year and a half was a long time looking for a couch.”

“Yes,” Cal said, trying to think of Roger instead of curves. “But—”

“Then one night we were on the way to the movies and she stopped in front of a furniture store window and said, ‘Wait a minute,’ and went in and bought this horribly expensive couch in about five minutes.” Min leaned forward again, and Cal looked down her sweater again and thought, Don’t do that, I’m getting a headache from the blood rush. “She had to put it on two different credit cards,” Min went on, “and it took her two years to pay it off, but it’s a great couch and she’s never regretted it, and when she had it reupholstered, the upholsterer said it would last forever.”

“Great,” Cal said, still looking down her sweater. She was breathing softly, just enough for the rise and fall to—

“Hello,” she said and he jerked his head up. “Not that I’m not flattered, but I’m making a point here. Roger is Bonnie’s new couch. She’s always been sure that some day her prince would show up, and she’s done a lot of dating looking for him, and now she’s taken one look at Roger and she’s sure he’s the one, and she’s going to buy him in about a minute. So if he isn’t a good guy, I want to know now so I can break it to her. Tell me he’s not a rat.”

“Roger took a year to buy a couch, too,” Cal said, regrouping.

“What kind of couch?” Min said.

“Sort of a La-Z-Boy with a thyroid problem,” Cal said. “I think it’s brown.”

Min nodded. “Bonnie bought a reproduction mission settle with cushions upholstered in a celadon William Morris print.”

“I think I know what ‘mission’ is,” Cal said. “Everything else, you were speaking Chinese.”

“Roger’s couch is toast,” Min said. “Will he mind?”

“She can chop it into kindling in front of him and he won’t blink,” Cal said.

“Can he take care of her?” Min said. “She probably won’t need it, but in a crunch—”

“He will throw his body in front of her if necessary. You have nothing to worry about with Roger. He’s the best guy I know. If I had a sister, I would let Roger marry her. It’s Bonnie I’m worried about. She’s got that efficient look that usually means she likes to boss people around. And since she’s so little, there’s probably a Napoleon complex—”

“Nope,” Min said. “She’s solid. Roger’s a lucky guy.” She finished the last of her hot dog and then licked a smear of ketchup off her thumb, and Cal lost his train of thought. “So they’re okay and we don’t have to worry,” she said when she’d wiped her hands on a napkin.

“Yep,” Cal said. “How about dessert?”

“I don’t eat dessert,” Min said.

“Really?” Cal said. “What a surprise.”

“Oh, bite me,” Min said. “I told you there’s this bridesmaid’s dress—”

Cal pulled a waxed paper bag from the cooler. “Doughnuts,” he said, but before he could go on, a too-familiar piping voice came from behind him.

“Can I have one?”

He sighed and turned around to see his skinny, grubby, dark-haired nephew standing at the end of the picnic table. “Shouldn’t you be home by now?”

“They forgot again,” Harry said, putting a lot of pathetic in his voice. It helped that he wore glasses and was small for his age. He peered around Cal. “Hello,” he said cautiously to Min.

“Min,” Cal said, glaring at Harry. “This is my nephew, Harry Morrisey. He was just leaving. Harry, this is Min Dobbs.”

“Hi, Harry,” Min said cheerfully. “You can have all the doughnuts.”

Harry brightened.

“No, you can’t.” Cal took out his cell phone. “You’d just throw them up again.”

“Maybe not.” Harry sidled closer to the doughnut bag.

“You do remember the cupcake disaster, right?” Cal said as he punched in his sister-in-law’s number.

“Can’t he have one?” Min smiled at Harry as he drew closer, her face soft and kind, and Cal and Harry both blinked at her for a moment because she was so pretty.

Then while Cal listened to the phone ring, Harry looked at Min’s skirt and poked it with his finger.

“Harry” Cal said, and Min pulled out one of her sandals.

“Here,” she told Harry, and he poked at the flower.

“Those are shoes,” Harry said, as if he were observing an anomaly.

“Yep,” Min said, watching him, her head tilted.

Harry poked the flower again. “That’s not real.”

“No,” Min said. “It’s just for fun.”

Harry nodded as if this were a new idea, which, Cal realized, it probably was. Not a lot of floppy flowers on red toes in Harry’s world.

Min reached in the bag and handed him a doughnut.

“Thank you, Min,” Harry said, still channeling abused orphans.

“Don’t buy his act,” Cal said to Min.

“I’m not.” Min grinned at Harry. “You look like you’re doing fine, kid.”

“I had to play baseball,” Harry said bitterly. “Are those hot dogs?”

“No,” Cal said. “You know you’re not allowed to have processed meat. Go over there on that bench and eat your doughnut.”

“He can eat it here,” Min said, putting her arm around him protectively.

Harry, no dummy, leaned into Min’s hip.

Bet that’s soft, Cal thought, and then realized he was close to being jealous of his eight-year-old nephew. “Harry,” he said warningly, but then his sister-in-law answered her phone. “Bink? You forgot to pick up your kid.”

“Reynolds,” Bink said in her perfectly modulated tones. “It was his turn.”

“He’s not here,” Cal said.

Bink sighed. “Poor Harry. I’ll be right there. Thank you, Cal.”

“Anything for you, babe.” Cal shut off his phone and looked over at Harry. “Your mother is coming. Look on the bright side, you get a doughnut and your mother, instead of nothing and your father.”

“Two doughnuts,” Harry said.

“Harry, you barf,” Cal said. “You can’t have two doughnuts. Now go away. This is a date. Seven years from now, you will understand what that means.”

“This isn’t a date,” Min said. “He can stay.”

Harry nodded at her sadly. “It’s okay.”

“Oh, come off it, Harrison,” Cal said, knowing Harry was milking the situation. “You have a doughnut. Go over on that bench and eat it.”

“All right.” Harry trailed disconsolately across the grass to a nearby Lutyen bench, his doughnut clutched in his grubby little hand.

“He’s so cute,” Min said, laughing softly. “Who’s Bink?”

“My sister-in-law,” Cal said, watching Harry, who still looked skinny, grubby, and bitter to him. “I don’t see the cute part. But he’s not a bad kid.”

“Bink,” Min said, as if trying to get her head around the name.

“It’s short for Elizabeth,” Cal said. “Elizabeth Margaret Remington-Pastor Morrisey.”

“Bink,” Min said. “Okay.”

Cal picked up a doughnut. “Your turn, Dobbs.”

Min leaned back. “Oh no. No, no, no.”

He leaned forward to wave it under her nose. “Come on, sin a little.”

“I hate you,” Min said, her eyes on the doughnut. “You are a beast and a vile seducer.”

Cal lifted an eyebrow. “All that for one doughnut? Come on. One won’t kill you.”

“I am not eating a doughnut,” Min said, tearing her eyes away from it. “Are you crazy? There are twelve grams of fat in one of those. I have three weeks to lose twenty pounds. Get away from me.”

“This is not just a doughnut,” Cal said, tearing it in two pieces under Min’s eyes, the chocolate icing and glaze breaking like frost, the tender pastry pulling apart in shreds. “This is a chocolate-iced Krispy Kreme glazed. This is the caviar of doughnuts, the Dom Perignon of doughnuts, the Mercedes-Benz of doughnuts.”

Min licked her lips. “I had no idea you were a pastry freak,” she said, trying to pull back farther, but the wind blew her skirt over to Cal again, and this time he moved his knee to pin it down.

He broke a bite-size piece from one of the halves. “Taste it,” he said, leaning still closer to hold the piece under her nose. “Come on.”

“No.” Min clamped her lips shut, and then shut her eyes, too, screwing up her face as she did.

“Oh, that’s adult.” He reached out and pinched her nose shut, and when she opened her mouth to protest, he popped the doughnut in.

“Oh, God,” she said, and her face relaxed as the pastry melted in her mouth, her smile curling across her face.

Cal relaxed, too, and thought, Feeding this woman is like getting her drunk.

Then she swallowed and opened her eyes, and he held out another piece so he could see that expression again. “Come here, Dobbs.”

“No,” Min said, pulling back. “No, no, no.”

“You say that a lot,” Cal said. “But the look in your eyes says you want it.”

“What I want and what I can have are two different things.” Min leaned back farther, stretching her skirt, but her eyes were on the doughnut. “Get that thing away from me.”

“Okay.” Cal sat back and bit into it while she watched, the sugar rush distracting him for a moment until Min bit her lip, her strong white teeth denting the softness there. His heart picked up speed, and she shook her head at him.

“Bastard,” she said.

He bit into the doughnut again, and she said, “That’s enough, I’m out of here,” and leaned forward to pull her skirt out from under him. “Would you get off—” she began, and he popped another piece of doughnut in her mouth and watched as her lips closed over the sweetness. Her face was beautifully blissful, her mouth soft and pouted, her full lower lip glazed with icing, and as she teased the last of the chocolate from her lip, Cal heard a rushing in his ears. The rush became a whisper—THIS one—and he breathed deeper, and before she could open her eyes, he leaned in and kissed her, tasting the chocolate and the heat of her mouth, and she froze for a moment and then kissed him back, sweet and insistent, blanking out all coherent thought. He let the taste and the scent and the warmth of her wash over him, drowning in her, and when she finally pulled back, he almost fell into her lap.

She sat across from him, her sweater rising and falling under quick breaths, her dark eyes flashing, wide awake, her lush lips parted, open for him, and then she spoke.

“More,” she breathed and he looked into her eyes and went for her.