hen they were in the car, she said, “Okay, give me the cheat sheet for your parents.”

“There is none,” Cal said. “They will be very polite but not warm. We don’t have to chill the wine at home, the atmosphere does it for us.”

“Oh, good,” Min said, “this is exactly the time I want to hear jokes.”

But when they arrived at his parents’ home, she realized he wasn’t being funny. The house was large, one of the Prairie mansions that always looked to Min like ranch houses on steroids; the maid at the paneled door was polite, the paneled hall was cool, and when they went into what Min doubted they called the living room, Cal’s parents were downright frigid.

“We’re so pleased to have you,” Lynne Morrisey said to Min, taking her hand. She didn’t look pleased; she didn’t look anything but darkly, stunningly, expensively beautiful, as did her husband, Jefferson, and her son, Reynolds, possibly the only man on the planet who made Cal look a little plain.

“Min!” Harry said from behind her, and she turned and saw him towing Bink into the room.

“Hey, you,” she said, bending down to him. “Thanks for the dinner invitation. I was starving.”

Harry nodded and then leaned forward and whispered, “I like your shoes. The bows are neat.” He nodded at her, grinning maniacally.

“Thank you,” Min whispered back, and stole a glance at Cal. His face was expressionless, and she realized he hadn’t said a word since they’d arrived. O-kay, she thought. Welcome to hell.

She did her best to make politely chilly conversation until they were all seated and served with a series of plates beautifully presented with syrup swirls. Then she gave up and just ate.

“What is it that you do, Minerva?” Jefferson said when they’d reached the filet-and-piped-potatoes course.

Min swallowed and prayed she didn’t have anything in her teeth. “I’m an actuary.”

“I see,” he said, not impressed but not scornful, either. “Who’s your employer?”

“Alliance,” Min said, and went back to her rare beef. The food was both beautiful and excellent, she had to give the Morriseys credit for that, but it wasn’t Emilio’s. They needed a few comic ethnic photos on the wall to liven things up. Not that they’d ever admit to being ethnic. She glanced around the table. Irish, she’d bet, and not just because of the name. Dark and beautiful, all of them, in that austere, tragic way. She looked down at her lavishly presented plate. Although the potato famine was clearly behind them.

“Dobbs,” Cal’s father said, and Min realized he’d been silent for a while. “George Dobbs is a vice president there.”

“That’s my father,” Min said.

Jefferson Morrisey smiled at her. “You went to work for your father’s firm.”

“Well, it’s not as if he owns it,” Min said, positive there was a land mine somewhere in the conversation. “But he was a help in getting me the job.”

“You didn’t need any help,” Cal said, his voice flat. “You’re an actuary. You must have had forty offers.”

“There were a lot,” Min said, wondering what the hell was going on. “But there weren’t a lot of great offers. My dad helped.”

“That was very wise of you,” Lynne Morrisey said.

Min turned to meet her cold dark eyes and thought, I don’t want you approving of me, lady.

“To take the help your father offered,” Lynne went on. “Very wise.”

“Well.” Min put down her fork. “It came with no strings attached, so there wasn’t a down side.”

Across the table, Reynolds smiled and became even better looking. I don’t like you, either, Min thought. Bink sat frozen, not in terror so much as in watchfulness, and between them, Harry clutched his fork and plowed his way through his piped potatoes, keeping an eye on everybody.

“And many benefits, no doubt,” Jefferson was saying. “I’m sure your father helped you along the way.”

“She made it on her own,” Cal said, his voice still flat. “Insurance companies are not sentimental. She holds the record for promotions within her company and nobody’s saying it’s because of her father. She’s smart, she’s hardworking, and she’s excellent at what she does.”

There was something bleak and awful in his voice, out of proportion to the tension in the conversation, and Min discreetly put her hand on his back. Even through his suit coat, his muscles were so rigid that it was like patting cement. She felt him tense even tighter for a moment at her touch, and then his shoulders went down a little.

“Of course she is,” Jefferson was saying, but he was looking at his wife, a half smile on his face. “We think it’s admirable of her that she followed in her father’s footsteps.”

“My father’s not an actuary,” Min said.

“Of course not, dear,” Lynne said, a little edge to her voice. “We admire you for making the right choice and staying in your father’s business.” She smiled past Min to Cal. “Don’t you think so, Cal?”

“I don’t think Min ever makes a mistake,” Cal said. “This filet is excellent.”

“Cal didn’t go into the family business,” Reynolds said, smiling at Min, pseudo-pals, and Min thought, And you are dumb as a rock to be the one who says that out loud.

“Well, for heaven’s sake, why would he?” Min said brightly. She took her hand away from Cal’s back, thought, I’m never going to see these people again so screw ’em all.

“Why would he go into the family business?” Lynne echoed, raising one eyebrow, which annoyed Min because she was pretty sure she couldn’t do it. “Because it’s his legacy.”

“No,” Min said, and across from her, Bink’s eyes widened even farther. “It would be completely wrong for him. He’s clearly doing what he should be doing.” She turned to smile at Cal and found him staring straight ahead, at the space between Bink and Harry. Okay, he’s gone, she thought, and looked at Harry. He was still clutching his fork, checking faces. No wonder the kid threw up all the time.

Jefferson cleared his throat. “Wrong for him to go into a well-respected and established law firm? Nonsense. It’s the Morrisey tradition.”

Min blinked. “You went into your father’s business? I thought you and your partner started the firm.”

Across the table, Bink did the impossible and made her little owl face even more impassive.

“They did,” Reynolds said from across the table, indignation in his voice. “They began the tradition.”

“I don’t think you can call two generations a tradition,” Min said, trying to make her voice speculative, as if she were considering it. She looked at Harry. “You want to be a lawyer, Harry?”

Harry blinked at her. “No. I want to be an ichthyologist.”

Min blinked back. “Fish?”

“Yeah.” Harry lifted his chin and grinned.

“Good for you,” Min said.

“Harrison is a child,” Lynne said. “Next week, he’ll want to be a fireman.” She smiled at Harry, almost with warmth.

“No, next week, I’ll want to be an ichthyologist,” Harry said, and finished his potatoes.

I love you, kid, Min thought.

“Harrison,” Lynne said to him. “Why don’t you have your dessert in the kitchen with Sarah?”

“Okay.” Harry scooted back his chair. “May I be excused?”

“Yes, dear,” Lynne said, and Min watched him trot out of the room, thinking, Harry, you lucky dog.

“Now,” Lynne said, turning back to the table with her lizard smile. “I apologize for interrupting you, Minerva. What were you saying?” She looked at Min as if to say, You have a chance to back down; take it.

Min smiled back at her. Bite me, lady. “I was saying that if you analyze the situation, you’ll see it was always impossible that Cal would go into the firm.”

Jefferson put down his fork.

Min picked up her wineglass. “To begin with, he’s the younger child. Older children tend to follow in the family footsteps because they’re pleasers.” She smiled across the table at Reynolds. “That’s why they’re so often successful.” She took a sip of excellent wine, while they all watched her with varying degrees of frigidity. “Also, they tend to get the lion’s share of attention and respect so their success is a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy. But youngest children learn that they have to be more demanding to get attention, so they become rule breakers.”

“I suspect your psychology is less than professional,” Jefferson said, smiling at her with no warmth whatsoever.

“No, it’s pretty much a given,” Min said. “The colloquial evidence is even there. All the way back to myth and legend. After all, it’s always the youngest son who goes out to seek his fortune in fairy tales.”

“Fairy tales,” Reynolds said, chuckling like a fathead, while Bink continued her imitation of a frozen owl.

Min turned back to Jefferson. “Then consider Cal’s personality. His friends tell me that he rarely makes a bet he doesn’t win. The knee-jerk reaction to that is that he’s a gambler, but he’s not. If he were a gambler, he’d lose half the time. Instead, he calculates the odds, and only takes the risks he knows he can capitalize on.” She looked across the table at Reynolds. “As the younger son in the family firm, he’d never make it to the top. That’s such a bad risk, I doubt he ever considered joining the firm.”

“He’d have made partner,” Jefferson said, all pretense of light conversation gone.

“Third partner, maybe, after he’d followed you and Reynolds around,” Min said. “Plus there’d be your partner and his children to contend with. Within the family, he’s always going to be the baby. He had to get out. And then, of course, there’s the dyslexia.”

The silence that settled over the table that time was so complete that Min was amazed there wasn’t hoarfrost on all of them. She picked up her knife and fork and cut into her filet again, wishing she could ask for a Styrofoam box and go home.

“We prefer not to discuss Cal’s handicap,” Lynne said with finality.

Min took her time with the filet, but when she’d swallowed, she said, “Why? It’s part of who he is, it helped shape him. It’s not shameful. Over ten percent of the population is dyslexic, so it’s not rare. And it’s a large part of why he started his own firm. Ninety-two percent of dyslexics go into business for themselves. They need to control the environment in which they work because the regular working environment isn’t sympathetic to their needs. And they generally do very well because they are generally intelligent, empathetic people.” She picked up her water glass. “You have a son who’s smart, hardworking, successful, popular, healthy, charming, and extremely pleasant to look at. I’m surprised you’re not passing his picture around to all your friends, bragging about him.” She turned to smile up at Cal and found him watching her, his face wooden. “I’d brag about him if he were mine and I had a picture.”

“We are, of course, quite proud of Calvin,” Lynne said, her voice bleak.

“Oh, good,” Min said, going back to her plate. “He’s right about the filet, too. It’s fabulous.”

“Thank you,” Lynne said, and then she turned to Reynolds and asked him about work. Fifteen minutes later, dessert was served; Reynolds, Lynne, and Jefferson were discussing the firm; Cal was still silent; Bink had eaten three slivers of carrot and sucked down all her wine; and Min had had enough.

She put her napkin down by her plate, and said, “You know, I’m really Harry’s date, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll join him.” Then she got up and went out to the hall to find the kitchen.

When she got there, Harry was finishing off his ice cream under the watchful eyes of the woman who’d served dinner.

“Hey, fish guy,” she said. “Is there any more of that?”

Harry nodded at the woman. “She’s the one, Sarah.”

“Huh,” Sarah said, surveying Min from head to toe. “What would you like on your ice cream?”

“Chocolate,” Min said, sitting down across from Harry. “Chocolate is always good.”

Harry scraped the bottom of his bowl with his spoon, and then sat silently looking at Min, as owlish as his mother, until Sarah put Min’s ice cream in front of her. There was a lot of it.

“Thank you,” Min said, taken aback. “I’m Min, by the way.” She held out her hand to the maid.

“Sarah,” the woman said, shaking it. “Eat it before it melts.”

Min nodded and scooped up a spoonful. The ice cream was heavenly, superfatted and smooth, and the chocolate exquisitely light and bittersweet. She had to hand it to Lynne Morrisey: The woman provided excellent food.

Sarah leaned back against the sink. “So you talked back to the Snow Queen?”

Min thought about pretending she didn’t understand and then shrugged. “I disagreed with her.”

Sarah nodded. “You won’t be back.”

“Lord, no,” Min said.

Harry put down his spoon, alarmed. “Are you still coming to the park?”

“Yes,” Min said. “Although I’m not sure your uncle Cal is still speaking to me.”

“He seems like a nice guy,” Sarah said. “Quiet. We don’t see him much.”

“I can imagine,” Min said, and then Cal came into the kitchen. “Hi, there,” she said, waving her spoon at him. “Turns our your mom has great taste in ice cream, too.” Which figured, come to think of it.

Cal nodded, expressionless. “You ready to go?”

Min looked at her full bowl of premium sugar and fat, and sighed. “Yes,” she said obediently and put her spoon down. If she were Cal, she’d be screaming to get out of here, too.

Cal went out into the hall and Harry said, “Can I have your ice cream?”

“Will you barf?” Min said.

Harry shook his head. “Not ice cream.”

Min pushed the bowl across to him. “Knock yourself out.” She stood up. “It was very nice meeting you, Sarah.”

“Yeah,” Sarah said. “Good luck.”

She met Cal in the hall, and he opened the door for her without speaking. They’d almost made it to the steps when Bink appeared in the doorway. “Well?” she said to Cal.

Cal shook his head at her, and she smiled at Min and said, “It was so nice to see you again,” sounding as if she meant it. Cal turned and walked down the steps as Bink slipped away again, and Min followed him, fairly sure they were about to fight.

Well, she had no regrets. She slid into the front seat of Cal’s car and settled into the leather seat. Okay, she’d miss the car. And the food, although she could still go to Emilio’s without him. And—

Cal got in the car and slammed the door and then sat there for a moment, and Min looked at his rigid profile and thought, And you. I’m going to miss you.

“What did Bink want?” she said, trying to stave off whatever was coming.

Cal turned to her, and when he spoke, his voice was so strained it almost broke. “I am so sorry about that.”

“What?” Min said, taken aback.

“My family.” He closed his eyes, and then said viciously, “They usually behave very well in front of strangers.”

“I don’t think I was their type,” Min said, keeping her voice light. “And then I was rude. But the good news is, I got great food and I never have to see them again. Do you know what kind of ice cream that was? Because it was phenomenal, although I’m guessing it wasn’t nonfat.”

“You don’t care?” Cal said.

“That your mother is a witch and your father is a bastard and your brother is a supercilious moron?” Min said. “No. Why should I? They’re not my family. Who are looking pretty damn good right about now, so I owe you for that. Now about the ice cream—”

He leaned forward and kissed her, hard, and she put her hand on his cheek and kissed him back, falling into that same hot, glittery rush she got every time, so glad to be touching him, to have his hand laced through her curls, to be with him. When he broke the kiss, she stayed close to him, not ready to let him go. “Was that because I insulted your mother?” she said, a little dazed. “Because I have lots of other horrible things to say about her.”

Cal grinned, and she relaxed because he looked like Cal again. “Nah, I just like kissing you.”

“Oh, good,” Min said, recovering. “Except, stop that because we’re not doing that. I was just relieved because I thought you were never going to want to see me again. I’m positive your family doesn’t want to.”

Cal put the key in the ignition and started the car. “Oh, some of them do.”

“Harry.” Min leaned back in her seat, and tried to think about something else besides kissing him. “That’s just because I gave him my ice cream.”

Cal slowed the car. “He had yours and his?”

“Yes,” Min said. “He said he didn’t throw up ice cream.”

“He lied.” Cal stopped the car. “It’s sugar in general that makes him sick.”

“Do we have to go back?” Min said, alarmed.

“Christ, no.” Cal pulled out his cell phone. When he’d warned Bink about the imminent vomiting, he started the car again.

“Great, I poisoned her kid,” Min said. “Now she hates me, too.”

“No. She knows Harry and the cons he pulls for sugar. She likes you.”

“She didn’t look like it.”

“No, she really likes you,” Cal said as he pulled out into the street. “She offered me a hundred thousand dollars to marry you.”

“What?” Min laughed. “I didn’t think she had a sense of humor.”

“She does, but she wasn’t joking. She can afford it.” Cal picked up speed as they left his parents’ street and sighed. “Thank God, we’re out of there.”

“Wait a minute,” Min said, not laughing. “She honestly offered you—”

“She’s been going to dinner there every Sunday for ten years,” Cal said. “That was the first one she enjoyed. When you figure that my parents are in their fifties and likely to be around for at least another thirty years, she’s looking at a minimum of sixteen hundred more miserable Sundays. That’s her estimate. Add in holiday dinners, and she says a hundred K would come out to about sixty dollars a dinner, which is a real bargain in her book.” He thought about it. “Actually, that’s a bargain in my book, too, although nothing on this earth could get me there every Sunday.”

“My Lord,” Min said.

“Plus Harry’s been singing ‘Hunka hunka burning love’ since we went to lunch yesterday. She said the expressions on my parents’ faces alone were worth a hundred grand.”

There was a smile in his voice now, and Min said, “Well, that’s a mind-boggler.”

“It wasn’t the only one this afternoon.” They drove on for a while and then he said, “How did you know I was dyslexic?”

“Roger told Bonnie so I looked it up on the net. And then you wouldn’t write the recipe for chicken marsala down when I asked. You never say no to me, so I knew it had to be something you couldn’t do.” Min rolled her head on the back of her seat to look at him. “Are you upset?”

“No,” Cal said. “Is that true, about dyslexics starting their own businesses?”

“Yes,” Min said. “Everything I told them was true. How’d you know about my promotions?”

“Bonnie told Roger,” Cal said, and turned into a parking lot.

Min squinted at the storefront. It looked expensive and snotty. “Be right back,” he said, and went inside. Fifteen minutes later he came back with a glossy shopping bag embossed in gold, which he tossed in her lap as he got in the car.

“What?” she said, catching it. It was heavy, so she peered inside at the square white cartons sealed with gold labels.

“The ice cream my mother serves,” he said as he pulled out of the lot. “Eight flavors. I’ll send flowers, but you deserved this now.”

“Oh.” Min clutched the bag tighter. He really wasn’t mad. Relief swept over her, and she realized just exactly how much she didn’t want him out of her life. It was not a good realization.

“Everything okay?” Cal said, and she forced a smile at him.

“Well, no,” she said, trying to sound exasperated. “Where’s the spoon?”

Without taking his eyes from the road, he took a plastic spoon from his suit pocket and handed it to her.

“I’m crazy about you,” she said without thinking.

“Good,” he said. “I’m crazy about you, too.”

“In a friendly kind of way,” she said, hastily.

“Right,” Cal said, shaking his head.

“Just so you know,” Min said, and opened the first carton.

“He calls her Minnie,” Cynthie said when David picked up the phone that evening. “He gave her his ball cap.”

“Well, if he gives her his class ring, let me know,” David said. “Could I have one Sunday in peace?”

“I don’t know, David,” Cynthie said, her voice dangerous. “You want any of them in the future to be with Min?”

“Yes,” David said. “But she hated lunch, and she won’t return my calls. Look, Cal always dumps his girlfriends after a couple of months. It seems to me the smartest thing to do is wait until he dumps her and then comfort her.”

“And it doesn’t bother you that he’s going to be fucking her blind for those two months?” Cynthie said.

“Hey.” David sat up. “That’s—”

“You have no idea what that man can do to a woman in bed,” Cynthie said. “What makes you think you’re going to be able to please her once she’s slept with him?”

“I do just fine in bed,” David said, outraged.

“Cal does more than fine,” Cynthie said. “If I were you, I wouldn’t wait until she finds out how much more.”

“Cynthie, this is distasteful.”

“Fine,” Cynthie said. “Let him win.”

Her voice was like a fingernail down a blackboard. “It’s not about winning,” David said and thought, The bastard’s going to win.

And he’d lose Min. It was all her fault, really. She was the kind of woman who just asked to be taken for granted, and now that Cal Morrisey was showering attention on her to win a bet, she was flattered. He thought about how grateful Min would be if he went back to her and paid attention. She was such a simple woman. Which was why Cal could get to her. Which meant it was his duty to stop Cal. And save her.

“David?” Cynthie said, prompting him. “You do want her back, don’t you?”

“Yes,” David said.

“Then go over to her apartment and dazzle her,” Cynthie said. “Tell her how important she is. Take her a gift, she likes snow globes, take her a snow globe. Give her joy, damn it.”

“Snow globe,” David said, recalling there had been some on Min’s mantel.

“And if she resists, leave something there so you can go back and get it and try again the next day,” Cynthie said. “Your tie or something.”

“Why would I take off my tie?” David said.

There was a short silence, and then Cynthie said, “Just do it, David. I don’t have time for remedial seduction lessons.”

“All right,” David said. “I’ll go over after work. I’ll surprise her. We’ll talk about marriage.”

“Talk?” Cynthie said, exasperated. “For once in your life, could you do more than talk?”

“Well, I’m not going act like a caveman with her,” David said.

“Ever tried that?” Cynthie said.

“No, of course not.”

“Then how do you know it doesn’t work?”

“Well,” David said. “Oh, hell, all right. I’ll kiss her. She’s a good kisser.”

“Good to know,” Cynthie said. “Don’t screw this up, David.”

“I won’t,” David said, but she’d already hung up. “God, you’re a witch,” he said to the dial tone, and then he hung up, too.

On Monday morning, Nanette called Min to find out how dinner at the Morriseys’ had gone. “Tell me everything,” she said.

“Mother, I’m at work,” Min said.

“Yes, but your father would never fire you,” Nanette said. “He’d never betray you.”

“Mom?” Min said.

“What was their house like?” Nanette said. “Did his mother like you?”

“It was very beautiful,” Min said, “and his mother hated me.”

“Min, if she’s going to be your mother-in-law—”

“She’s not going to be my mother-in-law.”

“—you’re going to need her. For when you hit the bad times. Not that your grandmother ever helped me in the slightest—”

“When did you ever need help with Daddy?” Min said.

“Well, now,” Nanette said, goaded.

“Well, she’s dead now,” Min said. “She can’t help. What’s wrong?”

There was a long silence, and then Nanette said, very dramatically, “He’s having an affair.”

“Oh, he is not,” Min said. “Honestly, Mom, when would he? You know where he is every moment of the day.”

“It’s those lunches,” Nanette said darkly.

“He has lunch with Beverly,” Min said. “Beverly who adores her husband and would really like not to work through lunch. He is not having an affair with her.”

“You’re so naïve, Min,” Nanette said.

“You’re so paranoid, Mother,” Min said. “What’s going on that makes you think he’s cheating?”

“It’s not the same. We never talk anymore.”

“All you ever talk about is clothes and the wedding and my weight,” Min said. “He’s not interested. Take up golf. You’ll be chattering away in no time.”

“I should have known you wouldn’t understand,” Nanette said. “You have your Calvin, after all.”

“I do not have a Calvin,” Min said, fishing in her drawer for a paper clip. “I’m not seeing—ouch.” She pulled her hand out to see a staple stuck in the end of her finger.

“You don’t have time to think about your mother,” Nanette said.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Min said. “Go back to worrying about the wedding and do not do anything dumb like leaving Dad, because there is nothing going on. As God is my witness, the man is innocent.”

“The daughters are always the last to know,” Nanette said, and hung up.

“Nuts,” Min said, and hung up the phone to blot her fingertip on a piece of scrap paper.

The phone rang again, almost right away, and she answered it to hear Diana say, “Hi,” in a wavery little voice.

“What’s wrong?” Min said, blotting more blood on the scrap paper.

“I’m just a little... down,” Diana said. “Could we do something together?”

“Absolutely,” Min said. “How about tonight?”

“I can’t,” Di said. “I have to go to Greg’s parents’ house for dinner. How was it at Cal’s parents’?”

“Very bad,” Min said. “How about tomorrow night?”

“I can’t,” Di said. “Susie and Karen are throwing a sex toy shower for me.”

“Sorry I’m going to miss that,” Min lied, trying not to think about Worse with a vibrator in her hand.

“How about Wednesday?” Diana said. “I know you go out with Sweet and Tart that night, but can I come along?”

“Yes,” Min said, trying not to laugh. “Especially if you promise to call them Sweet and Tart.”

“Liza would kill me,” Diana said, but her voice sounded lighter.

“Come here first,” Min said. “And then we’ll go out and you can come back and spend the night. It’ll be like old times. Except we’ll be folding your cake boxes because they have to be assembled, I’ve just found out.”

“Okay,” Di said. “Okay. I feel better. It’s just pre-wedding jitters.”

“Right,” Min said. “You haven’t talked to Mom recently, have you?”

“Well, yes,” Diana said. “I live with her.”

“No, I mean talk. Because she just called to tell me Dad’s cheating on her.”

“Oh,” Diana said, sounding taken aback. “No, she hasn’t mentioned that.”

“Well, good,” Min said, and reassured Diana that their father was not sleeping with his secretary—”It would mean he’d have to skip lunch, Di, and do you really see that happening?”—and hung up with a renewed promise that they would have a wonderful time on Wednesday.

Then she sat and looked at the phone and waited for it to ring again. She’d told Cal not to call her, that she wanted Monday to herself, but he was not good at taking directions, so maybe...

By five that evening, it had become clear that the bastard had learned to take directions. Min went home and heard Elvis playing on the stereo before she opened the door. She went in and saw the cat splayed out on the back of her couch, his ears close to the speakers. “Turned it on again, did you?” she said, and went over and cuddled him to make up for leaving him all day, something that didn’t seem to bother him much at all. Then she made spaghetti and began the pleasant evening she’d planned with her cat, keeping one ear cocked for a knock at the door, just in case. When it came, she felt equal parts exasperated and happy. Okay, Cal wasn’t good at listening, that was bad, but she was still glad he was there.

Then she opened the door and he wasn’t, it was David, and her feelings simplified down to just exasperated.

“What are you doing here?” she said.

“I need to talk to you.” He walked in and stopped dead, staring at the end of her couch. “My God, what is that?”

“That’s Elvis,” Min said closing the door behind him. “My cat. I love him. Insult him and you’re history.”

David sat down on the couch, as far away from Elvis as he could get. “I’ve been thinking about us,” he began as he loosened his tie.

“There is no us,” Min said. “There never was an us. The best thing you ever did for me was dump me. I’d be grateful but I’m still mad at you for it.”

“I know, I know, I deserve it.” David pulled the knot out of his tie, looking more undone than Min could ever remember seeing him. “It was the dumbest thing I ever did.” He patted the couch beside him. “Come here and let me talk to you.”

Min went over and sat down on the couch. “Make this fast,” she told him. “Elvis and I have a big evening ahead of us.” At the sound of his name, Elvis crept forward on the back of the couch and sat beside her, growling softly, and she put her hand up and rubbed him behind the ears. “Easy, tiger,” she told him. “He’s leaving.”

David leaned closer, keeping one eye on the cat. “I want to marry you, Min.”

Elvis reached out a claw and buried it in David’s sleeve.

“Hell,” David said, scooting back on the couch. “What was that for?”

“Elvis doesn’t want to get married,” Min said. “I think Priscilla broke his heart. He always loved her, you know.”

“It’s not funny,” David said.

“Who’s laughing?”

“Look, I’m serious.” David reached in his coat pocket and handed her a package. “This is how serious I am.”

“That’s not a ring, is it?” Min said with horror.

“No,” David said, so she unwrapped the box. Inside was an expensive, three-inch snow globe with the Eiffel Tower inside.

“The Eiffel Tower?” Min said. This guy doesn’t know me at all.

“That’s where we’ll honeymoon,” David said, edging closer. “In Paris. We’ll have a wonderful life, Min. And I don’t mind starting a family right away, we can—”

“I don’t want kids,” Min said, peering into the snow globe. “David, this isn’t my kind of—”

“Of course you want kids,” David said. “You were born to be a mother.”

Min put the snow globe on the end table and looked at the cat. “There are two men, Elvis. One calls you a depraved angel and the other calls you a natural born mother. Which one do you pick?”

“Well, you’re more than that, of course,” David said. “But—” He stopped when the cat jumped down from the back of the sofa, brushing against him and leaving a smudge of rusty cat hair on his sleeve. “Your cat just got cat hair on me.”

“It’s only fair,” Min said. “Your suit just got expensive suit lint on him.”

“Min, I know you’re seeing Cal Morrisey,” David said.

“You do?” Min said, thinking, You miserable son of a bitch, you’re still trying to win that bet. It was enough to make her sleep with Cal just to get even with David. The thought was much more exciting than it should have been.

“You shouldn’t see Cal,” David said seriously. “Ever again.”

The cat jumped up on the end table and nosed the snow globe off with enough force that it landed on the stone hearth in front of the fireplace and smashed, water running everywhere.

“Elvis!” Min shoved herself off the couch to shoo him away. “Stay away from there. There’s broken glass.”

“He did that on purpose,” David said, outraged.

“Yes, David, the cat is plotting against you.” Min fished the base out of the water and glass shards and put it on the table. Then she went to get her wastebasket and began to put the glass pieces in it.

“That cat—” David said.

“Yes?” Min said as she picked up the biggest piece.

“Never mind,” David said. “You don’t know what Cal Morrisey’s up to.”

“Sure, I do,” Min said, picking up another piece. “He’s trying to get me into bed.”

“Well, yes,” David said. “But it’s more than that.”

“I know.” Min picked up the third and last large piece and then looked at the rest. “Give me that magazine on the table, will you?”

David passed the magazine over and she tore off the cover while he said, “You don’t know. He’s capable of anything.”

“That was the impression I got.” Min slid the cover under the glass while using the rest of the magazine as a broom. She dumped the glass in the basket and then saw one more large piece, a little beyond her sweeping area. “Look, David, you don’t have to worry about me. I am not in love with Cal Mor—ow!” She pulled back her hand as the blood welled up. “What the hell?” She picked up the last piece and dropped it in the basket and then went out to the kitchen to wash off the blood.

“Are you listening to me?” David said.

“No,” Min said over the running water. “I’m injured. Go away. I don’t want to marry you.” She turned off the water, wrapped a paper towel around her finger, and went back to get rid of him.

“Min,” David said, standing up. “You’re not taking me seriously.”

“Lord, no,” Min said, opening her front door. “You’re a nice man, David. Well, not really. Go—”

“No, Min, I’m staying,” he said, his voice deep and serious.

Then he grabbed her and kissed her hard.