“Don’t make a habit of it,” she replied. “People will think you’re living in my back room.”

“You don’t have a back room.”

“That won’t stop them from thinking it.”

“Your logic is unassailable,” Stone said, shoving the mail aside and sipping his drink.

A waiter appeared with a menu.

“Green bean salad, hold the peppers, spaghetti carbonara, half a bottle of the Chianti Classico,” Stone said.

“You look hungry,” Elaine said. “You’re late, too; where you been?”

“ Spokane, Washington; Dino will explain it to you.”

“He’s turning his airplane into a jet,” Dino said.

“Sort of,” Stone replied. “A jet with a propeller. It’s called a turboprop.”

“Why are you doing this to your airplane?”

“Faster, quieter, more reliable, climbs faster.”

“Oh.”

Elaine had never evinced the slightest interest in his airplane, Stone remembered. He waited for the next, inevitable question.

“Only one engine?” Elaine asked.

“One’s all you need.”

“What if it stops?”

“Extremely unlikely, but I’d find a place to land it.”

Elaine nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

“Where is Genevieve?” Stone asked Dino.

“Late shift; she’ll show soon. She might bring Eliza.”

“Good idea.” Eliza Larkin was an ER doctor Stone had been seeing occasionally since he had been run down by a car and she had treated him.

The two women, on cue, breezed into the place, exchanged kisses with everybody and sat down.

“Bring ’em a menu,” Elaine said to a waiter.

“No, thanks, I had dinner in the cafeteria earlier,” Eliza said.

“Me too,” Genevieve said.

Elaine looked at them incredulously. “You ate food from a hospital cafeteria instead of here?”

“I would have fainted if I hadn’t,” Eliza said. “Maybe I’ll have dessert.”

“Dessert is good,” Elaine said, pointing at a tray of samples and motioning for a waiter to bring it over.