She made sure the water was right at the boil and that there was enough in the steamer. Everything depended on the asparagus being ready to go as soon as Larry walked in the door. As soon as she heard him, even. If the water wasn't boiling, or if it ran out underneath, that would ruin everything.

By 8:15 she had taken the chops out of the oven, refilled the water in the steamer three times and added butter to the rice to keep it from sticking, but there wasn't any hope now. At 7:35, she had poured Larry's Scotch and added the ice cube, now melted long ago. At the hour she poured the diluted drink into the sink.

She heard the footsteps on the walk outside. God, she hoped he'd found a parking place nearby. Sometimes if you got home late there wasn't anywhere to park within blocks, and that always put him in a real bad mood.

The dinner could, maybe, be saved. She knew what she could do… she'd pour him the new Scotch now, with a new ice cube, greet him at the door and let him unwind for twenty minutes until the second round of rice was cooked. She could microwave the chops on low power and they probably wouldn't get too dry. The asparagus wouldn't be any problem.

She had the drink in her hand, ready for him, when he opened the door. He was tall and very handsome – with his cleft chin and his body still young at forty-one. He had all his hair, wavy and fashionably long. An Italian suit, colorful tie with a snow-white shirt – colors, he said, were okay in a tie, so long as they didn't clash. She put the drink in his hand, pecked his cheek, smiled up at him.

"Where have you been?"

God she hadn't meant to say that. It had just come out, and right away she wished she could take it back.

"What do you mean, where have I been? Where do you think I've been?"

"Well, I mean it's late. I thought… I was worried."

"You were worried. I like that." He seemed to notice the drink for the first time. "What's this?"