I told her about the place, parroting back the better part of what I’d read in the brochure.

“It sounds great,” she said.

“It does, doesn’t it?”

“It really does, Bern. It’s a shame Lettice couldn’t have postponed the wedding a week or two. She would have loved it.”

“I’d have enjoyed it myself.”

“Well, sure. Who wouldn’t?”

I sipped my beer, set the glass down, leaned forward. I said, “You know what?”

“What, Bern.”

“Let’s go.”

“Just like that? Well, let me finish my drink first, okay?”

“Finish it and have another. I don’t mean let’s blow this pop stand. I mean let’s go to Cuttleford House.”

“Huh?”

“Well, why the hell not? I’ve got the reservations and I already sent them a deposit, which will probably turn out to be nonrefundable. Why don’t the two of us make the trip? You’re not planning on getting married a week from Thursday, are you?”

“Not that I remember, but I’d have to check my book.”

“I hate the idea of canceling the trip,” I said, “just because the person I was planning on taking happens to be marrying somebody else. But it’s not the kind of place I’d want to go to alone.”

“I know what you mean.”

“So what do you say?”

“I don’t know if I can afford it, Bern.”

“Hey, c’mon. It’s my treat.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I thought that went without saying.”

“In that case,” she said, “I can probably afford it.”

“So is it a deal? Are we going?”

“Oh, what the hell,” she said. “Why not?”