“What for?”

“Tell me it’s not as huge as I think it is. I swear the hole’s bigger than most teeth. You could park cars in there, Bern. You could house the homeless.”

She came over and stuck her face into mine, gaping and pointing at a molar. “Erg-awrghghm,” she said.

“Come on,” I said. “How am I going to see anything in there? You need the right kind of lighting, and one of those little mirrors on the end of a stick. Anyway, I’m sure it’s fine.”

“It’s a lunar crater,” she said. “It’s the Grand Canyon. Fortunately, two hours from now it’ll be history. My dentist’s gonna fit me in during lunch hour.”

“That’s good.”

“Uh-huh.” She leaned a hip against the counter, sent an appraising glance my way. “So?”

“So what?”

“So how’d it go last night?”

“Well, the movies were pretty good,” I said. “The first one was made in 1937, and-”

“I’m not talking about the movies, Bern. How’d it go with Ilona?”

“Oh,” I said. “It went all right.”

“All right?”

“It went fine.”

She went on studying me, then broke into a smile that lit up her whole face.

“Cut it out,” I said.

“Cut what out? I didn’t say a word.”

“Well, neither did I, so what the hell are you grinning about?”

“Beats me. Where’d you wind up, Bern? Your place or hers?”

I stared at her, stubbornly silent, and she stared right back at me. “Hers,” I said finally.

“And?”

“And what? I had a good time, okay? You happy now?”

“I’m happy for you. She’s beautiful, Bern.”

“I know.”

“And obviously crazy about you.”

“I don’t know about that part,” I said. “And what makes you so sure of it? For that matter, how come you’re telling me she’s beautiful? Are you just feeding my own words back to me?”

She pursed her lips and whistled soundlessly, like Ilona blowing out cigarette smoke. “It was just the sheerest coincidence,” she said.