"I was beginning to worry," she said. Eva had a rather musical voice, though the notes she hit of late were too often melancholy.

"I told you not to," he said, leaning in to peck her cheek.

"Oh, Eliot, you shouldn't have…"

She had noticed the flowers.

"Uh, well, they are rather pretty, aren't they?"

She beamed as he handed her the flowers, red, white, and yellow with ferns. "You didn't have to do this. It isn't exactly the first night you've been a little late."

"I'm glad you like them," he said, and stepped inside. She placed the flowers in a vase on a small table nearby. She helped him out of his topcoat and took his hat, hanging them both in the closet by the door.

"I waited dinner," she said.

"You needn't have. You should've eaten."

"I wanted to wait. I want to hear about this big surprise of yours."

The vestibule opened onto the large living room, with stair to the second floor rising on the right. Through an archway on the left was the dining room, but they ate in the kitchen, at the rear of the house. There was a breakfast nook where they took many of their meals.

"I hope the roast beef isn't dried out," she said, bending to open the stove and look in. She had a nice rear end, Eva did. She had a nice shape in general, just this side of plump.

The roast beef did prove a little dry, but gravy took care of that. He was hungry and wolfed down several servings of both the beef and the boiled potatoes. Eva was a good cook, and in fact he had to restrain her a bit. He liked simple meat and potatoes. Her special Swedish meatballs, which drew raves from family and friends, made him sick to his stomach.