“Yoga?” he says, getting back under the sink.

“At our age,” she says, “it’s ‘use it or lose it.’”

“No, look, I think it’s good.”

“It’s mostly women,” she says, so quickly that Frank instantly gets that it’s mostly women but there’s at least one man there. He feels this little twinge of jealousy. Which is irrational and unfair, he tells himself. You have Donna; Patty should have somebody in her life. But still, he doesn’t like the thought. He gets the trap off, then reaches in and pulls out a wad of sodden potato peels. He holds it up to her and says, “Patty, please? Cooked food, not raw, and not five pounds at a time, okay?”

“Okay,” she says, but can’t help adding, “They should make those things better, though.”

So he knows she’s going to do it again, or something just like it, and he thinks, Next time, let your boyfriend fix it. With all that yoga, he can get under the sink with no problem, right?

He puts the trap back on, tightens it down, and crawls back out from under the sink.

“You want to try the gnocchi?” she asks.

“I thought you had yoga.”

“I could skip a class.”

He thinks about it for a second, then says, “No, you want to keep up with that. ‘Use it or lose it,’ like they say.”

You jerk, he thinks when he sees her eyes get sharp and cold. What a stupid thing to say. And Patty being Patty, she isn’t going to let it slide. “You could use a little yoga yourself,” she says, looking at his belly.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll join your class.”

“That’s all I need.”

He washes his hands, then gives her another quick kiss on the cheek, which she tries to turn away from.

“See you Friday,” he says.

“If I’m not here,” she tells him, “just leave the envelope in the drawer.”

“Thanks for the coffee. It was really good.”