“Albert has told me so much about you, Mrs. Morgan,” Dr. Enriquez gushed, after he introduced us.

“Nothing good, I hope,” I said, glancing at him. I doubted that he was in the habit of talking about his mother to his girlfriends.

She continued, “I love your hair. What do you use?”

“She pours ink on it,” Albert said, probably jealous because his own hair was thinning. “That's what gives it the blue tint.”

“I don't want to look like everybody else at Silver Acres,” I said.

“Well I think it's beautiful,” Maria said. “And you're so slim. I need to get your secret.”

“You have to be thin to live long enough to get into a retirement community,” Albert said. “The fat ones die off too soon.”

Albert could stand to lose a few pounds. I said to Maria, “You obviously don't need any of my secrets.”

She bowed her head slightly and said, “Thank you.”

“Don't praise Mother too much,” Albert said. “She taught at Duke, you know, not UNC.”

Maria laughed. “I think we can forgive her that-especially since she mothered a UNC professor and grandmothered a UNC graduate. And I assume Winston will attend UNC.”

I didn't want to get into that discussion. Albert was a professor of history at the University of North Carolina. Duke and UNC, located in adjoining cities, are big rivals, especially on the basketball court. I said, “Both are great universities.”

“Yes,” Maria said. “With distinguished professors. Helping to improve the world.”

“Another center of great universities is Boston,” I said, “with Harvard and MIT, among others. And yet, with all their brains they haven't been able to make the roads of Boston driveable.”

I saw Albert frown, a signal that I was being too free with my opinions, so I shut up. We sat down to eat, three blonds, a brunette and a bluehead.

I had kept my promise to myself not to talk about Silver Acres, when Albert said to me, “I understand there was some excitement at your bridge club last week. I heard a man choked to death.”