It was very quiet in the kitchen for a few moments after that, until Paul said, “Actually, it would be kind of funny if you did.”

I gave him a look that strongly suggested he should move on, which he did.

Sarah was ready to go, so I walked her to the door. “Nice going in there,” she said.

I ignored that. “If I see a car I think would be good for us, I’ll give you a call.”

“Where is this thing, anyway?”

“Out past Oakwood,” I said.

“Maybe you should drop in on Trixie,” Sarah said, smiling slyly. “Might be an education for Lawrence.”

Trixie Snelling lived two doors down from the house we’d had in the suburbs, and just as I had when I lived out there, she ran her business from home. And while she didn’t write science fiction novels, her occupation would make an interesting subject for a book. She was a stay-at-home dominatrix, with a basement decorated in early Marquis de Sade.

Trixie and I’d become friends while I still thought she was an accountant. One night, after a series of circumstances led me to discover what she actually did for a living, she came to my aid, and we’d remained friends, even if we didn’t see each other every day or get together for coffee.

“Somehow, I think we’ll give Trixie a wave,” I said.

“You know,” Sarah said, looking a bit sheepish, “if you did see something cute, and if it was really a good deal …”

“I don’t believe you,” I said.

“Or maybe a little convertible. That might be fun.”

“You tell me we can’t afford a second car, but you want a ragtop.”

“Fine, forget I just said that. Leave your checkbook at home. Come back with a feature and nothing else.”

I opened the door of the Camry for her. “Let me ask you something,” I said. Sarah looked at me and waited. “If you were gay, would you still find me attractive?”

She paused. Sarah’s been with me long enough now to know that it’s simpler to just answer the question than figure out what’s behind it.

“Well, let’s see, if I were gay, that would make me a lesbian, so I would have to say, no, you would not be my type.”

“No no, if you were a male gay person, would you find me attractive? Would I be your type?”

“So, if I find you attractive as a straight female, would I find you attractive as a gay male?”

“Something like that.”

She pretended to give it some thought. “No,” she said.

I must have looked hurt. “Okay, yes,” she said. “Hot, very hot. I’d throw you over the hood of this car in an instant.” She thought a moment. “Facedown, I guess.”

“No, hang on,” I said. “Let’s go with your first instinct. You said no.”