“You just don’t want me to go. That’s what this is about.”

“That’s not true. I’m speaking totally as your editor here.”

“You’re lying. I can tell. You’re getting that flushed look at the base of your neck there.”

“Stop looking at the base of my neck.” She looked off into a far corner of the newsroom. “You know, I’m not sure this is working.”

“What? Our marriage?”

“No, you idiot. Our marriage is fine. You working for me, that’s the problem. Reporting to me. I hate it.”

“Do you find me a difficult employee? Because, if you’re considering giving me a poor performance review, I think we might be able to come to some sort of an arrangement.” I gave her my best “come hither” look.

“Oh, shut up,” she said.

“I have to admit, though, there are times when it is a bit distracting. For example, when I’m talking to anyone else in the newsroom, I’m not thinking about what color underwear they might be wearing.”

“Not even Sylvia, in sports?”

I paused, perhaps for too long. Sylvia, who keyed in late-night scores, possessed an amazing superstructure. “No,” I said. “Not even Sylvia.”

“Then you’re the only one,” Sarah said. “I swear, those have to be implants. I have two things to say to you. One, this kind of talk is the kind of thing that could get you in trouble with the paper’s sexual harassment police. And two, what color underwear do you think I’m wearing now?”

I studied her blouse. It was dark blue. That made it tough. Plus, Sarah was standing with her arms crossed.

“I’m betting the black one, with the clasp in the front,” I said.

Sarah mulled my answer.

“So, am I right?”

“You’ll never know,” she said. She started to walk away, then turned on her heel. “I nearly forgot to ask. What happened at the auction?”

I steeled myself. “We have a new car.”

Sarah looked wary, afraid to ask. “How much?”

“It’s perfect,” I said. “Not only that, it’s something we can be proud to own.”

Sarah’s eyebrows went up. “Oh my God. You went and bought a Beemer.”

“No no, not that kind of proud. That’s showy. I’m talking proud in a civic-minded kind of way.”

Sarah continued to look suspicious. “God, just tell me.”

“A Virtue.”

“A who?”

I explained the whole hybrid concept, as best as I was able.

“An electric car,” she said dubiously.

“Only half electric.”

“So, you got us a car that needs an extension cord? And you still haven’t told me what this cost us.”

“Not that much,” I said.

Sarah was starting to glower. “How much?”

“Just a little over eight thousand.”

She swallowed. “How much over eight thousand?”

“Nine hundred.”

“Nine hundred? So the car was nine thousand? Dollars?”

“No, just $8,900.”