“I don’t care.” She shook the ice in her glass. “Could you replenish me, boo?” she asked, and he said of course and struggled to his feet—he’d better slow down, he told himself—and took their glasses over to the bar.

Clara got up too, and joined him, and as she waited for him to pour the gin she stood close to him, close enough that he could smell her Chanel perfume and feel the warmth of her skin. “I hope it rains the rest of the week,” she said. “I just want to nest in here and forget the rest of the world.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Do you know the world could be ending right now, there could be war with Russia, and none of us would know it?” She took the gin from him. “I suppose we’ll have to go home someday,” she said. “Assuming it’s still there. But not just yet.”

It occurred to him, as he handed Clara the tonic, that he wasn’t quite sure what day it was—Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday—nor how long it had been since he and Effie had called their parents. “Is there a phone here?” he asked.

“Do you need to make a call?”

“I just realized we never gave our folks a number or address. Nobody’s got a way to reach us.”

Clara laughed, and put her hand on his arm. “Oh, baby, you’re lost in the woods, aren’t you? Don’t worry, you’re safe here.”

“I just mean they might be worried.”

“We’ll call them tomorrow.”

They settled back around the coffee table to play Kings Cup again. Skinny-dipping was out—the wind outside was rattling the windowpanes. Clara suggested an alternative, to keep things exciting: if you drew an ace, you had to play the rest of the game in your underwear, like she had done the other night. What if you drew a second ace? Effie asked. Then you got to choose someone else to do it, Max suggested. Effie laughed. “We might as well get down to our undies right now.”

“No,” Clara said. “It has to happen naturally.”

“I think this game’s rigged,” Effie said to Henry.

“It’s good, clean fun,” Clara said. “We’re all adults here.”

“I’m game,” Henry said. He was feeling expansive and excited. Thrilled and relieved from his escape, the wild memory of Alma locked safely away, the comfort of his wife beside him, the unspeakable possibilities that were upon them now, which they could share. And anyway, it wasn’t a big deal, it was like being in trunks and bikinis.