“Yeah?” he said unceremoniously. He was out of breath.

“Tonight’s your lucky night,” Laurie said.

“Who is this?” Jack asked. “Is that you, Laurie?”

“You sound out of breath,” Laurie said. “Does that mean you lost at basketball?”

“No, it means I ran up four flights of stairs to get the phone,” Jack said. “What’s happening? Don’t tell me you’re still at work?”

“Heavens, no,” Laurie said. “I’ve been home for an hour.”

“So why is this my lucky night?” Jack asked.

“I stopped by Gristede’s on the way home and picked up the makings of your favorite dinner,” Laurie said. “It’s all ready to go into the broiler. All you have to do is shower and get yourself down here.”

“And I thought I owed you an apology for laughing at the vanishing mafioso,” Jack said. “If amends are needed it’s surely from my side.”

“There’s no atonement involved,” Laurie said. “I would just enjoy your company. But there’s one condition.”

“Uh-oh,” Jack said. “What?”

“No bike tonight,” Laurie said. “You have to come by cab or the deal’s off.”

“Taxis are more dangerous than my bike,” Jack complained.

“No argument,” Laurie said. “Take it or leave it. If and when you slide under a bus and end up on a slab in the pit, I don’t want to feel responsible.” Laurie felt her face flush. It was an issue she didn’t even like to joke about.

“Okay,” Jack said agreeably. “I should be there in thirty-five to forty minutes. Shall I bring some wine?”

“That would be great,” Laurie said.

Laurie was pleased. She’d been unsure if Jack would accept the invitation. Over the previous year they had been seeing each other socially, and several months ago, Laurie had admitted to herself that she’d fallen in love with him. But Jack seemed reluctant to allow the relationship to progress to the next level of commitment. When Laurie tried to force the issue, Jack had responded by distancing himself. Feeling rejected, Laurie had responded with anger. For weeks, they only spoke on a professional basis.

Over the last month their relationship had slowly improved. They were seeing each other again casually. This time Laurie realized that she had to bide her time. The problem was that at age thirty-seven it was not easy. Laurie had always wanted to become a mother someday. With forty fast approaching, she felt she was running out of time.

With the dinner essentially prepared, Laurie went around her small one-bedroom apartment straightening up. That meant putting odd books back into their spots on the shelves, stacking medical journals neatly, and emptying Tom’s litter box. Tom was her six-and-a-half-year-old tawny tabby who was still as wild as he’d been as a kitten. Laurie straightened the Klimt print that the cat always knocked askew on his daily route from the bookcase to the top of the valance over the window.

Next Laurie took a quick shower, changed into a turtleneck and jeans, and put on a touch of makeup. As she did so she glared at the crow’s feet that had been developing at the corners of her eyes. She didn’t feel any older than when she’d gotten out of medical school, yet there was no denying the advance of years.