Our dinners, during these three days, were as arduous as Elaine’s version of the Boston Marathon. That evening, we went to L’Espalier, a high-toned French place with authoritative waiters, and a menu and wine list that would have dazzled a finicky dauphin. I ate lemon risotto, sautéed broccoli rabe, roasted duck with orange marmalade, and shared two bottles of pinot noir and a toasted-almond crème brûlée with Glenna. I was drowsy by the end of the meal, wide-awake after Charlie drove us back to Belmont and I climbed into bed.

I was lying on my side, flipping through the pages of a dog-eared copy of People, when Glenna came out of the bathroom in a short, white satin nightie.

“Done reading?”

“Yes,” I said, admiring how the satin clung to her, dropping the magazine on the floor, and switching off the wall lamp.

She got into the brass four-poster, backing up against me under the covers, and I spooned myself around her, wondering if she was in the mood. The nightie was a positive sign; however, that she was lying perfectly still was not. As I was weighing a variety of approaches, Glenna said, “I’ve been remembering our first night together.”

“What about it?”

“That I had to fight with you to fuck me.”

“You had to call me up. That’s not a fight.”

“Beg you then.”

“Beg? Are you nuts?”

Giggling, she began rotating against me. “And now it’s this.”

“I was scared of you,” I said, cupping my palms over her breasts.

“Just because I was pretty. Remember, I told you: you don’t see me.”

“I saw you. That’s why I was scared.”

“Are you scared now?” she asked, reaching back to hold my hip as her movements picked up steam.

“This second?”

“This second.”

“Not as scared as I used to be.”

She giggled some more. “Hooray for progress.”

Her hand was on me, and then I was inside her, with Glenna saying, “Hold me tighter, as tight as you can,” and I did as we moved together in the dark, round and round, slow and steady, and when it was over, I stayed wrapped around her, happy and at peace.

“Are you awake?” Glenna asked, nudging me with her elbow.

“No, but if you whack me again I will be.”

“I’ve been thinking about hiring an associate.”

“Tonight?”

“Not tonight, funnyman. Or maybe I’ll take in a partner.”

“You have someone in mind?”

“Not yet. But if I had help with my practice, I could go on longer vacations.”

“Unh-hunh,” I replied.

“I want to travel more. I’ve been to London for conferences, twice to Geneva, once to Paris. And to the Caribbean. That’s about it. Your work took you everywhere.”

“Most of those places didn’t have clean towels.”

“Tell me about one that does.”

“The Slovak Republic.”

“C’mon, Gordon. Did you have a favorite place?”

“Let me think about it,” I said, and recognized, too late, that the subject of this conversation was far different from what it appeared, and that I’d given Glenna the wrong answer.