Anne had never dined at Vinzetti’s before. East Enders rarely ventured downtown, and the college crowd only came here for special occasions like marriage proposals; Bobby had proposed one afternoon at the airport just after he’d taken her up for a ride in a Piper Cub. Seated in one of the handmade booths, watching the couples dancing onstage, Anne was inspired to order a glass of red wine, though her experiences with wine had heretofore been limited to communion and a sip or two on Christmas Eves. Harry ordered a locally brewed beer. After scanning the menus, they both decided on the lasagna, and, once they had placed their order with the waiter, were left gazing at each other over their drinks.

“Well, Anne Wallace,” Harry said.

“Well?”

“Mind if I ask you a few questions?”

She laughed. “Haven’t you asked me enough questions these last few days?”

He leaned back, took a sip of his beer. “Fair enough. You want to ask me something?”

“Well, yes,” Anne said. “You know all about me and I don’t know a thing about you.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Harry said, setting his glass down on the table. “But all right—what do you want to know?”

She thought for a moment, then said, “Tell me why you’re not married.”

He laughed. “You would make a good reporter, wouldn’t you? You just cut right to the chase.”

She laughed, too, and took a sip of her wine. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I told you—I’m always blurting out things I shouldn’t. But you can’t blame me for wondering.”

“Are you afraid I’m not the marrying type?”

She met his eyes. They were warm, easy to get lost in. “I was just wondering.”

“Do you want to get married?”

“Well, I was expecting—Now, wait, I thought I was asking the questions!”

Harry laughed. “I’m sorry. You want to know why I’m not married.”

She nodded.

“I guess I’ve just been waiting for the right girl to come along.”

“So, you would like to get married someday?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Is that a proposal?”

“I’m not busy next Saturday,” she joked, but when he didn’t laugh, she blushed. “I’m just kidding,” she said, and took a sip of her wine, chastising herself for not thinking before she spoke. Now he was going to think she was some marriage-crazed girl desperate for prospects.

“I don’t think I’m busy then, either,” Harry said.

She looked up, startled, then quickly looked down again into the dark swirls of liquid in her wineglass. She decided she’d better change the subject before she really got herself into trouble. “Have you heard when your nephew’s coming home?”

“Not yet. Have you heard anything about your brother?”

“No. You said your nephew grew up in your hometown?”