HE PICKED HER up on Saturday night. She wore a flowered dress that caught the breeze, flashing a glimpse of her excellent legs. She had always been lean and athletic, and those were some great legs.

“Hi,” she said, and he leaned in to kiss her cheek, the way he always did, as she leaned in to hug him. He ended up kissing her on the ear instead.

“Sorry,” he said.

“No, no. This is a little weird, but . . . it’s really nice, too.” She got in his car, filling it with a spicy smell, deeper than Lauren’s perfume. “Where are we going?”

“Mill’s Tavern.”

“Nice.”

He pulled away from her curb and drove through Providence. After a minute or two, he realized he should speak. “How was your day?”

“Good! It was relaxing. I did some gardening. You?”

“Also good. I worked, but I also took Pebbles for a swim.”

“Oh, does she love being near the water?” Sarah asked, her voice warming. She loved that dog. A good sign.

“She does. She swims around, barking like a maniac. I think she’s trying to herd the fish.”

She laughed.

This could be it, he thought. Josh and Sarah, Sarah and Josh. Why not?

They got to the restaurant and were seated at a nice table. Josh had worn a Radley-approved outfit from Banana Republic—chinos, a checked purple-and-blue shirt cuffed at the wrist, loafers with no socks (which felt weird and was something he would not do again).

“You look nice,” he said to Sarah.

“Thank you. So do you.”

Their server came over. “Hi! Welcome to Mill’s Tavern! Are we ready to order our drinks?”

“I’m not. I don’t know about you,” Sarah answered.

Josh looked up. “I’ll have a glass of sauvignon blanc—oh, hey.”

It was the woman from the vet and the marathon. And the Eddy. Duffy the dog’s owner.

“Hi! How are you?” She beamed, clearly recognizing him.

“Good,” he said. “Very good. Um, Sarah?”

“I’ll have a cosmo,” she said. “Grey Goose, very faintly pink, squeeze the lime. Thank you.” Quite specific, and ordered firmly. Sarah would be good with kids, he thought.

“You got it! Nice to see you,” the server said to Josh, going off to put in their drink order.

“You know her?” Sarah asked.

“I’ve run into her a couple times. We use the same vet. Also, Providence.”

“Can’t swing a cat without hitting someone you know.” Sarah settled back. “Don’t you hate when they say, ‘Are we ready to order?’ Like it’s the three of us having dinner?”

“I never really noticed.”

“Drives me crazy. ‘How do we like our dinners?’ ‘Do we want dessert?’ I feel like I’m three and my mother is saying, ‘We love broccoli! It’s our favorite veggie!’” She laughed and after a second, Josh smiled.