She flipped a dustcloth at the top of the table, then rubbed hard at a spot that had been burned by a cigarette. “He’s supposed to be meeting with some well-heeled clients. For her, it’s an uncle over at the Home, but it’s a weak excuse if you ask me. He’s a turnip. She goes by, pats him on his bony little head, gets an orderly to snap a couple of pictures, and then she roars over here to hit the sheet with Dow Jones.” She tossed the dusting cloth at the cleaning cart. It missed and she picked it up. She looked at me. “I’ve heard her on the phone a couple of times, talking to the judge, I guess. She claims she’s practically living at the Home, says she thinks the old boy feels better when she’s around.”

“To each his own.”

“God, Bobo, I love it when you get profound.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

Lila dropped the cloth into the cart. “Let me show you something, Bobo. You want to see what turns them on?”

“Not particularly.”

“Sure you do.”

She pulled a magazine from the cart and handed it to me.

“I found it under the bed,” she said. “They’re always leaving them behind. I think they’re trying to tell me something.”

I fanned the magazine quickly and handed it back to Lila. It was, as I knew it would be, a magazine of sexually explicit poses.

“Embarrass you?” Lila asked.

“No,” I told her. Then: “Okay, so it does—a little. It’s not on my subscription list.” I sat on the side of the bed.

Lila stepped toward me. “Would you look at it if I weren’t here?”

I answered her honestly: “Maybe.”

“Sure you would,” she said.

“My God, Lila, I am human. I’m curious, like anyone.”

“You don’t have a great sex life at home, do you?” she said softly.

“It’s—”

“Almost nonexistent? Is that it, Bobo?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to. I can read the signs.”

I could feel a blush coating my face.

Lila dropped the magazine on the bed. “Centerfold,” she teased. “And, Bobo, if you’re anything like that man, you couldn’t lock me out of this room with the CIA standing guard. I’d kick the hinges off.”

“I’m glad to know the Inn is now providing reading material,” I told her. “Especially such inspirational literature.”

Lila laughed gleefully. She stepped to the desk and opened a drawer. “If you want inspiration, Bobo, read this.” She sailed a brochure at me. It landed on the bed and I picked it up and examined it. On the cover, it read, JEWS FOR JESUS.

“We had a group of them in for a meeting a couple of months ago,” she explained. “They left these things everywhere. No tips, but a lot of inspiration.”

“I’ll read it with interest.”