“No real reason,” I answered. “Money, for one thing. But mainly, it’s always been a trip to see Avrum. Nothing appealing in that for her.”

“What kind of person is she?” Lila asked.

I looked at Lila. She was pushed against the door, like a teenager on a date. She was watching me quizzically.

“She’s a nice person,” I said. “Strong-willed. Very strong. A good mother. A little blunt at times, a little too quick to give her opinion, more restless than she thinks she is, a soft touch when you’d never expect her to be. A really good person. A lot of our friends think she’s the balance in my life.”

“And she puts up with you?” Lila teased.

“She tolerates me, which is asking a lot, I suppose,” I answered.

“Don’t criticize it,” Lila advised. “I’ve always heard there were three perfect possibilities in a marriage—perfect ecstasy, perfect misery, and perfect tolerance. I think most of us live the latter.” Her eyes moved from me to Sammy. “It’s not easy, is it?”

“Being married?” I asked.

“Being married,” she answered.

“No, it’s not,” I admitted.

Her next question came so smoothly, I wondered if she had rehearsed it: “Do you ever think you’re not married to the right person?”

I smiled and let the smile serve as a pause to search for an answer.

“Well, do you?” Lila probed.

“Doesn’t everybody think that?” I said. “At least once in a while. But, to be truthful, I don’t dwell on it. I think marriage becomes a kind of habit, something so familiar we feel more comfortable there, in it, than anywhere else. Every marriage I’ve ever seen—the good ones and the bad ones—all seem to become a habit. And maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Some habits are better than other habits,” Lila observed.

“Yes, I suppose,” I replied.

I glanced at her. She was gazing at me, as though she wanted to say something else, something bothersome. Instead, she reached with her hand and stroked me lightly on the arm. “We’re not going to fight about the check, are we?”

“No. It’s on me,” I said.

“But you’ve already paid for one meal, at the Inn. You just didn’t get it.”

“Then think of this as a tip.”

“You didn’t get enough service for what this is going to cost.”

“Who cares?” I said. “It’s the company that matters.”

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Lila replied.