Rafe, Kristen, Scruffy, and I were at the long shiny wooden bar in Hoppe’s Brewing, waiting for a group of late-season skiers to vacate the table of choice, which according to Rafe and the Scruff was the one table equidistant from the dart board, pool table, bar, and restrooms. I’d made the comment that any table would be fine, really, but I’d been ignored and here we were, perched on high chairs, awkwardly trying to have a conversation among four people sitting in a long row in a space where sound bounced around in ways so odd that it was sometimes easier to hear the conversation at adjacent tables than the voice of the person next to you.

“You have got to be kidding.” Kristen glared at her husband, at me, at Rafe, at her mug of diet root beer, which hadn’t done a thing to deserve it, and back at the Scruff. “You have seriously lost your marbles if you think I’m going to do that!” Her voice had increased in volume, and at the end of the sentence, she was in full-on Diva Chef Mode.

“Do what?”

The four of us turned. Ash was standing behind us. I nodded a hello to his companion, his buddy Tank, and Ash, Tank, and Rafe exchanged fist bumps.

“Excellent timing,” I said. “We need law enforcement on our side.”

Ash, sadly, did not immediately agree with me. “What side is that?” he asked, and once again I thought he was starting to sound way too much like Detective Inwood. Couldn’t he, just once, agree with me on something without needing every single fact? Couldn’t he, just once, trust that I was intelligent enough to be right about something?

“The dumb side,” Kristen said. “These three think I need to stay out of the restaurant until the end of this.” She slapped her huge belly. “What am I going to do, sit around and eat bonbons all day? I’m already as big as a car. You want me to get even bigger?”

Ash, having known Kristen for some time, murmured that he saw someone on the other side of the room he needed to talk to, and beat a hasty retreat.

“Coward!” Kristen called after him.

Tank shrugged. “See you guys later,” he said, and followed Ash.

There was a moment of non-conversation. Then: “Don’t,” Kristen said. “Just don’t. I am fine. There is no earthly reason for me to stop working.”

I could see Scruffy start to open his mouth, to start listing all the reasons—fatigue, back pain, swollen ankles, foot pain, et cetera—and leapt into the breach, sacrificing myself to save their marriage.