IN THE HALF HOUR SINCE RETURNING TO OUR APARTMENT, I’D CHANGED OUT OF MY dissertation defense costume (the brown tweed blazer, the khaki pants, the scuffed penny loafers) and put on something more casual yet, I hoped, flattering (my new jeans, a purple linen shirt the color of a bruise, my bright red Converse high-tops). Then I checked the chip in my tooth. Not pretty. But I discovered it would be barely noticeable so long as I didn’t smile, or talk, or basically open my mouth. Then I brushed and flossed and mouthwashed, I facial-creamed, body-lotioned, redeodorized. Checked my face for beard stubble, found none. Double-checked my ears and nose for long, unsightly hairs, found one. Rechecked my overnight bag, taking special care to unzip the secret pocket where I’d stashed a light blue box of a dozen Trojans, found them. Twelve seemed an overreach, I know.

I left the breakfast dishes in the sink (Sam’s uneaten Lucky Charms, Teddy’s plate of toast crusts). I passed by the boys’ bedroom/closet and barely glanced at their matching spaceship bedspreads and the recently applied glow-in-the-dark stars stuck in constellation patterns on the ceiling. I mostly managed to ignore the shelf of family photos, catching just for a moment a picture of Kate and me and the boys all wearing the same L. L. Bean striped pajamas, smiling, from Christmas morning the year before. However, what I couldn’t avoid was the blinking message light on our phone machine. Someone had called. Who? I stared at the blinking light for longer than I’d like to admit.

Quite possibly it was Kate. Maybe there had been an emergency. Or maybe Kate couldn’t help herself. Maybe she wanted to hear how my dissertation defense had gone. Maybe she wanted to be the first to call me Dr. Welch.

I stopped in front of the phone machine and pushed play.

“This is Jack with American Credit Services. Don’t worry. Your accounts are fine. I’m calling with a unique offer, a onetime opportunity—”

“Exactly,” I said as I pushed erase.

KATE

KATE

AS WE APPROACHED THE CASTLE, A DISNEY EMPLOYEE IN A DAPPER OUTFIT OF knickers and a blue hat came toward us with camera in hand. “Would you like a picture of the family?”

I started to wave off the photographer, but Jeff said, “What a great idea.”

When I mumbled something about it probably costing a hundred dollars, Jeff just laughed.

The photographer positioned us so that Cinderella’s Castle was the backdrop. I knelt down in the middle, Sam on one side, Teddy on the other. Jeff coached us as Darla, our guest-relations guide, filled out an order form.

I expected to feel ridiculous, the typical tourist. But it was nice, the boys and me, the backdrop.

The photographer focused the camera and appeared ready to snap when Teddy, of all people, blurted out, “Can’t Jeff be in the picture?”