Anna said, “So it was Kate’s idea. But you’re the one here helping me.”

“I’m just saying that these good ideas usually aren’t my own. I learned from the best.”

Anna, holding up a cup of lemonade, gave a mock toast: “To Kate, then.”

“To Kate.”

Playdate #3 began with my giving all three kids a ball of string, which Anna and I helped them unwind and wrap around the toy furniture, light fixtures, and doorknobs. Soon we’d turned the downstairs children’s wing of the Ashworth-Brody house into a giant cobweb.

Anna was amazed that something so simple as string could keep kids busy for an entire afternoon. “Wait until we do the colored pipe cleaners,” I said. “They can be bent into any shape imaginable. Or make our own Play-Doh. Or mix our own bubbles. As the great Dr. Seuss wrote, Oh, the Places You’ll Go!”

Anna smiled at the thought.

Playdate #4: Anna and I sat in Sophie’s ball pit among countless brightly colored plastic balls while the kids climbed all around us. Anna confessed that our frequent visits had become the highlight of her day. Or so she said. Repeatedly. And I, for one, believed her.

She knew she was lacking as a mother, but she wanted to improve. I was useful to that end. She paid me with compliments, and it was cloying at first, all the praise. But I grew to like it. She also had a quality charismatic people often possess. When she spoke to you, you felt as if you were the only person in the world.

She was also a bit erratic and could say something impulsive and inappropriate.

For example, while we were in the ball pit, she said, “I bet you and Kate have great sex.”

I liked my answer. “That would be Kate’s and my business, wouldn’t it?”

“I’m sorry if I made you blush.”

Dammit.

“I guess I just need to believe that someone out there is having . . .”

“Okay,” I said, “we have great sex.”

“I knew it.”

I neglected to mention: About once every six months.

I began to notice a pattern: If I talked about history, Anna appeared bored. Any mention of my dissertation induced a yawn. But whenever I talked about Kate’s and my relationship, Anna got interested. She loved the details, especially in regard to our domestic life. She loved our joint bank account, how we divvied up the family responsibilities. She especially loved the coin jar and how we’d roll pennies to go out on a dinner date once a month.

It was at the end of Playdate #4 that Anna said: “Do you know your eyes get wet every time you talk about Kate?”

“Every time?”

Anna nodded slowly and said, “How come there aren’t more men like you?”