“We don’t know what car she’s in,” I reminded her. “We don’t even know if she had a car. You’re the one who drove her here.”

“How do you think she got away? On foot?”

“Come on.” I tried to take Ruth in my arms, to hold her. But she elbowed me as if I were a dummy in her self-defense class. I held open my arms for her.

“Stop it,” she said through clenched teeth. “We’ll file a missing person report.”

“They can’t really do much until seventy-two hours have passed.” I moved closer to her, a peaceful approach.

“We can’t wait that long, Hal,” she said plaintively. “We have to find her.”

“We will,” I said, and she let me embrace her. “It’s only been, what, seven hours?”

“I knew this would happen,” she said, letting down her guard. “I knew it.”

I frowned because I didn’t enjoy what-ifs and why nots. There was usually nothing to do about them.

Still, she continued, and I knew she needed to get this out. “I told you weeks ago,” she said. “At our anniversary dinner.”

It was true. She’d said she was worried. The month before, we’d gone to the Winston steak house, where we’d had our first date five years earlier. We were celebrating three years of marriage, but nothing on the menu interested Ruth.

“I have a stomachache,” she’d said. “Something’s not right with Cally.”

“What do you mean?” I was busy buttering my bread. They have the softest, freshest bread, impossible to resist.

“I think she is having doubts. I think she’s attached,” said Ruth.

“Well, that’s natural, isn’t it?” I said, looking up and making eye contact but also taking a bite of bread.

“Don’t tell me what’s natural. I understand what’s natural,” said Ruth, taking umbrage. She was sensitive to issues of maternal instinct and biology. “I think she might not go through with it.”

My mouth was full, so I waited until I could swallow. “What makes you say that?” I asked.

“I’ve noticed things,” she said. “At our Lamaze classes, for example. Cally’s been getting close to this other pregnant gal, Sarah. They’re always talking together, without me. Like they don’t want me to hear what they’re saying.”

“So what?” I reached for more bread.

“What if Sarah’s been trying to get her to change her mind, and giving her ideas—”

“Come on, Ruth,” I said, taking a drink of wine. We were supposed to be celebrating.

“And Cally’s been talking to her tummy a lot more lately, as if the baby can hear her.”

“Babies can hear voices while in utero. That’s a known fact,” I said, and the waiter arrived for our orders.

“I’ll just have a cup of wild rice soup,” said Ruth.