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  “Smart cat,” Cal said.

  “I was thinking about trying to make him an indoor cat because cats live longer if they’re kept indoors, but he’s a guy, so I’m assuming he’d hate being tied down.”

  “Depends on what you tied him to,” Cal said, thinking of her brass bed.

  Min brought plates to the table. “You know, if you’d brought me a snow globe I could understand, but a cat?”

  “You said you didn’t want a snow globe.”

  “I don’t,” Min said. “Well, I want my grandma’s Mickey and Minnie globe back. Bring my grandma’s back to me, and I’ll love you until the end of time. Bring me another cat, I’m going to rethink the whole chicken marsala thing.”

  “Speaking of which,” Cal said, “what happened this time?”

  Min groaned and went back to the alcove and Cal followed her, feeling right at home. “It doesn’t look bad,” he said when he saw her latest effort. “It just doesn’t look like chicken marsala.”

  “I was trying to avoid the olive oil and butter,” Min said, and then held up her hand before he could speak. “I know, I know, I’m learning my lesson. I used chicken broth instead. It smells good but it doesn’t look right.”

  “That would be because olive oil and chicken broth are not the same thing,” Cal said. “You’re all right. Just make a roux to thicken the broth and serve it over fettuccine.”

  “A roux,” Min said.

  “Melted butter and flour,” Cal said. “I don’t suppose there’s a chance in hell you have butter.”

  “Bonnie might,” Min said. “I don’t have fettuccine or flour, either. I’ll go borrow them from her.”

  “Do you have a big pot for the noodles and a colander?” Cal said, looking around the spare alcove. She’s got to find a better place.

  “In the basement,” Min said.

  “That’s convenient. Where’s the lid?”

  “Lid?” Min said.

  “Something that will keep the cat from going headfirst into this pan while we’re down in the basement?”

  “We’re going down to the basement?”

  “Do you want to learn to cook, Minnie?” he said with more affection than he’d intended.

  Min blinked. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  “Then you’ll need pots and pans,” Cal said.

  They went to the basement, and Cal picked out one of the half-dozen unmarked boxes at random and opened it with his pocketknife. Min unwrapped the first package in the box: her grandmother’s green colander. “This is the box,” she said as she dropped the colander back in the box. “You went right to it. You’re good.”

  “Hell, yes.” Cal grinned at her and picked up the box. “Move it, Minnie, and don’t forget to stop for butter, flour, and pasta.”

  Teaching Min how to make a roux should have been pretty innocuous, but the kitchenette was tiny, and she was close, and her curls smelled like lavender, and there wasn’t anything about her that wasn’t round, and there was that brass bed with a satin comforter just a room away, so after he’d explained the basics of roux, Cal retreated to unpack the box.

  The cat was sitting in it. “Out,” he said, and it switched eyes on him, lolling among the lumpy packages. He reached in and picked it up and put it on the floor, and it rubbed up against his leg, purring. “Very affectionate cat,” he told Min.

  “I know, I love the damn thing,” Min said. “He curls up beside me every night and purrs along to Elvis. He’s smart, too. He’s learned how to hit the stereo button so he can play Elvis without me.”

  Cal pulled out the first package and unwrapped a thick, clear glass, angular bowl that looked as though it might have a specific function. “What’s this?”

  Min looked back. “It’s an egg-beater bowl. There should be a metal lid for it with a beater in it.”

  Cal dug around the box until he found it. The lid sat on the bowl with the crank for the beaters above it, and the beaters below. “That’s pretty neat,” he said, and picked up the next wrapped package, a heavy one which turned out to be nested mixing bowls, thick white china with a blue stripe.

  “Oh,” Min said, “I remember those, my grandma used to make cookies in the big one. That was back when I ate cookies.”

  “The good old days.” Cal picked up the next package. It was heavy and round and as he unwrapped it, he began to realize what it was. When he pulled the last of the paper away, he wasn’t that surprised to see a snow globe with Mickey inside, dipping Minnie in her pink dress. But he was appalled.

  “So, how long does this cook?” Min said. “I mean, before the flour loses the raw flavor? Cal?” She looked back at him. “What’s wrong?”

  He held up the snow globe, and she froze over the chicken pan.

  It was heavy in his hand, heavier than a snow globe should be. He tipped it and saw the key on the bottom. “Music box?” he said to her and she nodded. “What’s it play?”

  “It Had to Be You,’ “ she said, faintly.

  “Of course.” Cal looked at Mickey and Minnie, trapped forever in the globe. Bring my grandma’s snow globe back to me and I’ll love you until the end of time.

  “I’ve been looking for that for fifteen years,” Min said, her voice flat. “And then you go right to it. How do you do that?”

  “It’s not me.” Cal put it down on the counter.

  “You didn’t make a deal with the devil, did you?” Min said, staring at it.

  “What?”

  “You know, some kind of bargain where everything you did would be perfect so that every woman you met would be unable to resist you, only you forgot to mention that should work only with women you wanted, and now we’re stuck in this loop with each other?”

  Cal took a deep breath. “Okay, leaving aside the fact that you think the devil exists and is making deals, I’m a little upset that you think I’d be hanging out with him.”

  “Well, hell, Cal, you’re practically his first cousin,” Min said. “You’re tall, you’re dark, you’re handsome, you’re charming, you wear suits, you never sweat, and you always show up with whatever I’m needing at the moment. That snow globe has been lost for fifteen years. I keep getting this feeling that if I say yes to you, I’ll go straight to hell.”

  Cal nodded. Why did I come back here? “Okay. You know, I’m not hungry anymore. I think I’ll be going.”

  “That might be good,” Min said, staring at the snow globe.

  He picked up his jacket and headed for the door and then paused as he opened it. “Have a—” he started to say and then stopped.

  “Nice life?” Min said, still staring at the globe.

  He shook his head. “It just doesn’t have the same ring to it,” he said, and went down the stairs.

  When he was gone, Min walked over to the snow globe and wound it. It began to tinkle the first bars of “It Had to Be You,” and she looked into it, and tried to get her breath back. The dome was heavy and perfect, sitting atop a black art deco base, and inside silver glitter and tiny silver stars swirled as Minnie beamed out at her, happy to be in Mickey’s arms, and Mickey beamed at Minnie.

  Maybe that’s what I loved, she thought. That she was so happy and he thought she was wonderful. Plus there was that swirling pink dress Minnie was wearing and the great pink shoes to match. Well, the shoes were a little plain. Min tipped the globe to see, and the glitter and stars swirled again as the song slowed down and ran out.

  It’s not me, Cal had said, but it was him. She’d been going along, perfectly happy, and then he’d walked into the bar and shaken up her life and suddenly it was all glitter and stars everywhere. And every time things calmed down, every time she got things back to normal, he came back and shook—

  Something furry nudged her leg and she jumped. The cat meowed at her and she picked him up and thought about the situation logically. Of course it wasn’t him. Coincidences happened all the time. That was life. As long as nothing else happened . . .

  “We’ll just stay away from him,” sh