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  “If you two get any dumber, I’m going to have to find new friends,” Bonnie scowled at Min. “Cal’s winning you. Just like in the fairy tale. You said his kiss woke you up.”

  “I said his kiss turned me on,” Min said. “Not the same thing.” She leaned forward a little. “I was fine with using the fairy tale as a sort of metaphor, Bon, but this is real life. No prince, no stepmother, no poisoned apple.”

  “And no happy ending if you think like that,” Bonnie said. “True love is beating you over the head to get your attention, and you’re rejecting it because you don’t want to believe. You have the fairy tale right in front of you—”

  “Wait a minute,” Liza said, trying to head off disaster.

  “And you’re worse,” Bonnie said, turning on her. “Min doesn’t believe in love for her, but you don’t believe in it for anybody. You’re a love nihilist.”

  “A love nihilist.” Liza thought about it. “I kind of like that.”

  “Well, I don’t,” Min said. “I believe in love. I think. I just don’t believe in fairy tales.”

  “I have known my whole life that sooner or later my prince would come,” Bonnie said to Min. “How many times have you told me that everybody gets lucky breaks in business but not everybody is ready for them? Well, it’s true about love, too. I’ve been planning my marriage my whole life because I’m smart enough to know that’s the most important decision I’ll ever make, and now Roger’s here, and I’m ready to go. And you two are going to miss it when it comes for you because you don’t want to believe because if it isn’t true, you’ll be disappointed.”

  Liza rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on—”

  “You’re planning on being disappointed, you’d be disappointed if you weren’t disappointed, your whole world view depends on men disappointing you.” Bonnie picked up her plate. “Well, that’s just cowardly. Especially you” she said, scowling at Min. “You’ve got Cal right in front of you, loving you so much he can’t see straight, you’ve got fate sending you so many signals even I can see them, and you’re holding on to that bet like a shield. You haven’t even asked him about the bet, have you?”

  “What’s he going to say?” Min said. “ ‘Yeah, but I’m really your prince and I love you truly, come to bed’?”

  “You’re not usually this slow,” Bonnie said, “so it must be just chicken-hearted fear. What if this is real? What if this is the happily ever after and he truly loves you so much that it’s forever? Then what are you going to do?” She shook her head. “You don’t know. You never prepared for that. You’ve thought about everything in your life, but you never thought about that. You’re hopeless.” She took her plate out to the kitchen and came back to shove her chair under the table. “I’ll see you tomorrow at The Long Shot. I’m going to go see Roger and remember why I believe.”

  “Bon, wait,” Min said, getting up, but Bonnie was already at the door.

  When she slammed it behind her, Min sat down across from Liza.

  “Well, at least we’re sane,” Min said.

  “Yeah,” Liza said. “How’s that working out for you?”

  “Not that well,” Min said. “Did you bring dessert?”

  “Cherry Dove Bars,” Liza said.

  “Give me one,” Min said. “I’ll be sensible tomorrow.”

  On Friday, Cal was settling in to stay home for a change on the theory that if he didn’t leave the apartment, nothing weird would happen to him, when he heard “She” go on next door.

  “Oh, for crying out loud,” he said and then stopped because that was what Min always said. “No,” he told himself and went next door to distract himself with Shanna. “You got dumped again?” he said when she opened the door.

  “No,” she said, serious, but not tear-stained. “I’m trying to figure out my life. Come on in.”

  “Figure out your life?” Cal said, following her.

  “I keep thinking if I listen to this song, there’ll be a clue,” Shanna said, getting out her bottle of Glenlivet.

  “If you’re planning your life based on a popular song, you need that Scotch more than I do,” Cal said.

  “It’s not that.” Shanna poured his drink. “I’ve always gone on the theory that one day the right woman would show up and I’d know.”

  “You’ve pretty much disproved that one,” Cal said, taking the glass she handed him.

  “So I thought since Elvis Costello had already made a list of things the perfect woman would have, I’d start there, and sort of figure out what kind of person I’d want to spend the rest of my life with. And then if I met somebody who didn’t fit the list . . .”

  “That’s very organized of you.” Cal sat down on the couch and thought, That’s very Min of her.

  “But the thing is,” Shanna was saying, “Elvis is not saying she’s perfect. So I’m thinking maybe I just need a few key things. Like she should be kind.”

  “Yes,” Cal said, remembering Min with Harry.

  “And smart,” Shanna said. “Somebody I don’t have to explain everything to.”

  “Maybe,” Cal said, thinking about explaining chicken marsala to Min. “It’s no crime not to know everything. I’d make that somebody who was open to new ideas, willing to learn. And who had things to teach you.”

  “See, this is good,” Shanna said, sitting down on her coffee table trunk. “And I thought a sense of humor would be important.”

  “Right,” Cal said. “If you can’t laugh at the screwups, what’s the point?” He thought of Min saying, “Good thing this isn’t a date,” when they’d confused their Elvises, and—

  “And because I’m superficial, I put down physically attractive,” Shanna said.

  “Me, too,” Cal said, trying not to think of Min in all her hot glory. “And great shoes.”

  “What?” Shanna said.

  “Nothing. What else?”

  “That was it,” Shanna said. “I didn’t want to make too long a list. Kind, smart, funny, attractive. How’s that?”

  “Damn good if you can find it,” Cal said.

  “Didn’t you?” Shanna said. “Min? She seemed—”

  “Not dating her,” Cal said. “Barely know her.”

  “Uh huh,” Shanna said. “And why is that? She’s pretty, she’s kind, she’s smart, she makes you smile, and you get all dazed when you kiss her. What is it that she doesn’t have?”

  “Well,” Cal began and stopped. “She bitches at me a lot.”

  “Chicken,” Shanna said. “You could walk away from all the other ones because they weren’t right. This is the real thing, so you’re running.”

  “This from a woman who just made a shopping list for love.” Cal stood up and handed the Scotch back to her. “I’m going now. Best of luck with that list.”

  Shanna clucked at him as he went out the door, and he went home to ignore her. Once there, he realized that he hadn’t had dinner, and he wasn’t going out because if he did, he’d fall over Min.

  “Not a problem,” he told himself and went out to the kitchen. He had bread and peanut butter and not much else, so he plugged in the toaster and put the bread in and then he leaned against the refrigerator and waited for the toast to pop.

  His kitchen was ugly, he realized as he looked around. And through the archway, his living room was worse. Maybe if he fixed the place up a little, he’d want to stay home more. He was getting too damn old to be hanging out in bars anyway. The phone rang and he grabbed it, grateful to have a distraction.

  “Calvin?” he heard his mother say, but even she was better than the silence.

  “Mother,” he said. “How are you?” His toast popped, and he cradled the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he opened the peanut butter.

  “I’m calling about dinner on Sunday,” she said.

  “I will be there, Mother,” Cal said, thinking, I’m there the third Sunday of every month, Mother. Definitely in a rut.

  “I’d like you to pick up our guest.”

  “Gu