'Same as always,' she replied. 'Clark Gable was teaching math, Bette Davis taught history, and Errol Flynn discussed the things he knows best, then gave out his phone number. That's why I love school, Dad.'

Bradley grinned. 'Well, school's certainly improved since my day and the results are so wonderful.'

Miriam lowered her head and blushed.

'Gee,' Mark said, 'what a sweet kid! She makes me feel so mature, so protective, when she blushes like that.'

'Shut up, Mark,' Joan warned him.

'Sorry, Mom,' he replied.

'Who's taking you to the prom?' Bradley asked. 'Have you decided that yet?'

'Whoever asks her,' Mark informed him.

'Shut up, Mark,' Joan warned him again.

'I told you,' Miriam replied, smiling sweetly. 'Errol Flynn gave me his number and a welcoming smile.'

'He's too old for you,' Joan said.

'A nice guy,' Mark said, 'but too old.'

'What about that kid who walks you home from school? At least he looks like Errol Flynn.'

'Looks aren't everything, Dad.'

'His father's rich,' Joan reminded her.

'Money's not everything, Mom.'

'It's nearly everything, Miriam.'

'Will he be taking you?' Bradley asked.

Miriam sighed. 'He hasn't asked me.'

'When he he asks, are you going to say yes?

Miriam sighed. 'I suppose so.'

'A real lucky guy,' Mark said.

'Yes, isn't he?' Miriam responded.

'Please finish your desserts,' Joan said to all of them, 'so I can clear this table and put up my feet.'

'Yes, ma'am!' they all exclaimed at once.

Joan did in fact put her feet up after dinner, stretching out on the sofa, while Bradley sat on the floor beside her, having a brandy and feeling deeply grateful for the good life he had. The kids had retired to their own rooms and he was about to put on the radio, but Joan stopped him by taking hold of his wrist and pulling his hand onto her stomach, which still was as flat as an adolescent's, and seductively warm.

'No,' she said, 'I don't want to hear the radio. Let's just talk for a while.'

'Okay, dear. Sure. Anything special you want to talk about?'

'Nope,' she said with a lazy smile. 'Nothing special at all. How did your day go?'

'The same as always,' he replied. 'Clark Gable came by for a drink, Bette Davis dropped in for a smoke, and Errol Flynn called to discuss his forthcoming date with Miriam. That's why I love my work.'

Joan chuckled and squeezed his hand, then lightly stroked his wrist. 'So what did you really do?' she asked. 'Anything exciting?'

'Mostly routine,' he lied, shocking himself. 'The best part of the day was lunch with Dave Marsh, who sends love and kisses.'

Joan's smile was quietly radiant. 'Ah, my boyfriend!' she said softly, oblivious to Bradley's shame. 'Was this just your usual monthly get-together or something special?'

'He's going to check someone out for me,' Bradley told her. 'A guy called John Wilson. A guy who's starting to intrigue me. A real mystery man...'