He climbed in, shut the door, and buckled his seat belt.

"Can I ask you why you put your seat belt on?" I asked.

He looked straight ahead. "I just wanted you to know I'm responsible," he said.

I cracked up.

"You have a great laugh," he said. "You should use it more often."

"Thank you," I said. "You know, you're a pretty funny guy."

"Thank you," he said. "Okay, we're compatible. Now can we go play miniature golf?"

I looked at my power watch. "It's twelve-fifty-seven. Our small-group coaching class starts in three minutes."

He shrugged. "So, let's skip."

I leaned back against the window on my side. "I thought you said you were responsible."

Rick wrinkled up his forehead. "I thought you said you wanted more fun in your life."

I smiled. "Sorry, but you're going to have to work a little harder than that."

WE WERE BOTH quiet walking into Fresh Horizons South. I chose a chair with empty seats on both sides of it. quiet walking into Fresh Horizons South. I chose a chair with empty seats on both sides of it.

Rick walked across the room and sat directly across from me. I pushed away a flicker of be-careful-what-you-wish-for disappointment.

My jet lag came in for a landing, and I drifted in and out of a fog. Brock videotaped two newbies, who seemed as dazed and confused as I'd been not so long ago. I was vaguely aware of Michael sitting across the room, trying to catch my eye. I ignored him.

Across from me, Rick put his hand up. Brock called on him, started the video camera, clapped his imaginary clapper. Rick looked right at the camera and introduced himself.

"I've made some good progress this past week," he said. "I've done some real soul searching about what I want my life to be. How I want to spend my days, how I can make a real contribution to the world..."

Brock was nodding proudly, and none of the Wii guys even made a crack.

"...and I think I've finally figured out what I need to make my life complete."

Everybody leaned forward in their chairs.

Rick smiled. "I know now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that if I can find the right person to play miniature golf with, everything else in my life will fall into place. Why, you might ask?" He cleared his throat. "Well, the little known truth is that you can figure out everything you need to know about a person in the first nine holes of a miniature golf game."

"Balls," one of the scruffy guys said, "you can never have enough of them."

Rick ignored him and looked right at me. "It might seem like just an insignificant game, but when your partner gets stuck in a sand trap, does she handle it with grace and tenacity? Do you? If your ball drops through the wrong hole or lands in the waterfall, does your partner just laugh at you, or does she laugh and then say, hey, tough break, but hang in there and you'll make it. When you find yourselves trapped in an old fortress with only a cannon to protect you, and pirates are attacking, do you have each other's back, or is it every man and woman for him-or herself? And, maybe most important of all, when you're tilting at windmills, it's not everyone who has the guts to give you the dose of reality you need. The little known fact is that you can recognize that person in an ordinary game of miniature golf, and when you do, you'll know the two of you have a shot together."

WE TOOK OFF as soon as the small-group class was over, while people were still milling around. Michael looked like he was about to say something to me as I walked by, but then he got pulled onto a Wii tennis team just in the nick of time. as soon as the small-group class was over, while people were still milling around. Michael looked like he was about to say something to me as I walked by, but then he got pulled onto a Wii tennis team just in the nick of time.

"Nice job," I said.

"Thanks," Rick said. "I gave it everything I had."

He held the door open, and I climbed into his Honda. We found a miniature golf place right down the street. I'd driven past it a thousand times and never even noticed it.

"I can't believe we're doing this," I said.

He wrinkled his forehead. "Afraid you won't measure up?"

I walked ahead of him to pick out my club. "And I thought you were supposed to have my back."

"The better to kick your butt," he said.

"Be afraid," I said. "Be very afraid. I come from a long line of gifted professional mini golfers."

Fortunately, things were slow at Putt Putt Paradise, since my first shot went over Noah's Ark and hit the wooden pirate at the next hole right between the eyes.

"Oops," I said.

Rick leaned over his club. "You didn't do that on purpose?"

He executed a perfect shot past a couple of horses and through the opening in the ark. His ball rolled out the other side and came to a stop inches in front of the first hole.

I walked over to the next hole, retrieved my ball from the pirate, and went back to the beginning.

This time I managed to hit one of the horses in the shin. "Actually," I said, "I haven't played miniature golf since I was a kid."

"You'd never guess it," Rick said. "You're a natural."

"Right," I said.

"Can I give you a few pointers?" Rick asked when my next turn came.

"Please do," I said.

He put his arms around me and his hands over mine on the club. If I could have frozen a moment in time, this would have been it. I loved the smell of his hair, the warmth of his chest, the weight of his forearms. Maybe we could spend the rest of our lives as adjoining statues in Putt Putt Paradise.

We swung my club. My ball went high, then landed and rolled back down the hill and caught up to Jack and Jill, who were sprawled in a heap along with their empty pail of water.

I wriggled out from under Rick's arms. "That was helpful."

"Sorry," he said. "I got distracted."

Nine holes were over before we knew it. "Want to make it eighteen?" Rick asked.

"I'd love to," I said, "but I'm pretty tired. How about a rain check?"

"Absolutely."

Rick pulled his car up next to mine in the Fresh Horizons parking lot. "Thanks," I said. I leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "That was really fun."

"Thank you you. You're the perfect miniature golf date, and I don't say that lightly."

We smiled into each other's eyes.

I floated over to my own car. I turned and waved, then unlocked the doors and climbed inside.

A minute later Rick was sitting in my passenger seat. "You sure you don't want to have a late lunch? Or an early dinner? You must need some kind of meal."

I shook my head. "Thanks. I appreciate the offer, but I'm on borrowed time already. I think I'll just go home and make myself a sandwich and go to bed."

"I don't suppose you want any company," Rick said.

I laughed. "It's our first date," I said.

"It's our second date," he said. He counted them off on his fingers. "Date number one, Wii bowling date. Date number two, miniature golf date." He looked up at the roof of my car. "If you'd let me buy you a sandwich, we could count it as date number three, and then I could kiss you. I make it a rule never to kiss until the third date."

He looked at me. I smiled. "I'm a second-date kind of kisser," I said.

"You hussy," Rick said. And then he kissed me.

It was a great kiss, but I didn't have much time to bask in it. When I opened my eyes, Michael was standing next to my car.

I couldn't think of another option, so I lowered my window.

"Listen," Michael said, "I really need to talk to you, Nora."

"Not now," I said.

"Listen," Michael said again. "We have a lot of time invested in our relationship, and I'm not going to let you go without a fight."

I heard my passenger door open with a click.

"Wait," I said.

Rick walked across the parking lot without looking back.

"Thanks, pal," Michael yelled.

"Tell me you didn't just say that in front of him," I said. I couldn't take my eyes off Rick. I watched him climb into his Honda and pull away.

Michael leaned over my window and blocked my view. "It's true," he said.

I opened my car door right into Michael.

He jumped back. "Hey," he said. "Watch the suit."

I climbed out. "I can't believe you even have the nerve to talk to me. You made me all sorts of half promises, talked me into taking a buyout, and then you dumped me. You wouldn't even take my phone calls." I crossed my arms over my chest. "And let's not forget about you and Sherry."

Michael ran one hand through his perfect brown hair. "Sherry who?" he said.

I opened my car door again. "I don't have time for this kind of conversation," I said. I climbed in and slammed the car door.

"Nora," Michael said. He reached for the car door.

I hit the lever and locked it, even though the window was still down. "Get out of my way," I said. "Or I'll drive right over you and and your suit." your suit."

I PULLED INTO the beach parking lot, so I could take a quick walk on the way home. I still had the rest of today's ten thousand steps to get in, and the good news about my confrontation with Michael was that now I was wide awake and I'd lost my appetite. the beach parking lot, so I could take a quick walk on the way home. I still had the rest of today's ten thousand steps to get in, and the good news about my confrontation with Michael was that now I was wide awake and I'd lost my appetite.

I didn't have my sneakers with me, so when I reached the sand, I just kicked off my sandals and carried them. As I walked, I wove my way among families with young kids, who were starting to pack up and head home to think about dinner. I watched a man rub sunscreen on a woman's shoulders.

After Michael and I started sneaking around, I used to sit in my office and wait for him to walk by, so I could see what he was wearing. I'd time my trips down the hallway to coincide with his, just so I could stand close enough to smell him. When we were in a meeting together, I'd look around the table and wonder what everyone would think if they knew knew.

The worst part of it was that, looking back, the sneaking around part might have been a big part of the draw. It was hard to imagine I'd ever been that bored or needy.

I walked down to the edge of the ocean and splashed through the cold, salty water. The tide had turned and was on its way out, leaving a fresh, ever-expanding beach that felt new and clean and ready to be discovered.

After I finished walking, I drove home barefoot, windows down, radio blasting, singing along with David Ogden's "No Better Place."

When I turned on to Wildwater Way, I could see Michael's red vintage Mustang convertible sitting in my driveway with the top down. My first impulse was to circle the cul-de-sac and drive right out again, but I figured I might as well get it over with.

As soon as I turned off my radio, I heard chickens clucking like crazy.

"Nora," Michael yelled. "Call nine-one-one!"

The Supremes had him backed up against my front door, and they were pecking at his shoes.

He gave his foot a little kick. "Come on, knock it off," he said. "That's Italian leather."

I got out of my car so I could get a better view. "How's it going?" I asked.

"Hurry up," Michael said. "Do something."

"Here's the thing about hens," I said. "They don't take disloyalty lightly. These three ganged up on a rooster once and killed him, just because he didn't really give a shit about them."

"Ouch," Michael said. "Hey, come on, what did I ever do to them?"

"It might be time to reassess your life," I said, "when even the chickens have got your number." Then I went in through my back door to get some cereal.