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since Steven. And this one is not only boring, but also self-involved, pompous and a homophobe.’
    â€˜Oh, Elliot! He is not!’ Kate exclaimed. ‘You blame everything on that.’
    â€˜Kate, the guy didn’t address a single word to either of us through the whole meal.’
    â€˜That doesn’t make him a homophobe. Maybe he’s just shy. Or doesn’t like you personally,’ she added. ‘It could happen.’ She put the wine goblets – one of them clean, on the counter.
    â€˜Doubtful. And he’s probably an alcoholic. That’s why he doesn’t drink. Anyway, coming here to dinner is like meeting your family,’ Elliot explained as he rinsed a plate. ‘He should at least pretend to like us, since we’re in loco parentis.’
    â€˜Well, loco, anyway,’ Kate agreed. Elliot made a face. She opened the dishwasher and started to put in the china.
    â€˜Oh, no,’ Elliot sighed. ‘Not the Havilland. It’s a hand-wash job. Brice wants gold leaf Brice washes it.’ He rinsed his hands. ‘We better get back in there. The coffee ought to wake up Brice. Would you fill the creamer?’ Kate nodded. Elliot popped the chocolate sauce for the profiteroles into the microwave to heat.
    Kate opened the refrigerator and stuck her head in. ‘Hey, Elliot, I’ve told you before. It isn’t easy to find a good, interesting, educated stable man who doesn’t want to date a supermodel.’
    â€˜You may be right, Kate,’ Elliot agreed. ‘I certainly don’t think you’ll find him in the Sub-Zero. But you could take out the profiteroles.’
    â€˜Very funny.’ Kate pulled a quart of milk and apint of half-and-half out of the fridge and placed them on the counter. ‘I admit you didn’t see him at his best. Trust me. Michael is much better one on one.’
    â€˜I bet.’ Elliot smirked.
    Kate ignored his innuendo. ‘No. Honestly. Evidence. He can be funny. And he’s really smart. He got his doctorate at twenty-one, was teaching at Barnard when he was twenty-four and is considering his post-doc. I think he’s going to get tenure at Columbia.’
    â€˜I didn’t ask for his curriculum vitae,’ Elliot snapped. ‘He’s just dull. Your father was an alcoholic and you never knew what to expect when he came home. Your mother died before you hit puberty. I know you want a responsible male, someone you can depend on. But this guy isn’t just stable, he’s inert. Where’s the magic between you? And he’s not nearly good enough for you. Don’t let your snobbishness over academic achievement blind you.’
    â€˜I don’t,’ she assured him, but a nagging voice in the back of her consciousness wondered about that. Despite all her professional training and the analysis she herself had been required to undergo, she still sometimes felt that much of what she did was a reaction to the desperate childhood she’d had.
    Elliot shrugged, turned around quickly in order to pick up the tray of coffee cups, and knocked over Kate’s purse which had been sitting on the counter.
    â€˜There goes my cell phone,’ Kate said.
    â€˜Is it the Havilland?’ Brice called.
    â€˜No. It’s the Melmac,’ Elliot yelled. ‘He’s obsessed with the damn stuff,’ he told her. ‘Be right in, sweetheart.’
    Then he knelt down to pick up Kate’s handbag and all the objects that had scattered over the floor. ‘I’m so sorry. I think I broke your makeup mirror.’
    â€˜Uh oh. It was a magnifying one. So do I have fourteen years of bad luck, or just seven years of more intense bad luck?’
    â€˜Stop it, Kate. I’m a statistician, a mathematician, not a superstitious bumpkin.’
    â€˜But you talk about magic …’
    â€˜Not Harry Potter magic. Not superstitious nonsense. I’m talking about magic between two