We awoke early, as usual, to the familiar sounds and aromas of the French bakery below. I went down for the customary “croissant run,” as Maggie called it, but this morning I thought it would help cheer Maggie up if I surprised her with an apricot Danish, which Maggie just loves but usually avoids as being “too sinful.”

I decided, however, considering last night, that she was going to get one, despite her concerns about her “girlish figure.”

Bounding up the stairs, I could smell the coffee that Maggie had brewed while I was at the bakery. I was excited to surprise her with the Danish and I wasn’t going to take no for an answer this time—mainly because I’d bought one for me too, and I didn’t want to eat mine alone like I usually did, while listening to her make comments about how much she loved them, but couldn’t eat just one, and so forth, and so on.

I was surprised to see Maggie on the phone when I walked in. We hardly ever used our cell phones on the weekends as part of a promise we had made to protect our time when we were together.

Seeing her on the phone, I gave her a look as I walked into the kitchen, and then I heard Maggie say, “Of course we understand, thank you for letting me know.”