Maggie smelled the flowers and, being her usual funny and overly dramatic self, she produced a fake sneeze and said, “Mercy, those sure smell good.”

We both laughed and then she whisked the bouquet away and disappeared back into the kitchen saying, “Open the wine on the table, honey, and let it air. Dinner is almost ready.”

“Let it air?” I said. Since when do we air the wine around here?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Maggie said. “I’d forgotten you don’t know a damn thing about wine.”

She laughed from the kitchen and I smiled wryly, remembering that I was always way in over my head with this girl.  

As I struggled with uncorking the wine, Maggie announced from the kitchen, “Sit down, Jim, dinner is ready.”

Hearing the old oven door screech open and thud shut, I pulled my chair away and noticed a third place setting at the table.

“Honey, who else is joining us for dinner?” I asked, as Maggie appeared from the kitchen carrying a beautifully roasted chicken.

“Oh, that’s our guest of honor,” Maggie said with a smile and a quick wink. “Let me finish bringing everything to the table and I’ll tell you all about it!”