"Let me show you. The kitchen doesn't drip all the time; the bathroom is the worst." Joe leaned over the bathroom sink, thumped it, and listened to its heartbeat. "Operation iss required." He opened the aluminum case. "Snazzo, so shiny," she said staring at the tools. "I'll fix the salad." Joe shut the water off and began dismantling a faucet, eventually reaching the washer, held by a brass screw. He replaced both washers in the bathroom and both in the kitchen. "As new," he said, washing his hands. "Wonderful." She carried a dark salad bowl one step down into a dining room that had a tile floor and large windows. "I eat in the kitchen, usually, but when I have company it's nice to be out here. Should we have more light? It's sprinkling again." She switched on a paper globe suspended over the table. "I don't know . . . I like the natural light." She switched it off and lit a sage colored candle. "There, that's better. We had this end of the porch extended and made into a dining room. When it's clear, you can see across the valley." "Who we?" "It was Thurston, really. It was Thurston's house. We lived together for eight years. He ran off with his secretary to Texas." "Oh." "Ran isn't the right word. Thurston didn't run anywhere; he was rather deliberate, actually. He gave me a deal on the house." "That was good," Joe said. "I didn't want him to go . . . Men just can't keep their thing in their pants," she said angrily. Joe remembered that silence was golden. Mo reached for a baguette of French bread and broke it sharply. Joe took a piece and investigated the cheese. "Chevre?" "Yes." "Finest kind. Yummy salad." Fresh olive oil, Manoa lettuce, avocado, scallions, a hint of lime or maybe Meyer lemon--delicious with the crusty bread. "Vino?" She nodded and he poured them each a glass of Sauvignon Blanc from a half empty bottle. "Here's to your cozy place," he toasted. Mo raised her glass and sipped. "I had fun last week with your friends," she said. "Quite a character, that Morgan." "I had a card from them in Kauai. They found Hamura's." Mo listened as she chewed salad. "Yeah, we go way back," Joe said. "What did you think of Edie?" "Dynamite," Mo said. "She got me thinking about writing a story. I tried, but I'm not satisfied." He told Mo about Alphonse. "I've been reading about fiction. I'm not really getting it." "Schools can be useful," she suggested. "Sometimes it's good to be around others doing the same kind of work. I like to go to a seminar once in a while--the trouble is, it costs so much. Have you heard of Goddard, in Vermont?" "I have." "They offer MFA programs--non-resident, or close to it." "It's an idea. I'll think about it."