Free Bob at the Plaza by R. Murphy Page A

breakfast.” He pointed to an area by the toaster and took the garbage outside while I scrubbed.
    Later, over bacon and eggs, David said, “You know, sweetheart, I hate to mention it, but there are probably more mice where that one came from. I’ll look for their hole and plug it with steel wool if I can find it, but I should set a few traps every night for a while just to make sure we get them all.”
    I shuddered and bit my toast. “Can’t we just set a whole bunch of traps and catch them all in one night?”
    “Wouldn’t work,” David said as he smeared jam on his third slice. The man had built up quite an appetite last night. So had I, for that matter. “Once there’s a mouse in a trap the others won’t come near it.”
    “Really? I never heard that before.”
    “Oh, sure, everybody knows that.” David winked at me.
    “Huh. So you think maybe you should stay over pretty much every night for a while.”
    “Pretty much.” He grinned. “Who knows how many of the little critters there might be. Why, I could be staying over for days, weeks, even.” His smile broadened.
    “Very funny, Scheherazade,” I said.
    “Scheherazade?”
    “The lady in the Arabian Nights . She had to marry this sultan who used to sleep with his brides on their wedding nights, and then he beheaded them in the morning. He went through a lot of brides before Scheherazade came along. To stay alive, she would start telling him a story every night but she’d leave him with a cliffhanger until the next night. The sultan would never behead her because he always wanted to hear how the story ended. Eventually he fell in love with her. Not exactly my idea of great husband material, but each to her own.”
    “You think I’m using the mice to keep staying the night, huh? Dragging out the whole process?” David’s eyes sparkled with mischievousness. “My motto here is: ‘whatever works.’”
    I sniggered into my coffee, got up, put my arms around him, and kissed his cheek. “Notice I’m not objecting to any of this.”
    “I know you hate mice, sweetheart, but personally I’ll always be grateful to the little critters.” David hugged me and said, “I’d better get going with my day. So I’ll see you later?”
    “I’m going to get some writing done and work on the rocks for a while this afternoon.”
    “Then I’ll come over about four to help with the rocks and the mice.”
    “You’re the best,” I told him. And he was.
    Between writing, shaling, drawing my stick figures in outfits to organize my Manhattan packing and the various social activities that now occupied my evenings, the next week flew. David stayed at my place and he caught, uggghhhhh , two more mice while we got to know each other better inside and out. Such a lovely man.
    Stacey tripled up on chorus practices and, all modesty aside, we didn’t sound too shabby. Together with Liz, Kim, and Bev, my Manhattan roommates, we organized the items we’d pack for our city weekend to avoid overlap and ensure an abundant supply of wine in our cramped quarters.
    To save several hundred dollars, Bev and Gino had decided to split up and stay with three roommates of their own gender, which surprised me.
    “Who knows?” Bev said when I questioned her about it. “Sleeping apart from each other for a few days might spice things up a little. Don’t forget, we’ve been married a loooooong time.”
    David and I certainly didn’t need to spice things up since it had been a loooooong time since either of us had been in a physical relationship and we were enjoying ourselves. But we’d committed to our separate hotel arrangements months ago. And a commitment is a commitment. Sigh .
    Tuesday morning, I started the long drive to Katie’s house in New Jersey while David went back to his place. He’d scheduled extra hours at the winery while I visited my family, and he’d volunteered to keep an eye on my lakefront while he was around. In a few days, though, David would join the