“Good for you. I'll see if I can find you some more. There are lots of cute girls working at the museum.”

“You among them. You look great, Kate.” She had cut her hair shorter, mostly out of boredom. Her big excitement these days were manicures and haircuts, and the dog.

“Thank you.” It had been so long since she'd talked to a man her own age for more than five minutes that she wasn't sure what to say to him.

“How about a movie sometime?”

“I'd like that,” she said, as they wheeled slowly toward the checkout. He had bought cornflakes and some soda, she noticed. And he was carrying a bottle of scotch he'd just bought at the liquor store. A bachelor's diet. “Shouldn't you at least have toast or milk with that?” she suggested and he grinned. She hadn't changed either. “Or do you just put the scotch on your cornflakes? I'll have to try that.”

“I drink it neat as a chaser.”

“What do you do with the soda?”

“I use it to clean my carpets.”

They were enjoying the banter that reminded them both of the old days at school, and he insisted on paying for her dog food. He had always been generous with her, and chivalrous and kind.

“Are you still working for your father?” she asked as they walked out of the store.

“Yes, it's worked out pretty well. He gives me all the divorce cases, he hates them.”

“That's cheerful. Well, at least I was spared that.”

“Maybe you were spared more than that, Kate. Men like that are never easy. Too brilliant, too creative, too difficult. You were so in love with him, I don't think you saw it.” She had, and she had loved it. Much as she had loved Andy as a friend, he had never seemed exciting enough to her. Joe was like a shining star, just out of reach, and always what she wanted, perhaps all the more because of that.

“Are you suggesting I look for a dumb one?” She was amused by the implication, but he was serious when he answered.

“Maybe just someone a little more human. He was hard to measure up to, and a tough act to follow. You deserve better.” She was grateful for Andy's kindness in reassuring her. He was such a wonderful, kind man, she was surprised he hadn't married. “I'll call you,” he said as they started to head in opposite directions. “How do I find you?”

“I'm listed, or call the museum.”

He called her two days later, and took her to a movie. And then ice-skating at Rockefeller Center. And out to dinner. They had been together almost constantly by the time she went home for Christmas three weeks later. She didn't tell her parents she'd seen him, she didn't want her mother to get excited. But she answered the phone when he called her in Boston on Christmas morning. And she was happy to hear him. It was almost like the old days, except she liked him better now. He was comfortable and easy and kind to her. He had none of Joe's brilliance, but he cared about her. Just as she had never gotten over Joe, he had never gotten over Kate completely.

“I miss you,” he said when she answered. “When are you coming back?”

“In a couple of days,” she said vaguely. She was disappointed that she hadn't heard from Joe for Christmas. He could have done that much. It was as though he had forgotten her completely, as though she'd never existed. She had thought of calling him, but decided it was better if she didn't. It would just depress her, and remind her of everything they'd had, and then lost.

“When did you start seeing Andy again?” her mother asked with interest when she hung up the phone.

“I ran into him a few weeks ago, in the grocery store.”

“Is he married?”

“Yes. And he has eight children,” she teased her mother.

“I always thought he'd be good for you,” her mother said.

“I know, Mom. We're just friends. It's better that way. No damage on either side.” She had hurt him badly three years before. And she was still wounded. And suspected she would be for a long time. Maybe forever. It was impossible to forget Joe. They had had too much together. And he represented a third of her lifetime.

She went back to New York after two days, and was happy to see her puppy. She had left her with a neighbor. And Andy called her almost as soon as she walked in the door of her apartment.

“What do you have? Radar?”

“I'm having you followed.” He asked her to a movie that night, and she went. And they spent New Year's Eve together, drinking champagne at El Morocco. It seemed very glamorous to Kate, and very grown-up, as she said to Andy.

“I am grown-up,” he said with amusement. He had gotten very sophisticated, and she couldn't help but compare him to Joe. Joe who was unusual and beautiful and sometimes awkward. But she had loved that about him. Andy was smoother, in ways that Joe didn't care about at all.

“I skipped the grown-up part,” Kate confided after her third glass of champagne. “I went straight to old age. Sometimes I feel older than my mother.”

“You'll get better. Time. It heals everything,” he said wisely.

“How long did it take you to get over me?” she asked, feeling slightly tipsy. But he didn't seem to notice.

“About ten minutes.” It had taken him two years, but he didn't tell her that. And he still wasn't over her, which was why he was spending New Year's Eve with her. There were half a dozen women he'd been seeing who were furious about it. “Should it have taken longer?”

“Probably not,” she said sadly. “I didn't deserve it. I was rotten to you.” She was getting slightly morose from the champagne she'd been drinking. And in spite of herself, she kept wondering where Joe was, what he was doing, and with whom that night.

“You couldn't help it, Kate,” Andy said, and meant it. “He was a great love, you were crazy about him, and he came back from the dead. It's hard to beat that. Better then than if we'd have been married.”

“That would have been awful,” she said, horrified.

“Yes, it would have. So I guess we were lucky. And you needed to get him out of your system once and for all.”

“What if I never do?” she said miserably, and he laughed at her.

“You will. But not if you become an alcoholic. You're drunk, Kate.”

“I am not,” she said, looking outraged, and a little vague.

“You are, but you're cute that way. Maybe we should dance before you pass out or get any drunker.”

It had been a nice evening, and she had a terrific headache the next day, but he brought her croissants and aspirin and orange juice at her apartment. Kate wore dark glasses while she made breakfast for them.

“Why didn't you bring your scotch and cornflakes? That would have been better,” she said mournfully, with her headache.

“You're turning into a lush,” he said as he played with her puppy and smiled.

“Heartbreak does that.” She burned the croissants, spilled the orange juice, and broke the yolks when she made fried eggs for him, but he ate all of it and thanked her afterward. “I'm a terrible cook,” she confessed.

“Is that why he left you?” It was the first time he had asked her.

“I left him,” she corrected, hiding behind the dark glasses. “He didn't want to marry me, or have kids. I told you, he's married to his planes.”

“He's a very rich man now,” Andy said admiringly. There were a lot of things one had to admire about Joe, his skill, his genius, his talent, but not his judgment about women. Andy thought he was a fool for not marrying Kate, but he was glad he had been.

“Why aren't you married?” Kate asked, sprawling out on the couch, and taking off the dark glasses finally

“I don't know. Too scared, too young, too busy. No one terrific. Since you. I ate worms for a while, and then I started having too much fun. I've got time. So do you. Don't rush it. I see too many divorces at the law firm.”

“Not according to my mother, about having time, I mean. She's panicked.”

“I would be too, in her shoes. You're not easy to get rid of. Just don't cook for them. Let them find out later. I'd forgotten what a lousy cook you are. I'd have made breakfast myself if I'd remembered.”

“Stop complaining. You ate everything.”

“Next time, scotch and cornflakes.”

They went for a walk that afternoon, in Central Park. It was a crisp winter day, and there was a thin blanket of snow on the ground, and Kate felt better when they got back to her apartment. They had taken the dog with them. It all seemed so comfortable and normal. He was easy to be with. Just like the old days. And that night they went to a movie. They were spending a lot of time together. And she was suddenly less lonely. It wasn't high romance, it was more like high friendship.

For the next six weeks, they saw a lot of each other. Dinners, movies, parties, friends. He came to have lunch with her at the museum. On Saturdays they went grocery shopping together, and he did errands with her. It was nice having someone to do things with. Kate realized in all her time with Joe he never had time for any of that. He was too busy building the business, although she had loved building it with him. But it was fun being with Andy. He had more time for her, and he enjoyed spending it with her.

On Valentine's Day he appeared at her apartment with a bouquet of two dozen red roses in his arms, and a huge heart-shaped box of candy.

“My God, what did I do to deserve all this?” she asked, grinning broadly. She had been missing Joe all day, and reminded herself that she had to forget him once and for all. Even after all this time, it still seemed like an insuperable challenge to her. It seemed incredible to Kate that someone she had loved so much for so long was perfectly able to live without her. It seemed so wrong, after all they'd been through, that they hadn't been able to work it out and end up together. They had each gotten tangled up in their own fears. It was depressing to realize that fairy tales didn't have happy endings, they had sad ones. It wasn't the way life was supposed to be.