I took the glass from her hand and drained its contents myself. It had after all been her fourth glass and she had never been able to tolerate a lot of alcohol. I recorked the bottle and restored it to its place in the fridge.

I flipped the steaks on the grill for the final time. “Pet food taster?” I said. We looked at each other, and she started to laugh. I joined her. I held out my arms and she stepped into them. We hugged, and her laughter began to change to quiet sobs. I took the spatula from her hand and surreptitiously stirred the mushrooms. The cauliflower had likely been long enough in the steamer.

Her sobs subsided. “Let’s have dinner,” I whispered.

I began to take the food to the table. She sat down. After a moment, she picked up her place setting and moved it to the same side of the table as mine. She paused for a moment. She got the candles from the sideboard, and lit them. I dimmed the lights, and sat beside her.