“Hank, you have a letter from someone named Beth Stravinsky,” says Hank’s wife as she comes in from working in the garden. Her plaid shirt has borrowed some dirt from the gloves tucked under her arm, and her jeans are muddy at the knees. Sunlight streams through the door’s window panel, silhouetting her. Hank detaches from his recliner, stretches, and goes to fetch the letter.

“Thanks, babe.” He smiles and goes to peck her on the cheek. She kicks off her boots and dances away, just out of reach. He’s not getting what he wants so easily.

“Who’s Beth?” says his wife of ten years as she holds the letter away from him over her shoulder. Her tone is honeyed now, but if Hank doesn’t tread carefully, he’ll be treating bee stings.

 “She’s an old friend of mine from college. She graduated in my class.” He stretches his arm and goes for the letter again. She spins away and walks a few paces, swinging her denim-clad hips to trap his eyes. He’s happy to be trapped.

She spins to face him again and looks at him inquisitively. “I went to some of your parties and get-togethers; how come I never met her?” His eyes dart back up to his wife’s.

He shrugs and replies, “Beth was never much of a partier. She was always a buried-in-the-books type.” He’s resigned; he’s not getting the letter until she’s had her questions, so he leans against the doorway between the mudroom and the living room. He takes a couple of seconds to appreciate his wife. Still hot, still fun, and still far too good at getting what she wants.

“Oh really? I don’t know if I ever saw you in the library. How’d you meet her?” He pauses. How did he and Beth meet? It takes him a moment, something his wife notices, and says, “Freak happenstance. I was at the bar, and she sat next to me and ordered a rum and coke. We started chatting and learned we’d been going to the same school and just… never met.”

She frowns and gives him a pointed look. “You remember her order? That seems a little specific.” Hank gives her an equally pointed look.

“I remember because that’s what I ordered. That’s what started the conversation,” he says.

“All this time, you’ve known this Beth and never thought to introduce her? I’ll bet she wanted to meet the girl who stole her friend away from her.” She raises her arms and fluffs her shoulder-length black tresses, using the plunging neckline of her shirt to her advantage.

“I would definitely have introduced you to her when we started dating, but Beth and I had to go to New York for our internships. I got in with a big-time law firm, and she had a teaching job at some prestigious private school.” He pushes off the doorway and walks towards the woman he chose above all others. She ducks past him and trots into the living room. The game has only just begun.

“She was with you that whole time? While we had just started dating? Let me guess, another freak happenstance?” She replied snappily.

“Of course not. We’d arranged that for the months we were there we’d live together, split the ridiculous New York rent, and work through our internships.”

She covers her mouth with her hand in a play at being horrified. She even throws in a gasp. “Two prime of their lives, probably attractive, singles living together? That’s scandalous, Hank!”

He chuckles and slides his hands into his jeans pockets. “And believe me, that was on my mind for most of the time we lived there. She was definitely attractive, and as you pointed out, the situation would have been perfect.” Hands still in his pockets, Hank smiles and shrugs. “She didn’t want to, though. She wanted to make sure she was… what was her phrasing? “Pure on her wedding night.” I believe she said.”

“Ugh. She’s a goody two shoes? How dull. I like sinning.” She lies on the faux leather couch. She gives him a wink and a devilish smile. “How did you resist declaring your undying passions and ravishing her? I’ve heard of guys doing that for a one-night stand, never mind an actual chance of a relationship.” He sits on the floor with his back against the couch.

“I respected her as much as I liked her. Her black belt and firearms training were pretty good deterrents too. Oh, hah, I remember one time, we were walking home from a bar, and some punk starts trying to pick a fight with me. She was always kind of protective of me, so I had to tell her, more like beg her, to ignore him and leave. As we’re walking away, he shouts, “Where’re ya going, tough guy? Don’t wanna fight me?” I told him it wasn’t me he needed to worry about. Thankfully he staggered back into the bar before Beth had to pretzel him.”

She laughs at the image. “Pretzel him? I bet she couldn’t actually do that.” She turns onto her side to face Hank, who rests his head against her leg.

“Even if she couldn’t, I didn’t want to find out! Sure, I could have probably reduced her prison time, but her dad told me to keep her out of trouble while we were in New York. He’d never have forgiven me if she got arrested. In fact, I’d sooner risk perjury than deal with Beth’s dad.”

She pushes his head gently and says incredulously, “Oh please! Daddy isn’t scary! He’s got a scary face, but he’s a big softy!”

Hank smiles and spins onto his knees to face her. “Hah! You broke character first! I win! Letter, please.” He holds out his hand for the letter with a smug smile beaming on his face. Beth smiles back at him and rolls her eyes again. “Alright, fine,” Beth says with equal exasperation and affection. She gives him a kiss on the forehead, hands him the letter, and sashays her way upstairs. When Hank opens the letter, his smile changes tone, but gets even wider.

“Meet me upstairs for your prize Mr. Stravinsky.”

Hank chuckles and drops the letter, trotting after his beloved wife.