When was the last time she had giggled? Not the nervous little laugh she sometimes did at work, when Michael was trying out a new bit and wouldn’t leave her alone. This was not the same. This was real laughter, real happiness.

            “Stay a little longer.” He picked up her wine glass and started to pour her a little more of the Riesling he had ordered.

            “Oh, no, don’t—it’s lunchtime!” she said, still laughing. She felt giddy. “I’ve had too much already. I really should get back to work.”

            “Work will still be there after one more glass of wine. Come on, Phyllis. Drink up.”

            They smiled at each other, clinked their glasses together. This time she didn’t giggle.

            “Stay a little longer,” he said again.

            “I can’t,” she demurred. Then she picked up her glass and stayed through two more glasses of sweet white wine.