Sally set the phone down, clacking her fingernails nervously against it, just as Buddy arrived in the office. He watched her, while hanging up his hat and coat.

"What are you on time for?" she began.

He glanced at at his wrist, peeling back the shirt-cuff.

"Hmm. Watch must be fast." He approached the piano, while resetting the minute-hand, "Who was that, on the phone?"

"My Aunt Agnes. She's short two people for her Bridge Night."

"And you're rotten at Bridge."

She raised an eyebrow, shaking one flat hand, and muttering 'so-so.'

"So...?"

"So she's counting on me to fill in."

"What sort of dress do you have that'll fill two seats, Sal?"

Sally slammed a finger over his lip.

"Well, I was going to invite you, if you'll stop talking."

"No promises."

Both of them turned to watch the door open; Sally drew her finger away.

"Morning, Rob," they said, together.

"Morning, Gang. Sorry I'm late..." he looked at his watch, while digging internally for excuses, "I'm not late; I'm on time. You're early."

He sat at the desk, in quiet contemplation, while Buddy continued, making his way to the couch.

"I thought your Aunt Agnes wasn't too fond of fellas… what's that thing she's always saying?"

"About fellas? She's got a bunch, but my favorite has to be, 'A bachelor is like a staircase. Always take the elevator.'"

Rob tiptoed into the conversation:

"What's that one supposed to mean, Sal?"

"I dunno, but I figure he's an elevator," she said, tossing her thumb over her shoulder at Buddy, "so I'm taking him."

"Wow," said Buddy, "I'm really moving up in the world."

Sally groaned, until he thought to add, "I'm Sally's date!"

Vonnie Something-or-other met them at the door, shaking hands with each of them only once. Sally suspected this was a distant cousin, as she did not bother introducing herself with a surname, and shook hands in the same weak way Aunt Agnes would.

They encountered her next, with Buddy sidestepping out from behind Sally, swiping off his hat and wondering whether or not he should bow to Aunt Agnes. 'Just a little', he'd suggested to Sally in the car on the way over. She shrugged, and that was all.

He understood now that she must've meant 'no', as Aunt Agnes looked him over, then glared briefly at Sally.

"And this is..." Her voice did not even hint at this being a question. Buddy rolled together every impression Sally had ever given him about Aunt Agnes, and decided it would be best if he introduced himself.

"Buddy Sorrell," he said, ready for the weak, single-pump handshake, "Sally told me you were two players short. Thought we'd try our best to even out your table."

"Oh, yes," lulled the woman, "Sally's told me a lot about you."

"All good things," Sally added eagerly.

Vonnie moved in to join the conversation, offering Aunt Agnes a cup of coffee. Every strand of Vonnie's hair was pinned tightly back behind jeweled clips, but that didn't stop her reaching to reset it between words.

"How long have you two been-?" she began, innocently enough.

Buddy and Sally only needed to look at each other for a moment, not even fully turning their heads, before answering in sync:

"We work together."

Buddy then quickly added that he'd never played Bridge before, which Sally knew was only partially true. He had never played Bridge successfully before, or she would've heard about it. She did not correct him.

Vonnie grinned and laughed, mostly hoping this would serve as an apology for her earlier question, and led them all to the table. She introduced her fiance, placing way too much emphasis on the word 'my' as she said it, causing Bill - the man in question - to reach the same misunderstanding.

"And yours?" he said, leaning in to Buddy with some undeserved but appreciated familiarity. Buddy shrugged at Sally. Her turn.

"I'm Sally, one of Agnes's nieces. This is Buddy."

And again, "We work together."

"That's how I met my Vonnie," said Bill, nudging Buddy's elbow, "There she was, setting up the coffee for three years before I noticed just how pretty she was!"

"We're co-writers," said Buddy, always determined to see Sally get the credit and respect she deserved.

"We, umm..." Sally didn't find the end of the joke she was looking for, "We trade off, buying coffee and all."

Vonnie noted that this may be improper, drawling 'may' in a way that made it sound clearly and inexcusably so to the rest of the table. Except Aunt Agnes, who said, 'fine.' In general, she didn't approve of fellas, and, of course, this meant she didn't care for the times Sally behvaed like a fella. Which was reduced by half, now, apparently, if Buddy was willing to admit as much. Fine, indeed. Not better or worse.

During the game, they worked silently on their strategy to leave as early as possible. The questions kept hitting them.

"How long have you been married?" the man sitting between Bill and Buddy asked, indicating Buddy's wedding ring.

Sally did not hear him fully, and instead answered that they'd been together nearly eight years, now.

"Working," Buddy added. No one cared to hear.

Sally had her hand on his shoulder, in a way that said exactly when she wanted to leave. He studied her face, starting at her mouth and working upward, and they settled on how.

Her hand returned to his shoulder, just as the first round ended. They stood, Buddy checking his watch, and Sally offering Aunt Agnes a kiss on each cheek.

"Where are you two off to so early?" Vonnie begged, again dragging out the words to give them an entirely different meaning.

"We've got dress rehearsals tomorrow, bright and early," Sally explained, with Buddy nodding along, "Buddy's house is on the other side of Sixth."

Bill agreed that this was far away; Sally was pleased with herself. She shepherded Buddy to the door, insisting it was another half-hour to her house from there, that yes she had driven them both over, and that no, they didn't actually live together.

"Whew," said Sally, causing Buddy to volunteer to drive.

"At least to my place," he said, "Unless you can clone me on the way there, I'd drive you home too. You look beat, Sal."

"It's exhausting, basically babysitting her like that. And all those questions."

Buddy laughed, easing her into it, too. He started the car and backed out of the driveway before continuing.

"It could be worse. I imagine they're usually all asking what you're still doing single."

"Still?" she smacked his arm, "I know you know how old I am."

"Must've been a nice change, regardless. Nobody poking at you or whining or your hair or dress or something, and asking where your husband is. Then apologizing and stepping down onto..." his impression of Vonnie was almost too natural, "fiance, boyfriend, anyone, Sal?!"

"Because there's gotta be someone," Sally proceeded, feigning the same singsongy voice. Then she rolled into her own, "And they've all figured out Mr. Henderson is just my cat, by now. What a life, huh?"

He drummed nervously on the steering wheel

"Honestly, Sally," and she knew from this that he was completely serious, "I didn't mind. Happy to help, if all it takes is showing up."

He wondered why relationships and looks were all anyone would discuss with Sal, while the same people were more than happy to ask about his job and achievements. If he just had to be there, standing slightly behind her and coughing quietly whenever he was mentioned in a way she deserved a share of, he would go anywhere with her.

He summarized these feelings, into an overly dramatic, "The nerve of some people."

Sally chuckled.

"And of us."

"But we'll be ready for next time, won't we?"

She glanced at her shoes, and decided to slip them off. Then she crossed her legs, leaning back and making herself comfortable in the seat she never before had the luxury of using.

"Yeah. Thanks, Buddy."