" she said sadly. "What do you do?"

"Nothing right now. I used to program computers, design software. When
I lived here I did a lot of stuff: drove a cab, delivered newspapers,
managed a tennis club . . . I ended up going to the university." Alison
sipped coffee.

"Let's get this over with," she said, "I'm forty-four. How old are you,
Joe?" She noted his surprise with equanimity.

"Fifty-three."

"You see," she said. "You're one too: a younger--than--you--looker."

"Alison," he said more firmly, "it has been nice to meet you, but I
must be going. Much to do."

"Goodbye, Joe. Thank you for talking to me." He didn't want to wait for
change, so he left a large tip and walked up Ala Moana Boulevard,
relieved, but with the odd feeling that he was walking toward her
rather than away.

At 4:00 that afternoon, the phone rang.

"Hi, Joe, it's Alison. I was bad this morning; I'm sorry. I don't know
what got into me."

"What do you mean?"

"You were busy and I bothered you. I've been lonely, I guess. I didn't
realize. I don't meet people like you very often." That was flattering.
Joe made a soothing noise. "How about dinner, Joe? Dutch treat?"

He was surprised. "Uh, when?"

"Tonight, of course. I want to be high in the air and look at the city
lights. I've never been to the Top of the I. Come on, Joe . . . You can
tell me stories about the ancient old days. I will wear a skirt. We'll
be normal for a couple of hours."

"A long stretch," Joe said, but then he felt bad. "Why not? O.K." They
agreed to meet at 6:30. He ironed a pair of pants and an aloha shirt,
mumbling to himself about what a pain in the ass it was, but by the
time he stepped off the elevator he was feeling better; it was nice to
be liked.

Joe was overly punctual and used to waiting for women. He forgave them;
it was a genetic condition associated with the willingness to walk
slowly in front of onrushing traffic and also--somehow--with the
inability to have money ready at checkout counters. Alison was waiting
for him.

"You're supposed to be late," he said. She smiled prettily. She was
wearing a teal colored silk tunic over a chino skirt. Her hair was
brushed back; a small opal swung from each ear; something glittered
around her eyes. "You look terrific."

"Thank you." They sat at a table with a view of the mountains. "I don't
drink much," she said as he ordered a Glenlivet and water. "I do know
about Glenlivet. I'm Scots and Swedish."

"Sin