"Vera, that's great. I'm really proud of you."

"Thanks. It feels good. I keep wishing I could have a cigarette to celebrate. Stick around. You can watch me hyperventilate every seven minutes when the urge comes up. What are you up to?"

"I'm on my way home," I said. "I just stopped by to say hi. I'll be gone tomorrow and we'd talked about having lunch."

"Shoot, too bad. I was looking forward to it. I was going to fix you up."

"Fix me up? Like a blind date?" This news was about as thrilling to me as the notion of periodontal work.

"Don't use that tone, kiddo. This guy's perfect for you."

"I'm afraid to ask you what that means," I said.

"It means he isn't married like someone I could name." Her reference was to Jonah Robb, whose on-again, off-again marriage had been a source of conflict. I'd been involved with him intermittently since the previous fall, but the high had long since worn off.

"There's nothing wrong with that relationship," I said.

"Of course there is," she snapped. "He's never there when you need him. He's always off with what's-her-face at some counseling session."

"Well, that's true enough." Jonah and Camilla seemed to move from therapist to therapist, switching every time they got close to a resolution of any kind; "conflict habituated," I think it's called. They'd been together since seventh grade and were apparently addicted to the dark side of love.

"He's never going to leave her," Vera said.

"That's probably true, too, but who gives a shit?"

"You do and you know it."

"No, I don't," I said. "I'll tell you the truth. I really don't have room in my life for much more than I've got. I don't want a big, hot love affair. Jonah's a good friend and he comes through for me often enough…"

"Boy, are you out of touch."

"I don't want your rejects, Vera. That's the point."

"This is not a reject. It's more like a referral."

"You want to make a sales pitch? I can tell you want to make a sales pitch. Go ahead. Fill me in. I can hardly wait."

"He's perfect."

" 'Perfect.' Got it," I said, pretending to take notes. "Very nice. What else?"

"Except for one thing."

"Ah."

"I'm being honest about this," she replied righteously. "If he was totally perfect, I'd keep him for myself."

"What's the catch?"

"Don't rush me. I'll get to that. Just let me tell you his good points first."

I glanced at my watch. "You have thirty seconds."

"He's smart. He's funny. He's caring. He's competent…"

"What's he do for a living?"

"He's a doctor… a family practitioner, but he's not a workaholic. He's really available emotionally. Honest. He's a sweet guy, but he doesn't take any guff."

"Keep talking."

"He's thirty-nine, never married, but definitely interested in commitment. He's physically fit, doesn't smoke or do drugs, but he's not obnoxious about it, you know what I mean? He isn't holier-than-thou."

"Unh-hunh, unh-hunh," I said in a monotone. I made a rolling motion with my hand, meaning get to the point.

"He's good-looking too. I'm serious. Like an eight and a half on a scale of one to ten. He skis, plays tennis, lifts weights…"

"He can't get it up," I said.

"He's terrific in bed!"

I started laughing. "What's the deal, Vera? Is he a mouth breather? Does he tell jokes? You know I hate guys who tell jokes."

She shook her head. "He's short."

"How short?"

"Maybe five four and I'm five nine."

I stared at her with disbelief. "So what? You've dated half a dozen guys who were shorter than you."

"Yeah, well secretly, it always bothered me."

I stared at her some more. "You're going to reject this guy because of that?"

Her tone became defiant. "Listen, he's terrific. He's just not right for me. I'm not making a judgment about him. This is just a quirk of mine."

"What's his name?"

"Neil Hess."

I reached down and pulled a scrap of paper from her wastebasket. I took a pen from her desk. "Give me his number."