"Thank Lord the day is over", said Mrs. Harrison whi ally climbing into the conjugal bed next to her husband cook her a long hour to prepare for the night aft ting home from their friend Jones’ retirement party; ar legs’ muscles were aching even before the evenil rted. But things had to be done no matter how Late tl ht was, and she wasn't a person to Leave today’s wo tomorrow. With a content heart she stretched her fe leath the blankets, sighing with relief. Harrison Lowered the magazine he was reading ar ited for her to settle down. Like every night, he w armittently watching her errands above his thin readii sses5} tidying the closet, shutting the curtains, bringil ter for the night, walking in and out the bathroom abo 8 of times - each time accompanied by subtle, pleasa alls - dressing for the night. Like a Little bird fussii out her Latest egg. en she eventually Laid her head on the pile of whit ubbed pillows, he returned his attention toward tl ssy pages. urtin", she spoke with her blue eyes fixed on the ceiling, Lowered the magazine again. 5, dear.” i you take your pills?"ce upon a time, when they decided that two kids wa t about enough, it was his job to remind her taking th ls. s, | did." 2 turned her glance to him. aybe you should have skipped them this one time, yo ow? You did have a few glasses tonight." . Harrison considered the idea carefully. lont think that should be a problem, honey. | only drar impagne, and you could imagine it was pretty weak." s, | noticed.” she answered elusively. "Quite chea impagne, if you ask me." . Harrison didn't ask, quietly trying to finish his article. ) you think they have financial problems? | mean, wit tir kids’ troubles and all." > was always worried about their friends’ real c aginary difficulties. muel Jones is always been a prudent person: | wouldn sect him to ever have financial problems.” ittle sigh got Lost in the silent room. 2 pulled the blanket away from her feet, slowly movin - red painted toes back and forth, causing smal ieving clacks. Mr. Harrison gave up his magazine. drence, are you talking with Dr. Simmons about you tts?" 2 addressed him a brave smile. 1, it's nothing, dear, really. Just too much time in thos ht shoes. that's all."lon't Like those pain you have Lately.” 2 concentrated on her toes. é can't fight age, can we? I'd say they are only nor! ns of me getting older.” th that little philosophical remark, Mrs. Harrison toc ok from her night stand drawer, and nestled her 2n more comfortably. . Harrison mentally noted to talk that week with t ysician, then glanced at his wife. wbe it was the champagne, or the happy knowle it his own retirement was still few years away, ibe it was the champagne AND the pills combined. wbe it was Mrs. Harrison's eyelids’ shadow falling eet on her delicate cheeks’ skin, as she read her book ct is that Mr. Harrison felt a Little... effervescent, sc sak. And his wife's night cream smelled really nice. that book any good at all?" he dutifully asked, taking iding glasses off. As a veteran writer, he was alw ious about books. As a veteran husband, he'd alw ad to show interest in his wife's hobbies. 2 shrugged. jon't know so far. Too much thinking and remember try few more pages: if they don't get to action, that's d oF it. . Harrison smiled; his wife had a very personal opir what a book should offer. He stretched his back slo’‘hen slipped a searching hand under his wife's blanket. n perfect synchronization, Mrs. Harrison answered with « liscreet yawn. der husband's hand took note but didnt hesitate: the ;ought warmth was really near. Martin, did you Locked the entrance door?" she asked iuddenly worried. | did", he answered confidently. Are you sure?" Absolutely, honey." “irs. Harrison had troubles finding the Last Line she'd beer ‘eading on the book's page. What do you think about a nice back massage, honey? oroposed Mr. Harrison generously. “You had a Long day." Nhatever Mr. Harrisson’s hand was doing under tha slanket, it must have been directly related to his wife’ fision, because the book got closer and closer to her nose. Oh, | don't know, dear. It would be nice, but we both had « ong day, and tomorrow | have to wake up early. Don't we yetter Leave it for some other time?" she asked with thi nost innocent voice. Mr. Harrison counted 17 days in his head and called the ioldiers home. Then, optimistic as he always was, he thought it wasn't sc vad after 30 years of marriage. From highly trustec iources he knew that for some of his friends, same age lifferent wives, making Love was no more than a biannua went. He could consider himself Lucky.ut even so, in this Late hour of a cold November night, Mr larrison still felt a little charged. And he was « esourceful writer, with a plan B always in place. So hi ulled out a disappointed hand and grabbed th yagazine, resuming his Lecture. fou must be right, honey. | am also working tomorrow, 5: iL have to wake up early too", he said blankly. 3h, another project?" Irs. Harrison's voice had a fresh note of interest, spice: “ith a tint of guilt. Nah, just an old client." ler husband was also a gifted landscape designer: for thi ast twenty years or so his Little Local business provider or everything a decent household required, and then som: dore. someone | know?" virs. Angelina CostelLo. I've told you about her.” irs. Harrison remembered that she heard quite a Lo ately about Angelina Costello, the widow with a larg iheritance and a new villa. She didnt like the kind o 2eLlings this specific client caused her. The one who Looks Like Sophia Loren?" ‘aught in the details of the Latest architectural gems, Mr larrison nodded absently. “you come to think about it, Sophia Loren was Lookin uite provocative. And what she needs this time?" Mrs. Harrison turned hebook upside down on her Lap, and carefully straightene some unseen folds on her blue blanket. ‘Oh, I'm not sure, but she just widened her swimming poc 30 | imagine most of the greenery is destroyed. Not muc of a project, | quess.” Mrs. Harrison's eyebrows raised a bit. Then why not sending Billy over there? You can stay horr and maybe work some more on your book." Mr. Harrison eyes stared for a few seconds at the empi space In front of him, before meeting again the illustrate ‘ournal. 'No, it's okay. | Love taking care of her place. It has nomely feeling, you know. And it makes me feel useful.” The invisible folds on Mrs. Harrison sheets seemed t alarmingly multiply. ‘lL imagine she's a nice person, if you prefer to personal nandle all her projects.” ‘She is indeed. And very Lonely in that big house since he nusband died. It must be hard for her." ‘Doesn't she have kids, or any family around?" ‘She have two boys, but they are both Living in New York." Mrs. Harrison thought about that. Then maybe you could invite her over for Lunch sometime would Like to meet her." Well, | don't know if it's a good idea. She seems tot sensitive of people pitying her." Mrs. Harrison eyebrows met for a short briefing session. ‘How old did you say she is?"arese : i Bi he stirred in her hiding, bending an attentive ear owe im. 4nd for me, you are the most beautiful woman in thi rorld. No matter how old or how tired you are. You knov hat, don't you?" ‘ Irs. Harrison emerged from her wrappings and hugger im tight, her blue eyes bright with emotion. 3h, Martin, | was hoping you will say that... | Love you toc ear", she said warmly. Ir. Harrison kissed his wife with infinite affection, which il; urn stretched her hand and put his night Lamp off. ¢ Thank you, Mrs. Angelina Costello", he thought, smiling iy he dark, imagining the heroine of his Latest story noddin' ympathetically from the manuscript pages. What a Luc is wife only read action books. in hen he made Love with her, tenderly and Lovingly, as hi id for more than 30 years. it ia in x o caressing her turned head.