and he was more than too old to spend it trying to discover just how women think. At least that was what he had been telling himself these last few months since Bennis had been gone. It might have been different if he’d known where she had gone, or if she’d taken her things out of his apartment before she went. Instead, she’d disappeared without a trace, and every time he went to his closet her coal black, five-ply cashmere turtleneck tunic hit him smack in the face. This morning, he was trying to figure out what to do about the other “relationship” he’d suddenly acquired, if you could call it a relationship at all. Here was a fine mess he’d gotten himself into. When he’d first asked Alison Standish to dinner, all he’d really had in mind was dinner. He was tired of eating alone. Now they’d had dinner a couple of dozen times. He still didn’t know what he felt about her. He still didn’t know what he felt about Bennis. And he could sense, every time he left Cavanaugh Street to take Alison to her favorite sushi place, that Alison was beginning to wonder why he never spent the night.
