His sister calls that night and says “So, long time no speak. How are you? Anything new in your life?” “Matter of fact, now that you ask, yes,” and he tells her about Ruth. Their bumping into each other at a restaurant after about five years. How happy he was to see her and she seemed happy to see him. Her age, teaching, that she was a former grad student of his fourteen years ago, he thinks it was. Her going through a divorce, has two girls, books he sent them, lunch with her at the same place where they bumped into each other, that she invited him to a reading she’s giving and how excited he is to go. That she’s a terrific writer — really special; maybe the best he’s ever had — and a special person too. “I can’t lie about it or in any way be cagey or blasé about it, but I think I’m hooked. First time since Abby I felt this way. That’s good, right?” “Want my unasked-for opinion? It can never work, little brother. There’s nothing I’d like better to happen to you — nobody deserves it more — but a woman thirty-five years younger than you?” “At most. Maybe it’s thirty, or a year or two more than that.” “I’d cut it off now,” she says. “But I’d love to fall in love with someone again. I almost got dizzy when I was with her. Her presence. Just standing beside her. And you can imagine what it was like for me when we hugged hello and goodbye. It can’t be explained — and don’t be saying I’m too much the romantic — but there it is. Something — well, I already said it in so many words, but something I almost desperately wanted, and it’s finally happened.” “What movie have I seen this in?” “Don’t play with me,” he says. “I’m serious, so you be serious.” “Okay,” she says. “Serious. You’re deluding yourself. Go out with someone much older. Even a woman twenty-five years younger than you is too young. Twenty, but preferably fifteen years younger would be the maximum, I’d think, although twenty might be stretching it too far too. What’s her name?” “Ruth.” “Is she Jewish?” “No. In fact her mother was an Episcopal minister, or whatever they are in the Episcopal church. High up. Her own congregation. Retired now.” “So her mother’s probably around your age. Even younger.” “So what?” “Listen,” she says. “You’re hellbent on hurting yourself and also embarrassing yourself too. But hurt is what you’re going to get. I know you. You want more from this woman than she can ever give you and you’re going to kill whatever friendly thing you have with her. I’m sure she has no romantic illusions or fantasies about you.” “What makes you say that?” “Your age, little brother, your age. The whole idea. Once your star former student, now your potential lovemate? It’s not a bad movie it’s out of but a bad book.” “Is there a difference,” he says, “other than one takes one person to do and the other many?” “I don’t quite get what you’re saying. Anyhow, maybe I’ve said too much. Maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about and something good can come of it, something I didn’t see.” “You don’t believe that,” he says. “I don’t, but I thought I’d say it anyway.” “Ah, you’re probably right,” he says. “I’m all confused. I don’t know what to do.” “Don’t do anything; that’s my advice. But if you have to — if you just can’t stop yourself — here’s one thing you might try. You say you sent her daughters books?” “Yesterday.” “Good,” she says. “They haven’t got them yet or only got them today. She’ll have to email you or call you, thanking you for the books. That’d be the only polite thing to do. If she calls, you have to speak to her. But if she emails, don’t respond. Then, if she emails you again after the thank-you one and suggests you meet even before the reading of hers you’re going to, then meet. Enjoy your lunch or whatever it is. But don’t get lovey or smoochy or confessional as to how you feel to her.” “I want to get smoochy. There’s nothing I want more.” “Don’t. Keep it light. Just have fun with her as a friend. That’s the only way she’ll continue to be with you. If you blow it once, you’ll lose her for good. That’s guaranteed.” “No, what you say’s too much like strategy, which I’m against.” “Okay,” she says. “That’s all I’m going to say on the matter. I’ve warned you. Now, how are my darling nieces?”