Can I come in, Mr. B?”“Johanna?” I tried to put a face to the name of my daughter’s friend. There used to be so many of them trotting in and o...t of the house when they were teenagers. Yeah! Then I remembered. A tall, skinny kid. They all used to call me Mr. B. because no one wanted to say ‘Mr. Bartkowiak.’I took a quick peek through the spy hole in the door, and there she was. Wow! Had she ever grown up!“Come in, Johanna! My goodness! I haven’t seen you for - what - three or four years, have I?. In the guest bathroom, I cleaned myself thoroughly, spending almost half an hour in the bath, daydreaming and plotting, giving up one idea after another, and finally crying again. At last, I settled on the idea of having breakfast ready for him when he woke up, and if he stayed a little while, well... The robe is one of those short, thin, sexy things that is really the only true extravagance I had indulged in since I'd come to the town. It fell against my body almost like a liquid, and was cool. More

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