I laughed because she wanted me to, and because the slip had gone through clean.

She asked me to wait for the receipt and went to the back, and I stood there with my checkbook open, the last blank check in the book still on its perforation.

When she came back, she had a slip of paper with the resort’s number on it.

“Let’s call them.

Right now, on the branch line.

I want to hear them say the number out loud.”

We sat in the two chairs by the window with the phone on speaker between us on the little table.