Precipice of Operations at the place with the stinky chemicals.”

“Penny?”

She put her finger to her lips. “Don't say her name or she'll appear and scratch your eyes out.”

“You still have a problem with her?”

“She's trying to sabble-tage me.”

“No, she's not. She's a professional.”

“She's a professional…witch.” She laughed in his face. “I almost said a bad

word to you, Peter!” Smile vanishing, she squinted, pointing to her stomach.

“My gut is telling me I need to be careful.”

“I think your gut is in no shape to tell you anything right now.”

She beamed. “That was a joke! Good for you, Peter. I know a joke, too.”

“That's nice.”

“Why is alcohol not a solution?” She leaned forward, huge grin on her face,

ready to laugh.

“I already know that one,” he said.

Her face scrunched in annoyance, then she seemed to think. “Okay then,

how 'bout, what's the difference between a mole and a molecule?”

“I don't know, what?”

“Get ready, because this is funny.” She snorted, then looked at the ceiling as

if thinking hard, then recited, “A molecule is the smallest part of a chemical element that has the chemical properties of that element, and…a mole is a nasty

little rodent that digs tunnels in your yard.” She fell forward, snorting into his knee.

He shook his head. “C'mon, Kate, I think you need to get to bed.” He stood.

Kate pasted on a stern face, then saluted. “Yes, sir, Master Chemistry

Teacher of the Year.” She picked up the wine bottle from the table and shook it.

“Whoa…how much of this did you have?”

“Me? I didn't have any. Looks like you had a glass or three.”

Kate held up two fingers. “Just three angstroms. Or two liters. Or a whole bunch of moles. Lots of moles.”

Peter took her by the arm and tried to ease her to her feet. “Okay, Einstein,

here we go.”

Kate wagged her finger. “No, Eisenstein was a physicist, and he also

directed. Movies.” She giggled. “He directed Shattlebip Topemkin—I bet you didn't know that, Mister Scientist.” She leaned against him, looked up, and burped in his face.

“Whew. Wow, Kate—yes, that's amazing. C'mon, up you go.”

Kate's face wrinkled in a grimace. “Don't say 'up,' Peter, because it sounds like 'throw up,' and I don't want to throw up. On you.” She smiled, then fell against him and threw her arms around his neck. “Y' know something, Teper?

Peter?”

Peter held her waist to keep her from sliding down his chest as she leaned against him. He wished it was under different circumstances. “What's that?”

“I wrote you a note.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Yup. I wrote a note, and it was a good note, the note I wrote.”

She whispered in his face. “It was a love note.”

“Oh?” He had her at the base of the stairs, still leaning on him.

“Yes, I wrote it to you and it was a love note in the sixth grade and it said

that I loved you.”

“That's very nice, Kate. Let's go up the stairs.”

She shook her head vigorously. “You said 'up' again. Don't say 'up.' I don't like 'up.' ”

“Sorry. Here we go.”

“Wait, wait, wait, Peter. Peter, wait.”

“What is it?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

She grinned broadly. “I wrote you a note.”