JAMES FITZGERALD.

[Partial transcript reads as follows:]

JAMES: So, Isabel, what do you like to do for fun?

ISABEL: Shopping is my first love.*1 JAMES: I see.

ISABEL: What about you?

JAMES: In the winter I like to ski. Are you into any snow sports?

ISABEL: No, but I think some of the outfits are really cute.

JAMES: You're a PI, I hear.

ISABEL: And you're a lawyer. I love lawyers.

JAMES: Why exactly?

ISABEL: They've come in handy a few times.

JAMES: Oh.

ISABEL: And they make tons of money.*

JAMES: Not all of us.

ISABEL: But you do all right, don't you?

JAMES: Uh, I guess so.

ISABEL: Whew. So, are you a player or do you want to get married and have kids?*

JAMES: Eventually, I'd like those things.

ISABEL: How many kids do you want?*

JAMES: I don't know. Not too many.

ISABEL: I want four. One girl. One boy. And a pair of twins. Is that redundant? A pair of twins?

JAMES: Yes.

ISABEL: Oh well, the English language is so not my thing.

JAMES: Waiter, can I get another drink?

WAITER: And for the lady? Are you finished with your vodka tonic?

ISABEL: Yes, keep 'em coming.2 [Long, awkward silence while I work on a new line of defense.]

ISABEL: So where did you go to school?

JAMES: Princeton.

ISABEL: Oh, that's one of the good ones, isn't it?

JAMES: How about you?

ISABEL: Garfield High and then I did some time at community college. And then I actually did some time.

JAMES: Excuse me?

ISABEL: That was a joke. But a true one.

JAMES: What are your long-term goals?

ISABEL: I'd like to start my own charitable organization.

JAMES: What kind of charity?

ISABEL: I'm still working out the details, but we'll have really great soirees, I know that for sure.

JAMES: Sounds like you've got it all worked out.

ISABEL: There's something I should tell you.

JAMES: What?

ISABEL: I don't know whether I should bring it up on a first date.

JAMES: Maybe you shouldn't.

ISABEL: [whispering] I'm saving myself until marriage.*

JAMES: Interesting.

ISABEL: Now, tell me everything about yourself.

To close the deal, I phoned James an hour after the date was over and told him what a great time I had and hoped we could do it again real soon.*

The following day, my mother phoned me and asked how my date went. Her tone was unfriendly, so I figured she'd already heard.

"What did he say?"

" You have a very nice daughter, but I feel like we didn't connect intellectually,' he said. Bravo," Mom said.

"He's a liar," I insisted. " Not connecting intellectually' means he thought my ass was too big."

"Not true," Mom replied. "I asked James, and he likes women with a little meat on their bones."

"I think I might be sick."

"I want the evidence, Isabel," said Mom. "Bring the recording to dinner on Sunday."

"Fine."

"We'll talk about this later," she said.

"Make an appointment first," I replied.

PHONE CALL.

FROM THE EDGE #20.

Morty phoned me Sunday morning, while Connor was playing rugby and I was enjoying a few hours of peace before the mandatory family meal.

[Partial transcript reads as follows:]

MORTY: You know what they call a widower in Miami?

ME: No.

MORTY: A guy with too many girlfriends.

ME: Was that a joke? Because it was a bad one and the timing and phrasing are all wrong.

MORTY: No, it's not a joke, Professor Shecky Green. It's a fact. The old guys here whose wives have passed on are like players.

ME: Who taught you the word "player"?

MORTY: I watch a lot of the television.

ME: Just say "television" or "TV"; don't say "the television."

MORTY: I've been speaking for a lot longer than you have. What makes you the expert?

ME: I don't want to have the "things change" talk again. Can we agree to switch subjects?

MORTY: Fine by me.

ME: Has your shuffleboard game improved?

MORTY: That's a very rude stereotype.

ME: So, it hasn't improved.

MORTY: You know the shiksa and Gabe are still together?

ME: Morty, her name is Petra.

MORTY: Right. I'm old. I got a bad memory.

ME: You always remember she's a shiksa.

MORTY: With tattoos.

ME: Yes, she has a few tattoos.

MORTY: I sure hope Gabey doesn't get them.

ME: They're not contagious, you know.

MORTY: Do me a favor and go visit them sometime. I want to make sure that my Gabe doesn't have any ink.

ME: Ink? Where'd you learn that term?

MORTY: From the television.

ME: I'm going to hang up now.

THE RETURN.

OF SUNDAY-NIGHT DINNER.

Picture a table of five adults and one seventeen-year-old, all clothed in navy-blue T-shirts with the FREE SCHMIDT! slogan in yellow felt letters across the front. Keep that image in your head as I describe the rest of the meal.