More typically the one who hadn’t been at home that morning would wait patiently until after they’d eaten dinner, and the dishes had been washed and put away, and then they would make a pot of tea and fill a small pitcher with the milkman’s finest cream and sit together in the living room.

     Always the one who’d been absent would quiz the other. “And then what happened? She said what? Was that all?” Occasionally, as they both knew, the one who’d been at home would keep a detail or two to him- or herself.

     Originally they’d only received a gallon of one-percent milk once a week. Then they’d changed to a half gallon of organic two-percent twice a week and a pint of cream every other week. Then they’d added yogurt and fresh mozzarella on Tuesdays, and lately they’d been studying the Tri-State DA’s voluminous offerings, having regular and sometimes heated discussions about whether they should add the vanilla-bean ice cream or large-curd cottage cheese or perhaps even upgrade to whole milk. The milkman had been working with them to reach a decision but had reassured them that they shouldn’t rush themselves.

     At one point John turned on the radio, both as a distraction and to hear any news reports that might bear upon the milkman’s tardiness. Mary snapped it off and gave him a peremptory glare that he’d never seen before but knew he deserved.

     “Maybe he slept in on his birthday,” John suggested awhile later.

     “And delay the start of his rounds?” Mary asked. “Sometimes I think you don’t really know him at all.”

     And then a few minutes later she asked whether John thought she should call again.

     “I hope he likes what we’ve done with the place,” John said sometime afterward. This might have led to a reassessment of whether they should have limited the decorations to the kitchen since, after all, the brief celebration wouldn’t likely extend into the living room, dining room and den and then out onto the patio. But they were of one mind on the matter: The decorations were if anything a little understated.

     John checked the camera on the tripod yet again, making sure they’d be ready to snap a picture of the three of them for the frame they’d purchased. And now there it was, the unmistakable sound of the truck pulling up out front. John clicked the switch on the coffee maker, starting a fresh pot, they both put their hats back on, and Mary made a mental note to check for crumbs around the corners of the milkman’s mouth.

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