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touted by the critics as his best since
Phantom of the Opera
. Even the most pathetic road company of a major show like that wouldn’t make it out to a small town in the middle of the Prairies.
    It was an 8:00 p.m. curtain. That gave us time for a leisurely dinner at Ed’s Egalitarian, the new hot spot in the heart of the theater district.
    "I hate menus like this," I said, my eyes running up and down the three panels of steaks, poultry, seafood, salads, and soups. "Too much selection. I never know what to order."
    Tess, seated next to me, sighed that I-married-him-despite-his-faults sigh she was getting so good at as the years went by. "You do this every time we eat out. It’s not like you’re making a lifetime commitment." She gave me a playful poke in the belly. "Just pick something that isn’t too fattening."
    That was sound advice. My weight usually started going up around Thanksgiving and continued to rise until the good weather came back in March. I always managed to take it off over the summer, and, if I was doing any fieldwork, I could get reasonably thin by late August, but right now I was up a good seven kilos. I glanced across the table at Klicks, who looked more like an athlete than a scientist, then turned my attention back to Tess. "What are you going to have?"
    "The petite filet," she said.
    "Hmmm. I just don’t know…"
    Klicks looked up from his menu. "Well, while you agonize over what to eat, I’ve got some news."
    Tess, always a devourer of any gossip, smiled that radiant smile of hers. "Really? What?"
    "I’m moving to Toronto for a year. I’m taking my sabbatical at U of T."
    It was a good thing that the waiter hadn’t yet brought us our drinks. Otherwise, I might have spluttered gin and tonic all over the fancy lace tablecloth. "You’re doing what?" I said.
    "I’m going to be working with Singh in the geology department. He’s gotten a small grant from — what do they call it? Whatever that new, scaled-down thing that replaced NASA is. Anyway, the money’s to study satellite photographs. We’re going to see if a technique can be worked out for identifying fossiliferous locales from space, as a prelude to an eventual Mars excursion."
    "If they ever get enough money together to do one," I said. "But, Christ — that might put you in line for the mission. I’d heard they were considering having a paleontologist go with them."
    He made a dismissive motion with his hand. "It’s too early to speculate on that. Besides, you know what they say: the
    reason Canadians have an inferiority complex is that we’re the only country that routinely has to lay off our astronauts."
    I laughed, the better to hide my envy. "Lucky stiff."
    Klicks smiled. "Yeah. But now we’ll be able to spend a lot more time together." He turned to my wife. "Tess, see what you can do about dumping Brandy."
    "Ha ha," I said.
    Our bow-tied waiter returned with our drinks, the aforementioned gin and tonic for me, an imported white wine for Klicks, and mineral water with a twist of lime for Tess. "Are you ready to order?" he asked in the requisite obscure European accent used by all waiters at Ed’s various restaurants.
    "You go ahead," I said. "I’ll decide by the time he gets round to me."
    "Madame?"
    "A small Caesar salad, please, and the petite filet wrapped in bacon, rare."
    "Very good. Sir?"
    "To start," said Klicks, "the French onion soup — please make sure the cheese is cooked." He looked over at Tess. "And the lamb chop."
    My heart skipped a beat. I wondered if he knew that "Lamb-chop" was my pet name for her. I tried never to use it in public, but I suppose I might have slipped from time to time.
    "And for you, sir?" the waiter said to me.
    "Hmmm."
    "Come on, Brandy," said Tess.
    "Yeah," I said. "The lamb chop sounds good. I’ll have the same thing as him."
    * * *
    "Good night, Dr. Thackeray."
    " ‘Night, Maria. Try not to get soaked." Another strobing flash of lightning sent wild shadows sprinting around the