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a bad feeling about this. But it’s not like I could ask him how he looked different because I didn’t want to come off sounding like it mattered. I went with a noncommittal, “Oh, really?”
    “Yeah, that’s an old picture. But it’s the only digital shot I had when I filled out the profile questionnaire. Kinda lame, I know. So maybe one of us should still wear a giant hat.”
    “I’d totally do it if it weren’t for the dress code here at work. It says to wear collared shirts and business appropriate trousers. No giant hats are allowed. Sorry.”
    “No, you’re not. And I never wear trousers.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “I only wear pants.”
    Ah. “That’s better than slacks.”
    “It’s not a high bar.”
    I noticed Craig lurking near my door. “Craig alert. I have to go rescue my assistant from him. But I’ll see you Thursday?”
    “It’s a date.”
    * * *
    “Help! I have a date!” I called to Sandy as soon as I walked through the front door after work.
    She whooped. “Yes! You’ve joined the living.”
    “You are such an exaggerator. You keep forgetting all the dates I went on when I moved here.”
    “No, I don’t. But they don’t make up for not going out at all for the last year.”
    “It hasn’t been that long.”
    “Name the last time you went out.”
    “Six months ago. I went out with that Blake guy.”
    “I quit listening after you said ‘six months ago’ and made my point for me.”
    “So are you going to help me?” I demanded.
    “Do what?”
    “Get ready for my date.”
    “Sure. When and where?
    “Aren’t you going to ask who it’s with?”
    “No, because I already know it’s Ben.”
    “Wrong.” I said. She looked at me in surprise. “It’s with Craig,” I added.
    Her look changed to disbelief for a moment, and we both burst out laughing. “It’s a double date,” I told her. “You get to go out with his ego.”
    “Yeah right. There’s not enough room for both of us. Seriously, it’s Ben, right?”
    “It is. We’re going to meet at Trattoria Fredo for lunch on Thursday.”
    She sighed and shook her head. Now I was the surprised one. “Aren’t you excited? You’ve been bugging me about dating for . . .” I pretended to glance down at my watch, “ever. You got your way. This usually makes you happy.”
    “I’m happy you’re going. But I’m saving the celebration for an actual date. Lunch is you sticking one toe in.”
    “Don’t I get anything for that?” I asked.
    “Yes.” She leaned over and patted me on the back.
    “I’d settle for wardrobe advice instead.”
    “Come on, then.” She dragged me toward her bedroom. “We’d better look in my closet.”
    “What’s wrong with mine? I’ve got plenty of suits in there.”
    “Exactly,” she retorted.
    I happen to like my suits. I have some nice ones. A few black ones, a few gray ones, a few navy ones. Hmm.
    A few too many suits. Good thing Sandy had a whole other closet for me to shop in.
    She threw open the closet door and waded through the piles on the floor. It appeared to be mostly towels, more than I ever thought one person could need. Unless that one person is someone who hates doing laundry as much as Sandy does. I have personally seen her drive to the store to buy new underwear because she didn’t feel like doing a load of wash. And no, the argument that it takes more time to go to the store doesn’t work.
    She yanked a dress off the hanger and threw it at me. “Try it,” she ordered.
    “No way,” I said. “I’m not wearing pink to work.”
    “Even men wear pink work shirts now, Jessie. Get with the program. And put it on.” I left her whipping through her rack of hangers and pulling more things out. I put the dress on in front of my mirror and grimaced. Cute dress, but if I wore it to work, I’d get double takes all day long, and I didn’t want to deal with it. Sandy walked in with a pile of more clothes over her arm and looked me over.
    “Looks good, but it’s all wrong