What does a woman do whose love visits her after a long absence? She calls the Salish Lodge, hopeful for vacancies and delights when the young woman on the other end of the phone offers an unsolicited discount. She books a room for two nights and figures the two of them - she and her love - can decide together what to do for the third night. She checks the internet to see if Saving Private Ryan is still playing in theaters. It is! The places and times are noted next to the hotel confirmation number on a piece college-ruled notebook paper. She notes too that Everest is starting at the new IMAX. She packs. She trades in her car for the more comfortable one her G-ma owns. She stands at the open end of the tunnel attached to the fuselage, searching for his face among the ones bobbing up the ramp.

It has been a long time and for a few moments the distance accrued over three months surrounds, insulating them from reconnection. But it is only a few moments.

She tells her love that it is his weekend to choose whatever he wishes to do apart from the three things she has already planned. He is happy with her choices because the two are really one and what one of them likes, so does the other. He says he's hungry but would like to wait. He says, let's go watch the sunset from that park on the water we used to go to. She takes him there. They find a bench on the edge of the shore and watch the great yolk punctured by the jagged edge of mountains yonder. She takes pictures not because it is particularly spectacular on this evening, but because she wants a reminder of their first hours together.

Darkness approaches, he says he's hungry. Where can we eat? She produces a list from memory. He decides on Carmelita.

They order more than they can consume, but the plates are carried away clean. In the candlelight, in the aura of diners' chatter, they look at each other across a table comparing truth with memory. He looks a little thinner. She looks different in a way he can't describe. His hand feels better than she remembered and she asks him not to let go. They walk hip to hip back to the car.

They cannot leave town without dessert and for a few moments they puzzle over how to fit one more thing into their bellies. Fran's: The store is still open. They each choose three truffles, packed to go. The bookstore nearby pulls on him and she says, we have time. He wants the new book about Shakespeare. They look at all the silly calendars displayed already. She says she's always wanted to read One Hundred Years of Solitude.

Nine-thirty and they are checked-in, already wearing the thick terry robes and drawing water for the bath. He has been awake more than 24 hours, but he can make it. She's had a vacancy for a backscrubber. She tries lighting the fire with no success. There is not that much time, so a staff person is called to do it for them. They laugh at themselves, at the city folk they've become.

They float. They find each other in a bath of warm rumbling water. Afterward they seal themselves under a down comforter and rest contentedly by light of an expiring fire.