Steve was beside himself that the Giants won. We were all planning a skiing trip and as we were leaving the Super Bowl party I asked him if he and Natuza had a ride yet.

"Oh!" he smiled. "We've, we've... made other arrangements. Already." He could barely suppress his laughter, cheeks red and rosy, eyes like slits. As though their arrangements involved a top-secret trip to the moon.

Practically the entire fourth quarter, he'd sequestered himself on the outdoor deck, peering at the TV from the other side of the sliding door, his breath clouding a patch of glass. 'Cause it was good luck. Only at the end would he come in from the cold.