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Connie was pouring herself a second cup of coffee when her cell phone chimed. "Hi, Mom. It's me." Rick was on the phone.

Connie braced herself for a heated conversation. "Hi, honey. How are things going?"

"Not good. Do you know you're tearing our whole family apart? My sisters are crying and the kids are so upset they don't understand what's happening. Becky told me you had moved out of the house. Is that true?"

"Yes, I moved out Wednesday. I'm sorry if everyone is upset. We moved my stuff — clothes, computer, sewing machine — while Dad was having his regular check- up."

"Where did you go?"

"I moved in with Doug out in Springdale."

There was a sharp intake of breath at Rick's end. "I can't believe this is happening! I can't believe you're doing this after 47 years of marriage! You and Dad have always gotten along so well — at least we thought so. Do you know you're killing him?"

"I'm really sorry, Rick. I don't want to hurt anyone. You know that I've always put family first. This is something I have to do for myself. For the first time in many years, I'm excited about the future."

"How can you be excited about the future when all the people you love are miserable? What could be better than staying with Dad? He's always been there for you."

"Yes, that's true. I care about your dad very much, and I'm sorry he is taking this so hard. He's a good man."

"Then why are you doing this?"

"I didn't intend for this to happen. I wasn't out looking for someone new. But it did happen. By chance. And I cannot continue to live as though my life hasn't changed. For the first time in many years, I feel truly alive."

"It's hard to accept," Rick muttered. "I don't want to accept it."

"Believe me, it takes courage to leave Dad after all these years — to cause my family the pain I know you're feeling."

"Well, courage or madness!" he countered.

"I'm sorry, honey, but I love Doug and I have to be with him."

"But, Mom, you're 68, for God's sake! Think of your seven grandchildren! And there's Dad at 70! What is he going to do?"

"He'll survive. And he'll probably love having all the older women chasing after him." Connie managed a brief chuckle.

"Is there anything I can say to change your mind?"

"Sorry, honey. Just remember that I'll always love you and the children."

"I think you're being extremely selfish!"

"I'm sorry you feel that way. Even Laurie told me over the weekend, 'Well, Mom, do what you have to do.' Can you understand that?"

"No!"

"I'm sorry, Rick. Maybe you'll understand some day."

"You keep saying you're sorry, but you're not willing to forget all this."

"No, I'm not. I want to spend the rest of my life with Doug."

"I gotta go. This is leading nowhere. I'll see ya, Mom."

"Okay, honey. Just remember that I love you."

"Yeah, I guess." There was a click at the other end of the phone.

Connie sighed deeply and sipped her cooling coffee. Without a doubt, her family was in turmoil. She would have to work hard to mend those wounds, to recapture the closeness she had always had with her three children and their families. The events of the past five weeks had brought her to this chasm, and she was on the other side, looking back at the devastation behind her.

Who could have ever guessed at this turn of events?

And yet Connie was happier than she had been for years and years. Suddenly, the whole world was brighter and she felt like a kid again. But at the same time, she wondered that, if she could have looked ahead, would she have gone to her 50th class reunion and that wonderful chance encounter with Doug? They had dated in high school, but after graduation went in different directions, into different lives. They remembered seeing each other at the 25th reunion, but they had merely hugged and talked about their families and careers.

She smiled to recall every moment of the 50th reunion. She had worn a chic, two-piece black dress which complimented her blonde hair, tinted but attractive. She had worn pearls, a stunning accessory with her new black dress. During the social hour she was looking at the wall of photographs when suddenly Doug was standing beside her. "Hello, Connie. You look gorgeous!" They had hugged before talking about the photos, then he had asked, "Are you alone?"

"Yes, I let my husband off the hook this evening. Brad doesn't know anybody, so I left him at home in front of the television. How about you?"

"My wife passed away two years ago." Connie murmured her condolences as Doug added, "Since we're both alone, let's find a table and talk." He touched her back and stepped aside for her to lead the way.

Each table at the country club seated eight, but most were still unoccupied at this early hour. The ballroom was candlelit, and the disk jockey was already setting up on the small stage at one end. Black and gold decorations added a festive air. Connie and Doug carried their drinks and found an empty table against the wall. It was easy for them to recapture the rapport of their youth. They were old friends who cut through the preliminary chit-chat and talked about things that mattered — family, life goals, dreams that had or hadn't come true, possibilities. They were easy with each other: laughing, sharing stories, rejoicing at triumphs, feeling empathy at the other's sorrow.

But it was when Doug asked if she'd like to dance, that the real magic between them began. When he took her hand to lead her to the dance floor, she felt a connection she had never felt with anyone before. "Wow!" she whispered as they began slow dancing.

"What is it?" Doug asked.

"Did you feel that, like I did?"

"What?"

"Electricity! When we touched, I felt a surge of electricity like I had never felt before! Did you feel it, too?"

"I've been feeling it ever since I saw you. You look wonderful!" Doug laughed softly as the two moved gracefully to the music. He was more handsome than she had remembered. He was a half-head taller than she, and the suit he wore matched his thick, slate-gray hair. The years had softened his features, and there were attractive laugh lines around his eyes. His arms around her felt strong and intimate, and she marveled at the way they made her feel. What in the world is going on here, she wondered to herself.

During the evening they greeted and talked with their old classmates, but always, they were eager to return to their table and their intimate conversation. They laughed at the speeches by class officers and enjoyed the funny awards that were given, but returned as quickly as possible to their private conversation.

When the last dance ended and the last goodbyes said to old friends, Doug took Connie's hand and said quietly, "I don't want to leave you yet. Let's find someplace for a drink or coffee or something."

They decided on an all-night coffee shop, drove in separate cars, and before they realized it, the time was 3 a.m. "Doug, I have to go home! My husband will be worried about me. I don't want this evening to end, but it must."

"I want to see you again. I must see you again," he said earnestly.

"I want to see you, too, but are we asking for trouble?"

"Trouble or not, I must see you again. What are you doing next week?"

Connie laughed. "All week? How about Tuesday for lunch?"

"Good! Let's meet at the Wagon Wheel. It's big and busy and nobody will pay any attention to us." And that's how it started.

Connie put her coffee mug in the sink, thinking about Rick's call and remembering that first Tuesday with Doug and the days that followed. She and Doug were crazy about each other. They laughed at how they felt like love-struck teenagers. They couldn't keep their hands off each other, and the sex was pure ecstasy.

By the second week after the class reunion, they talked about spending the rest of their lives together. They would travel and go to the theater and concerts — things that Connie had always wanted to do, but didn't because Brad wasn't interested. Doug was everything she had ever dreamed of, and Connie loved him with a passion that would help her find the courage to leave Brad. It wouldn't be easy. Neither would telling the family.

Now, at Doug's home in Springdale, she had made the break, and she had never been happier. Except when phone calls like Rick's reminded her that what she was doing was hurting her beloved family. Except when the girls in the hair salon suddenly whispered about her when she entered for an appointment. Except when her daughters accused her of committing a woman's worst sin. She had to shake off these feelings. She and Doug were so happy together, and that's what both wanted. It's what both needed. What both deserved.

This morning Doug was doing some consulting work for the company he worked for before retirement. At noon Connie would be working her volunteer job at Children's Hospital where she helped staff the gift shop. She had time to check her e-mail and pay a few bills before getting changed and heading out. She put dirty dishes in the dishwasher and wiped off the kitchen counters and the table. At 11 o'clock her cell phone rang again.

"Connie? It's Brad." His voice was subdued, lifeless.

"Hello, Brad, how are you doing?"

"Well enough, I guess. I just wanted you to know that you have seven pieces of mail here. Do you want to pick it up?"

Connie really didn't want to see Brad yet, but decided she could run in for a minute to get her mail. "I guess I could get it tomorrow morning," she answered.

"I won't be here tomorrow morning because I'm going fishing with Joe Webber."

"I could stop after work at the hospital today. Is 5 o'clock okay?"

"Yes, but even if I'm not here, you have a key." She detected a little sarcasm from the jilted husband.

"I'll pick it up then. See you. Bye." That was nice of him, she thought. He didn't have to call me about the mail.

Time went quickly in the hospital gift shop. Doug had called her twice during the day just to tell her he loved her and would be waiting for her when she got home. Connie had arranged a display of a new shipment of stuffed animals, and she bought a darling alligator for Anna, Rick's youngest child. At Children's gift shop, stuffed animals were the biggest seller, and shipments arrived three times weekly. Connie enjoyed this volunteer job, something she did four afternoons each week. It was a pleasant change from the computer programming job she had held for ten years.

At 5 o'clock, when her replacement arrived, Connie walked to her car thinking about Brad. I really don't want to stop there, she thought. Oh well, I'm going to have to see him often for family events, and this won't take long, she reasoned.

As Connie tapped on the door and entered she heard voices in the kitchen. A vaguely familiar female voice said, "I know what it means to be alone. Maybe you'd like to go play bingo with me some Thursday night." Brad was mumbling a non-committal answer when Connie walked into the room.

"Oh, hello, Mary. Hi, Brad," she said, trying to be more cheerful than she felt. "I'm here for my mail." Mary was the widow who lived four houses away.

"I brought Brad my special meatloaf," Mary explained. "I thought it would be good for meals or sandwiches." She moved toward the door. "See you later."

When the door had shut behind the neighbor, Connie asked, "How are you doing, Brad?"

"I guess I'm doing all right," he answered. Brad faced her and said, "I want you to come home."

"I'm sorry. I can't do it. I have made my decision, and I'm staying with Doug."

"Why? Doesn't 47 years of marriage mean anything to you? Haven't I been a good dependable and loving husband?" There was agony in his voice.

"Brad, I'm sorry. Yes, we had all those years and they were good because you were a dependable and uncomplaining husband. I tried to be a good wife, too."

"You were, until a month ago. What about our children and grandchildren? Don't they mean anything to you? Why are you hurting all of us?" He wiped tears from his eyes.

"Brad, we've been through this before. I don't want to hurt you or our family, but I need something different for the rest of my life. I didn't look for someone new — it just happened, and I want to spend the rest of my life with him."

"I should have gone with you to the reunion. Is there any chance we can go back to the way things were before you saw him?"

"I'm sorry. There's no chance. I'll always care about you. You are the father of my children, and I care what happens to you." Connie glanced around the kitchen to find her mail, changing the subject as she spotted a streusel coffeecake in a pan that wasn't hers. "That looks like a delicious coffeecake. Did someone bring that to you?"

"Yeah, Mike Hogan's wife brought it a while ago."

"The widow of your golfing buddy?" Brad nodded. "It's really nice of these ladies to be so thoughtful," Connie smiled, looking around. "Now, where's my mail?"

"On top of the television," Brad said as he carried the meatloaf to the kitchen table and got the mustard from the refrigerator. "I guess I have my dinner here."

"Yes, and you're going to be all right," Connie said as she returned and patted his shoulder. Brad looked at her as if to say I'm not so sure.

As Connie pulled out of the driveway, she began laughing. Meatloaf, coffeecake, bingo! Brad will be the darling of all the widows in town. Good for him!

And good for me, too! She reached for her cell phone and pressed a button. "Doug? I'm on my way home, darling!"