Marlowe and I hadn’t properly kissed yet, just the briefest dry brush of lips at the end of our first date, but I was in love with her. I knew she was the one. For our second date we visited the Shaker Exhibition. It seemed appropriate. Marlowe wore no jewelry. She was beautifully simple and straightforward, as perfect as God made her.

Sure enough, the display entranced Marlowe: stern brooms to smooth surfaces, the snug nest of oval boxes, the array of precision handtools. Marlowe beamed with pleasure admiring a tape chair.