"So?" I let the unspoken question simmer.

"I'll call her at her lunch break but you know the answer will be 'No'".

It was my turn for head shaking.

"No, you have to call her now. The more time she has to think about it the more likely she is to agree. She likes to mull things over."

Margaret folded her hands on her lap and stared into my eyes intently.

"What is with you today? We haven't had a conversation like this in 3 years. I would like to say that 'm enjoying it but ..."

I just smiled and spread both hands out in front of me in a questioning gesture.

She tried to ignore me but after a few minutes she walked down the hallway and picked up the telephone. She spoke softly so I couldn't hear the conversation. It went on quite a bit longer than I would have liked. Finally, she hung up the phone and came back to the table.

"I told her you were being a pain in the ass. Justine just laughed. 'That's wonderful', she said. 'I have my old Dad back'. I told her that she could have her old Dad back anytime she wanted."

I interjected what I thought would be a witty remark.

"But you wouldn't really leave me, Margaret, would you? We have so much fun together."

She gave me the fakest of fake smiles.

"Yes well, she really does want to go to the concert. She is going to 'mull it over' as you said. She will call back just before I leave to see how things are going."

The day went quickly. I did some reading, even got Margaret to play three games of chess with me. Neither of us could remember the last time I even knew how each of the pieces moved. But today I won two of three matches fair and square as far as I could tell.

At 4:30 pm Justine called. This time I lingered closer to the telephone so that I could catch at least half of the conversation.

"Yes, he's doing fine - a regular Garry Kasparov. Put me to shame today."

Margaret was quiet for a few minutes, listening carefully to the voice on the other end of the line. She then covered the telephone mouthpiece with her hand and said "she knew you would be eavesdropping on our conversation. You have to leave so that I can give her my 'objective' opinion."

I didn't think this was a good sign but there was nothing I could do about it. I went back to my bedroom and sat in the big armchair in the corner.

Seventeen days. That was seven days longer than the previous record for the 'dead' time between cogent days. I started to think about the situation in terms of emotional return on investment.

Justine now had to suffer through 17 bad days in order to earn 1 good day. If that happened to be a work day (64.7% chance considering weekends, holidays and vacation days) then she only earned a fraction of a good day. As a former actuary I would have had to advise her against any further investments of this kind. And yet a decision to stay home tonight would mean she was destined to continue making such investments with ever declining returns for who knows how many more months or years.

But what if she chose to go to the concert? Then the ball would be in my court. Was I willing to do the right thing? Was it the right thing?

I heard Margaret's footsteps coming down the hallway.