“They’re coming…”

Carla stares at the computer screen. Her face is like a little girl’s.

“That they’d come all this way,” she says, “just for my birthday. I can’t believe it.”

I’m reading the email over her shoulder. It’s from my English pal Geoff (not his real name, don’t want to impose on the poor boy), a friend from back in the hitchhiking days. Asia. Middle East. Always kept in touch. Carla’s gotten to know and love him through years of emailing, the kind of intimacy that sometimes pops up online. Now Geoff and his lady — let’s call her, uh, Debby — are flying in from London, England.

“Oh, Ed,” Carla says. “You’ve got to make enough money so we can entertain them properly. Show them California. Not be ashamed…”