"The ad agency."
"The ad agency." She folded her hands. "You've heard the Dreamland Mattress jingle. 'Dreamland, Dreamland, sleep like you mean it.' Two notes up on 'mean.'"
Graham's eyes widened. "That's you?"
"That's me."
"I hate that song," he said, with great sincerity. "It's been in my head since 1984."
"Thank you," said Gina, also with great sincerity. "That's the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me."
The waitress came. Gina ordered cocoa with whipped cream, and Graham ordered cocoa with whipped cream, and then — because the waitress was already walking away and Gina had never in her life been able to leave a thing alone — she called after her, "And make his a large, he's paying," and Graham laughed again, quieter this time, into his hand.
"So," she said. "Graham Ellsworth of LaSalle Street. What do you do?"
"I'm a tax attorney."