Judith Whitman always believed in the kind of love that picks you up in Akron and sets you down in Rio. Long ago, she once experienced that love. Willy Blunt was a carpenter with a dry wit and a steadfast sense of honour. Marrying him seemed like a natural thing to promise. But Willy Blunt was not a person you could pick up in Nebraska and transport to Stanford. When Judith left home, she didn't look back. Twenty years later, Judith's marriage is hazy with secrets. In her hand is what may be the phone number for the man who believed she meant it when she said she loved him. If she called, what would he say?