I meet Carl, Maribeth’s third, possibly fourth, husband: nice guy, sprig of hair on the front of his head like a Kewpie, but white hair, not blond. Also Mick, a pal of Kip’s. “Eggs?” Carl says. “No, thanks,” I say. “I will,” Kip says. “Scrambled,” Mick says. “Unless you boys no longer believe in egg