Story had been working as a technician for Dick McIntosh at the Harvard Biology Labs in Cambridge, in anticipation of graduate school.  Dick, a brilliant scientist and wonderful person, had come to like Story, but he disapproved of her boyfriend.  Early in the summer of 1969, after my second year of medical school, I received an invitation from Dick to work in his laboratory during the summer.  Dick had been my advisor for an honors thesis in college, and I assumed that his invitation proceeded from his confidence in my promise as an investigator.

I shared an office with Story, who had an intimidating reputation as able to serial thin section, and as a great microscopist.  She was also entrancingly beautiful.  I had been dating another medical student, who early during the summer had nicely packed sandwiches for my lunch.  About mid-summer, Story noticed that the tidy lunches had been replaced by soggy tuna sandwiches, and surmised that my personal relationships had changed.  I had not learned to drain the oil before making the tuna sandwich.

Over the course of the summer, we were smitten with one another.  In the fall, I moved my only possession, a KLH 20, into her apartment on Massachusetts Avenue in Cambridge.  That was real commitment; we were married the next August.

We had been married for five years when Dick McIntosh and Mimi invited us for dinner.  They congratulated themselves on their plot and its success.  My invitation to the lab had been designed to displace the undesirable boyfriend, and biology had run its course in the intended fashion.  Dick and Mimi must have had a great time watching as Story and I grew together.