~You re young and you re young and you re young，" his<br >father had once said. "Then one day you look in the mir-<br >ror， and you realize you re not young any more."<br > Looking into his bathroom mirror， Dave Dehn realized<br >his father had been right again. This pleased Dave. The<br >old man had never been wrong. Or so Dave liked to be-<br >lieve. Today， on his sixtieth birthday， Dave was not only<br >pleased. He wished the old man were alive. He would<br >have enjoyed Dave s pleasure.<br > The phone buzzed. Dave put down his razor. He<br >crossed to the small table beside the bathtub. Twenty-eight<br >years ago， when Dave had acquired the land and set the<br >project in motion， the architect had sketched the tub into<br >the drawing he made for what was to be Dave s private<br >suite on the third floor.<br > "Yes， Fanny，" he said.<br > Dave didn t have to ask who was calling. Not on this<br >phone. It was sure to be Fanny.<br > "First，" Fanny said， "happy birthday."<br > She had come to work for him while the compound was<br >still under construction. In 1947 Fanny had been what she<br >herself described as no chicken. The staff Social Security<br ><br >