What is it about candy dishes? Was there ever a point that they were actually deemed necessary to maintaining a well appointed home? For Charlotte, this isn’t an idle thought. Hiroshi showed up for their first date with an emerald green depression-glass candy dish filled with peanut M&Ms. Charlotte was charmed. The date unfolded like a dream. Their tastes in music, movies and the question of having children or not (they were both interested) meshed perfectly. Charlotte even went so far as to invite Hiroshi to her sister’s wedding in a few weeks time. A bold move but it beat going to her sister’s wedding alone. Hiroshi showed up with a purple blown glass candy dish flecked with yellow bits for their second date. Charlotte parked the gift next to the first one, and felt what exactly? A sense of loyalty? Disappointment? Maybe both. By the time of her sister’s wedding, Charlotte was the proud owner of way too many candy dishes. The variety seemed infinite. There was an origami style dish, a clunky ceramic one, maybe from the vocational school nearby, even one featuring Santa Claus where the candy was meant to reside inside his open mouth. She wondered whether Hiroshi was unloading his Mother’s collection on her, but it turns out that Hiroshi is a fan of all things delicate and ornamental. When she politely tried to tell him enough with the bric-a-brac he listened, but continued anyway. In the past, Charlotte would have broken it off. But Hiroshi makes Charlotte laugh. He’s still the only adult she’s ever met who loved all eight of the “Harry Potter” films without reservation, despite Hogwart’s glaring absence of candy dishes.