“You remember my order from that long ago?”
“You came in at least twice a week for, like, a month or so. Always ordered the same thing.” Ruby turned to the waitress. “I'll have the burger, medium rare, no onions.”
After the waitress left, Ruby caught Celeste still staring and chuckled. “Don't think too hard about it. I just have a really good memory for random details. Ask me about the periodic table. I'm insufferable.”
Then she winked, and Celeste felt that flutter again. How many times had Ruby seen her at that restaurant? And Celeste had been completely oblivious, buried in her books. What else had she missed by never looking up?
Their food arrived, and the conversation flowed easily. Noah told stories about his most interesting finds—a signed first edition Hemingway that someone had used as a doorstop, a Tiffany lamp that had been wired backwards for forty years.Ruby matched him story for story, talking about the time she'd found an original Rothko sketch at a garage sale for five dollars.
“Five dollars!” Noah nearly choked on his coffee. “What did you do with it?”
“Donated it to a museum. Anonymously.” Ruby shrugged at their stunned expressions. “It belonged in a place where people could appreciate it, not in my storage unit.”
“You gave away a Rothko?” Celeste couldn't keep the disbelief out of her voice. “Do you know what that's worth?”
“Money isn't everything,” Ruby said simply. “Some things are worth more when they're shared.”
Noah raised his water glass. “I like you, Ruby. You've got the soul of a true collector. Not in it for the profit, in it for the love.”
They clinked glasses, and Celeste pulled out her phone, suddenly needing distance from the warmth of this moment. From the way Ruby's admirable approach to life made her question everything she'd built her own life around.
Mom:The twins are having a wonderful time. Theo helped make dinner. Luna's teaching Nonna how to use the computer. All is well, sweetheart.
Celeste:Thank you. Give them kisses for me.
Mom:Enjoying your trip?
Celeste glanced up at Ruby, who was now examining something Noah had pulled from his pocket—a small brass compass, worn smooth by decades of handling. Ruby held it upto the light, watching the needle spin, and her expression was one of pure delight.
Her blonde hair caught the afternoon light streaming through the diner window. She'd pushed up the sleeves of her leather jacket, revealing forearms that were lean and strong. The way she held the compass, so carefully, like it was the most precious thing…
Celeste looked away quickly, back to her phone.
Celeste:Yeah. It's... nice.
And it was nice, which was the surprising part. She should've been irritated at being dragged to a random town on a whim. Instead, she felt comfortable sitting in this vinyl booth while Ruby and Noah debated whether Art Nouveau or Art Deco had more lasting cultural impact.
“Art Nouveau was more revolutionary, it completely broke from historical precedent. Those organic forms, the rejection of symmetry—”
“But Art Deco was more accessible,” Noah countered. “It celebrated modernity in a way ordinary people could understand and afford. Not everyone could commission a Mucha, but they could buy a streamlined lamp.”
“Fair point,” Ruby conceded. “Although I'd argue Mucha's commercial posters were incredibly accessible for their time.”
“You would argue that,” Noah said fondly. “You're an idealist. I can tell.”
As Celeste watched them, she wondered when the last time was she'd just sat somewhere without her mind threesteps ahead of the present moment. When had she last had a conversation that wasn't about cases or clients or family?
When had she last felt this…present?
Ruby caught her eye and smiled, and Celeste’s breath caught. There was something magnetic about Ruby when she was passionate about something. Her whole body leaned into the conversation, her hands moved to illustrate points and her laugh came so easily.
This was who Ruby was underneath the cocky teenager Celeste had remembered. This warm, curious, generous person who gave away priceless art because she believed beauty should be shared.
And Celeste wanted—
No. She couldn't let herself want. Wanting led to hoping, and hoping led to disappointment. Worse, it led to risk. And she couldn't risk what she had: her family, her children, her place in the world.
Her phone buzzed again.
