So?she typed, choosing not to rise to the bait.
Yes, Ms.Rossi. Same place? Say, this coming Saturday?
Lucia grinned.
Perfect. Around two p.m.?
It’s a date.
“God, you’re killing me,” Lucia mumbled, but still added a smiling emoji to Penelope’s last message.
~ ~ ~
Lucia had tried to arrive early again—emphasis ontried—but traffic had her enter the café with hurried steps, breathless and gazing around the room wildly. The bell above the door chimed as she slipped inside, already peeling off her jacket, her curls frizzing slightly from the humidity. The café smelled of clove and burnt sugar, and the windows steamed faintly from the rain.
Penelope didn’t seem the type to tolerate tardiness for too long.
She exhaled in a rush when she spotted her sitting at the same table, scrolling through her phone.
She hadn’t left.
Penelope looked composed as ever, dressed in a tailored charcoal blazer over a plum-colored blouse that stood outagainst her fair skin. Her hair was again swept into a smooth bun, not a strand out of place.
“Hey, sorry I’m late. There was an accident on the freeway.” Lucia sat down.
“Oh, that’s fine. I was catching up on a few emails.”
“I see you weren’t engaged in aerial warfare.”
“Excuse me?”
Lucia pointed at the coffee cup in front of Penelope.
Penelope followed her motion, then huffed a laugh. “Right. No. I wasn’t scaring the staff from taking my order.”
Lucia tapped her fingers against the table’s worn wood, the rhythmic motion grounding her nerves. “What you been up to, aside from working too much?”
“How do you know I’m working too much?”
“It’s the weekend and you sit in a café catching up on emails.”
Penelope leaned back in her chair. “That assumes those were work emails.”
“True. I apologize. Assumptions and all.”
“No need, especially since you’re not generally wrong. I do work too much.”
“You want to change that?”
The server interrupted their conversation, and they placed their orders.
“I don’t know. It’s easier said than done.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
“What about you? Do you get a lot of time off? I imagine you’re quite busy, restoring art, dealing with clients and their demands.”
Lucia hesitated. How she hated lying to Penelope. “It’s not too bad. I get to set my own hours.”
