She read the placard aloud. “Distance Studies, 2019. Steel and bronze. The space between two people is the only honest part of any relationship.”
“That’s bleak.”
“It’s also accurate.”
“Today’s mood?”
“Last decade’s mood. Today is undecided.”
He almost laughed.
By eight thirty they had circled back to the Rothko. She set her empty glass on a passing tray.
“I should eat something before I start interpreting sculpture as having feelings.”
“I have a reservation. A Thai place two blocks from here.”
“You had this planned.”
“I’m efficient.”
“You’re transparent.”
“Is that a problem?”
“No. It’s refreshing.”
She texted David, slipped her phone into her bag, and met his eyes. “I’m ready.”
The restaurant was small and warm, and the owner saw Gabriel as soon as they came in.
“Mr. Sterling. Booth in the back, yes?”
“Please. Jan, this is Tessa Thorne. Tessa, Jan. Jan and her husband have run this place for seventeen years.”
“Twenty-one in November,” Jan said, pleased to be noticed. “He keeps forgetting because he keeps trying to retire and I keep giving him jobs to do.”
“How’s Aron?”
“Better. The new medication is working. Thank you for asking.”
“Tell him I owe him a chess game.”
“I will.”
She walked them to the back booth. Tessa watched the whole exchange with the look of a woman taking notes.
“Jan’s husband is a chess champion in Queens,” Gabriel said when they sat down. “He destroys me every time I play him. Every time.”
“You play him anyway.”
“He likes the company. So do I.”
“Hm.”
“What?”
“You like small places.”
