Keeping busy. I knew that tune.
Seated, her high waist and willowy arms and swan neck implied height, but like Robin, she was a small, delicately built woman—there I go again, comparing.
Unlike Robin, she favored expensive makeup, considered clothes-shopping a recreational activity, had no problem flashing strategic glints of diamond jewelry.
One time she confessed it was because she’d been late to enter puberty, had hated looking like a child all through high school. At thirty-seven, she appeared ten years younger.
I was the first man she’d been with in a long time.
When I called her, it had been months since we’d spoken. Surprise brightened her voice. “Oh, hi.”
I talked around the issue, finally asked her to dinner.
She said, “As in a date?”
“As in.”
“I thought there . . . was someone.”
“So did I,” I said.
“Oh. Is this recent?”
“This isn’t a rebound thing,” I said. “I’ve been single for a while.” Hating the awkwardness—the self-pity—of all that.
“Giving yourself time,” she said.
Saying the right thing. Trained to say the right thing. Maybe this was a mistake. Even back in grad school, I’d avoided dating women in my field, wanting to know about other worlds, worried that intimacy with another therapist would be too confining. Then I met Robin, and there’d been no need to look anywhere . . .
“Anyway,” I said. “If you’re busy—”
She laughed. “Sure, let’s get together.”
“Still a carnivore?”
“You remember. Did I gorge myself that badly? Don’t answer that. No, I haven’t gone vegetarian.”
I named a steakhouse not far from her office. “How about tomorrow night?”
“I’ve got patients until eight, but if you don’t mind a late dinner, sure.”
“Nine,” I said. “I’ll pick you up at your office.”
“Why don’t I meet you there?” she said. “That way I won’t have to leave my car.”
Setting up an escape plan.
I said, “Terrific.”
“See you then, Alex.”
A date.
How long had it been? Eons . . . Even though Allison would be bringing her own wheels, I washed and vacuumed the Seville, got compulsive about it, and ended up squatting at the grille wielding a toothbrush. An hour later, grubby and sweaty and reeking of Armor All, I took a long run, stretched, showered, shaved, shined up a pair of black loafers, and pulled out a navy blazer.
Soft, single-breasted Italian model, two Christmases old . . . a gift from Robin. I yanked it off, switched to a black sport coat, decided it made me look like an undertaker and returned to the blue. Next step: slacks. Easy. The featherweight gray flannels I usually wore when I testified in court. Add a yellow tab-collar shirt and a tie and I’d be—which tie? I tried on several, decided neckwear was too stuffy for the occasion, switched to a lightweight navy crewneck and decided that was too damn Hollywood.
Back to the yellow shirt. Open-necked. No, the tabs didn’t look good that way. And the damn thing was already sweat-stained under the arms.
My heartbeat had kicked up, and my stomach was flipping around. This was ridiculous. What would I tell a patient in the same predicament?
Be yourself.
Whoever that was.
I reached the restaurant first, thought about waiting in the Seville and greeting Allison as she approached the door. I figured that might alarm her and went inside. The place was lit at tomb level. I sat at the bar, ordered a beer, and watched sports on TV—I can’t remember the sport—had barely gotten through the foam when Allison arrived, freeing a black tide of hair from her sweater and looking around.
I got to her just as the maître d’ looked up. When she saw me, her eyes widened. No look-over; just focusing on my face. I smiled, she smiled back.
“Well, hello.” She offered her cheek, and I pecked. The sweater was lavender cashmere, and it matched the clinging dress that sheathed her from breastbone to knee. Matching shoes with big heels. Diamond earrings, diamond tennis bracelet, a short strand of silver pearls around her white neck.
We sat down. She ordered a glass of merlot, and I asked for a Chivas. The red leather booth was roomy, and I sat far enough away to avoid intrusiveness, close enough to smell her. She smelled great.