dignity and perhaps her life to his arrival at the penultimate moment. Yet years
of indoctrination in Aunt Violet’s paranoia could not be washed away in a few
days, and a residue of unreasonable suspicion and wariness clung to Nora. She
would have been dismayed, maybe even shattered, if Travis had suddenly tried to
force himself upon her, but she would not have been surprised. Having been
encouraged since early childhood to expect the worst from people, she could be
surprised only by kindness and compassion.
Nevertheless, she went to lunch with him.
At first, she did not know why.
However, she did not have to think long to find the answer: the dog. She wanted
to be near the dog because he made her feel secure and because she’d
never before been the recipient of such unrestrained affection as Einstein
lavished on her. She had never previously been the object of any affection from
anyone, and she liked it even if it came from an animal. Besides, in her heart
Nora knew that Travis Cornell must be completely trustworthy because Einstein
trusted him, and Einstein did not seem easily fooled.
They ate lunch at a café that had a few linen-draped tables outside on a brick
patio, under white- and blue-striped umbrellas, where they were permitted to
clip the dog’s leash to the wrought-iron table leg and keep him with them.
Einstein was well-behaved, lying quietly most of the time. Occasionally he
raised his head to gaze at them with his soulful eyes until they relinquished
scraps of food, though he was not a pest about it.
Nora did not have much experience with dogs, but she thought that Einstein was
unusually alert and inquisitive. He frequently shifted his position in order to
watch the other diners, with whom he seemed intrigued.
Nora was intrigued with everything. This was her first meal in a restaurant, and
although she had read about people having lunch and dinner in thousands of
restaurants in countless novels, she was still amazed and delighted by every
detail. The single rose in the milk-white vase. The matchbooks with the
establishment’s name embossed on them. The way the butter had been molded into
round pats with a flower pattern on each, then served on a bowl of crushed ice.
The slice of lemon in the ice water. The chilled salad fork was an especially
amazing touch.
“Look at this,” she said to Travis after their entrées had been served and the
waiter had departed.
He frowned at her plate and said, “Something wrong?”
“No, no. I mean . . . these vegetables.”
“Baby carrots, baby squash.”
“Where do they get them so tiny? And look how they’ve scalloped the edge of this
tomato. Everything’s so pretty. How do they ever find the time to make
everything so pretty?”
She knew these things that astonished her were things he took for granted, knew
that her amazement revealed her lack of experience and sophistication, making
her seem like a child. She frequently blushed, sometimes stammered in
embarrassment, but she could not restrain herself from commenting on these
marvels. Travis smiled at her almost continuously, but it was not a patronizing
smile, thank God; he seemed genuinely delighted by the pleasure she took in new
discoveries and small luxuries.
By the time they finished coffee and dessert—a kiwi tart for her, strawberries
and cream for Travis, and a chocolate éclair that Einstein did not have to share
with anyone—Nora had been engaged in the longest conversation of her life. They
passed two and a half hours without an awkward silence, mainly discussing books
because—given Nora’s reclusive life—a love of books was virtually the only thing
they had in common. That and loneliness. He, seemed genuinely interested in her
opinions of novelists, and he had some fascinating insights into books, insights
which had eluded her. She laughed more in one afternoon than she had laughed in
an entire year. But the
experience was so exhilarating that she occasionally felt dizzy, and by the time
they left the restaurant she could not precisely remember anything they had
actually said; it was all a colorful blur. She was experiencing sensory overload
analogous to what a primitive tribesman might feel if suddenly deposited in the