FAZER LOGINAnastasia’s POV:Elena came to Saturday dinner.She arrived with a bottle of wine she had clearly researched because it was good without being the kind of good that made a statement and she stood in the doorway of the house in a coat I had not seen before and looked at me the way she had been looking at me since the hotel room on Crane Street, part wariness and part something that was trying to be normal and was getting closer every time.“Come in,” I said.She came in.Noah took one look at her from the top of the stairs and said who is that and I said this is Elena and he said oh and went back to whatever he was doing which was the most Noah response available.Zoe came down the stairs carefully the way she always did, one step at a time, holding the rail, and stood at the bottom and looked at Elena with the full assessment of a three year old who had decided this was worth her attention.“I like your coat,” Zoe said.Elena looked down at her.“Thank you,” she said. “I like yours.”
Anastasia’s POV:It started over something small.It always did.Lucas had a dinner. A client dinner, the kind that ran long because the client was important and the deal was significant and nobody at the table was going to be the person who looked at their watch first. He had told me about it on Monday. I had put it in my calendar. I had arranged for Mrs. Hartley to stay late.What I had not done was remember that Monday was also the night I told Simone I would come to her gallery opening for a piece Isla had in a new show and that I had promised weeks ago and had not written down because I was certain I would remember.I did not remember.I remembered at six fifteen on Wednesday when Simone texted.“See you at seven.”I stared at my phone in the kitchen while Noah was eating and Zoe was telling me something about her day that I was not fully absorbing and the particular feeling of having done this specific thing before settled over me like weather.I called Mrs. Hartley.She could n
Anastasia’s POV:Gerard Fontaine was already at the restaurant when we arrived.He was at a corner table, which I noted because corner tables were chosen by people who liked to see the room and control how they were approached, and he stood when he saw us which I also noted because it was the same thing Lucas did and Lucas had never met him until the airfield and yet there it was, the same instinct, the same gesture, inherited across thirty years of not knowing each other.Lucas saw it too.I felt him register it beside me.We sat down and Gerard ordered water for the table without asking and I watched Lucas watch him do it and I watched Lucas understand something in real time that he had not fully understood until this moment, that the things he had always thought were simply himself were partly something else, something older, and that something else was sitting across from him in a grey jacket ordering still water.“Thank you for coming,” Gerard said.“Thank you for the photograph,
Anastasia’s POV:The client changed the brief three times in one meeting.I sat across from a woman named Sandra Ellison who had very strong opinions about her own taste and very little understanding of what that taste actually was and I smiled and took notes and redesigned the entire concept in my head while she talked and by the time she finished, I had something better than what she had asked for.That was the job.“So you understand what I’m looking for?” Sandra said.“Completely,” I said.Rosa was beside me taking notes with the focused efficiency of someone who had learned to translate client feeling into actual specification and she caught my eye briefly across the table and I saw her register that I had a plan and she relaxed slightly.We shook hands and left and in the elevator Rosa turned to me.“She changed the brief again,” she said.“She does not know what she wants,” I said. “She knows what she feels. Those are different problems and I know how to solve the second one.”
Lucas’s POV:Noah could not find his shoe.This was not unusual. Noah lost things with a consistency that suggested it was less accident and more philosophy. Shoes. Crayons. The toy he needed at the exact moment he needed it. His jacket on cold mornings. His appetite at dinner and then suddenly at nine at night when we were trying to get him to sleep.I had been looking for the shoe for seven minutes.It was a Tuesday morning and Anastasia had a site visit at eight and I had a board call at eight thirty and Noah had to be at school at eight fifteen and somewhere in this house was a single blue sneaker that had apparently decided to make things interesting.“Where did you have it last?” I said.“On my foot,” Noah said.I looked at him.He looked back with the expression that Anastasia called the I’m being very reasonable face and that I recognized as the expression I apparently made in boardrooms.“Before that,” I said.“I don’t know,” he said.Zoe appeared in the doorway of the living
Anastasia’s POV:The restaurant Dean had chosen had white tablecloths and a sommelier who introduced himself and Simone looked at me across the table with an expression that said she was enjoying this very much.There were eight of us.Me and Lucas. Simone and Dean. Marcus, who had come alone and was handling it well. Adrian, who had become a quiet fixture in our lives over the past two years in the way that people did when they had been through something significant with you and simply never fully left. Isla, Dean’s sister, who had driven up from wherever she was currently living and arrived twenty minutes late with paint on her jacket and an unapologetic explanation about a piece she had been finishing. And Patricia, who Simone had insisted on inviting because she said Patricia needed to learn that dinner existed outside of federal buildings.Patricia had worn a dress.It looked like it had surprised her to put it on and she had not fully recovered.Lucas was in the navy jacket.I h







