his last year in graduate school. The apartment was shabby and small, but it was all he could afford. Unaware of his surroundings, he let his eyes wander out the window, down to the parking lot three stories below. He couldn’t stop thinking about Sara. Not since he had first seen her that morning. About her eyes and the ivory color of her skin and how long and delicate her fingers were. About the way her hips had swayed as she crossed the café.
Rousing himself, he glanced at the clock next to his bed, then brought up the number Sara had keyed into the phone’s memory. It took a few seconds to find the courage to press the call button. Waiting through three long rings before she picked up, he almost lost his nerve. He hadn’t been sleeping well for the past week, and it had been an early morning. He felt dizzy, fatigued almost. He couldn’t find his voice when she answered.
“Hello?” Sara said a second time.
“Sara? It’s me, Nick.” He steadied himself. He didn’t want to blow his chance. “From the coffee shop. From the table in front of the fireplace.”
“I remember you, Nick. Even without the fireplace.”
Relieved to find her receptive, Nick felt himself relax. He had been picking absently at the leather bracelet on his right wrist, and he let it go and straightened up. “I was just wondering whether you still thought dinner would be a good idea.”
“I’m glad you called,” Sara said. “I was hoping you would. I’ve been thinking about you today, too.”
A wave of adrenaline passed through him without warning, upsetting his balance. He attributed it to his nerves. It took a couple beats to regain his composure.
“That’s a yes, Nick,” Sara said into the silence.
“I kind of figured that.”
There was a beep on the line, and Nick took the phone from his ear to look at its LCD display. Sam was trying to call through. Nick brought the phone back to his ear, ignoring the interruption. He would call him back.
“So what are you thinking for dinner? ” Sara was asking him.
“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure I can afford the dinner you expect.”
“What makes you think I expect something specific?” she asked, teasing.
“I don’t know.” Nick didn’t want to admit that he had spent the afternoon at the paper researching Sara and her family.
“Maybe I just want to spend a little time with you, Nick—wherever we end up. And maybe I’m thinking about more than just the dinner anyway.”
“You give her an inch and she takes a yard,” Nick said in response to the innuendo.
Sara laughed. “Touché.”
“I have something unusual in mind.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” Nick laughed, realizing that his attack of nerves had passed. “I’ve got this assignment.”
“From the paper?”
“What would you say about a trip on the ferry over to Bainbridge Island? I’m supposed to take photographs to complement this story the Telegraph is doing. If we go quickly enough, we could catch the five-thirty ferry, and maybe we’ll get lucky and I can get a dramatic shot or two of the crossing at sunset.”
“Will you pick me up?” Sara asked.
“Just tell me where you are, and I’ll be there.”
Nick forgot that Sam had tried to call him, and he was on his way down the concrete staircase to the parking lot when the phone rang again. “Hey, Sam,” he said, raising the cell phone to his ear without slowing his step. “What’s up?” His voice echoed hollowly in the stairwell.
“Nothing much,” Sam said. “You sound happy.”
“Do I?”
“Yeah. It sounds like you’re running. Where are you?”
“I’m at home. On my way out.”
“I thought maybe we could get together.”
“I can’t right now. Maybe tomorrow?”
“Just for a minute,” Sam insisted.
Nick had reached the ground floor, and he pushed the door open and stepped outside onto the small gravel lot where his old, rusty Corolla was parked. Huge cumulus clouds had gathered in the sky, hovering just beyond the Olympic Mountains. The afternoon was fading, and the clouds were darkening at their base, like cotton balls dipped in black ink. “I really can’t right now,” he said. “Sorry. I’m getting into my car. I’ve got to go.”
“I’m just around the corner,” Sam said. “Wait for me. There’s something I want to show you.” He hung up the phone before Nick could object.
Nick was standing, restive, at the side of his old Toyota when Sam pulled into the lot in a car Nick didn’t recognize. The tinted, smoky driver’s-side window slid down.
“So what do you think, bro’?”
Nick wasn’t sure what his brother was referring to.
“About the car,” Sam explained, smiling and lifting his Ray-Bans. “Didn’t you even notice?”
Nick took a step backward to take in the Arctic silver BMW. He could smell the scent of its rich new leather through the open window. He knew that Sam was doing well at Matrix Zarcon. He had started the company two years ago with an old friend of his, Blake Werner, and Nick knew that Sam was integral to the development of a new drug to treat schizophrenia. Sam was even talking of taking the company public if the drug was approved for testing by the FDA. If the company was being funded by someone like Jason Hamlin, as Daly had told him, Sam stood to make serious money. Still, Nick hadn’t appreciated that his brother had cash to spend on such an expensive car.
“Would you ever have imagined me in a ride like this back in Madison?” Sam asked, content with his brother’s reaction.
Nick shook his head. “It’s a beautiful car, Sam. Things must be going pretty well for you and Werner.”
A shadow briefly darkened his brother’s face. “Didn’t I tell you, bro’? Blake and I parted ways months ago.”
“What?” The news surprised Nick. Blake Werner and Sam had been friends for years, and as far as he knew, the company belonged just as much to Werner as Sam. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened.” Sam glossed over his unease with a smile and a shrug. “Blake didn’t have faith. He wanted to move on. Anyway, it’s his loss. Things keep getting better and better. With any luck, I’ll be parking this in front of my own house in another few months.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Why don’t you hop on in?” Sam suggested. “I’ll let you drive if you want. There’s actually a house for sale just north of
