“My mother only eats breakfast and dinner. She finds lunch ‘pedestrian,’” he said with a smile. “Give me a moment, I’ll grab us a table.”

Before Anna could tell Vronsky she’d be fine at the bar, and might even prefer it, he was gone, appearing again moments later with the maître d’ by his side, a short man in a brown suit with a comically large mustache. Anna gamely followed him out of the bar through the first-floor dining room, past the maître d’s podium, and up a wooden staircase. Once on the second floor they crossed through a larger dining room and headed up a short flight of stairs that ended in a small hallway near the restrooms. Eventually the maître d’ gestured Anna through an open doorway, and they were in a small private dining room with only four tables, none of which were currently occupied. Anna turned around in confusion to face Vronsky, but before she could ask what was happening the maître d’, whose lapel pin read REMI, spoke, his voice low and booming. “Welcome to our Lillie Langtry room, named after our very first female customer in 1905. Ms. Langtry sued to gain access because she was tired of hearing about our famous mutton chops and wanted to try one for herself.”

Anna laughed in surprise and sat down in the chair at a four-top table that he’d pulled out for her. Vronsky sat in the chair across from her, as the mustached man cleared off the other two table settings. He handed them each a large menu and informed them their waiter would be in shortly. Before leaving the room, he stopped, turned back as if to tell them something he had forgotten to say, and declared: “If I had a girlfriend as beautiful as you, I’d want to keep you all to myself, too. Happy Valentine’s Day.” He exited with a wave.

Anna stared at Vronsky, her mouth open in surprise, but received only a shrug in response from him. “I only paid extra for the private room, not the compliment. That was all him. Though he does make a good point.”

Ann looked around the quaint room in silence. She really didn’t know what to say. She was flattered by all the fuss, but this was followed by a nagging worry that being hidden away seemed to imply they were doing something wrong.

“You’re uncomfortable. I’m sorry. I know the main dining room gets loud, and I wanted us to have a chance to talk without shouting. This place has several private rooms; the one I thought we’d be in is much larger and I’ve eaten there a lot of times with my brother and his friends. I didn’t even know about this room,” he said, standing. “I’ll go ask for another table.”