Fifteen minutes after seven Alissa still hadn’t shown up. Judy was never late—it was against her constitution. We both considered lateness a form of elitism, a sign one valued one’s own time more than others’. In this case, though, I knew it was just how Alissa was. She had been late her entire life. She always would be.

Sure enough, five minutes later, she emerged from the hotel and crossed the street, waving. She was wearing a new batch of clothes, equally festive as those the day before, and I was pleased to see she had taken the time to make up her face for me, with a little lipstick and a trace of rouge.

“Howdy,” she said, touching my shoulder. Her flowery scent wafted in her wake.

“Howdy,” I said, folding the sports section.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “God. What’s there to drink?”

“Tough day?” I said.

“Deadlines,” she said. “It’s like I can never get everything done. There’s always more.”

“What’s the assignment again?”

“It’s so boring. I can’t even tell you.”

“Come on,” I said. “I’m curious.”

She gauged my interest with a look and decided it was genuine, or at least genuine enough. “It’s a thing about furniture stores,” she said. “It’s a holiday guide. For the holidays.”

“Actually, that does sound pretty boring,” I said.

She laughed. “I told you. What about you? What did you do today?”

“Not much. Read.”

“I saw you on the beach.”

“Yeah, I took a walk,” I said.

“I could see you from my window. It looked like you were building something.”

“Ah. You were spying on me.”

“I was spying, it’s true.”

“I was making a pile of rocks.”

“Uh huh?”

“For Judy,” I explained. “It’s been three months. Almost to the day.”

“Oh. That’s good. That’s a good thing to do.”

I took a sip of wine. I knew I should stop talking before I said too much. I might end up going too far, revealing intimate details. The events of the night before might not have counted as infidelity, but talking about our old secrets would. We had waited too long, Alissa and I. We had grown parts we would never share. Plus, I was feeling protective of Judy for some reason.

“Anyway,” I said.

“Anyway,” she said.

“So you finished your work though?”

“We’ll see. Depends what Albert says.”

“Is he pretty tough?”

“He’s all right. I’m just never sure what he wants. You know? I can’t seem to get it right.”

“I see.”

“I need a new job is what I need.”

“Oh.”

“I try and be a little creative, you know, and he’s always like, no way.”

“What would you want to do?”

“I don’t know. That’s the problem.”

“I guess that makes it harder, doesn’t it?”