A well-dressed man approaches and introduces himself as the sommelier. The wine list, a leather-bound volume, has been sitting open in front of Richard since we arrived.

“We’re going to have a bottle of the 2014 Cakebread,” Richard announces without consulting anyone else at the table.

“Excellent choice,” the sommelier says, which seems to please Richard.

As the sommelier turns to walk away, Richard calls out to him. “You know something? I’m going to start with a Johnnie Walker Blue.”

A waiter appears a minute later with the scotch. Richard is already halfway through his drink when the sommelier returns, a bottle of wine in hand. He pours a taste for Richard, who swirls it in his glass before taking a sip.

“Excellent,” he declares.

“The waiter will be over in a moment to take your orders,” the sommelier says.

“My friend,” Richard says, “when the waiter comes back, make sure he’s carrying another glass of the Blue.”

Lauren looks at Richard, murder clearly on her mind. He is either oblivious to his wife’s disdain or ignores it. His smile remains fixed, causing her abruptly to break eye contact with her husband. Turning to me, she says, “How’s the singing going?”

I’m hesitant when people ask about my new career. I tend to expect a bit of snark, but there’s none of that in Lauren’s question. She’s sincere in her interest, and I know she only wants me to be happy.

“Good. Slow . . . but good. At least I’m getting paid, so that’s a step in the right direction. Plus I’m doing a fair amount of songwriting, and that’s both rewarding and therapeutic.”

“That’s great. So, when can I―do you say to singers ‘see you’ or ‘hear you’?”

“Either applies, and maybe soon. I finally broke down and allowed Gabriel to come. And you’re the next person on that list.”

“She was truly amazing,” Gabriel says.

I feel myself blushing at his compliment. I decide to change the subject before Gabriel starts providing details about my life as Cassidy. Other than Gabriel and my shrink, no one knows that I perform under an alias. Even though Lauren will likely be the next person I let in on that secret, I’m not ready to do so just yet.

“Enough about me,” I say. “Tell me about the office.”

She considers the question for a moment and then says, “Here’s something. I got a notice the other day that Donald Chesterman was just released. Remember him?”

“Jesus,” I say. “That’s a name I never wanted to hear again.”