He scans for a place to sit. Business is thriving and tables are limited, however, through a partition bookshelf wall, he spots two Spanish tourists leaving from a table in the corner. A perfect location with a direct view of Elaine. It is meant to be. He skirts around the partition, stands by the empty table and looks distastefully at the debris on top. A passing male server quickly clears away the mess, much to his relief.

He sits at the table and from his shoulder bag removes his Moleskine notebook and Maki-e Phoenix fountain pen, which he places neatly side by side. He then takes out his MacBook Air and iPhone. He is assimilating into his environment. Like a chameleon, he has blended into it and become one of them.

In his peripheral vision he sees Chau approach with his Americano. He looks up.

‘Excuse me for asking. I’m intrigued by your name. Is it . . .’

‘Vietnamese,’ she says, finishing his sentence.

He smiles at her.

‘I’ve always wanted to go.’

Chau offers a wan smile as she places the coffee gently on the table top.

‘Enjoy,’ she says.

‘Thank you. Please could you tell me the Wi-Fi password?’

‘Lumberyard Café. All one word.’

‘Thank you, Chau.’

As she leaves he opens a browser and searches through the Lumberyard Café Facebook page where he finds a photo of the staff bunched together in a smiling group pic. Chau is dead centre. He hovers his mouse over her face and reveals her tagged name. Chau Ho. He clicks on the name. Her Facebook page is open for all the world to see. Her history hooks him immediately. She is a ‘proud’ refugee from poverty and communism. This revelation has elevated her as a potential candidate. He watches her preparing coffee surrounded by puffs of steam and wonders why he has never considered using an Asian person for one of his collections before. He has no answer, but he feels she’ll bring an exoticness to his work. The thought both excites and pleases him. He opens the notebook and scratches New Collection at the top of the page with his pen. Below that he writes:

Chau Ho.

The time on his wristwatch says 8.15. Forty-five minutes to go.