I turned on the television, then crossed to the kitchen for a glass of wine. One of my clients had recently given me a brass-and-marble wine opener as a thank-you gift. My clients often give me high-end gifts that are not in keeping with my lifestyle. (I had little storage in my apartment, and no space for luxury items.) I had stopped drinking about a year earlier, but recently, because of the exquisite wine opener, I’d started drinking again. Just a glass or two once in a while.

I opened a new bottle of malbec. The weight of the wine opener in my hand gave me immense pleasure. I looked around the apartment for an appropriate display area for an in-home bar. The lowest shelf of the bookcase, which was also the top of the built-in cabinets, would most closely approximate counter height and was the only one that had clearance for a bar display. A second idea: I could use the peninsula of my kitchen counter for the bar. Finally I landed on the most sensible answer. In my office (the smaller section of my L-shaped living room), I’d been using a rattan table with a glass top for odds and ends. In its present capacity, it was underutilized, so I moved it to the living area relatively near the entry, so you would appreciate it when you walked through the door.

Other bar-related presents from clients included: an ice ball press kit, a handblown tortoise ice bucket with gold tongs, a brass squirrel bottle opener (you use the squirrel’s tail to open the bottle). I arranged the ice bucket, the tongs, and the bottle opener next to the wine opener on the rattan table (along with my set of six wineglasses and six double old-fashioned glasses). I’d never returned any of the gift items, because I believed that one day I would have parties and entertain. One day I’d be the host, not the guest. One day, friends would linger at my home until the wee hours of the morning, having meaningful conversations. The presents would all contribute to those future gatherings.

I craved a clearly defined role. I wanted to know where to place my body, where to step, where to sit down, where to lie down. I didn’t have many personal connections. The ones I had were soft with no teeth.

After changing into my most comfortable lounge outfit, silky pants and a satin camisole, I poured a glass of wine and brought it with me to the office, which was furnished with an IKEA desk and chair. On my monitor, I saw an open folder with thumbnails displayed, including the ones of Jasper and Robert that I’d shown Amelia and Fritz earlier that evening.