He cleared his throat again. “Amelia said you have a son.” He smiled at me, like he wanted to make sure I knew he was pleased.

“Yes. Jasper.” I pulled out my phone and looked up the picture of Jasper on the beach, playing in the ocean with a surfboard. I showed it to Ian. The photo was one of my best creations. “He’s in California with his dad.”

He smiled. “Beautiful picture. Is your ex-husband a photographer too?”

“No.” I tried to laugh. “Not professional, anyway. Jasper’s started surfing. Isn’t that crazy? He’s only five.”

“Adorable,” he said.

I put the phone away, and Ian paid for dinner.

Afterward, I wanted to walk a fine line in how I parted with him. Friends for now, but give him hope for the future.

We made our way to the coat check at the front of the restaurant, squeezing between tables and past waiters. “Listen, Ian,” I said, while we were waiting in line, “if you want me to photograph your mother’s apartment before she puts it on the market, I’d do it for free.” He clearly wanted to say yes but was too polite to show it.

He looked down. “I don’t want to take advantage of your time.”

I handed my tag to the scrawny coat-check woman behind the counter. “I could add your mom’s apartment to my portfolio.”

“I don’t want to impose.” He blushed but appeared pleased by the offer.

“When would be a good time?”

He paused. “Actually, she was going to put it on the market on Monday, but—”

“So, how about tomorrow morning?” I had a job the following day, but since it wasn’t a party, I was pretty certain I could push it back a couple of hours. I might not have another opportunity to ingratiate myself with Ian.

“It’s really kind of you.” Ian helped me with my heavy down coat. And then his own. Outside on the sidewalk, he leaned in toward me to say goodbye, but I shifted my weight and turned, as though I wasn’t aware of his intention.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” I said.

He smiled, and I noticed dimples in his cheeks. “Thank you, Delta.”

Ian’s mother’s apartment had large windows and good light. I used my wide-angle lens. In the darker rooms, such as the master bedroom, which looked out on a brick wall, I compensated with Elinchrom strobes. In the living room, I ruthlessly cleared out all personal belongings if they didn’t materially contribute to the beauty of the image—removing 90 percent of the vases, trays, boxes, plates, baskets, and other knickknacks from the frame. Clutter inhibits lines and light. Years ago I’d learned not to ask permission in situations like this. As long as I was doing a “favor,” I intended to produce photos that would sell the apartment.