He heads to a place he and Woj sometimes went called Roofers Union in Adams Morgan, and he finds it pumping—there are people his age drinking and laughing at the tables on the street and there’s a line of young, beautiful people snaking out the door. He waits his turn, presents his ID to the bouncer, and heads inside. He goes to the upstairs bar; it’s normally a little less crazy than the one downstairs.

There are three free seats at the far end and beyond those sits a girl with dark hair and glasses, absorbed in her phone. She has a glass of wine in front of her. Is she alone? Link gives her a couple seats as a buffer, orders a Stoli tonic with a twist of lemon, and after his drink arrives and he’s had a sip, he glances over. At the same time, she looks up at him.

He knows her. It’s…

“Oh my God,” she says. “You’re…”

“Yeah!” he says. “Wait, this is weird. I was just thinking about you.” It’s Bess McCloud. This is surreal—although Link has just learned that this phenomenon has a name, where you think about someone and then, out of the blue, they appear.

“My dad went to Nantucket with your uncle and your dad,” Bess said. “He just texted to say he landed.”

“That’s crazy,” Link says. He drinks in the sight of Bess McCloud; she’s just as pretty as he remembers. Nerdy-pretty, with glasses and hair that hangs in her face a little.

“Are you…waiting for someone?” Link asks.

Bess rolls her eyes. “I’m supposed to be on a Bumble date, but the guy is stuck on the Metro.” She holds up her phone. “It says he’s sixteen minutes away.”

Link slides down the bar next to her. “I can hang with you for sixteen minutes,” he says. “Then when your boyfriend gets here, I’ll leave quietly.”

Bess laughs. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she says. “I don’t even know him. He’s a lobbyist for the alcohol industry.”

“A lobbyist?” Link says. “Legal bribery.”

“Exactly,” Bess sighs. “I normally stay away, but…”

But the dude is probably good-looking and rolling in cash, Link thinks. “Looks like I have sixteen minutes to try and lure you away from the dark side,” he says. “I’m working for Brookings. Domestic policy. I analyze the impact of policy decisions on the least served among us and suggest ways to make them more effective.”

“I work in nonprofits,” Bess says.

“Sexy!” Link says.

“Yeah, as sexy as being a producer for public television,” Bess says.

“Hey, do you still have that shell?” Link asks. “That quahog shell that you found on the beach on Nantucket?”

Bess sips her wine and nods. “It’s on my dresser, actually.”

“No…seriously?”

“Swear to God.”

“And did you…?”

“Did I what?”