She wasn’t surprised to see Aaron Berlin at the Club Room after work, but she was surprised that he wasn’t alone. He was sitting at a booth with Roger Johnson, the outgoing special agent in charge. Roger spotted her entering the bar and asked her to join them.
“I’m going to have dinner with Anthony at the bar, but thanks, anyway.”
Anthony, the bartender, had a glass of Pinot Noir already poured and waiting for her when she slid onto the padded leather stool. She wondered briefly if it looked bad that she’d shunned her colleagues in favor of eating alone at the bar, then shrugged it off. Johnson was moving to the Schenectady office, and Berlin, well, fuck him.
She drank her wine slowly, doing the Times crossword, Anthony helping her out when he wasn’t busy. She asked for a second glass plus a half order of penne with puttanesca sauce and a garden salad on the side. When she’d finished the crossword, only unsure about one of the answers, she slid the folded newspaper back into her purse, paid the bill, and prepared to leave.
“Two Belvederes please, Anthony. On the rocks.” Aaron deposited himself onto the stool next to her.
“Uh, no thanks, Aaron. I was about to go home.” Jessica looked over Aaron’s shoulder and saw Roger making his way to the exit.
“One drink, Jess. Please.”
She agreed, and, surprisingly, he asked her several questions about her recent life before starting in on his favorite topic: their affair and why it had ended.
“You’re married,” she said.
“Sort of. Not really. My wife has affairs. I know she does.”
“That’s not really the point.”
“Then what’s the point?”
“Honestly, I don’t even know if I want to be in a relationship, but if I did want to be in one, it would be with someone closer to my age, someone unattached, someone without kids, someone I don’t work with, someone who isn’t a narcissist …”
“I already don’t trust this guy.”
Jessica smiled, even though his attempt at humor was the type of thing she had grown to dislike about him. When they’d first gotten involved, there had been a real intensity between them. Aaron was a little bit of a jerk—she’d always known that—but he took his job seriously, he had empathy, and there had been a week early on when she thought they might be falling in love. She sipped at her vodka with slightly numb lips and knew she’d made a mistake by agreeing to one more drink. She decided to change the subject. “You really didn’t think there was anything strange about that list I got in the mail?”
Aaron was signaling Anthony with just his eyes, trying to get two more drinks. “What? That list of names? That bothered you?”
“It didn’t bother me. I was just interested. It was unusual.”
“I guess so. If you want, I’ll get Rick to cross-reference them in the database. Maybe there is a connection. Maybe you all won three free days at a timeshare in Fort Myers.”
“Maybe you’re right. Just some glitch in some mass mailing system.”
Two more vodkas arrived, and Jessica eyed the glass, knowing that the difference between drinking it and not drinking it was the difference between a full night’s sleep and Aaron winding up in her bed tonight.
She slid off the stool and began to put on her coat. “Sorry, Aaron. I need an early night.”
He pursed his lips, but said, “Okay. Lunch soon?”
“Sure.”
Anthony glanced over at Jessica, and she thought she saw a little bit of approval in his eyes. Although he’d never said it out loud, Anthony was not a huge fan of Aaron. “You leaving so soon?” the bartender asked, a crooked smile on his face.
“I am, Anthony. Thanks again, and tell Maria that I loved the penne.”
Anthony was reaching for the extra vodka on the bar when Aaron stopped him. “That’s okay, T, we’ll keep it.” He poured her drink into his as Jessica knotted her scarf around her neck. She turned and left before she changed her mind. She really did need an early night.
5
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 2:00 P.M.
Thursdays were Caroline Geddes’s office hours, two hours that she had begun to rely on as quiet writing time, due to the low number of students who stopped by to see her. That Thursday there was only one, Elaine Cheong, who dropped by unannounced, while two students who had previously arranged meetings didn’t show up. Caroline had taught long enough—a dozen years now—to see how email had transformed the student-teacher relationship. Today’s students went out of their way to do everything via email, or via the wiki she’d set up for some of her larger courses. They sent their late papers, their excuses, and even their grade-grubbing compliments, all via email. One of her male students from last year might even have sent a sexual proposition to her, although, despite twenty years spent parsing text, she still wasn’t sure what he’d meant by “Wish you were my teacher aide, know what I mean? jk.” It took her half a day to realize that jk stood for “just kidding.”