As the tale unfolded, Maggie was transfixed by the dancers’ grace and beauty, their soaring, delicate movements animating the dreamlike notes of Tchaikovsky’s score. Occasionally Maggie peeked over at Mark, noting his rapt attention. He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from the stage, reminding her that he was a midwestern boy who’d probably never seen anything like it.
When the ballet was over, they joined the festive crowds as they poured onto Broadway. She was grateful that the Atlantic Grill was just across the street. Feeling cold and wobbly—maybe because of the pills, or because she’d eaten almost nothing all day—she looped her arm through Mark’s as they approached the crosswalk. He slowed his pace, allowing her to use him for support.
It wasn’t until they were seated at their table that she began to feel a bit better.
“Are you sure you’d rather not just call it a night?”
“I’ll be okay,” she said, not altogether convinced herself. “And I really need to eat.” When he didn’t seem reassured, she went on. “I’m your boss. Think of this as a business dinner.”
“It’s not a business dinner.”
“Personal business,” she said. “I thought you wanted to hear more about my time in Ocracoke.”
“I do,” he said. “But only if you feel up to it.”
“I really do have to eat. I’m not kidding about that.”
Reluctantly, he nodded just as the waitress arrived and handed them the menus. Surprising herself, Maggie decided she would like a glass of wine, settling on a French burgundy. Mark ordered an iced tea.
As the waitress walked away, Mark took in the restaurant. “Have you ever been here before?”
“On a date, maybe five years ago? I couldn’t believe they had a spot for us tonight, but I guess someone must have canceled.”
“What was he like? The guy who brought you here?”
She tilted her head, trying to remember. “Tall, great salt-and-pepper hair, worked for Accenture as a management consultant. Divorced, a couple of kids, and very smart. He wandered into the gallery one day. We had coffee and then ended up going out a few times.”
“But it didn’t work out?”
“Sometimes the chemistry just isn’t there. With him, I figured it out when I went to Key Largo for a shoot and realized when I got back that I hadn’t missed him at all. That’s pretty much the story of my entire dating life, no matter who I dated.”
“I’m afraid to ask what that means.”
“In my twenties, when I first moved out here, I frequented the club scene for a few years…going out at midnight, staying out until almost dawn, even on weeknights. None of the guys I met there were the kind I could bring home to my family. Frankly, it probably wasn’t a good idea to bring them back to my place.”
“No?”
“Think…a lot of tattoos and dreams of being rappers or DJs. I definitely had a type back then.”
He made a face, which made her laugh. The waitress returned with her glass of wine and she reached for it with a confidence she didn’t quite feel. She took a small taste, waiting to see if her stomach rebelled, but it seemed okay. By then, they’d both decided on what they wanted—she ordered the Atlantic cod, he opted for the filet—and when the waitress asked if they wanted to start with appetizers or a salad, both of them declined.
When the waitress walked away, she leaned over the table. “You could have ordered more food,” she chided. “Just because I can’t eat much, you don’t have to follow my lead.”
“I had a couple of slices of pizza before you got to the gallery.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I didn’t want to run up the bill. Places like this are expensive.”
“Are you serious? That’s silly.”
“That’s what Abigail and I do.”
“You’re one of a kind, you know that?”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you…How did you start with travel photography?”
“Sheer persistence. And lunacy.”
“That’s all?”
She shrugged. “I also got lucky, since salaried gigs for magazines don’t really exist anymore. The first photographer I worked for in Seattle already had a reputation as a travel photographer because he’d worked a lot for National Geographic back in the day. He had a pretty good list of contacts with magazines, tour companies, and ad agencies, and he’d sometimes bring me along to assist him. After a couple years, I went a bit crazy and ended up moving here. I roomed with some flight attendants, got discount flights and took pics in whatever place I could afford to visit. I also found work with a cutting-edge photographer here. He was an early adopter of digital photography and was always investing whatever fees he earned in more gear and software, which meant I had to as well. I started my own website, with tips and reviews and Photoshop lessons, and one of the photo editors at Condé Nast stumbled across it. He hired me to shoot in Monaco, and that led to a second job and then another. Meanwhile, my old boss in Seattle retired and he pretty much offered me his client list as well as a recommendation, so I took over a lot of the work he’d been doing.”