I laugh. I like the sound of Richard calling Ben a bastard.
Tad returns with Richard's wine. So here we are, I think, having multiple glasses of wine at lunch as we discuss my divorce and his perpetual bachelorhood. And maybe he's thinking the same thing, because the floodgates open and we are firing off the personal questions too quickly to keep track of them.
At one point I say, 'So, I hear that you and Hannigan had me on your lists?'
'And I hear that I've topped yours for thirteen years.'
I say, 'That Michael is a gossipy little girl.'
'So it's true, then?'
My heart races as I tell him yeah, it's true.
'I'm honored,' he says.
'You should be,' I say.
He leans across the table and taps the base of my wineglass. 'And believe me, I am.'
I work hard at not averting my eyes before I lean back across the table and tap the base of his wineglass. 'So am I.'
We finish our lunch, talking and laughing. Then, at Tad's chipper suggestion, we agree that a cup of coffee sounds like a fine idea. When the check arrives, Richard gets it, saying he'll expense it.
'Since we talked so much shop?' I say.
'Righto,' Richard says.
I smile, feeling both relaxed and excited, the mark of a good date. Which this is shaping up to be. And although I don't recognize it until later that day, after Richard and I have strolled back to the office together and I've hunkered down to read a revised manuscript, it is the first time in a very long time that I am thinking about a man other than Ben.
thirteen
Over the next four workdays, Richard and I exchange about thirty e-mails a day. It's all disguised as friendly banter, but the sheer volume of traffic suggests otherwise.
At one point, when Michael comes into my office, he catches me laughing at the computer. He darts around my desk, and takes instant note of my in-box filled with Richard Margo's name. There are at least ten in a row.
'Busted,' he says.
'Whatever,' I say, but my goofy grin suggests that I am, indeed, busted.
'What the fuck's going on here?'
I minimize my in-box and work hard at ridding my face of the guilty smile I can still feel straining at the corners of my mouth.
'Are you schtupping my boss?'
'No,' I say with pretend indignation.
'Is it from him?' Michael demands.
I can't resist checking. It is. Which Michael sees over my shoulder.
'Holy shit. You're
'There's no schtupping going on,' I say.
'Now. Can I have some privacy, please?' I say.
When Michael leaves, shaking his head, I read the latest from Richard.
I type back, 'Yes.' Then backspace and type, 'Would love to' before clicking send.
I reread the entire exchange, beginning with another one of his weak attempts at a legitimate business purpose.
From: Richard Margo
Sent: July 27,9:30 a.m.
To: Claudia Parr
Subject: Timothy Lynde
Timothy Lynde just rang. He's interested in paying to take himself on the road for a book tour I think it's worth it. Any ideas on what markets might work best for him? Let me know what you think… By the way, did I tell you I had a nice time at lunch the other day? Thanks for joining me.
From: Claudia Parr
Sent: July 27,9:33 a.m.
To: Richard Margo
Subject: Re:Timothy Lynde
I'll think about cities and touch base with Tim. He's a Mormon so Salt Lake's probably a safe bet… As for lunch, yes, you mentioned that I had a lovely time, too.
From: Richard Margo
Sent: July 27, 9:38 a.m.
To: Claudia Parr
Subject: Mormons
A Mormon, huh? I went out with a Mormon once… It didn't go so well.
From: Claudia Parr
Sent: July 27,9:44 a.m.
To: Richard Margo
Subject: Re: Mormons
Did she try to convert you?
From: Richard Margo
Sent: July 27,9:50 a.m.
To: Claudia Parr
Subject: Re: Mormons
No, I slept with her and she was excommunicated… It wasn't good.
From: Claudia Parr
Sent: July 27,9:55 a.m.
To: Richard Margo
Subject: Re: Mormons
Shame on you. When did this happen?
From: Richard Margo
Sent: July 27, 9:58 A.M.
To: Claudia Parr
Subject: I'm old
