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departing, the nearby station. Janet recalled the awkward exchange with the locksmith who arrived just minutes after Cindy had left, as he changed the locks, and then presented her with a new set of keys. She frantically packed Cindy’s suitcase and left it outside the front door before catching a cab to Grand Central.
    Pascal walked behind the bar, “your table will be ready in a moment.” Janet smiled, “make it for two Pascal,” with a nod to Mark, “he’ll be joining me.” Pascal shrugged, “not a problem,” with a slight indulgent smile. Mark cleared his throat, “Can we get another round while we’re waiting,” then added a belated, “please.” “Of course…” Pascal nodded, “another glass of Muscadet,” then turned to Mark, “and a?” He pushed the highball glass with a half-inch of melting ice, “Dewars and soda,” across the bar. “Certainly.” Mark turned to Janet and asked, “So why the need for a change of scenery?” “Spring is in the air,” Janet watched the clear white wine being poured, “and I’ve got a sentimental attachment to this town.” There was the sound of dinner plates being stacked as the kitchen door swung open and then closed behind the young waiter who quickly walked past them. “But you didn’t grow up around here?” Janet shook her head, “no I didn’t,” as the blonde woman in the dining room laughed. Mark interjected a smile into his observation, “I didn’t think so.” Janet added, “and neither did Pascal,” as he placed the drink on the coaster in front of Mark with a curt nod and then attended to the couple seated in the dining room. Warmth flooded her thighs, “although sometimes,” as she claimed, “I wish I had.” Mark tasted his drink before asking, “What’s that?” “Grown up here… where are you from?” “Long Island.” “Perhaps you should open that hotel in Beacon.” Placing his glass on the coaster, “So you’ll have another place to stay the next time you need a change of scenery?” Françoise Hardy continued singing on the small speakers built into the ceiling above the bar as Janet claimed, “sometimes change can be a very good thing.”
    Janet stood beneath the awning in her beige raincoat as Mark drove up to the restaurant. She opened the door, “what a beautiful car,” and sat down. “Thank you.” The seatbelt slid across her chest as they pulled away from the curb. “Should we try and find a bar?” Janet leaned back, “I don’t want to get drunk,” already tipsy from the bottle of Échezeaux they had with dinner, “let’s go somewhere quiet where we can watch the river.” Gently stepping on the brake before the intersection, “In the car?” She nodded, “Is that okay?” He looked left and then right before taking his foot off the brake. The black BMW turned left, “there is an overlook in the park,” onto the two-lane street. Victorian houses with darkened windows and tree filled yards, white picket fences, “How would you know about that?” and telephone poles slipped past. He lowered the front windows about six inches, “that’s where I turned around… after I got the message that my client was driving his wife to the hospital,” and the spring air mingled with the leather interior. “I think you should give your secretary a raise.” The digital speedometer on the dashboard climbed as he responded, “I was going to drive back to Manhattan,” while thinking about the condoms in the glove compartment. “Well,” resting her hands, “I’m happy you decided to stop on your way back,” on the black purse in her lap. Gripping the steering wheel, “Do you want music?” “I don’t