He noticed William's
impeccable manicure as they shook hands. Matthew's own
fingernails were chewed and dry, and he could not remember the
last time he had had a manicure himself. He was beginning to feel
as if he were underdressed, as if he had underestimated the
importance of this date. Gripping the binder with both hands, he
grasped all at once that it was not his costume that should match
William's incomparability; it was the binder's contents: Wallaby.
This was not just his life in his hands, it was his love. And it
was perfect.
William's secretary returned with a tray of coffee, tea, and
pastries. She placed the tray on the table, and Matthew asked her
for a glass water.
"What's the matter? No more city fuel?" William said as he poured
himself a cup of steaming coffee.
"Haven't touched the stuff in over two years."
"Next thing you'll tell me is that you're into flotation tanks
and sushi."
"The sushi part, yes," Matthew said with a light laugh.
"How's Greta?" William asked, sipping his coffee.
"Oh, she's fine, thank you." Matthew accepted the glass of water
and finished half of it in one drink.
"And how does she like California living?"
"She likes it. She keeps quite busy."
"Sounds nice."
"Yes," Matthew said, setting the glass down. He placed his
briefcase on the table. With the mention of his wife, he thought
for an instant of what he had hidden inside his briefcase.
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