Roberta hadn’t made our usual train, so as the doors closed, I took my bag off the seat I’d been saving for her and took out a magazine to read. I looked for her again as I changed trains at Newark just in case she’d been riding in a different car, but no sign. Well, if she hadn’t made the 5:55, she’d get the 6:04; but that was a local, so her trip would be a little longer. I had a 15-minute wait in front of me, so when I reached our station, I crossed to the outbound parking lot to wait in the car. I turned on the radio, listened to some Brahms. and then Prokofiev, and then a little Haydn ... Shit! Seven o’clock, already! Well, she’d probably caught the 6:47, another express, and I’d have another 20 minutes or so to wait. The lot had already started emptying, so I drove over to the inbound lot and found a parking spot where I could see the station exit.

Sure enough, she got off the next train, slumping out the station exit, more than a little drained. Before she could even glance around for me, I was on my way, pulling to the curb a few seconds later. Usually, I’d just lean over and open the door for her, but this time I got out, ran around, and took her briefcase, opened the door for her, and settled her in. She looked so tired I was about to reach in and do her belt, but she smiled warmly and did it herself, so I just leaned in and kissed her. Then I walked around to my side, tossed the briefcase into the back seat, got in, put the car in gear, and started rolling.

“Tonight, dinner will start with ‘S’ and end with ‘I’,” I announced. “So: you want spaghetti or sushi?”

“Cool! I thought we were doing take-out Chinese tonight.”

“You look like going dining out and a glass of wine would do you good tonight, and the nearest Chinese with a liquor license is a few miles off. Nagoya and Ferraro’s are right here.”

“Nagoya. And I hope they aren’t out of uni. Tonight, I could use a double dose.

“And thank you for turning me on to it. I still remember you taking this weird-looking mess off your plate the second time you took me out to dinner, and putting it on mine, and I’m looking at it and I asked what it tastes like and you said, ‘Like low tide, only delicious.’ Right on both counts. it’s gotten to the point where if we go to the beach and the tide’s out, I start salivating.”

She chuckled. a good sign. we pulled into Nagoya’s lot, found a good space near the door, worriedly sniffed the rain-laden air, and got inside just as the first few fat drops began falling.

“Sake,” I told the waiter, gesturing to show I wanted the larger flagon. When he came back, we asked about the evening’s specials, then ordered: gyoza, seaweed salad, miso soup, and sushi a la carte. She wanted a double order of the uni, four pieces, but when the order came there were just three.

“Sorry,” the waiter said, “We just ran out. We’re only charging for one order and the extra piece is free.”

“So,” she said when he left us, “you’re not going to ask me how my day went?”

“Didn’t have to. “You’re late and you’re sagging--Well you were sagging when you got off the train. And I knew you’d tell me once you got some energy back.”

“Bad client meeting. Good client, actually, but bad meeting.”

“?”

“We have a new client contact at Plus-Fi. George is stepping back a little. And I guess he thought, for something as minor as PR, he could let his son handle it. Trouble is, his son has a brand-new MBA that he wears like a sash of honor. He knows all the latest ideas—or at least the buzzwords. He learned it all in school. And I’m a woman, With only a master’s in communications and. 10 years’ experience. So what would I know? And if I’m a woman, what would I know about audio?”

“And you built your first hi-fi system from kits how long ago? When we were both in high school?”

“Yeah, pity I didn’t know you back then. I’d have just wiggled my ass at you and you’d have built them for me.”

“Nope. I wasn’t so young that big tits were important to me, but still young enough to think they were, and yours were lovely but just normal size. And besides, you were into bad boys then.”

“Did it take a while for us to become each other’s type, or did it just take a while for us to learn we were?”

I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. We hadn’t even met yet.

“So: What else happened at the meeting?”

“Junior wanted to aim Plus-Fi’s PR at the youth market. B-schools talk a lot about the importance of that segment. And they do buy a lot of hi-fi gear. But except for rich little shits like him, they don’t buy Plus-Fi; can’t afford it. Real rich ones don’t buy it either, because why buy a $750 amp when you can get one for, $5000--or $25,000? Plus-Fi just gives you good sound and good value -- no bragging rights.

“Trouble is, getting ideas into Junior’s head is like trying to drive nails into concrete. Without the concrete noticing. I think he heard everything I said, Could probably repeat it verbatim., maybe even summarize it intelligently. But I don’t think anything really got absorbed.

“Still, in the areas where he doesn’t have his blinders on. he’s pretty sharp. Still kind of green. But that cures itself. And I’m sure some of the stuff he learned in Business School is good stuff that I don’t know yet.”