“I’m afraid I don’t.”
“I see. If you would pardon me for a moment.” The woman pushed an extension button on her phone and waited for about five seconds, then spoke. “Mr. Oumi? A client named Mr. Tasaki is here to see you. Yes, that’s correct. Mr. Tasaki.”
He couldn’t hear what the other party was saying, just her short, clipped replies. Finally she said, “Yes, sir, I will let him know.”
She hung up the phone and looked at Tsukuru. “Mr. Tasaki, I’m afraid Mr. Oumi is busy at the moment and cannot get away. I’m very sorry, but could I ask you to wait? He said it shouldn’t take ten minutes.”
Her way of speaking was smooth and well trained, her use of Japanese honorifics flawless. She sounded truly apologetic at having to make him wait. Obviously she had been very well educated. Or maybe she was just naturally this kind of person?
“That’s fine. I’m in no hurry,” Tsukuru said.
She led him to a plush black leather sofa. Next to it was a huge decorative potted plant, and in the background an Ant?nio Carlos Jobim tune played. Glossy Lexus catalogs lay on top of the narrow glass coffee table.
“Would you care for coffee or tea? Or perhaps green tea?”
“A coffee would be nice,” Tsukuru said.
As he leafed through the catalog for the latest Lexus sedans, she brought over the coffee in a cream-colored cup imprinted with the Lexus logo. He thanked her. The coffee was delicious. It had a fresh aroma, and was the perfect temperature.
Tsukuru was glad he had decided to wear a suit and nice leather shoes. He had no idea what people coming to buy a Lexus normally wore, but they might not have taken him seriously if he’d been decked out in a polo shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Just before he left the house, he had suddenly changed his mind and put on a suit and tie.
He was kept waiting for fifteen minutes, during which time he learned the entire lineup of Lexus models. He discovered that Lexus didn’t give their different models names, like Corolla or Crown, but instead used numbers to distinguish models. Just like Mercedes-Benz and BMW. And Brahms symphonies.
A tall man finally appeared. He crossed the showroom in Tsukuru’s direction. He was broad-shouldered, and carried himself in a decisive manner, letting those around him know he was not about to waste any time getting from point A to point B. It was definitely Ao. Even seen from a distance, he looked nearly the same as he had in high school. He’d grown a little bigger, that was all, like a house with an addition when the family grows. Tsukuru placed the catalogs back on the tabletop and rose from the sofa.
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. My name’s Oumi.”
Ao stood in front of Tsukuru, giving a slight bow. The suit that encased his large frame was perfectly pressed, without a single wrinkle. A refined suit, a mix of blue and gray in a light fabric. Considering his size, it must have been made to order. A light gray shirt and dark gray necktie completed the outfit. Tsukuru recalled how Ao had looked in high school and found it surprising to now see him so impeccably dressed. Ao’s hair, though, was unchanged, a rugby player’s buzz cut. And he was, as before, quite tan.
Ao’s expression changed slightly when he looked at Tsukuru. A slight doubt glinted in his eyes, as if he’d seen something in Tsukuru’s face he remembered, but couldn’t quite recall what it was. He smiled, swallowing back what he was about to say, waiting for Tsukuru to speak.
“It’s been a while,” Tsukuru said.
As he heard Tsukuru’s voice, the layer of doubt that had veiled Ao’s face suddenly lifted. Tsukuru’s voice hadn’t changed at all.
“Tsukuru?” he said, narrowing his eyes.
Tsukuru nodded. “I’m sorry to barge in on you at work like this, but I figured that was the best way.”