The girl’s carefully made-up face betrayed no surprise. “That would be the Joya Coup de Foudre,” she said. “It’s two hundred and twenty-five dollars. A limited edition candle with notes of cassis, cedar leaf, suede, and smoke.”
Graham resisted the urge to make a joke about how all candles were sort of limited edition by nature, and all must smell of smoke, given that they were on fire. “That’s perfect,” he said. “Can you wrap one up for me?”
“Certainly,” the girl said, and then Graham waited forever while she wrapped the candle and put it carefully in a tiny carrier bag with tissue paper and even sprinkled some rose petals on top. He paid with his credit card and went back out on the street.
Graham decided he would walk home.
He knew that Elspeth’s check was still in the deposit box, that it wouldn’t be added to his account until tomorrow, and wouldn’t clear for at least two days after that. But it felt as though he’d purchased the candle with Elspeth’s money. It was extravagant, and it came from Barneys, and Audra would love it. These things were as deeply pleasing to Graham as the nap of velvet against his fingers, though he could not have explained exactly why.
—
It was late September now. On Wednesday evenings, like this one, Graham picked Matthew up from Clayton’s apartment. Wednesdays were half days at Matthew’s school, so Audra dropped Matthew off at noon, and Matthew and Clayton did origami together until Graham picked him up at seven. Matthew loved it and it was a break for Audra (and for Clayton’s wife, Graham suspected).
Graham pushed the buzzer and heard footsteps, and Clayton answered. “Come in, we’re just finishing up.”
Graham followed Clayton down the hall, past many framed origami creations, to the dining room, where Matthew was still folding.
“Hey, buddy,” Graham said. “Time to go.”
Matthew frowned. “We’re working on the Tadashi Phoenix.”
They had been working on the phoenix now for several weeks. Pieces of paper lay all over the table in various states of complicated folds. Graham couldn’t tell which were parts of the phoenix and which were unsuccessful attempts that had been crumpled up and discarded.
“I know,” Graham said. “But we have to go. Get your backpack and stuff, okay?”
Matthew moved away reluctantly and Graham was left to talk to Clayton. “This is very impressive, very detailed,” Graham said, gesturing to the phoenix parts on the table. It was a kind of all-purpose origami remark, but it usually worked.
“Thank you.” Clayton beamed. “This particular phoenix is very difficult, as you may be aware. We’re working from crease patterns.”
Audra was right. They couldn’t let Matthew grow up to be like this guy. If he was going to spend his Wednesdays here, maybe they should insist Matthew take alligator wrestling on Thursdays, or else apprentice him into some seedy, messy occupation, like emergency plumbing.
Matthew showed up with his backpack and they said goodbye to Clayton and went out on the street.
“Are we going to get a hot dog?” Matthew said worriedly. Graham had bought Matthew a hot dog from a street vendor on the way home from the first lesson, and with Matthew, anything done once became a routine that had to be followed forever.
“Sure,” Graham said, and Matthew relaxed.
They walked toward Tompkins Square Park in companionable silence. Graham thought, as he did every Wednesday, that if they walked around the south side of the park, they would pass a gourmet shop that Elspeth had taken him and Audra to weeks earlier, when they were still double-dating. They had gone there one Sunday. Audra and Bentrup had stayed at the front of the store, sampling about a dozen kinds of lavender honey and calling to each other, “Try this one!” “No, this one!” “Wait, here, here—it’s like paradise on a breadstick!”
But Elspeth had taken Graham over to the mushroom bins and shown him the shiitakes and the oysters and the portobellos and even rarer ones like hen of the woods and blue foot.
“They have the most beautiful chanterelles in the autumn,” Elspeth had said, her voice almost dreamy. “I sauté them in butter with cream and veal and a tiny bit of tarragon. I’ll have to make it for you.”
She had looked at him and her eyes were perfectly blue, so clear that he felt like he could see all the way to the back of them. She could have been fifty, or twenty, or no age at all.
Graham and Matthew had reached the edge of the park.
“There’s a hot dog guy,” Matthew said happily.
Graham gave him some money and let him run ahead. The hot dog would be Matthew’s dinner but Graham didn’t know yet what he and Audra would have.
He thought about the chanterelles, which would be in season now. He would like to make the dish that Elspeth had described. He could imagine it, how the ridges of the chanterelles would hold drops of tarragon-flavored cream like dozens of gently cupped hands. He thought about it, about how simple it would be to walk home on the south side of the park with Matthew and stop at the gourmet shop. But he didn’t think he would. He never went there now.
Chapter Three
It was the night before the origami convention. Audra said that they could still change their minds and get their deposit back. Graham was pretty sure they couldn’t get their deposit back, but he knew if he pointed that out, she would say she didn’t care. She said whether they went or not all depended on how much they loved Matthew.
“That’s easy, then,” Graham said. “Because we love Matthew more than anything in the world.” They were in the kitchen, speaking softly so Matthew wouldn’t hear.
“Exactly!” Audra said. “And I still don’t know if I can bear to go to a whole weekend of origami lectures in Connecticut.”
It was kind of startling, Graham thought, how true that was.
“Well,” he said slowly, “there are two of us, so one of us can go to the classes with Matthew and the other one can relax. We’ll take turns. Maybe it won’t be so bad.”
“There’s a dinner dance,” Audra said.
“Dear God,” Graham said.
“I know!” she said. “I think maybe it’s some sort of divine punishment for how superior I felt last summer when the Bergmans had to take their little girls to that American Girl Doll Museum in Chicago.”
“The Bergmans survived,” Graham said. “And so will we.”
“I guess,” Audra said gloomily. Then she brightened a little. “Maybe we’ll meet Matthew’s future wife there. Some nice Japanese girl who likes origami and who doesn’t mind that Matthew is quiet and wears sweatpants all the time and has an extensive Pokémon collection.”
It was awful to hear Matthew summed up that way, and yet Graham knew exactly what she meant.
—