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“I’m not your enemy,” I blurted.
Anya recoiled. “I never said you were.”
“You act like it.” I laughed. “Do you think I’m radioactive?”
“No.”
“I just... I can’t figure you out.”
“I agreed to meet you here, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, about as far away from New Burlington as you could get.”
She sank deeper into her seat and crossed her arms. “This is supposed to be one of the best wine bars in the area.”
“I’m sure it is. Although, since I didn’t order wine, I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”
She huffed. “I know you’re not my enemy.”
“You sound like you’re convincing yourself. And not very well.”
She fiddled with the edge of her napkin, which was still wrapped around the set of silverware. I hadn’t unrolled mine either.
“We can get along,” I added. “We’re two businesspeople in town who have the same goals. We can make this work.”
Our drinks arrived. The server placed the glasses on the table and murmured something about how we wouldn’t have a long wait for the food. She left. Neither of us picked up our selections.
“Times change,” I said. “Even for New Burlington.”
“Of all the places you could have gone when you decided to leave the city, I don’t know why you chose to come back here.”
“It’s home.”
She scoffed. “We didn’t know each other well in high school, but from what I remember, you didn’t love it then.”
“I didn’t know what I was missing.” I tasted my beer. It was bitter and bold.Kind of like this conversation.“New Burlington is the kind of place you have to leave to really appreciate.”
Anya flinched, picked up her wine, and drank a long swallow. “I’ll agree with that.”
“Back in high school, I didn’t know how good we had it. How special the town was,” I said, making sure my reply came out natural and smooth, giving nothing away about how much I already knew about her. “When did you move back? Right after college?”
She shook her head. “I spent a few years in Chicago. Worked for Second City.”
“As an actor?”Good one, Robert. Sounds clueless.
“On the administrative side. And backstage.” She drained some more of her wine. “It was... it was fun, and I liked it, but there was something missing.”
“Chicago’s expensive too.”
“Just like New York City. And... and... and I got mugged one night on the L.”
“What?” I set my now half-empty glass on the table. “You did?”
I sounded surprised, and I was. Even living for as many years as I did in New York, I’d never been the victim of a crime. Never had my wallet stolen, or a purchase I’d made, or a scarf, or my briefcase. Then again, I’d never caught the subway either.
She laughed without humor as if that would paper over some of whatever she was about to tell me. “I was just sitting there, and this guy attacked me.”
“Attacked you? Like a robbery?”
