“Yes?”
“Are you asking me on a date?”
There was a brief silence.
Then he answered.
“Yes.”
She sat very still.
Nicholas continued.
“But I don't want you to feel that accepting has anything to do with the project.”
Maggie looked toward the stacks of drawings.
That was precisely what frightened her.
“I don't think that's a good idea.”
He did not answer immediately.
Then he said, “Because of the project?”
“Yes.”
“I understand.”
His voice remained warm, but she heard the disappointment beneath it.
Maggie closed her eyes.
“I'm not saying I don't want to.”
There was a pause.
Then Nicholas said quietly, “That's good to know.”
She smiled despite herself.
“But I need to finish this proposal. I need to know that if it succeeds, it's because the work deserves to succeed.”
“I respect that.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Maggie exhaled.
“Then perhaps we could have coffee instead.”
“A professional coffee?”
“Entirely professional.”
“At the diner?”
“Where else?”
He laughed.
“Thursday?”
“Thursday.”
“And Maggie?”
“Yes?”
“I'm glad you called.”
She smiled.
“So am I.”
Thursday became Saturday.
Saturday became Tuesday.
The professional coffees multiplied.
Sometimes Nicholas arrived carrying blueprints.
Sometimes Maggie brought photographs.
Sometimes they discussed the theater until their sandwiches grew cold.
And sometimes they forgot the project entirely.
They talked about childhood.
About music.
About the strange expectations placed upon children who grew up beneath the weight of their parents' ambitions.
Maggie learned that Nicholas had once wanted to become a musician.
He had played piano as a boy and studied jazz for two summers before his father informed him that artistic pursuits were excellent hobbies but poor careers.
“Were you good?” she asked one evening.
Nicholas considered.
“Moderately.”
“That means yes.”
“That means moderately.”
She smiled.
“Do you still play?”
“Not often.”
“Why?”
He stirred his coffee.
“I stopped after my mother died.”
Maggie's expression softened.
“I'm sorry.”
He shrugged.
“It was a long time ago.”
“That doesn't mean you don't miss her.”
Nicholas looked up.
For a moment, he seemed caught off guard by the simplicity of her observation.
“No,” he said quietly. “It doesn't.”
She did not attempt to fill the silence.
He appreciated that.
Maggie, meanwhile, discovered that Nicholas was not always as self-assured as he appeared.