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out of his way to talk with Natalie, telling her how much he’d enjoyed touring the gallery, asking questions about individual drawings. Jana was beginning to think maybe she and Nat had misinterpreted Ed’s romantic interests.
    She looked across the table to catch Ed rubbing his eye, trying to push a contact lens back in place. “Excuse me,” he said to no one in particular. He left the table and headed for the men’s room.
    â€œGet it fixed?” Jana asked when he came back.
    â€œFor the moment, at least. Once those things start moving around in my eye, I’m usually in for a full day of trouble.”
    â€œEver lose one?”
    â€œNo, but I’ve ripped them. I did that the first week I had them.”
    â€œThat’s the sort of thing I’d probably do.”
    â€œBefore I got them, all my friends were telling me how wonderful soft lenses were. Now all I hear are their horror stories.”
    â€œI’ll bet. I’d be terrified at the thought of putting something in my eye. Besides, I like having my glasses as a shield.” Small, gold granny glasses; she’d worn them long before they were considered fashionable.
    â€œAs do I,” Ed laughed. “I’ve never broken the habit of pushing my glasses up on my nose when I’m absorbed in thought, even though they’re no longer there.”
    They finished the meal in silence, but it was an easy silence, miles away from the tension that had filled the car two weeks ago. Soon plates were pushed aside; Ed stubbed out his Camel in a flimsy tin ashtray. He ground the butt into the tin, anxious to catch every last spark. Jana glanced at the potato chips left on his plate.
    Ed noticed. “Help yourself,” he said, pushing the plate toward her. “But I warn you, one potato chip has twelve calories. I keep close track.” He stood up and playfully tightened his belt a notch.
    Jana took one chip. She had her hand halfway toward a second, then pulled back and pretended to hunt around in her purse for something. If they didn’t get out of here soon, they’d be late for the meeting.

    The meeting itself took less time than lunch had taken. Frank got right down to business, so pleased with the luster these new artists would bring to the exhibit that he seemed to overlook Matt Fillmore’s highly charged political stance. He probably knows the name but not the work, Jana realized.
    â€œBetween your proposal and the biographical profiles of these artists, I think we have a solid game plan to take to the board,” he said. “Our board meeting is scheduled for Monday, April 18, and we should be able to let you know their decision shortly after that. If you don’t hear from us by the following Friday, give Ed a call.”
    Ed lingered for a moment after Frank left, as if to reestablish personal contact. He told the two women that, assuming the proposal went through, the funds would be disbursed in two payments. “It takes roughly a week to get the paperwork out once the decision’s been made, but we can cut the first check fairly quickly if you need money to get things under way.” He smiled as if the proposal were through already.
    By two o’clock Jana and Natalie were in a cab headed downtown, celebrating their success. Natalie returned to her favorite theme of late: “I think you and Ed make a cute couple.”
    Jana mumbled something about Natalie needing her head examined.
    â€œHe managed to get your address, didn’t he?” Natalie’s words would echo in Jana’s ear for the next three weeks, drowning out thoughts of APL’s board meeting. It was true: before they had left the coffee shop Ed mentioned that he was going up to Maine for a vacation and wanted to make sure he had their addresses so he could send postcards.

    Ed called on Wednesday, one of Jana’s days off, to tell Natalie the funding had been approved, adding that he was