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too.”
    “Well, I don’t much care for Kendall. I admit that.”
    “Even though your cousin did you a very good turn taking you to lunch at the restaurant.” Hugh shook his head. “And she left a message on the phone about my getting to see some boxers. I didn’t catch all the details, but I gather there must be a match. How keen are you on going?”
    “Argh!” I sputtered wine in an arc that hit my plate.
    “What’s wrong, darling?” Hugh passed me his napkin.
    “That call was about your underwear, specifically, whether you wear boxer shorts. Kendall’s on a rampage. When she was a child, she wasn’t half this bad. But she’s grown into a nosy, raving maniac!”
    Hugh laughed. “Maybe you should join that club Kendall mentioned to meet a few others who might be more your sort.”
    I choked hard on the wine going down my throat. Finally, I sputtered, “I am not going to join the Junior League of Washington. I’m already part of the Washington Japan Friendship Society.”
    “Those are all old people!”
    “Yes, there are many retirees, but at that open house last month, we both met some young students.”
    “But you aren’t a student anymore, Rei. You need girlfriends your age. They’ll be a lifeline after the baby comes.”
    I set down my glass. “It sounds as if you’re presupposing that if I have a baby, I’m going to stop working and stay at home all the time.”
    “You stay home all the time now,” Hugh pointed out. “And I’mglad about this restaurant job for you if it’ll get you out and about and meeting people. Male or female, I really don’t care. Just that you have someone to be with. I’ve got a work trip coming up, and I’m nervous because you’ve not stayed alone in an American city. You’ve forgotten how dangerous they are. It’s not like Tokyo, where you can traipse home after midnight without a worry—”
    “Where are you going?” I asked, my heart sinking. We were supposed to meet with a very-hard-to-get wedding caterer in four weeks’ time.
    “Japan. I’m sorry, love. I wish I could pack you in my suitcase, but the suitcase-screening procedures have gotten so tight.”
    But I couldn’t travel, even if I had a ticket. Suddenly, the wine in my mouth was too tart. I pushed the glass away.
    As if he understood what I was thinking, Hugh said, “I’m sure that the ban will cease sometime. Paul McCartney was banned from Japan after that marijuana charge, but they rescinded it recently.”
    “Yes, but I’m not going to be knighted.” I made a face at him. “Hey, sweetie, I’ll forgive all those sexist comments if you help me figure out how to do a spreadsheet for my presentation.”
    He did, and as we worked together that night, finally shutting off the computer at four in the morning, I felt more exultant than exhausted. I had put together a strong proposal, and Marshall was desperate. The job at Bento would be mine.

3
    I’d thought that the month until the opening of Bento would pass quickly, but it didn’t feel that way at all. For me, it was all about waiting—for the bento boxes to be airmailed from Tokyo, the wallpaper to come UPS second-day ground from New York. A master carpenter in the Virginia tidewater area had all my old Japanese wooden doors, but he was taking forever to nail together the stalls—even though he’d been paid a rush fee.
    Every day, I would show up at Bento, ready to seize newly arrived items. They came in sporadically, and I had to assuage Marshall, who was vastly impatient. The only solace was in the kitchen, where I would lean against the long, stainless-steel counter, watching Jiro work on dishes that he allowed me to taste.
    Crab cakes mixed with dark soy sauce, chilies, cilantro, and spring onions were a hit—soba noodles in a sweet potato broth were not. I made friends with the fleet of line cooks who’d be working under him, mostly Latin Americans, with the occasional white boy who’d graduated from culinary school.