Hard News

center of the room was dominated by a twisty vined centerpiece, sprouting orchids and roses and baby’s breath. The walls held huge paintings of flowers. Rune liked them. They were what Monet would have done if he’d used electric-colored Crayolas instead of oil paint. Rune more or less matched the decor. She’d raced home to change into one of the two dresses, a purple-and-white Laura Ashley floral, which was her spring and summer dress. It was several years old but had very little mileage on it.
    On the table in front of them was a bird of paradise in a tall glass vase and some kinky-looking green thing like a pinecone, which, if you were to see it in
National Geographic
, you wouldn’t be able to tell whether it was a plant or fish or huge insect. Rune pointed at the bird of paradise. “I love these dudes.” She petted it. “I don’t think it looks like a bird at all. I think it looks like a dragon.”
    Courtney said, “I like dragons.”
    Sutton stared at them blankly. “Dragons?”
    The little girl added, “I’m going to be a knight. But I wouldn’t kill any dragons. I’d have them for pets. Rune’s going to take me to the zoo and we’re going to look at dragons.”
    Through teeth that never separated more than a quarter inch, Sutton said, “How wonderful.”
    Jacques returned with two bulky phone directories and set them on the third chair at the table. Courtney smiled as he lifted her up and set her on top.
    He turned to Sutton. “This really cannot be, uh,
habituel, non?”
    “Jacques, have someone bring the little girl some …” She looked at Rune with a raised eyebrow.
    “She loves pizza.”
    “We are a French restaurant, miss.”
    “She also likes pickles, clam chowder, smoked oysters, rice, anchovies—”
    “Huîtres,”
Jacques said. “They are poached and served with pesto and beurre blanc.”
    Sutton said, “Fine. Just have somebody cut them up into little pieces. I don’t want to watch her mauling food. And have the sommelier bring me a Puligny-Montrachet.” She looked at Rune. “Do you drink wine?”
    “I’m over twenty-one.”
    “I’m not asking for a driver’s license. I want to know if an eighty-dollar bottle of wine will be wasted on you.”
    “Maybe a White Russian would be more my speed.”
    Sutton nodded to the maitre d’ and said, “Find me a half bottle, Jacques. A Mersault if there’s no Puligny.”
    “Oui
, Miss Sutton.”
    Huge menus appeared. Sutton scanned hers. “I don’t think we want anything too adventurous. We’ll have scallops to start.” She asked Rune, “Do you swell up or turn red when you eat seafood?”
    “No, I get fish sticks all the time at this Korean deli. And—”
    Sutton waved an abrupt hand. “And then the pigeon.”
    Rune’s eyes went wide. Pigeon?
    Jacques said,
“Salades
, after?”
    “Please.”
    Rune’s eyes danced around the room then settled on the arsenal of silverware and empty plates in front of her. The procedures here seemed as complicated as Catholic liturgy and the downside if you blew it seemed worse. Be cool, now, she told herself. This’s your boss and she already thinks you’re damaged. Rune resisted the fierce impulse to scratch under her bra strap.
    The first course arrived, along with the little girl’s oysters.
    “Gross dudes,” Courtney said but she began to eat them eagerly. “Can we buy these for breakfast? I like them.”
    Rune was thankful Courtney was with them; the girl gave her something to do besides feel uncomfortable. Picking spoons up off the floor, wiping oyster off her face, keeping the vase vertical.
    Sutton watched them and for the first time since Rune had known her the anchorwoman’s face softened. “So that’s what it’s like.”
    “What?” Rune asked.
    “Kids.”
    “You don’t have children?”
    “I do. Only I call them ex-husbands. Three of them.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    Sutton blinked and stared at Rune for a minute. “Yes, I believe you are.” She laughed. “But that’s one thing I regret. Children. I—”
    “It’s not too late.”
    “No, I think it is. Maybe in my next life.”
    “That’s the worst phrase ever made.”
    Sutton continued to study her with curiosity. “You just barge right through life, don’t you?”
    “Pretty much, I guess.”
    Sutton’s eyes settled on Courtney. Then she reached forward and, with a napkin as big as the girl’s dress, wiped her cheek. “Messy little things, aren’t they?”
    “Yeah, that part’s kind of