Free Square in the Face (Claire Montrose Series) by April Henry Page B

were just planning a surprise birthday party for Ant.” Ant was sara’s putative boyfriend. Claire wasn’t going to give the woman the satisfaction of inquiring why such an activity required a shower. “Should I ask Dante to call you when he gets out? What time is it there anyway?”
    How like sara not to know whether New York ran ahead or behind the rest of the country. For a minute, Claire imagined the map of the United States the other woman must carry in her head. It would be like one of those caricatured cartoon maps you sometimes saw in tourist spots. New York City - complete with the Empire State Building and the twin towers of the World Trade Center - would bulge out to cover most of the nation, nearly overlapping with the slightly smaller Los Angeles reduced to the Hollywood sign. The rest of the map would be mostly blank, with an occasional cartoon sketch of a cow or a blade of wheat.
    “You know, you’re right. I think by the time he gets out of the shower it will be too late to call me back,” Claire said. Then she broke the connection.

    NSTIG8R

Chapter Six
    In the shadow of an oversized bouquet of tropical flowers, Claire waited in Sinq’s lobby. The flowers seemed too big to be real, but when she tapped a petal with her finger it was cool to the touch. The restaurant was all glossy pale wood and walls covered in wheat-colored linen, but its look of quiet elegance was offset by the loud babble of voices. Many of the diners weren’t talking to their companions but to their cell phones. From the nearest table she could hear a man arranging to sell six hundred shares of stock. A waiter went from table to table, dealing drinks like cards.
    Claire walked over to the window, but it was too dark outside to pick out the faces of the people walking by. Her Perfect Silhouette pantyhose seemed to have shifted downward in just the walk from the car. Discreetly, she tried to tug on the waistband, which was now level with her hipbones. It didn’t budge.
    A cool hand cupped her bare shoulder, startling her. Before Claire could even draw in a breath, Dr. Gregory was dropping a peppermint-scented kiss on her cheek.
    “You’re looking lovely. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress before, just jeans or running shorts. I now know just how much I have been missing.”
    “Thank you,” Claire said.   His gaze made her uncomfortable, so she looked down at her shoes, plain black Aerosole flats, stretchy enough to accommodate the Ace bandage she still wore around her ankle. When she had opened the door to the restaurant, heads had turned, and she’d both enjoyed the feeling and been unnerved by it. Dr. Gregory’s compliment just served to remind Claire of her continual promises to herself that she was going to stop walking out the door looking like she just woke up. She was going to start wearing earrings, she was gong to buy pretty sweater sets, she was going to put on make-up more than once a month and she was going to start wearing shoes that weren’t meant for exercise.  
    The hostess took them to their seats at a small table on the outskirts of the restaurant. When they sat down, Claire’s knees grazed Dr. Gregory’s under the table, and he gave her a private smile. She was going to have to be careful. There had always been a little hum of interest coming from his direction, but tonight it seemed more intense. She gave him a brief answering smile, then took shelter behind her menu.
    Claire had spent enough time with Dante in New York City restaurants that she now knew basically how to eat at a place like Sinq, how to sit so the waiter could smoothly set the plate in front of her, how to deconstruct a dish that had been created to dazzle the eye as much as the palate, even how to imagine how truffle-infused roasted garlic mashed potatoes with chanterelles might taste. The thought of Dante gave her a pang, but she pushed the thought away.
    The menu was filled with the kind of terms she associated more with