Mr. Faraway and I have some events coming up, that we will both attend, with our children. The first one is coming up in Seattle, and he mentions, in passing, that there is a part of it his children won’t be interested in. He’s thinking perhaps he will take them to this cool old library nearby, to check it out while the boring stuff is going on.
It sounds interesting, I say, but then the subject is dropped.
He starts trying to coordinate a lunch for the group at the same event, which quickly becomes complicated by various other adults’ dietary concerns and other schedule conflicts, and by the end, nobody quite knows whether something is or isn’t planned.
This becomes a problem when he suggests that perhaps he and I and one other adult could step away from the main group for a bit, get some coffee and attend to some needed paperwork.
One evening, he asks how far my house is from the old library – how long is the drive, he wants to know.
Twenty minutes or so, I tell him. Why?
He is in town on business a few days before the overly-complicated event, and it seems like a shame that I’ve never seen this library, especially since I don’t live all that far from it. Maybe, he says, we could get a cup of coffee nearby – so that he could show it to me.
It would be great, but realistically, it will be a two-hour lunch from a workday, and that’s a luxury I don’t have. I wish I could, I tell him.
It’s easier for me to get together with people after work, I say.
Oh. I have a business dinner that evening, he says. That wouldn’t work.
A few days later, he mentions the business dinner might not be happening after all. He’s not sure. If it doesn’t, though, maybe we can have that cup of coffee.
Do I know any places near there? he wants to know.
I suggest a couple of restaurants in the area, and a few days later, he lets me know that his business dinner has been canceled, and we have plans to meet at a Japanese restaurant.