At lunch, we sat on the loading dock with sandwiches from a volunteer food truck. She told me about a fourth-grade class that had recently tried to convince her the museum's oldest photograph contained a ghost. I told her about the time my grandfather and I built a birdhouse upside down because I misunderstood his drawing. She laughed so hard at that story that she nearly dropped her drink.
I noticed her smile. Then I noticed I was noticing it and felt an unexpected moment of guilt. Sarah and I had been apart for months, and I had done nothing wrong, yet the part of me trained by years of being in a relationship still hesitated at the idea of being attracted to somebody else. I let the feeling pass and returned to the conversation.
By the end of the event, we had repaired three drawers and assembled a small bookcase for a family that would collect it the next morning. Emily wrote her number on the back of a scrap of paper and handed it to me. "If you ever want to help with the museum's restoration workshops," she said, "we could use somebody who knows which end of a plane is which."
"I can probably manage that," I said.
She smiled. "And if you ever want coffee without a damaged drawer between us, I'd be open to that too."
I looked at the number, then at her. "I'd like that," I said, surprised by how simply the answer came. I put the paper in my pocket and watched her carry the repaired drawer toward the collection area. The afternoon felt lighter than it had when I arrived.
Our first coffee lasted two hours. We met at a small cafe with mismatched cups and windows overlooking a narrow street. Emily asked about my family, my hobbies, and the books I had been reading, and I asked about her work and the places she wanted to visit. We discovered that we disagreed about several things, including whether a museum should ever remove old labels that reflected outdated language, but the disagreements were thoughtful and interesting rather than personal contests.
I did not tell her about Sarah on the first date. It was not a secret I intended to hide; I simply wanted our first conversation to be about who we were rather than the relationship that had ended. Emily mentioned that she had been single for a while after a long relationship and that she appreciated people who could communicate directly. I said I did too, and realized I meant it with an intensity I probably did not need to show.
Before we left, I asked whether she wanted to see a small woodworking market the following weekend. She considered her schedule and said yes, provided I did not make fun of her for stopping at every stall to ask questions about the objects. I told her asking questions was the point. She smiled as though that had been the answer she wanted.