The hostess pulled out a chair and Sukanya sank into it as if the tapering heeled shoes could not support her any longer. Murthy took the seat opposite, quite forgetting that Mr. Richardson was the guest of honor. The hostess presented the menu, but Murthy waved her away saying they were expecting a third guest.  

“So, you did come after all.” He beamed at Sukanya.

She shrugged.

“You feel it, too, don’t you, that this is the one? The big break I’ve been waiting for? After tonight it will no longer be Murthy in Bangalore and Sukanya in Madras.”

“Sukanya and Nalini in Madras,” she said.

The waiter filled their water glasses. “Can I see the menu, please?” Sukanya asked the waiter. A slight frown passed over Murthy’s features. Surely she wasn‘t going to place her order before Mr. Richardson arrived.

When the menu was placed before Sukanya, she studied it with the same concentration he had seen her apply to the bank ledgers. “Have you been here before?” he asked.

She turned a page in the menu.

“Anya?”

“Hmmm… What? Did you say something?” She did not look up from the menu.

Murthy turned his attention to the entryway.

Sukanya looked at her watch. “Did we get here early?” she asked.

“No, he’s probably held up in another meeting.” Murthy was happy to have Sukanya to himself. Away from home and her office, amidst the elegant marble and polished wood setting of the restaurant, sheltered by the exquisite hand-painted gold porcelain that gave the restaurant its name, it would be easy to talk to Sukanya of his plans. She looked like a different person in her smart western clothes. Sukanya traced intricate patterns on the table as Murthy filled the empty space between them with his plans. Her head was bent low and he addressed his plans to her glossy mane that fell forward and hid her eyes from his view. A few lone gray hairs had broken free from the carefully brushed hair, gray hairs that she had hidden carefully from the perpetrator of the cause. Murthy continued his monologue with renewed vigor, wishing she would raise her head and the gray hairs would disappear from view.    

They had been seated at the table for more than twenty minutes. Sukanya looked at her watch and returned to her study of the menu. Murthy went to the front of the restaurant twice to make sure that Mr. Richardson was not waiting.

“Did you see if he had checked into the hotel today?” Sukanya asked.

“No, I was busy running around trying to get money from my wife.” Murthy’s sullen tone caused a tightening of Sukanya’s jaws.

“Maybe he didn’t come in from Delhi,” she said.

“Well, hooray for you. Maybe I’ll return the rest of the money to you and go back to Bangalore to eke out my meager living,” he said.