As prearranged, I stood and exchanged five Benjamins for my phone, one for Karl and four for the management to cover nearly three hours of essentially revenue-free time at a prime table. I tapped a brief text on my phone and stowed it in the breast pocket of my jacket.
“My lawyer’s card is clipped to the first page. Communicate with him, please, not me. You know the routine.”
“You sonofabitch.” Quietly, so no one beyond our table could hear.
“Yes dear.” Somewhat louder, so the nearby tables could wonder exactly what she had said.
I stood, offered my elbow to Meisha, and we exited stage left. As we passed the piano, she deftly snagged her voluminous purse from under the bench and dumped the overflowing tip box into it. Somehow Karl beat us to the door, honored me with a sly half-bow as we shook hands, then bowed deeply to kiss Meisha’s hand. “Have a wonderful Valentine’s Day, Sir and Madam.”
“We will, Karl, thanks in no small part to you.”
“It was our pleasure.” His smile was as genuine as mine as he opened the door and waved us out onto Barrow Street.
Meisha and I strolled arm-in-arm to the corner of West 4th to wait for the Town Car I’d called. I leaned over, kissed her exquisite neck, and murmured in a lovely ear, “You were marvelous tonight, musically and documentarily. This is the first chance I’ve had all night to tell you how much I love you. I hope that unpleasantness didn’t spoil your Valentine’s Day.”
She squeezed my arm and laid her head on my shoulder. “I love you more, my slightly dopey gent, and the best is yet to come. From this moment on, each day is Valentine’s Day.”
And so they were.