Page 609 - A Little Life: A Novel

“I learned a lot about you today,” he told Jude as they ate their dinner
under the dark blue sky. “I learned that most of the firm is terrified of you
and think that if they kiss up to me, I might put in a good word with you. I

learned that I’m even older than I had realized. I learned that you’re right:
you do work with a bunch of nerds.”
Jude had been smiling, but now he laughed. “See?” he asked. “I told you,
Willem.”
“But I had a great time,” he said. “I did! I want to come again. But next
time I think we should invite JB, and blow Rosen Pritchard’s collective
mind,” and Jude had laughed again.

That had been almost two months ago, and since then, he has spent most
of his time at Lantern House. As an early fifty-second birthday present,
he’d asked Jude to take off every Saturday for the rest of the summer, and
Jude has: every Friday he drives up to the house; every Monday morning,
he drives back to the city. Because Jude would have the car during the
week, he’d rented—partly as a joke, though he was secretly enjoying

driving around in it—a convertible, in an alarming color that Jude referred
to as “harlot red.” During the weekdays, he reads and swims and cooks and
sleeps; he has a very busy autumn coming up, and he knows from how
replenished and calm he feels that he’ll be ready.
At the grocery store he fills a paper bag with limes, and then a second
one with lemons, buys some extra seltzer water, and drives to the train
station, where he waits, leaning his head on the seat and closing his eyes

until he hears Malcolm calling his name and sits up.
“JB didn’t come,” Malcolm says, sounding annoyed, as Willem kisses
him and Sophie hello. “He and Fredrik broke up—maybe—this morning.
But maybe they didn’t, because he said he was going to come up tomorrow.
I couldn’t really figure out what was going on.”
He groans. “I’ll call him from the house,” he says. “Hi, Soph. Have you

guys eaten lunch yet? We can start cooking as soon as we get back.”
They haven’t, so he calls Jude to tell him he can start boiling the water
for the pasta, but Jude’s already begun. “I got the limes,” he tells him. “And
JB’s not coming until tomorrow; some difficulty with Fredrik that Mal
couldn’t quite follow. Do you want to call him and find out what’s
happening?”
He loads his friends’ bags into the backseat, and Malcolm gets in,

glancing at the car’s trunk as he does. “Interesting color,” he says.