THE PRESIDENT IS COMING TO LUNCH
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“No means no.”
“Birnbaum, do you mean that you haven’t told yet but you’re going to tell?”
“Why would I tell? I don’t work there anymore.”
Libby sat back. She began to cry. Birnbaum didn’t offer to comfort her and she didn’t try to hide her tears. She needed to cry and he needed to see the finale. “Where’s the background music?” she asked.
“You all right?”
Libby reached out toward him. Birnbaum took her hand. They held onto one another until she nodded yes. Then he let go. “I don’t work here anymore either.” She smiled. “I quit, too. I’m going to LA. Cal’s doing a movie with Meryl Streep.”
“My wife hates LA. If they had transferred me, she would never have gone. She likes New England.” He shrugged. “She likes roots. She’s very New Hampshire.”
“Birnbaum, you’re not a very good liar. What I mean is, I can’t help wondering, no offense, whether you might decide at some point that you made a mistake. I mean, where would I be, Birnbaum, if you suddenly decided you had made a mistake?”
“You’d be in LA.”
“What if you suddenly came to your senses.”
“I already did. Nobody gets two moments of truth.”
No doubt about it, he was convincing. Or was it just that she wanted so desperately to believe him? “Birnbaum, you’re not going to show up in a few years and surprise me, are you?”
“No. I’m not going to surprise you.” He smiled. “I’m not even going to kiss you goodbye.”
Libby smiled back. “I’ve had my moment of truth, too. I never thought that I could marry Cal with a lie. But I was dead wrong. And, having had my moment of truth,” she said, shrugging her shoulders, “I really think one moment is all I need.”
“Then, this is it,” he said, overfilling the glasses. Champagne fizzed onto the bar.
Libby raised her glass. “South Pole.”
“North Pole.”
She hesitated. “Birnbaum, this is going to be tougher than I thought.”
He drank the last of his champagne and put the glass down. Then he took her in his arms.
Libby gasped. “But you said. . .”
“I lied.” He kissed her. They stared at one another knowing that this was their moment of truth. They would never be more, or less, in love.
“Birnbaum?”
“Yes?”
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
“What?”
“I hate to get personal at this late date.”
“Go ahead.”
“I was just wondering. Do you have a first name?”
“Yes.”
She nodded. “Good.”
He walked toward the door.
“Birnbaum?”
He stopped without turning back. “Yes?”
“If you’re ever in LA . . .”
“I won’t be.”
“I know. But if you are . . .”
“Yes?”
Libby smiled. “Let’s have lunch.”