‘Oh . . . So, is this a date?’

Bette laughed. ‘You know what I mean.’

They sipped their Pellegrino and looked out at the fairway. On first glance it was no more than an impression of emerald swells and pools of purple-velvet shadow, but a longer look revealed jackrabbits, sparrows and quail. A silence grew. Bette fussed with her cutlery. Then a question popped into Tina’s head.

‘What are you reading?’ 

Bette looked blank. 

‘Book-wise,’ Tina elaborated.

‘Oh. Uh . . . There’s something on my nightstand, but I can’t remember.’

Tina looked at her very steadily. ‘I found the podcast interesting. In the car, yesterday.’

‘Did you?’

‘Yes. Did you?’

‘Um, yes.’

‘What was your favourite part?’

Bette glanced towards the kitchen. Tina began to enjoy herself.

‘What do you think of Becerra?’ she asked. Bette knit her brow. ‘I know we donated to Von Wilpert, but she’s not gonna win so how much should we throw to Becerra?’

‘Uh . . .’

‘Remember Dolly Parton died?’

Bette exhaled a disbelieving laugh. ‘What? Of course I remember that. We talked about it. It was sad.’

She sipped her water, placing her glass down again very carefully, turning it just so. Then she leaned in a little. 

‘Are you okay?’

Tina hesitated, searching Bette’s face. Her sore eye was beginning to swell, but she still had that sculpted beauty, weathered, yes, older, leaner, but still stunning. Still the face she fell in love with.

‘I just . . . I miss talking about the world. With you.’ She gave a little laugh. But there was a tear in her voice. ‘I just miss it.’

And as so often in their long, long history together, the very second Tina Kennard openly asked something of Bette Porter – she got it. Over drinks, Bette talked with respect and curiosity about Dolly. Over entrees, they debated the merits and demerits of AI, David Hockney and barrel-leg trousers. When dessert arrived, the background music was Einaudi. Tina recalled that his music was in Nomadland and Bette remembered liking the film and said they should rewatch it soon. When, waiting for the check, Tina remarked that a diner at a nearby table was wearing a pretty blouse, Bette asked the woman where she’d got it with such lightness and charm she felt lucky to be her date.