He had stood in front of an abstract painting for ten minutes, telling me earnestly that he couldn’t understand why people paid enormous sums to own something they could barely recognize.

I liked that he could admit he didn’t know everything.

I liked his laugh, the way he asked about my work, and the fact that he listened when I spoke about my grandmother.

I worked then in commercial property administration.

It was useful, unglamorous work involving occupancy reports, contracts, repairs, and the small decisions that determined whether a building functioned as promised.

Gavin ran an investment company with his mother.