“Did she mention a number?” I asked.

“No,” Ethan said.

“She just smiled and told me to get my good suit ready for dinner tomorrow night.”

I looked down at the table, where steam from my coffee mug curled up into the cool air of the booth.

“Keep the compass in your pocket,” I said.

“Don’t leave it lying in your bedroom.”

Ethan slid the brass case into his jacket, zipped the pocket closed, and drew the zipper tab all the way up.

“Are you coming to the dinner tomorrow?” he asked.