The Riddle at Sunset

Elena adjusted her wide-brimmed hat, the silk ribbon fraying after three summers of Jaipur. She'd stopped caring about appearances somewhere between the second divorce and the realization that forty-five meant she could wear whatever pleased her. The infinity pool mirrored the desert sky, that bruised purple of twilight that makes poets weep and tourists reach for their phones.

Her hair, silver-streaked and pulled back carelessly, caught the evening breeze. She'd stopped dyeing it last year. David had hated the gray—said it made her look less than she was. David was now someone else's problem.

"You're staring at the water like it owes you answers," a voice said.

Elena turned. A man in his fifties, perhaps, with the kind of face that had learned to smile without reaching his eyes. He wore a linen shirt unbuttoned one too many times.

"I'm not looking for answers," she said. "I'm remembering how to float."

He laughed, and it was genuine. "I'm Marcus."

"Elena."

They sat in comfortable silence as the resort's evening entertainment began—a belly dancer whose movements were more practiced than passionate. Marcus ordered whiskey. Elena asked for gin.

"You know what the sphinx represents?" Marcus asked suddenly.

"Riddles. Destruction. The ineffable mystery of—"

"No. It's about the right question. Most people spend their lives asking the wrong ones." He gestured with his glass. "I spent twenty years building hotels. Last month, I sold everything."

"And now you're here."

"Now I'm here. You?"

Elena traced the rim of her glass. "Corporate law. Made partner last month. Cried in the bathroom for twenty minutes before the celebration dinner."

Marcus's fingers brushed hers—light as a decision not yet made. "So what's the right question?"

She looked at him, really looked. The lines around his eyes, the way his shoulders had learned to carry less than they once had.

"I think," she said, "the right question is whether you'd like to have dinner with someone who doesn't know who she is anymore, but suspects she might like who she's becoming."

Marcus's smile reached his eyes this time. "I believe that's exactly the sort of riddle I came here to solve."

As they rose, Elena left her hat on the lounge chair. Some things, she decided, were better seen in the light.