Excerpt from Table for Two by Amor Towles, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"In the lobby. He showed up around 12:30. I told him you'd be a while, but he insisted on waiting."

Sure enough, sitting on the bench under the framed etching of Roman ruins was a little man in a secondhand raincoat. Seeing me, he virtually leapt to his feet.

"Mr. Skinner?"

"Yes."

"Percival Skinner?"

"That's right."

The little man looked relieved.

"My name is Sarkis."

"Like the tuna?"

"What's that? Oh, I see." He let out a little laugh. "No, not Starkist. Sarkis. It's a Greek name."

"Is it, now."

"Yes. Well. I was wondering if you had a few minutes."

"To what end?"

"It is on a matter that I think will be of interest to you; and may be of profit ..."

"I'm listening."

Mr. Sarkis glanced around the lobby.

"Isn't there somewhere we could speak in private?"

If the gentleman's raincoat was Salvation Army, the suit underneath was decidedly Saville Row; and the shrewdness of his countenance suggested that of a buyer, rather than seller.

"Come on up," I said.

And up we went.



"Can I offer you something to drink?" I asked, as I hung my visitor's coat in the closet by the door. "A glass of whiskey? A cup of tea?"

"I would love a cup of tea, if it wouldn't be too much trouble."

"No trouble at all." I led Mr. Sarkis into the living room. "Why don't you have a seat while I put on the kettle."

He opted for the couch, sitting at the edge of the cushions with his elbows on his knees.

In the kitchen I turned on the kettle, took the teacups from the cabinet, and the tea from its tin. Then, as the water warmed, I peeked into the living room. Mr. Sarkis had left his place on the couch to study the porcelains on display in the corner cupboard. After a moment, he picked up the Cantonese bowl and turned it gently in his hands. Though small, it was the most valuable piece in the room. The little Greek obviously knew his business. I made some racket while putting the tea service on its tray, and when I returned to the living room I found him back on the edge of the cushions with his elbows on his knees.

Pouring the tea, I asked Mr. Sarkis what I could do for him.

"I happen to operate a small gallery in Paris dealing in antiquities," he began, "but I also represent a certain collector who is a lover of Renaissance art."

He pronounced it re-NAY-sance.

"Renaissance art was one of my specialties," I said.

"Your reputation precedes you. In fact, that's what has brought me to your door."

"Is your client looking for an appraisal?"

"Not quite. The reason I'm here is that I gather you may be in possession of a work by Giuseppe DiDomenico. Or rather, a fragment ..."

I put my teacup down.

"I am afraid you are slightly misinformed, Mr. Sarkis. You see, I did own a DiDomenico fragment, but I sold it some years ago."

"Ah," he said with a look of disappointment. "Would you be willing to tell me whom you sold it to?"

"He was a Texan."

Sarkis leaned a little forward.

"An oilman?"

"No. I believe he was a defense contractor."

"From Houston?"

"Dallas."

Mr. Sarkis nodded thoughtfully.

"That is helpful."

I didn't know if it was or wasn't, but our meeting seemed to have suddenly run its course. I rose from my chair. "I'm sorry if you've wasted your time."

Mr. Sarkis rose as well. "Every setback brings the collector one step closer to his goal," he said, sagely.

Ushering him to the door, I retrieved his coat, called for the elevator, and stuck out my hand to wish him well. But rather than take my hand, he seemed to be pursuing a new line of thought.

"I gather you spent most of your tenure at Sotheby's," he said, after a moment.

"That's right."

"More than twenty years."

"Almost thirty."

"Then perhaps you know of someone else in possession of a DiDomenico."

Excerpted from Table for Two by Amor Towles. Copyright © 2024 by Amor Towles. Excerpted by permission of Viking. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.