Excerpt from Leaving by Roxana Robinson, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

The restaurant is modern and expensive. The latter is evident from the heightened awareness of everyone in the room, the slightly hostile deference of the headwaiter; the attentive, slightly condescending waiters, the sharp sidelong glances of the diners. The glitter of earrings and bracelets. Along the inner wall, more plate-­glass windows give onto the kitchen, where chefs in white coats move swiftly, chopping and stirring and slicing, among white tile and stainless steel, pots and knives, steam and flame. The kitchen is like a silent movie, the workers framed, frenetic, soundless.

Warren stands to greet her, smiling.

"Thank you," she says, sliding onto the banquette. When he sits down their faces are close, and he looks directly into her eyes.

Unsettled, she speaks to break the silence.

"I don't think men stand up for women anymore," she says. "Do they? When we were kids, my father would say to my brother, 'Stand up when your mother comes into the room.' Do you remember? No one does that now."

"The culture of our youth," he says. "Gone."

"Good riddance, most of it," she says. "All those rules."

"It's good to see you," he says.

Thirty years, anyway. Nearly forty.

Excerpted from Leaving by Roxana Robinson. Copyright © 2024 by Roxana Robinson. Excerpted by permission of W.W. Norton & Company. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.