He looked like a man with nowhere urgent to be who had long ago made peace with that fact.

Miles noticed him too.

And Miles noticed potential chess opponents the way a shark notices movement in water.

He stared at Arthur for nearly thirty seconds.

Then he picked up his chess box and walked over.

“Miles?”

He ignored me.

I closed my laptop halfway, already preparing to apologize for whatever my son was about to say.

Miles dropped his chess box onto Arthur’s table.

“Do you know how to play?”

Arthur looked at the box.

Then at Miles.

“A little.”

Miles narrowed his eyes.

“That means yes.”

Arthur’s mouth twitched.

“Does it?”

“Adults say ‘a little’ when they’re actually good and don’t want kids to know.”

I covered my face.

“I’m sorry,” I called.

Arthur glanced over at me.

His eyes were warm.

“No need.”

Then he reached forward and moved one of Miles’s white pawns two spaces.

“Your son has already questioned my honesty,” he said. “We might as well play.”

Miles lost twenty minutes later.

And I had never seen him so happy about losing.

For once, the person sitting opposite him had actually tried.

By the end of that week, Mr. Arthur had become Artie.

Arthur pretended to hate the nickname.

“It’s Arthur.”

“Okay, Artie.”

He would sigh.

And somewhere along the way, Arthur started calling Miles “Soldier.”

Miles hated that nickname with his entire soul.

Which naturally guaranteed that Arthur never stopped using it.

Their games soon became part of every afternoon.

Arthur usually arrived first.

Same table beneath the large oak tree.

Same coffee.

Sometimes the same folded newspaper beside him, although I rarely saw him actually read it.

By the time Miles came running down the path, Arthur usually had half the pieces arranged.

Most of their games sounded less like chess and more like arguments.

“You can’t do that!”

“I just did.”

“That’s cheating!”

“It’s called castling.”

“You never taught me that rule!”

“You never asked.”

“ARTIE!”

But there was something about Arthur I noticed even before I understood how important it was.

He never rushed Miles.

Never.

Miles could spend five minutes staring silently at the board.

Arthur wouldn’t say anything.

Most adults can’t tolerate that kind of silence with a child.

They start filling it.

“Take your time.”

“Do you see anything?”

“No pressure.”

Arthur never did.