“Yes.”
“I don’t think so. But you’ve been invisible for six years. I haven’t. You tell me.” He held his hand out toward the car seat, and she got in. He walked around the car, taking his time and turning to be sure he had surveyed the area in every direction, then got into the driver’s seat and started the car. “No explosion.”
“Yet.”
He took out the piece of paper she had given him and read the address again, and she said, “Go up that road and turn right at the light.”
“You know the area?”
“The ad had a map.”
As he drove, she gave him the rest of the directions. The darkness of the roads once they were out of downtown Morro Bay made them feel anonymous and safe. The restaurant was beside a country club, so Till passed by it before he realized it must be the right place. He turned around in the road and came back. He was pleased to see that when he turned, there were no headlights coming toward him.
The restaurant was a long, low white building with gray trim. Till drove to the edge of the lot close to it. The brass plaque beside the door said Aimee’s. He parked and they walked inside. As they approached the hostess, he whispered, “Is this the same as the picture?”
“Exactly.”
The hostess seated them and the waiter arrived. Wendy ordered them each a martini. Till said, “How did you know I liked martinis?”
“I could say something witty and unkind, but I’ll just tell the truth. I remembered from six years ago, when we were stuck in that hotel.”
The waiter brought the drinks quickly. Till lifted his icy glass and said, “To better food.”
She clinked her glass against his. “To old friends.” She sipped her martini. “Wow. I forgot how good these taste. I haven’t had a drink in about five years.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I stayed out of restaurants at first, for obvious reasons. And nightclubs were a worse bet. Then, when you have young children, you forget there is such a thing as a martini.”
Till’s appreciation for the restaurant had nothing to do with aesthetics. The room was light with a single entrance, so there weren’t places in the bar for unexpected people to sit without being seen clearly. The windows were all on the side of the building away from the road, a wall of glass overlooking a tee on the golf course. A long fairway stretched down and away into the darkness. He could see a glint of reflected moonlight somewhere out there, so he guessed there must be a lake. It was not impossible for someone to be out there watching the restaurant, but it was extremely unlikely.
He could tell that when Wendy read the menu, she saw more in it than he did. “Interesting.” She pointed at a line of type. “This should be good, if you like warm salads, and I’d love to see what she does with this Thai-French chicken, but I’ve been thinking about paella.”
“You order one, and I’ll get the other.”
“Thanks. I love a man who can take big fat hints.”
“I’m only up to it if you speak slowly and look right at me.”
When the food arrived, they shared the entrées. Wendy tasted the chicken and said, “This is a very nice variation on the sauce that Sybil Weitz used at Veritable in Chicago. I wonder if Aimee worked there.” She sampled the paella and said, “Ooh, she’s good. This looks like a big mishmash—clams, shrimp, lobster, mussels, chorizo, pork, chicken, all flavored with saffron, so how can you miss—but it’s complicated to get it just right because the ingredients are all cooked and seasoned differently.”
“I thought you didn’t care about the cooking side of things.”
“I don’t anymore. But people don’t forget everything they know.”
“You seem to be feeling better about things tonight.”
“You noticed.”
“Yesterday was pretty awful. I guess it’s good not to be scared.”
“It is,” she agreed. “I’d say that’s a necessary condition—not to be actively scared. But you have to remember that I’ve learned to tolerate a certain level of insecurity in my life—just like you do.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t start questioning the source of a good mood. It’ll kill it.”
“Not at all. I’m glad that you’re watching me closely enough to notice it, and I’m glad you mentioned it because it forces me to confess.”
“Confess?”
“Yes. I was smiling to myself because this is exactly the same as a fantasy I’ve had over the past six years.”
“Really. Then I’m delighted to be at the table to see it.” He looked around the room, as though in new appreciation.
“You’re an essential part of it.”
“I am?”
“Yes.” She sipped her martini, but kept the glass up and studied him over the rim. “You don’t think about having a beautiful evening by yourself. Somebody has to share it.”
He met her gaze and understood. “I’m honored.”
They ate in a leisurely way, each sampling the other’s entrée. The waiter arrived to clear the table, brought the dessert menus and coffee, then returned with sweet berries and sorbet, all with a deliberate air of unhurried politeness.
As they shared their dessert and drank the coffee, Till had time to consider what he was about to do. It was going to complicate matters, it was unwise, and it was probably unethical. He waited through the elaborate ritual of the little leather folder. When Wendy paid the bill in cash, he nodded in approval. “Thank you for the wonderful dinner.”
They walked to the car and Till opened the door for her, but she didn’t get in at once. She put her arms around him and kissed him. The kiss began as a gentle, tentative peck, but when he responded, the kiss deepened and became passionate. She broke it off and ducked her head to get into the car.
He came around the back of the car and sat behind the steering wheel. “That was a nice surprise.”
“It was very nice. But it wasn’t a surprise.”
“What do you mean?” Till started the car and drove slowly toward the exit from the lot.
“We’re not teenagers, Jack. We both knew exactly what the kiss would be like. We’ve lived too much not to be able to imagine it perfectly. I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you as soon as I saw you.”
Till stopped at the end of the driveway and looked in both directions, preparing to pull onto the highway.
She said, “You’re awfully quiet.”
“I’m thinking.”
“You’re thinking about me.”
“Yes.”
Till drove back to the center of Morro Bay and down to the ocean, doubled back twice to be sure that they had not been spotted in the restaurant and followed, then parked the car in the hotel lot among the others. He and Wendy went up to the second floor, and he had her stay in the stairwell while he checked to be sure that they’d had no visitors in their rooms.
When he was certain it was safe, he went to the door and opened it. She was already stepping into his arms. She had not been quite right about knowing. She was exactly as he had known she would be—beautiful, pale, soft, fragrant—and yet his imagination had been unable to anticipate the way he felt. There was no hesitation between them because this decision had first been made six years ago, and even though they had denied it, the wish had not gone away. Tonight it was as though they had been given another chance to make the right choice, to live the images that had come into their minds in bitter regret and longing during the years since then.
Afterward they lay on the bed together, her head on his shoulder, and his hand caressing her naked back, moving slowly from the shoulder down to her narrow waist and along the curve of her hip. She sighed. “It sure took us a long time to get here. I’m so glad to stop waiting and wondering.”
“I’m glad, too.”
“I thought about you a lot after you left me at the airport. I don’t mean that day. I mean from then until now.”