by Dee Davis
Of course even that doesn’t work forever. And eventually people at neighboring tables are back to wondering if maybe you’re being stood up.
I hate it.
It’s like I’ve become the floor show.
I glanced at my watch, toyed with my sparkling water, and debated the wisdom of ordering a glass of wine.
Really, I’m usually not so insecure. But it hadn’t been the easiest of weeks. And I was on a date. My first in ages. Or I would be if said date bothered to show up. I lifted my head, and aimed a regal smile at the restaurant’s other patrons. If nothing else I could pretend that I hadn’t a care in the world.
And then, just as I was congratulating myself for my serene composure (and checking my watch for like the seventy thousandth time), the maître d’ approached with Diana Merreck in tow. I kid you not.
Clearly I was under some kind of curse.
“Andi?” she said, smiling down at me as she lifted diamond-clad fingers to throat in feigned concern. “I told Dillon I thought it was you.”
And then there he was, proof that life is indeed more horrifying than anything the subconscious could possibly dream up. I considered making a run for it, but I kind of doubted that Nino would appreciate my taking out diners and tables in the process.
And besides, I had my pride.
So instead of a fifty-yard dash, I straightened my new dress and pasted on a smile. “What a surprise running into the two of you here.” When we were together, Dillon had always insisted Nino’s was too stuffy.
“It’s one of my favorites. So, are you here on your own?” Diana simpered, not waiting for me to answer. “We certainly can’t have that.”
Dillon, to his credit, looked like he’d rather have unanesthetized prostate surgery than share a table with the two of us, but even that couldn’t cancel Diana’s smug proprietorial smile.
“We’d love to have you join us.” Right, and Jon Bon Jovi will be the next president.
“Actually, I’m meeting someone,” I said, surprised to hear my voice sound so normal. Considering that I was having trouble drawing breath, it was a miracle, really. “But thanks for the offer.”
I fisted one hand in my lap, digging my nails into my palm, trying to control the emotions surging through me—hatred being right up there at the top of the list.
“I saw your show this week,” Diana said, her eyes narrowing to very unattractive slits, the tension between us tightening into something almost palpable. Dillon had actually retreated a step, making a great study of the top of his shoes.
“Really?” With sheer force of will, I maintained my smile, feeling like my face was going to crack into pieces with the effort. “I hope you enjoyed it.”
“It wasn’t what I’d hoped for,” she said with a calculated shrug. “But I hardly think one bad review on one tiny little cable program is likely to have any real impact.”
“You’d be surprised at how many people watch that tiny little program,” I responded, trying to hold on to my rapidly escalating temper.
“I’m sorry I’m late.” Ethan’s voice came from somewhere over my left shoulder. Enter the cavalry. Perfect timing, as usual. He was definitely making a habit of riding to my rescue. Not that I was complaining.
“Ethan,” I said, relief making me almost giddy. “I was wondering where you were.”
“Sorry. My driver got stuck in traffic. Damn storm.”
“This is Dillon Alexander,” I said. “My ex?” Recognition dawned, and Ethan’s jaw tightened. “And this is Diana Merreck,” I continued, nodding in her direction. “Dillon’s new girlfriend.” The word rolled off my tongue with only the slightest bit of sarcasm, and I realized that with Ethan’s arrival I’d actually started breathing again.
“Interesting,” he said as Diana turned toward him, eyes widening in recognition. Her surprise was almost comical, except that it raised a number of rather disturbing questions.
Diana opened her mouth to say something (bitchy, no doubt) but Ethan cut her off. “It was nice of you both to keep Andi company, but now that I’m here . . .” His tone was just this side of dismissive, and from the pinched look on Diana’s face, I guessed she’d gotten the point.
“Yes, well, we were planning on a romantic dinner for two anyway.” Never let it be said that Diana Merreck wasn’t capable of securing the last word.
Except that in saying nothing, somehow Ethan managed to trump her anyway.
They sidled away in a manner that I’m ashamed to admit I took great pleasure in. But then I’ve never claimed to be immune to the thrill of coming out on the winning side of an unpleasant situation, even when I had nothing at all to do with obtaining the victory.
“I hope you don’t mind—,” Ethan started, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand.
“I’m delighted. I can’t think of anyone I’d less like to spend time with right now. You were great.” And suddenly I was extremely happy that I hadn’t chickened out.
“Well, normally,” he said, “I wouldn’t cut someone off so rudely, but I thought it was warranted, considering the circumstances.”
“More than warranted. I’m not sure why, but Diana seems intent on rubbing my face in the fact that she has Dillon and I don’t.”
“She can be like that.”
“So you do know her? I thought there was a moment between the two of you.” I waited, biting the side of my lip, not sure I really wanted to hear about their connection.
“Yes. I know her. But we aren’t exactly on the best of terms.”
“Judging by her reaction, I thought maybe you were old lovers or something.” I’d tried for light, but ended up sounding more accusatory. This dating stuff was hard. Especially when one threw one’s ex and his new lover into the mix.
“Hardly,” Ethan said, picking up his menu, signaling an end to my questioning.
“Sorry about the traffic,” I said, taking the hint. His relationship with Diana Merreck really wasn’t any of my business. “It took forever from downtown, too. I’d probably have been better off taking the subway, but there was no way I was going to try and negotiate all those stairs in these heels.” I lifted a foot to prove the point.
“Well, we’re here. And that’s all that matters,” he said with a smile. “And you look amazing, all things considered.” I didn’t know if he meant the rain or my run-in with Diana, but it was a lovely compliment either way.
“It’s the dress,” I said, feeling the warmth of a blush. “A friend gave it to me. For courage.” The last bit came out entirely on its own.
“Dinner with me took courage?” he asked with a crooked grin.
“No. Yes. Well, it’s been a while.” I’d been reduced to babbling nonsense.
“If it helps, I think you’re more than up to the task. With or without the dress.” My blush deepened at the double entendre.
“Thanks, I think . . .”
“So,” he said, thankfully changing the subject, “I take it you come here a lot? Nino was quite effusive when I told him I was meeting you.”
“He’s that way with everyone, actually. But it is one of my favorite restaurants. In fact, I was really pleased that you chose it. I’ve been coming since I was little.”
“That’s right. I remember you said you grew up near Carl Schurz.”
I nodded and we sat in companionable silence as we read over the menu.
I already knew what I wanted—-the homemade spinach and cheese ravioli in pesto is amazing—but I liked reading the menu anyway. There’s just something comforting in seeing ingredients combined together in a way only a superior chef could accomplish. Quail stuffed with shredded duck served with polenta and black currant sauce, smoked salmon and asparagus in puff pastry. The only thing better than reading the daily offerings, in my opinion, was eating the food.
I closed my menu and the waiter moved in. “I’ll start with the carpaccio and then have the ravioli, please.” I smiled up at him.
“And I’ll have the prosciutto salad,
and then the Dover sole.” Ethan looked across his menu at me. “Is white wine okay?”
I nodded, pleased to have been consulted.
“Great. Then we’ll have a bottle of the Clos des Mouches,” he told the waiter, handing him his menu.
I followed suit, not sure if I was more impressed with the wine (which was extraordinary) or the fact that he knew enough to order the sole. Only regulars were aware it was available, since it was never listed on the actual menu.
“I thought you said you’d been away from the city?” I asked, curious.
“I have been. Why?”
“Well, you knew to order the sole. That reeks of an insider.”
Ethan laughed. “My father. He loves this place. And the sole is his favorite. I’ve had it a couple of times when I was here with him. But that was ages ago. I wasn’t certain they’d still do it, but figured it was worth asking.”
“You mentioned your father in the park. Something about a heart attack. Is he all right?”
“Yes. He’s fine now,” Ethan said as the waiter offered him a taste of the wine. “Although the doctors keep him on a pretty tight leash.”
“I remember you said you’d been helping out. So where all did your travels take you?”
“I spent a year or so in the Far East. Malaysia. And then six months in Brussels.”
“Sounds exotic.”
“Only in the beginning. After a while all you really want is a good cheeseburger.” He sipped the wine, then nodded his approval to the waiter, who poured two generous glasses.
“And fries. I can imagine. I remember the first time I was in Europe. I was about seventeen. My grandmother gave me the trip and took me to all the high spots. But my favorite memory is going to the Hard Rock Cafe in Berlin. American food. I was in heaven. Although I suppose I shouldn’t admit that, considering my profession.”
“I think there’s room in any cuisine for a good burger.” He reached for his wineglass, leaning forward slightly, which gave me a perfect sight line to Diana and Dillon. Diana was laughing at something Dillon had said, his every gesture as familiar as breathing.
“You’re staring,” Ethan chided.
“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head, focusing on the man in front of me. “I know I should just ignore them. But I’m afraid it’s easier said than done.”
“Would you like to go somewhere else?” The offer was so thoughtful I immediately felt guilty.
“No. We’ve already ordered. And I’ve got to face up to it sooner or later. It might as well be here—with you.” I smiled, shifting slightly so that I could no longer see them.
“So did you have any luck with Metro Media?” he asked.
“Yes, actually, I did. We met with DuBois’ publicist and things are looking hopeful. So thanks for the tip.”
“My pleasure. I have to say, I’m a little surprised that you had such a positive meeting. DuBois being so media shy.”
“Totally understandable. I was surprised as well, to be honest. But she said something about presenting him in a new light. Anyway, he still has to agree, so it’s hardly a done deal. But progress is progress. And at least I’ve been temporarily saved from the fallout of me and my big mouth.”
“Actually, I think it’s one of your best features.”
I ducked my head, feeling all of about sixteen. There was just something really unsettling about Ethan McCay. Fortunately, the waiter chose that moment to bring our appetizers.
When he’d finished delivering our plates, Ethan topped off our glasses and leaned back with a smile. “You’ve mentioned your aunt several times, and I know from the other night that she’s your emergency contact. So what about your parents? Aren’t they in the picture?”
An honest question. Sooner or later everyone asked. And for the most part people were usually compassionate, if a bit shocked. It simply wasn’t the normal way of doing things in our set. Anyway, I always hate having to tell someone new. Especially someone like Ethan—whose opinion matters to me.
So I chose the Reader’s Digest abridged version.
“They’re still alive, if that’s what you’re asking. Only not in my life. My mother left home when I was just a kid. And my father . . . well, my mother is a bit of a flibbertigibbet. She has a penchant for the fast lane. The truth is, she never met a man she didn’t like. And so it’s not all that surprising that she managed to get herself pregnant without the benefit of marriage or even a clear memory of who it was exactly that contributed the winning sperm.”
“So you don’t know who your dad is?”
“No idea.” I shook my head. “I’m afraid my mother was a poptart back in the day when the term still referred to a breakfast pastry.”
“Must have been hard.”
I searched his eyes for condemnation, but saw only compassion. “In some ways, yeah. But I think I came out okay.”
“More than okay.” He smiled. “So who raised you?”
“My grandfather when he was alive. And my grandmother. But I guess mainly it was Althea. Which is ironic when you consider she was the reason my mother ran off in the first place.”
“What happened?”
“They had a fight. I was just a kid. But they were loud and it woke me up. I knew I shouldn’t have been listening, but I couldn’t help myself, so I hid behind the dining room door. Althea was telling my mother that she wasn’t fit to take care of me. That I’d be better off without her.”
“And your mom?”
“She was angry, too. Said that it was none of Althea’s business. They kept at it for what seemed like forever. Althea goading, my mom defensive. Althea never approved of my mother’s free spirit. And I couldn’t stand to hear them fight so I went back to bed. Only I could still hear them yelling. Anyway, the next morning my worst fears were realized. My mom was gone. I haven’t heard from her since.”
“Not a word?”
“She sends gifts sometimes. And the occasional birthday card when she remembers. But that’s it. Nothing else.”
“And you blame Althea for her leaving.”
“Yes, I guess I do. Meddling is her middle name. She even managed to turn it into a profession.”
“A successful one, if the papers are to be believed.”
“I suppose so, but to be honest, I find it a bit embarrassing. I mean, all that manipulating of people’s lives and being front and center in the gossip columns. I could do without the notoriety.”
“I can understand that. But it’s all for a good cause. I mean, she does get people together who might not ordinarily find each other. Right?”
“You make it sound so romantic. With my aunt, believe me, it’s far more calculating. She believes that people from the same background belong together. Especially when it comes to people with money.”
“I think maybe you’re selling her short, but then of course I don’t really know her.”
“I think you missed your calling,” I said, shaking my head. “You should have been a shrink. I don’t usually share my family secrets with strangers.”
“But I’m not a stranger.”
“Well, in point of fact, I only met you a few days ago.”
“So we’ve covered a lot in a little time.”
“All right,” I laughed, lifting a hand in defense, “I’ll agree that we’re not strangers. But even so, I think I’ve shared enough about my family. At least for one night.”
“Fair enough.” He lifted his glass, touching the rim to mine.
We sat smiling at each other and I realized that I was actually happy. And all things considered, it was an emotion I hadn’t felt in a while. Ethan was definitely intriguing, and, in all honesty, I was surprised at how easy it was to talk to him. To be with him.
Obviously, the wine had gone to my head.
When the waiter arrived with our food, I realized I’d hardly touched the carpaccio. Which says a lot right there, since it’s really good at Nino’s. Beef and bresaola served with arugula and shaved parmesan. Divin
e.
“So turnabout’s fair play—why don’t you tell me about your family?” I said. “I know your father runs the family business.”
“Actually, my grandfather runs things. Everything belongs to him.”
“So what exactly does ‘the business’ consist of?”
“Manufacturing, mainly. Other related industries. And then there are a series of investments. Mainly my grandfather’s whims. He started in steel and expanded from there.”
“Sounds impressive.”
“Not really. It’s just business.”
“So your father is next in line?”
“No. Technically, he married into it all. I suppose my mother is the actual heir, although she has no interest in any of it. Anyway, none of it matters, since my grandfather’s still going strong. Although I think in all honesty, Dad is ready to step down.”
“Because of his heart attack.”
“Exactly. Which is where I come in.”
“The new heir apparent.”
“Something like that.”
“And your mother?”
“She just wants my father to be happy.”
“Coming from my perspective, it sounds idyllic.”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged, sipping his wine. “I always wished I had a more exciting family. Mine is about as predictable as they come. Stereotypical, even.”
“You’re certainly not stereotypical.” The words came out before I had the chance to think about them. “I mean, you’re definitely not what I expected.” Great, I was just making it worse. “I’m sorry, that didn’t come out right. What I meant was. . .”
“No worries. I’ll take it as a compliment,” he said, his smile amused.
“So there’s nothing sordid in the midst of all that normalness? Nothing at all?”
“I have an ancestor who was a spy during the Revolutionary War. Does that count?”
“Only if he was working for the British.” I raised my eyebrows, waiting.