Table for Two

by Briggs, Laura

  "Video games?"

  "Well, the software that helps design them, anyway," he said. "Are you a PlayStation enthusiast? Xbox?" Maybe this was a subject they could share, although his knowledge was mostly gleaned from friends, many of whom could talk for hours on the subject. Compared to them, his playing time was practically nonexistent.

  "Not really," she said, shaking her head. "I know some people who play, but I don't."

  "I know a lot of gaming addicts who can't wait for the release of the next Spec Ops generation." He referred to one of the most popular video games whose software Skylark helped perfect. "A lot of beta testers say playing the simulated version is better than real life." He was quoting a fellow engineer, who practically lived for beta testing games.

  "See, that's what makes me think they're rotting people's brains," she answered. "Ending civilization as we know it."

  Ouch. "I don't know if I would go that far," he answered, a touch of irritation in his voice. Her opinion had sounded forceful, as if she intended it as an insult. This made him feel defensive, although he knew better than to let any of it show.

  Her choice of words seemed to embarrass her now. Her expression was sheepish. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean to sound so ..."

  "No, no. It's fine. People feel that way. I understand." He was getting the impression she was offended by him more than by the games he helped create. Was it just because he worked for the source of the supposedly evil influence? Maybe she was one of those people who campaigned against simulated violence?

  "Sorry," she repeated. "Ignore my words. I was just kind of lost in my book, so I guess I wasn't really thinking about my reply the way I usually would." She smiled, then hesitated before adding, "You probably design software for writers, too. I probably read manuscripts your company helped create."

  "I didn't know writers use special software," he answered "I thought they just typed it on any program. Or wrote it the old-fashioned way." He held up his pencil.

  "It's not as antiquated as you're thinking," she said.

  "No typewriters, then? Like on Murder, She Wrote reruns?" he asked, seeing a glimmer of a smile cross her lips.

  Maybe he should ask her for her number while things were going well, he thought. Maybe she'd actually say 'yes.'

  "Nope. But lots of writers take advantage of storyboarding programs, or professional-grade software that formats the pages," said the girl. "There's even a program that helps organize their ideas and notes for a manuscript."

  "That makes it sound like the program does all the work for them," he said, with a laugh. "Like the software writes the book. Computer-generated novels or something."

  That joke was mistake number two. He didn't have to think about it before he knew, a mere second after the words left his mouth. The last traces of her smile — the real one — disappearing like the sun behind the clouds.

  "Not exactly," she answered. She lifted her cup and took a long sip from it. A slurping sound came from her straw — loud enough to discourage any immediate reply from himself, as if the cold glint in her eyes wasn't enough already.

  Her gaze shifted to the windows, pretending to be interested in people passing by. He pretended a sudden interest in the pages of his journal, an old entry on his mixed feelings about the company's competitive atmosphere, to avoid the awkward silence.

  I have got to find another place to have coffee, he told himself.

  May I Join You?

  "I can't join you today," Rob answered. His voice was tight with pain. "I have things I have to do. I'm supposed to finish Laney's list. It's important that everything be done by Saturday."

  Only Ginny knew how important. He didn't have to tell her, even if it was breaking his heart to keep silent about other things for the sake of his promise.

  "I know," she answered. "I only....

  Danni stopped typing at this point. An instant message had popped up in the corner of her screen — one from Celeste Hawthorne, whose manuscript she was assigned to edit. Hi, Celeste, she typed. Quick word about chapter three — are you sure you want to reveal Nathan's reasons for leaving Chicago so quickly in the chapter? Delaying Lydia's reaction a few pages would build tension before the story about his mother's DNA findings. Just think about it and let me know if you agree.

  She sent the message, then, with a deep breath, closed the open document on her desktop. It disappeared into a tiny icon, reading 'To Do List.' A misnomer if one ever existed, but it was Danielle's way of keeping her private work as private as possible, in case a friend borrowed her laptop for a moment and couldn't resist being nosy.

  Tuesday's coffee shop crowd was nothing like the weekend's, mostly because Tuesday was the vegan lunch special, a cucumber and sprouts wrap. Danielle had the turkey and Swiss on a croissant roll instead, but didn't indulge in her usual outlandish beverage.

  She was tempted to kick off her heels underneath the table since she'd already removed her business jacket. Her sneakers were in her tote bag — would it look weird to wear them with her wool business trousers and a white blouse? Not so weird that people would stare if she walked from here to the retail shops across the street for a few minutes to shop.

  Another customer came in, on the lunch crowd's wave. Danielle didn't notice them, the man in the business suit, until they stepped away from the counter and paused. The pause was weird. It wasn't to admire the display of coffee mugs or caramel coffee sprinkles, she knew. And when the businessman came a few steps closer, as if checking to see if the table was occupied, she knew why. Her heart sank.

  "We meet again," he said.

  Yes, it was definitely the guy from before. When Danielle looked up, he was standing a foot away from her table. "You come here often?" he asked.

  It was the same table where they had sat before, wasn't it? Or close to it, at least. Danni glanced around, seeing the same scenery from the past two Saturdays, then the same stranger as before.

  "As often as you," she replied.

  Now was the time for them to nod farewell to each other, she thought, because they both still sounded friendly and polite. But he didn't move. Instead, he studied the table across the way, where a couple was playing Scrabble, obviously teasing each other with every move they made. There was an extra chair at that table, but it was the only other one available — not counting one on the sofa, where a mother was making two toddlers endure a time out.

  "Are you waiting for someone?" he asked. "A business colleague?"

  "No," she answered. "I come here strictly for pleasure." Not that the last two times had been pleasant, come to think of it. Surely he had some journaling to do somewhere?

  "Working?" He gestured towards her laptop.

  "One of the writers I'm editing is having issues with the first few chapters of their latest manuscript. Ones that can't be fixed by software."

  He blushed, to her surprise. "I'm sorry about that," he said. "I meant it as a joke. I'm just not a really funny guy, so it comes off badly."

  He looked so embarrassed that Danielle softened. "It's okay," she said. "I won't tell any writers I know that their talent was maligned by a software company." Her lips twitched with a brief smile.

  "The good news is, we're not secretly developing a software program to produce automated novels," he answered. "It's beyond our capability, so their livelihood is pretty safe."

  He had a nice smile, Danni noticed — when he chose to use it. There was something intriguing in it, something that could make you want to know him better. You should definitely tell him to smile more, she thought.

  "I'll pass the word along," Danielle answered. "Are you —?" she motioned towards the to-go sack in his hand, one which evidently contained a pastry or a sandwich.

  "Um, actually ..." he began, "...no. I'm not really going anywhere. That is, I don't have an appointment or anything." He just kept standing there. He hesitated. "Mind if I join you?" he asked.

  He pointed to the empty chair across from her. The table was for two
, and until a moment ago, the chair had held nothing but Danielle's feet propped there.

  She had been fairly sure he was leaving until now. There were no other seats in the cafe unless he wanted to join the Scrabble-playing lovebirds in the corner. On the other hand, he had been halfway out the door, probably on his way to a nice bench in the park....

  Be nice, she reminded herself. She took a deep breath and didn't release it as a sigh afterwards. "It's fine," she said.

  He sat down. Emptying his paper sack on the table, he unwrapped the vegan special, and opened a package of beef and chili flavored chips.

  "Not a complete vegan," commented Danielle, after a moment of watching. "Two thirds of one?" She raised an eyebrow.

  "It was the special," he admitted. "I didn't read the menu that closely. I've only been here a few times before. No chance you've eaten this a time or two?" He gestured towards the sprouts sandwich.

  "I'm more of a tuna on rye person," she answered, taking a bite from her half-gone turkey croissant. "But you go ahead."

  He took a bite. Making a slight face, he swallowed it. Danielle watched from the corner of her eye, then concentrated on deleting old business emails from her account. She opened one from her friend in accounts, Alyson , reminding her they were supposed to go shopping together Friday afternoon.

  "Um, about before." His voice interrupted her. She glanced away from the screen. "My remarks about writers ... and about romance novels, too ..."

  "Forget it," she said, quickly. "It's already forgotten on my part." Okay, see you then, she typed in her reply to Alyson , then hit the 'send' button.

  "No," he said. "No, I really want to apologize. I think ... I think we got off on the wrong foot, you and I. The wrong first impression, I mean."

  He had found Danni's Achilles' heel, although he had no way of knowing that. She knew she was too quick to judge people sometimes. A second chance from Danni wasn't always easily earned, something she had felt guilty about for years.

  Maybe he made the same mistake himself, time and again, she thought. Maybe he, like me, wants to change.

  She smiled. "We did," she said. "I was wrong. What I said before about video games, I mean. I don't really think they're the scourge of the planet."

  He cocked his head to one side. "I might let you have that one," he answered.

  Another grin twitched at the corners of Danielle's mouth. "Well, I might be a tiny bit prejudiced because of an ex-boyfriend's obsession," she admitted. "But that's water under the bridge. Now that the guys I date have other hobbies, anyway. Like kayaking. Playing the drums."

  He abandoned his wrap for the chips, she noticed. "Kayaking's not for everyone," he said. "I broke my wrist shooting some rapids in Colorado a couple of years ago, and fractured a rib another time. So you might want to stick with musicians if you don't want dates canceled over broken bones. Take it from experience."

  "Maybe you're just a careless rower," retorted Danielle. She covered her mouth. "Sorry," she said, remember the last time she'd spoken without thinking. "That was a joke, by the way." Strangers shouldn't joke, she thought. Humor was a personal thing.

  He nodded, his smile a wry one. "I figured that out," he answered. He held out his packet of chips. "Care for some?"

  "Thanks." She took one and sampled it. Too heavy on the cumin, but not bad. Not her favorite flavor, certainly, but it could grow on her. Like the guy sitting across from her, perhaps, who didn't seem so bad now. Maybe not as attractive as the first time she'd laid eyes on him, but that wasn't the first time a conversation had convinced her she made a mistake at first glance. But as an acquaintance, he was fine.

  It had just been one of those times when she got part of it wrong. At least it was the part about feeling a spark for him, right?

  He held out his hand. "Logan Whittaker," he said.

  "Danielle Lowell." She shook his hand, a firm grip between their fingers lasting for a moment's time. "Nice to meet you."

  Cup of Kindness

  August

  "Hi, I'm Kimberly. What can I get you?" The barista tapped her pencil against a little pad emblazoned with Pauline's logo.

  "An espresso is fine. Extra creamer on the side," said Danni. She laid her book on the table beside her smart phone.

  "Coming right up." Kimberly disappeared in the direction of the coffee machines as Danielle made herself comfortable in the corner chair of her table.

  Logan would probably show up in a moment. Last time she had coffee, and the time before, too, he had shown up and joined her. Apparently, his Saturday routine was similar to her own — a quick workout, a cup of coffee, a list of errands to finish or friends to connect with for the afternoon. And, probably, an evening out or a romantic date to complete it. Not that Danni had one of those recently herself.

  She made a quick count of the notes in the book she was carrying, the debut novel of her publisher's latest acquisition, one whose second novel was now Danni's responsibility. Thus far, she liked the story, although it was slower than the usual romance her company published. Would that put the readers off, a second novel written the same way?

  Maybe she needed another set of eyes to give an opinion. Jokingly, she imagined handing it off to Logan. He had told her he 'never read romances' and that those books were 'all the same.' She pictured him reading it and repressed a giggle.

  "What's so funny?" Logan dropped his bag on the floor, the sleeve of a running shirt sticking out of the half-zipped compartment.

  "Oh. Hi." She tucked a strand of her hair back and stifled the rest of her laugh. "It's nothing. Sit down, if you want." She motioned towards the chair across from her, still vacant despite the usual weekend droves.

  "Thanks." He pulled out the chair. "You brought your work, I see." His eye was focused on the paperback in her hand, with sticky tabs protruding from between various pages.

  "And you brought your journal," guessed Danni.

  "Correct. Stuffed in with my stinky running clothes." He pulled it out as proof, shoving the shirtsleeve back into his gym bag at the same time. Danni wrinkled her nose. His sense of humor was different. It had a playful edge that was in keeping with his smile, and the total opposite of his personality the rest of the time.

  It must be the business type persona, she decided. An ex-boyfriend from her past had been a completely serious person except when hanging out with his friends on the weekends. But not when hanging out with her. That was the reason he was now her 'ex' boyfriend, even after suggesting he might propose somewhere down the road.

  "Why do you keep a journal?" she asked, in order to shift her thoughts away from past exes and old relationships. "Is it really just for business notes?"

  "It was supposed to be for me," he answered. "Someone recommended it since I have a difficult time compartmentalizing things in my life. But the changes at the company where I work tend to occupy my mind these days more than my personal life." He gazed at the sunlit window. "Maybe because I don't have much of a personal life right now."

  "I wouldn't know anything about that," confessed Danni. Her life was too packed with friends and activities, sometimes. Maybe that's why you can't get a date. You're always 'unavailable' due to prior engagements.

  "That doesn't surprise me," he answered. His grin teased her a little with these words. "Not from the number of texts your phone receives during a single coffee break."

  She started to retort — namely, that he kept his turned off in the cafe, so a comparison couldn't be made — but decided against it. "And you have no friends?" she inquired.

  "No, I have friends," he answered. "But let's face it. You're a lot more charming than I am. I think yours outnumber mine." The look he gave her proved this was a compliment wrapped in a joke. Danni wasn't sure what to make of it, except that it irritated her and made her blush at the same time.

  The barista reappeared with her note pad. "Hi, I'm Kimberly, what can I get you today?" She flashed a smile at Logan.

  "Just a black coffee, sugar on the s
ide," he answered.

  "Anything else? We have some excellent cherry scones today, and fresh lemon bars," she hinted. "Don't you think you deserve a reward after hitting the gym?"

  She's flirting with him, Danni thought. For a moment, she felt a twinge of indignation even though she and Logan were only sharing a table — not that the waitress knew that. For all she knew, they were a couple.

  Logan blushed. "I don't think I hit it hard enough for that," he answered. "But coffee's fine, thanks."

  "All right." Kimberly made a note and moved on. She glanced back once before she made her way behind the counter.

  Danielle was surprised at his embarrassment for a brief flirtation. There was something flirtatious in his smile, after all. Did he not know it was there? It was like a mask for a shy personality, maybe. A reflex to cover for his reserved self.

  "I think she was interested in you," said Danni, glancing in the barista's direction as the woman placed a coffee cup under an espresso spout.

  "Who? Her? Nah." Logan shook his head. "The coffee shop probably lectured them on moving more baked goods. Unlucky for them that I'm trying to cut back on sugar these days." He flipped open his journal and wrote something on a half-filled page.

  "I think you're terrible at reading body language," said Danni, taking a sip of her coffee. She could swear that these words passed through Logan like a bolt of lightning, judging from the slight jerk of his person in response.

  "What?" he repeated. He laughed, but it was a fake one of protest. "Me? I have great people skills. That's part of being in business."

  "Oh, please. You design software, right? That's, like, the definition of a computer geek. Trading social skills for digital ones."

  Oops. She forgot her rule about not teasing people who weren't her close friends, since they might take offense. To her relief, Logan merely laughed.

  "Okay. Slight truth in that," he confessed. "I have a small circle of friends, a small pool of interests and hobbies, and my job. Which includes colleagues and friends ... so it's not a wildly exciting world that I live in, no. Not unless buffalo wings at a sports bar or a weekend spent rock climbing count."