Waiting
for
her
to
decide,
he
took
in
the
dark
ambiance
of
the
restaurant,
the
prints
on the wall of colorful Parisian cafes and window boxes filled with flowers.
His
eyes
drifted
to
the
couple
sitting
at
the
next
table.
The
young
man’s
harsh
clothes
and
close-clipped
hair
implied
a
man
of
labor
and
few
means,
less
ready
to
pay
Le Petit’s prices than Jacob.
She
was
a
thin,
attractive
thing,
wearing
a
simple
white
cotton
blouse
with
long
sleeves,
hair
curled
tightly,
reminded
Jacob
of
pictures
he’d
seen
of
his
grandmother
from the forties. The two sat stiffly erect, their hands in their laps.
The
waiter
arrived
and
poured
him
and
Belinda
a
taste
of
the
wine
the
house
pushed
that
evening.
It
was
tasty,
but
Jacob
opted
for
iced
tea.
The
difference
paid
an
installment
of
his
school
loans.
He
smiled
when
Belinda
ordered
the
same.
The
kicker—she topped it by ordering the Penne a la Monegasque. She was a keeper.
After
the
waiter
left
they
fell
into
small
talk.
Jacob
forced
his
eyes
off
Belinda’s
for
a
moment.
He
didn’t
want
to
look
like
a
crazed
stalker.
He
glanced
at
the
other
couple
again.
His
first
impression
had
been
faulty.
They
were
about
the
same
age
as
him
and
Belinda.
Though
dressed
conservatively,
they
didn’t
sit
like
two
first-time
daters.
They
leaned forward, hands outstretched, his folded over hers.
Belinda
brought
Jacob
back
to
the
table
with
a
comment
about
the
office,
a
safe
subject.
His
best
friend
had
warned
him
not
to
go
on
about
himself.
His
second
warning
was not to bring up sports. Evidently, the office was safe territory.
The
waiter
brought
a
basket
of
bread,
which
prompted
danger-free
conversation
for
another couple minutes.
A
clink
from
the
next
table
made
Jacob
look
back
at
their
neighbors.
They
held
wine
glasses
up
as
though
they
had
just
toasted.
A
sparkle
of
light
drew
Jacob’s
eyes
to
the
woman’s hand. A modest solitaire graced it.
Jacob
worked
to
shrug
off
his
poor
observation
skills.
Her
hair
no
longer
spun
in
tight
curls,
the
front
of
her
white
blouse
coursed
with
a
flurry
of
ruffled
trim.
He
wore
a
proper suit, his hair no longer buzzed above his ears.
Belinda
spoke
of
the
project
they
worked
on,
bringing
him
back
again.
Jacob
imagined
how
she
would
change
as
the
years
passed.
She
would
always
be
beautiful.
He
loved the sound of her voice, confident and comforting.
She
looked
down
at
the
table
in
thought,
and
Jacob
hurried
another
glance
at
his
couple.
An
embellished
band
joined
the
woman’s
solitaire.
On
the
next
finger
rested
a
dinner
ring
of
diamonds
and
rubies.
Her
silk
blouse
fell
open
seductively,
a
diamond
pendent
swaying
above
a
generous
bosom.
Her
husband
leaned
toward
her,
a
gentle
smile creasing his face, a contented expression, eyes locked onto hers.
Jacob
was
back
before
Belinda
looked
up
again.
A
shiver
of
excitement
rushed
into
his
chest,
as
he
imagined
a
solitaire
like
the
woman’s,
gracing
Belinda’s
hand,
maybe
one day.
Belinda’s smile changed, one brow dipping in query. “What?”
“I’ll bet your mother is drop-dead gorgeous,” Jacob answered.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met in my life.”
Belinda’s
snowy
cheeks
hued
rose.
Her
lashes
trembled
and
she
studied
the
linen
of
the table cloth. “You’re supposed to hold things like that until the second date, I think.”
“I’m sorry. Not up on the protocol.”
She smiled.
The
waiter
brought
their
meals.
Jacob
didn’t
look
back
at
the
other
table
again
until
the couple rose to leave.
The
woman
now
wore
a
flowing,
blush-colored
gown,
elegantly
bare
shoulders
she
covered
with
a
chiffon
wrap.
He
donned
a
tux.
Gray
monopolized
the
color
of
their
hair,
hers
cut
short
up
the
sides
and
back,
sexily
tousled
on
top.
He
held
out
his
arm
and
she
wrapped
hers
within
it.
They
clung
together,
making
their
way
slowly
from
the
dining
room.
Everyone in the room turned to take the couple in, ghosts from another time.
© R. Mac Wheeler 2017
First Date
T
he
column
to
the
right
of
the
entrees
contained
numbers
in
the
thirties
and
higher.
It
was
going
to
be
an
expensive
meal.
But
the
point
was
to
make
an
impression.
The
trick
was
not
to
spill
his
drink,
drench
himself in sauce, or otherwise be a bore.
Jacob
decided
on
the
quiche,
the
cheapest
item
on
the
menu.
If
Belinda
selected
the
duck,
on
the
opposite
end
of the scale, the magic would be shattered.