Dressed in Pink

by Diana Stone

  We eat at the counter with the windows and doors open, letting in the cooling breeze and the scent of wet plants and earth. As we begin on the marzipan pastry from Monica’s, I know this is the perfect time to segue into my double dating idea.

  “Today I had a great idea. You know Monica lost her husband a few years ago?” He nods so I proceed. “She’s really nice and can bake like a Goddess. I thought we could double date. I think she needs to get out into the world and meet a great guy, and you’re a great guy.”

  He’s silent for a few beats, “You’re setting me up with Monica?” He sounds confused.

  “Right. I’ve already asked her. I told her about you and our mead making and how creative you are. And, yes I did mention how good you look. She likes the idea of going out with you. She said it would be fun to meet someone who is really special,” I take a bite of the Danish to bring home my point. “You can taste how great she bakes. She’s pretty and has a great career. She’s a perfect match and is geographically desirable.”

  “You said it’s a double date?” he doesn’t sound thrilled.

  “I asked Jack if he’d be my date and he said yes,” I’m on a roll. “How about Santa Barbara, it’s only 30 miles away. Have you been to Il Toscana?” I smile encouragingly.

  “So you’re setting me up with Monica and you’ll be with Jack?” he repeats to clarify.

  “Right!”

  He slowly answers without a hint of a smile, the zing seems to have left him. “I suppose, she’s a nice girl. You and Jack?” He seems put out.

  Hmm, has this gone badly? “Right,” I reply with a smaller smile.

  He takes a deep breath “Fine, set it up. I guess I’m available after all,” now he sounds resigned.

  30

  The Double Date

  I’m getting restless waiting for Jack to arrive. I’ve dressed in a slinky artist-gone-wild blue/green dress I found in a local boutique. It drapes over my curves in a sexy way. It’s a come-hither dress. It shows off my femininity and camouflages my outdoorsy look. It was very pricey, but this is going to be a great night. I want to make an impression on Jack, and having Monica and Eric there should make for a really fun evening.

  Jack is picking me up, and Eric will bring Monica. It gives them, and me, a chance to talk with our date and have some time alone.

  The high-end Mercedes cruises up to the house. I’m ready. I have been for an hour, but I have to appear casual.

  After he knocks on the door, I allow a certain amount of lag-time so I don’t appear too eager.

  “You look great!” he says in a slightly deeper voice, as watches me turn off the living room light. “I haven’t seen you dressed like this before.”

  “I think I wore a dress on the night of the rattlesnake,” I remind him.

  “Well, it didn’t do what this one does,” he pulls me into his strong arms. I relax and succumb to his masculinity. His lips sear mine as he takes what I willingly offer. I shiver with delight as his right hand slides down to my hip and pulls me toward him. We may not make it to Santa Barbara.

  I pull back a little and remind him we have reservations at 6:00. He doesn’t seem as interested in dinner as I do. A little of his passion fades. Perhaps he doesn’t like to be told we should leave?

  I can see his eyes on me as we walk to the car. “You’re such a tease, I’ll take you up on it later,” he leers suggestively.

  I have a feminine, hip-swaying walk and he’s reacting well to it. Good, I’ll make sure he sees that I’m all woman, not just a dusty, sweaty barn girl.

  We’re cruising to Santa Barbara via the 154, which is the not-so-secret back way past Lake Cachuma. Everyone knows about it, it’s no longer a secret. It’s a two-lane highway that has deer crossings at dusk, and fast drivers all the time. I can’t say I like driving it, except when I’m following another driver who keeps to the speed limit. Of course, this car likes the curves and stops faster than my truck. In this case, it’s a very nice drive with this handsome man.

  Our conversation mainly centers on his trip to France and Portugal. I’m able to speak about things I saw when I visited France. Though, he has more of an intimate knowledge because he’s with the in-crowd of growers. He was invited to join the large dinner parties at the local castles. He took part in discussions about terroir, weather, and sustainable growing. Added to that was all the back patting and schmoozing you need to do to maintain your position. He acted the part of an exceedingly high-end farmer, which he is.

  “So you got together with a bunch of other farmers and discussed pruning, crop yields and growing.” It boils down to that.

  “You’re right, it really is just that. I also had candle-lit dinners in old castles and chat with the best in the business. I’m in a great line of work.”

  “I should become a winemaker. I’ve been making mead which would only entail trips to people’s kitchens and garages.”

  “You gotta choose the right job if you want the perks,” he jokes with a little slang.

  “Yes, you chose the right job, though you first need the finances. It’s like the old saying, ‘How do you make a small fortune in the horse business… Start with a large one.’ I think the same holds true for the wine business.”

  “I made money investing in real estate. My wine business has done better than many others. Before I began, I analyzed every aspect. I love the business; it’s something you need a passion for since it takes every ounce of your soul.”

  Oh no, don’t use every ounce. Leave some for me.

  The restaurant is a little Italian place across from the beach. From the sidewalk outside we can hear the waves break. The maître-d leads us past charming tables with crisp, white cloths and flickering candles. Romantic Italian music serenades a great old song in the background… ‘Speak softly love, so no one hears us but the sky…’ The view out the windows is of the long pier. I see the waves sweeping around the pilings. I’m happy, really happy. It’s going to be a nice evening.

  Eric and Monica have already arrived and are seated at a table for four by the window.

  Monica looks really nice cleaned up and out of her bakery attire. She let her hair fall to her shoulders and is wearing makeup. She’s in a pink summer dress and looks lovely. I chuckle to myself, what a great job. This is the first I’ve tried, and it looks like a success.

  Eric stands when we approach. He looks handsome in slacks and a light sweater. His hair looks particularly sun-touched and tousled. Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem too happy. I’m detecting a forced smile.

  Jack stops short of the table and his face takes on a frown. He looks at them, then looks at me. “What’s going on?”

  “I invited Eric and Monica on a double date. I tried to tell you but we were talking about other things and I forgot.” Or, I had to hold off for a little while because you were talking too much.

  I feel a definite chill coming from Jack. He pulls himself together though, and I think it will be fine. Whew. Note to self: Don’t keep Jack out of the loop.

  The conversation slowly moves along as we talk about the area, wine, and food. Jack informs us that Monica’s bakery has been mentioned in numerous blogs. It was nominated for best bakery by a noted foodie. He says he follows this since he’s planning on opening a high-end B&B. He will need delicious baked goods for his clientele and royalty that will be visiting. Monica is thrilled, it is the first she’d heard of it. To select Monica’s bakery is of no surprise to those of us who know and love her pastry and chocolates.

  He apprises us of his trip to Europe, and his plans to expand his production to include other varietals. He tells us about the parties he has been to and the friends he has in France. He recites his stories with more passion than he told me in the car. He mentions big names in the business that even I have heard of. It seems he is on a first name basis with the best in France.

  Eric speaks about his horse and how the vortex saved his life. He thanks Jack for the use of his property. Then he reveals what he
and I went through to get there. And how, together, we saved Calypso. How sweet to include me. He says he felt the vortex communicate important things to him. It did…? He didn’t tell me that.

  Jack shoots me a look that makes me cringe. It appears he isn’t pleased that Eric went to his vortex. In my text, I had only mentioned a horse needing help. It looks like the fact that Eric joined the horse makes it unacceptable. OOPS, another blunder?

  I briefly interject that I had wanted to share the healing with his wonderful horse. I had hoped the vortex would heal, and it did. I’m pleased that Eric put his trust in me I hadn’t let him down. I’m smiling, but when I glance at Jack he looks dark and brooding. What’s going on?

  Eric continues the conversation by letting Jack and Monica know we have been making mead. He describes the process as well as the flavors and tastes we are creating. He goes into delicious detail about the dinners he prepares for us. I’m so pleased that he is enjoying our get-togethers as much as I am.

  I, of course, have to jump into the conversation again. I’m so excited about the vortex phenomenon of insight and how it sweeps in with a scent of sage. I need to return and see what updated insight I receive. Next, I relay a few really funny stories about some of the rides I’ve been leading. My life has really changed since coming here. “I appreciate my friendship with the three of you, I’m happy now and I love my life.”

  Monica announces that she’s testing some new, rather outlandish recipes. She hopes to have them ready for the holidays. We all agree we can’t wait to try them. We volunteer to taste test them at any stage of her work in progress.

  For a while, the only sounds from our table are the clink of the utensils and murmurs of how good the dinner is. But the atmosphere hovering over our table seems to be getting colder in spite of all the conversation. It’s almost like a thick fog is rolling in. It feels chilly and damp even though the evening is warm and lovely outside. Something has hit a snag. The guys seem testy. Why is that, when everything has been going so well?

  We place our orders for dessert. I order tiramisu with its coffee and cream flavors.

  While we wait, Monica asks me to join her to powder our noses. This is fun, we can have a girl-talk while we retouch our lip gloss.

  I follow her into the bathroom, and notice it’s done in travertine and wood. I’m thinking about how nice it looks and then, bam, she hits me with this, “The guys are acting like lions. They’re taking bites at each other and are about to go in for the kill.” She stops when I look clueless. “You know what’s going on, don’t you? You don’t, do you?”

  “Um, I don’t know. I felt the atmosphere change over dinner. What happened?” I have no idea.

  “Jack is all puffed up, bragging about his winery and his status. Eric isn’t fighting back like that, he’s showing off the other way. He’s bringing up your weekly mead making and sweet little dinners, going riding with you, and your friendship. He’s smug about healing at the vortex, on Jack’s property, right under Jack’s nose,” she explains.

  I’m silent for a moment digesting this. “Well, I see what you mean, now that you mention it. It’s been kind of a one-ups-man-ship thing. I wondered why Eric wasn’t talking about other subjects, he keeps talking about us.”

  “You know what they’re doing? They’re fighting over you,” she takes a breath, recognizing what she’s thinking. “Jack acts like he owns you. See how close he’s sitting, with his arm across your chair. Then he keeps putting his hand on yours or stroking your arm. He’s marking his possession. Eric is pissed. You notice he keeps looking at you and Jack, and Jack’s hands. He’s not even looking at me. It’s all the Jack and Eric fight.”

  “OH, I’m sorry! I thought this was a great idea. I wanted to get you two on a date, and it would give me a way to get Jack to take me out. He hasn’t been giving me much time. I don’t know what his problem is.”

  “I’ll tell you, on the drive down, Eric was very polite. We talked about baking, and business, and the weather. But the way he kept mentioning your name—I wouldn’t like it if I were dating him.”

  “But we’re just friends,” I insist.

  “Uh huh, it’s more than that to Eric. This isn’t good for me, I’ll leave him to you. I’m still in love with Alex. It’s been fun, I’m not upset. Actually, I’m glad I came out, now I see I’m not ready to move on.”

  “Shoot, I’m sorry! I think I see what you mean. I guess I have to go back out there. I feel embarrassed for Eric, I like him a lot but Jack is wonderful. I’ve never felt this way before. It’s a new path, but I don’t know what to do about Eric. If I didn’t have Jack, I’d go for Eric.”

  “Jess, I hate to say it, but you don’t exactly have Jack. He is a powerful man who is in love with himself. He goes off to Europe all the time. Do you think he’s a monk?” she challenges.

  After a pause, I look at her, enlightened. “You’re right, I guess. Stupid man, what’s his problem?”

  “He has a great life and can get any woman he wants. Come to think of it, a few months ago he came in the bakery with a gorgeous woman who was all over him. He is also in an ugly marriage and maybe he’ll get a divorce. I don’t think he has a reason to make a move to get you. I’m sorry to be blunt.”

  “Maybe; maybe you’re right. I feel like an idiot.”

  “Don’t worry, they both want you, just play it cool and be cute. Act the same as when we came in here. No one thinks you’re an idiot. Both men want you, but in different ways.” She gives me advice, “Keep your head up, be happy. Walk out there looking sexy. Who knows how your week will unfold.”

  As we leave the ladies room, I take Monica’s advice. I put on a sexy walk with my arms swinging loose and relaxed. On the way back, I let my fingers trail across the bar. I apply a phony look like we had a nice girly chat, and I wonder how much blood will be on the table.

  I can see the two men before they see us. They’re not speaking, each one is glaring at the other. It looks like we’ve arrived just in time.

  They both smile and Jack even rises from his chair to help me into mine. Remnants of his European trip, no doubt. Now I’m wondering if he isn’t interested in a relationship with me—he just wants to have fun.

  The only reason we make it through dessert is because of Monica. She turns on her charm and manages to carry the icy conversation. She gets us to laugh at her culinary misadventures driving across Arkansas. I don’t think I’ll ever need to be reminded not to eat Poke salad. She explains that it’s not like a crispy lettuce salad. They are wild greens wilted in bacon grease. You stir in an egg at the end to coat the greens. She had severe digestive problems because the greens she ate were too old. The thing to remember is that the greens get more toxic the older they are. Besides that, bacon grease and a slightly raw egg would disrupt my digestion too!

  “Did you get your salad from a roadside diner?” Jack politely asks.

  “No, I was at a dinner party,” she rolls her eyes, “A bad dinner party.”

  On a nicer note, she gets us to smile over her story about life in Switzerland where she and Alex began. I think we all notice, she absolutely glows when she speaks of him, their lives, and the fun times they had. It is Monica’s time to shine at this table. She’s a lovely girl and I can see she loves her husband, even still.

  Her romantic tale again leaves me a little teary-eyed. I flick my eyes to Eric. He looks straight into my eyes, locking onto mine. Then he gives me a sweet smile.

  Oh!

  Almost immediately, Jack runs his hand up my arm. Up under my hair and leaves it there for a few moments. I risk a glance at Jack and see he is in a battle of angry eyes with Eric. “It’s time to go,” he suddenly announces.

  It’s obvious to me now. Jack is reacting to Eric by touching me and proclaiming the end of the evening. By taking me home he’s showing that I’m his. Eric won’t know how my evening ends with Jack. He will be left to assume, to guess, and to fear that Jack and I may be together in bed.

 
; Bill paying is a masculine art. At least the server puts it closest to Jack. Often, it’s in the middle of the table which would have caused the wine glasses and the flower vase to go flying as they both dive for it. Jack grabs it first and Eric is forced to thank him for dinner.

  “Thanks for getting it this time,” Eric casually says.

  “No problem, our treat.” Our treat, plural.

  Poor Eric. The game is ruthless.

  At the door, the evening air has cooled, wafting the scent of the salty ocean toward me. The waves are washing up the beach. I wish it were a nicer end to the evening. Jack says nothing to the other two. Monica gives me a hug and tells me she’ll see me in a few days. She softly whispers something in my ear that I, unfortunately, don’t catch. Eric looks at me and loudly says he too will see me in a couple of days. Then he glares at Jack as a parting gift.

  Jack looks at me, turns my face to his and kisses me a deep, possessive kiss. I almost pull back from him, feeling like a pawn in his game. The valet pulls the car to the curb and opens the door for me. I enter and look at Eric and Monica waiting on the sidewalk. Both are watching me with solemn looks. We pull away from the curb as I’m still looking at the two.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing, inviting them without consulting me?” he demands.

  “I’m sorry, I wanted to get them together and I didn’t get a chance to tell you it was a double date.” What’s the problem with adapting to change?

  Slowly he states word by word… “I’m going to drive you home and I won’t be seeing you again. I’m done,” he coldly informs me.

  The drive is home awful. He pushes the car more than I feel is safe. He clicks on a piece of classical music, something dark with moodiness and anger. I sit, seat belted in, and hope for a safe journey.